Blood tainted feathers (oh, such a beautiful color)

Chapter One

Blood. A crimson fluid flowing through your veins, it brings oxygen and nutrients to your cells and transports the waste products away from those very same things an organism is made of. It helps you live by keeping your body alive. It's your livesupport, and yet people are... afraid of it.

That's because,
Whenever blood is spilled and exposed to air in great amounts, there is always danger. It means something or someone is injured or dying.

In this cause, it's someone, and they're dying.
Or rather about to die.

A man, around 36 years old. Short brown hair, a suit and tie like the rich prick he is. God, he's making such a racket, sceaming and crying like a little baby, saying he has a family, that he has a future, and that people need him. Some boss of a rigged business he is. All he cares about is himself and money. But it doesn't matter, no, not at all. He's useless, just lying there, begging for mercy, for the tiniest bit of sympathy that could appear in his murderers eyes. He's still hoping and praying, even though he knows it won't change a thing. That it's all pointless. As he closes his eyes, his tears are still falling down.

Sigh "Such a waste."

A gunshot made its way through the night.
Only one shot. It fell silent. The only sound you could hear was a rat that's searching for food or a stray that was hunting for him. "Guess it only took one bullet hmm? Good, wouldn't want to have to get some more just because this guy couldn't die quicker." a low voice spoke.

After a few more seconds, footsteps sounded, and the so-called murderer made an appearance. He had on a hood , not surprisingly, so his hair color remains a mystery. All kinds of weapons, like (more) guns, daggers, some kind of bomb, and needles (possibly with poison), are hidden in an equipment belt. He has a lanky figure, which is surprising. You'd think a person capable of killing grown adults and welding a gun would have more muscle.

People, or rather this thing called social media, like to call him the Blood Owl, but personally, he finds it stupid and childish. Like, who wants to be named after a bird of all things!? Why not some badass name like, soul devourer or blood god or something?

The reason for his name, were the most eye-catching and majestic features yet. His giant, blood red beautiful wings. Every feather with the crimson color laid out to perfection, shining in the weak light of street lamps but shining nonetheless. It's obvious that its owner loves his wings a lot. He must buy all kinds of special equipment for cleaning his wings, and he must have a special diet to have them shining so bright, right? After all, an avain's wings are a mans pride. It can't be possible to have such pretty wings without caring for them.

...right?

Well Blood Owl doesn't care. In fact, he doesn't care about anything that might happen to him. He doesn't have anyone who might mourn for him.

His name is Tommy, or that's what he calls himself atleast.

And Tommy is a villain, dark and mysterious, only kills at night and is feared by all.

Tommy is alone. Discarded by his birth family because of his wings that he somehow recieved at birth. They've always had that dark color. It never got lighter or darker than how they came. As his family realised that Tommys wings would always have the color that follows death were everywhere it goes. They left him in the forest with nothing more than his tiny baby blacket, guessing that he would taken by nature's circle of life. As they thought the young child would take bad luck wherever it went.

'Cursed', they said. 'Satan spawn'. 'A red color like that only mean one thing'.

Maledictus puer