Alazia

six months earlier

A mixture of gold, amber and red mingled with the dull shades of faded green which coated the frail branches, connecting the scarce amount of trees in the park. Long lost swing sets and abandoned slides were littered around, caked with a thick layer of uneven rust due to the lack of use.

Frank kicked at the loose soil, pushing himself away from the ground and gaining momentum. The swing creaked and groaned with his shifting balance, rocking back and forwards. He rolled his head back, the wind tearing through his hair. His eyelids closed as he let himself succumb to the feeling, allowing a moment of freedom.

This was short lived however, as soon he was ripped away by a sharp shock to the back of his head, which almost caused him to fall off the unstable swing. He groaned as he rubbed the area.

What is it this time?  Frank sent, trying to pack as much bitterness in as possible. He really didn't appreciate them disturbing him.

You have a new mission. With a sigh, he picked himself off the swing set, regaining an acceptable posture before he was attacked with another message;

And I don't appreciate your tone of voice. He smirked, glad that they noticed.

Any details on the meeting place? He replied, brushing down his black skinny jeans.

9pm, Richardsten Street. An agent will meet you there. Again he sighed, rubbing his temples. He closed his eyes and calculated the fastest route. Fourteen minutes through the forest. He checked his issued phone. 8:34pm. Sitting down on the grass, he still had a few minutes so he made the most and lay down, soaking up the last dregs of warmth from the dying sun.

×

Twenty-five minutes later he found himself standing on the curb, waiting for the allotted agent. The bitter wind tore at his hair, making him wish he had brought a hoodie, instead of this shitty uniform jacket, which coincidently did absolutely nothing.

His fingers drummed against his thigh, as he became impatient; the agent was twenty-three minutes late. He closed his eyes, sifting through his files, checking if he had any missed messages. There were none. He opened his eyes again, searching the landscape. There was no change. He exhaled, before taking a seat on the curb, pulling the jacket closer around his shivering frame.

When 9:32 rolled around, there was still no sign.

At 10:04pm, the agent still hadn't turned up. Frank stood up and fiddled with the cuff on his sleeve. He looked around frantically, becoming increasingly worried by the second. Agents were never late. Maybe ten minutes, but never this late. Maybe he got the wrong street? Maybe the wrong time? He checked the message. 9pm, Richardsten Street. He checked the street sign. This was definitely the right place. He breathed in sharply, trying to compose himself.

At 10:23pm, panic set in, growing in his chest, before blooming into fear. He tried to suppress it, but it was too strong. It entangled his rational emotions before reaching his brain, forcing him to think illogically. What if the agent was caught? What if they were being tortured right now? What if someone was coming for him? He desperately tried sending messages to headquarters, but they were all blocked. He cursed, remembering that it wouldn't work in a state of panic. You needed a degree of calmness and concentration to send and receive.

Frank paced the street, his senses on high alert. There was a sudden flash of light to his left. He swivelled, and turned to face the explosion. There was a thick cloud of smoke, and emerging from its grasp was a young man and woman, striding forward. His eyes widened as he saw a limp figure in the arms of the man. The wall came up close behind him as he backed away; his eyes attached to the figure, watching it come into focus.

The face was covered completely in blood, disfigured with countless numbers of bruises and cuts. He was completely alien, but to Frank, he couldn't be more recognisable. Frank choked back a sob as he looked at the broken figure in the man's arms; Sebastian Iero, his brother. He almost broke down there and then, tears threatening to break and flood the streets of this damned town, but stopped himself; he needed to stay strong. Wallowing in self-pity and selfish sadness would do no good in the slightest. Perhaps he had a different meaning of the phrase compared to the positive one the saying entailed, but that didn't change what he needed to do. He had to stay upright for both him and his brother, so he could take the path that was the only one he had ever known; revenge and hatred. Frank extinguished the sadness, forcing his emotion to change into useful energy, attempting to put his three years of training into practice.

His brother was never meant to come into this. He was never meant to know. And with Sebastian lying dead in the arms of a man who couldn't care less, only an arms-reach from the broken boy who couldn't care more, Frank was lost to the world, spiralling in a pit of nothingness. The pieces that were tenderly holding Frank together crashed down, his sanity now resting in peace next to the only person who could glue them back together.

Frank watched the unknown figures approaching fast, anger replacing the sadness with their every step. They reached the wall within seconds, coming to a standstill just a few centimetres from Frank's face. He met their eyes, soaking in their fleeting surprise at his confidence. The feeling from them could also be directed at the fact his eyes were flaming red -literally and metaphorically- but he would like to think it was just his presence, not a mutation he had no control over.

Frank's stare didn't falter as they dropped the unmoving body at his feet as if he was nothing more than a speck of dirt, no matter how much it tore him apart. Neither did it falter as they whispered to each other, stealing the occasional glance at his fuming form, no matter how much it pained him.

The conversation broke off, the man turning to face him, meeting his gaze with a twisted smile. Frank raised his eyebrow at this notion, staring him down. For a moment, nothing happened, but before he could question, he felt an alien sensation emerge from the agent's eyes, stretching into Frank's own, changing his eye colour to a dead-like icy blue, numbing the fire. At least that what it felt like.

The unknown force whirled into his bloodstream, reaching out its icy tendrils, solidifying his fiery hatred into fear. He stumbled back; breaking the connection, yet the feeling remained inside, freezing his veins. Frank's eyes widened in fear as he saw his skin turning blue, chasing away the red from his black tattoos, and from all the extremities. Looking in horror at his once human hands, he realised they now resembled stone, opposed to the mandatory flesh and blood.

Frank looked up at the man, fear evident in his eyes as he realised what was happening, watching the man smirk as dark spots began to cloud Frank's vision. He sank to the floor, head in line with Sebastian, unable to move his vision, or indeed his body, away from the dead boy's cold, unseeing eyes. The image was printed on the back of his eyelids, but before he succumbed to the painless darkness, the image morphed into something different. Black hair. Cold eyes. Sebastian's killer. And as the lights switched off, with the permanent picture and the three descriptors circling his mind, he swore an oath. One he would keep to the end.

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hey there ^_^ I'm Matilda and this is my first story, so I apologise if the grammar or sentence structure or anything is bad, pls just comment and I'll change it.
If you're gonna read it, it'd be great for comments and votes, srsly I'll love you forever. Thanks for reading this first chapter, and I'll try and update regularly \^.^