The Story of an Untold Myth

Glances of the Past: Destruction

Jaffa's POV:

Descendants from the blood line of warriors. I knew no mercy already. I was born evil, and continued to thrive my stoic demeanor. My father was murdered, before my birth, by a mob on the streets during a gun fight. My mom was all I left. I wasn't good with making friends. Whenever one was good at deal, it ended up with either having one of them being sent to a hospital, or to a solitarily.
I am the third in the league.

I learned how to maintain my anger, how to evaluate the situation in front of me without losing my shit and going savage upon everybody. I learned how to accept  and expect things.
I took Alexander's training in combat when it becomes an unfair fight. What's good about me is that I am honest no matter what. I always tell the truth because actually I don't fucking care what'll happen. Nothing ever ended with only "discussion" with me. Blood always had to be there; blood is my leisure.
Alexander, on the other hand, seemed to me that he'll soon get engrossed with evilness. That was no surprise, the league is fucked up. We are all evil, domestic people, but what's good inside of us that we act based on rights, and rules, not some fucked up feelings we get from time to time. This is business, and a pleasure, well; it's pleasure for me at least.
"You ready?"
"Yes!"
"Let's begin!"
I marched on him as he perfectly dodged my sword, a perfect masterpiece Alexander was. Never in my life had I seen such a rapidly improving apprentice. I was 32, and he was 17. He made me feel them good old 20s again.
"Sword to left, leg to right, you missed by an inch, and you died."
"What's that?" He asked me with a mock.
"It's a song I used to sing before targeting my next victim. It always worked on giving the spooks in their hearts before dying, and god I enjoyed it."