wip [(work)(behemothTrain)]

edit 3

"It's not something you can shrug off — the murder of so many people. And you came out without a single scratch." The man spoke with an electric hiss. A copper mask on his face, showing nothing at all except for a warped reflection of Miguel's stony countenance.

They stood in a cold alley, a soft drizzle of rain, creating pools around their feet in the cracks of the stone. Miguel stood outside his tiny and decrepit door that led to an even more neglected room. His tall frame made him stoop to enter, yet his thin body couldn't even fill the doorway.

It was evident that he was incredibly proficient with his hands, his adroit fingers were drumming the doorframe with each tap threatening to snap the rotted wood. Artists and Musicians couldn't even dream of possessing a fraction of the skill that he had.

"They were asking for it." Miguel spat, suddenly clenching his fists, face contorting into a furious thunder matching the rage of hurricanes. "I've had enough of their sniveling faces. The ones that thought I was shit and nothing but a big boy without a spine."

"Still, you killed more than twenty men. Some with plenty of fighting experience. All with a blunt hammer. Albeit a massive one." The man's posture was distinct with a slight slouch, yet, his commandeering presence gave him the height of ten men. His suit tailored to the ideal fit and bore the sigil of Berloum. "Those families want to be compensated for their loss."

"It's like them to only want to be paid." Miguel snorted bitterly. Miguel towered over the man, however, he seemed to shy away before the copper masked man.

"Oh, some don't want money. Some families want your head on their dinner platter." The man's voice finally hinted at the tiniest bit of emotion. He sounded amused. "Of course, if they demanded it, they could obtain your organs and sell them. All legally."

"Fuck!" Miguel spat. His voice began to rise, ending in a spit flying shout, the man's mask splayed with saliva. His aggression resembled that of a cornered animal, nowhere to run or hide. "What are you doing? Why are you here? If you want to, then take me in! WHAT IS YOUR POINT?"

"I am here to offer immunity from everything they can threaten you with."

"What?" Miguel stepped back, stunned and wary.

"That's right. I assume you know of the Train?" The man paused for a question, not expecting one, he carried on. "Candidate selections are happening, and the Lord of Berloum is currently lacking in acceptable Candidates."

"And that has to do with me because?" Miguel clenched his fists tightly.

"What do you think Candidates do? Their simple and clear objective? They kill. And you showed adeptness in that field. You seem to show no remorse for the men you killed, whom some of them you probably knew." The man seemed to smirk from behind the mask. "Becoming a candidate will offer immunity from vengeful families. Of course, you are going to be trained a bit before the Lord sends you to the Train. I, myself, am personally interested to see you fight. They say you spun the hammer so fast that the wind around you couldn't keep up. And that tornados blew from a single flick of your wrist."

"And what if I say no? What if I go on the run?" Miguel scowled.

"We hunt you down. And I do believe, even if you have killed twenty men in a single fight, you're no match for an Imperial Enforcer of the Lord." The man sounded smug for a split second before the emotion was erased.

"There's no option for me is there?"

"There is. You're going to either go on the run of your own will or come to the Train. On your own. There's no force here." The man had a smirk on his face right now and Miguel could feel it.

"And I can't postpone my decision?"

"Afraid it's a right here, right now deal."

"Then, I think I'll go ahead and meet the Lord about becoming a candidate." Miguel sighed and looked overhead at the stars in the night. The clear sky promised a favorable future with his decision and Miguel breathed in the clear night air.

"Then, please follow me to the coach outside. Oh, by the way, you're a behemoth, alright, taking out those guys without any experience. After a few months, you'll roam the lands without fear." the man smiled. "The Behemoth of Berloum."

"I like that. The Behemoth of Berloum." Miguel smiled. "Candidates get those codenames, right? I think I'll want to be called that. The Behemoth."

"Very fitting." The enforcer gave a small bend at the waist, acknowledging his decision. Miguel glanced up at the bright star and when he looked back, the man was gone.