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Twisted Love

T he night is dark, thick with silence and filled with dread.

The air is cold as it whips across Azazel’s face as he is deep in thought, thinking about his next target.

People are locked up tight inside their homes, completely oblivious to the man that is currently walking down their cozy street.

Azazel is quite tall and very handsome. One would not think twice about this handsome devil should they know the true nature of this beast for he isn’t an ordinary man.

Just as he comes to a two-story home with a white picket fence surrounding it, he sees a little boy, scared for his life, run out the front door. The little guy swings open the gate, looks left to right before he takes off and comes face to face with Azazel.

Azazel knows he should keep moving, for his target is only a couple of houses down, but as soon as the boy pushed past the gate, Azazel could tell something was wrong.

Stopping in front of Azazel, the little boy wastes no time wrapping his tiny hands and arms around Azazel’s legs.

Whimpering and shaking, he silently cries into Azazel’s leg.

A deep, throaty groan leaves Azazel's mouth as he glances down to see the child clinging onto him for dear life. He doesn’t see anything else he can do besides ask, “What seems to be the problem?” The little boy pulls back, looks up into Azazel’s face and points in the direction of house he just ran from. The first thing Azazel notices is the darkening bruise on the side of the little boy’s face. Anger blurs his vision and clouds his judgement at the thought of someone hitting the timid little guy. It brings him back to his childhood and the pain that was inflicted on him, and something inside takes hold of him. “Show me where he is.” Azazel barks, when the boy suddenly slips his hand into Azazel’s and guides him to the house.

Following alongside the child, his mind runs rampant, excitement settling in as he thinks about killing someone. When they pushed past the gate, Azazel immediately heard shouting right before an ear piercing scream, followed by a shot ringing out into the dead of night. “Get back!” Azazel yelled, pushing the child to the ground before pulling out his gun.

Azazel ran to the front door, kicked it open and entered the house. The putrid stench of blood and hate rolled off by the waves and he didn’t know what had just transpired. Then he hears voices. “You’re a piece of shit, Henry. If you thought you’d make a punching bag out of my son like you do to me, you were sadly mistaken.” A woman’s voice slices through the air, her words cutting deep into the assailants flesh, just like that bullet did. “I’m going to make sure you never hurt us again.”

“You don’t have the balls to do it, Evelyn. You or that piece of shit mute for a son could never kill me. I’m the sole provider for this family. It’s my money that puts food on the table and keeps these bills paid, and if you think I’m going to let you or that good for nothing son of yours come in here and not do as I say… You’re one crazy, bitch.” The man sneers. “Now put that fucking gun down, tell that no good son of yours to come in here and help me up.”

“Fuck you!” The woman yells. “I should pull-” she begins, but I hear shuffling and someone falling over. “Let me go, Henry.”

“You should have pulled the fucking trigger, bitch, because I won’t fucking hesitate and once I’ve done you in… Your mute son is next.”

Azazel couldn’t listen to a second more of this man threatening to kill the child. “It’s because of pieces of shit like you, I kill for a living.” Azazel murmurs, stepping out of the shadows, aiming the gun at the man’s surprised head before pulling the trigger. “See you in hell.” The gun goes off as blood splatters across the woman’s face, but she doesn’t scream like Azazel thought she would.

“Thank God he’s dead.” She whispers, looking around. “Where’s my son? Jax! Where are you?” The woman calls out, standing up and walking over the dead body of the man who caused her years of pain.

“He’s outside, ma’am, he’s unharmed.” Azazel answers in a soothing tone, because the woman is bound to be in shock.

“Thank you, thank you. I-I thought I could do it, but when his leg shot out and connected with mine, it took me by surprise. Never again. Never again will I be someone’s doormat.” The woman mutters to herself as she heads outside in search of her son.

Azazel couldn’t do anything but watch her go.

Moments later, as Azazel was thinking about how he should handle this situation, someone stepped out of the shadows. “Well done.” A man dressed in all black says, piquing Azazel’s interest. The figure steps under the dim, yellow light surrounding the room and stares into Azazel’s eyes. “You will do nicely.”

Azazael stares into the man’s cold and menacing eyes. Something flashes within his gaze that Azazel recognizes all too well.

The man was a cold-hearted killer, much like himself.

Squaring his shoulders, Azazel watches the man, standing there, assessing the scene before him. “I’ve been doing nicely on my own for quit some time. Nothing you say or do will make me take up whatever offer you’re about to toss my way. I work alone.”

“Do you? Why? Do you kill for fun or money?” The man asks, choosing his words wisely because he doesn’t want to scare Azazel off, if that were even possible. “Why not join us, The Obsidian Order. We will pay you handsomely to rid the world of scum that do not belong here. Just like him.” The man says, looking over at the man Azazel shot dead. “People like him do not deserve to life.”

Azazel has always worked alone.

Killing at will.

Sometimes for money, most times for sport.

Why not collet a steady paycheck to do it?

Azazel looked at the dead man laying there in nothing more than a puddle of piss and blood. A sinister smile touching the corner of his lips as a shiver ran the length of his spine. Killing was something he loved to do, thanks to his no good father, so why not get paid to do something you loved and that you were good at?

It was really a no brainer for Azazel and he didn’t hesitate when it came to giving his answer. “You are absolutely correct, I should get paid for the amazing work I do.”

Azazel’s words seemed to excite the man. “A most excellent decision. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed by choosing us.”

Azazel wasn’t keen on riddles, but he could care less what the man said, as long as he delivered the money, all would be well.

“When do I get paid?”

“We give you a name, you take care of it, and the money will be deposited into your account like that.” The man says, with a snap of his fingers. Azazel damn near chuckled at the sight, but kept his composure in check.

“When do I get started?” Azazel asked, ready to get out of here and down to business.

“We will have the details for you soon.”

“How will you find me?”

“We have our ways, just don’t go dark on us and you’ll have the information before you know it.” Azazel watched as the man turned around and left or disappeared. Who knows.

Azazel surveyed the area and thought, “This night has been very eventful, time for me to split.”

Azazel and Cherrie's paths first cross in a seedy motel. It’s a chance encounter, but the connection is immediate and intense. From the moment their eyes meet, they know their lives will never be the same again. Azazel, the tall, muscular hitman with piercing green eyes, has a reputation for being a cold-blooded killer. But the moment he lays eyes on Cherrie, something inside him softens.

Their eyes meet and hold, an unspoken challenge passing between them. It’s as if they recognize something wild and untamed within each other, a kindred spirit that embraces the darkness. Without a word, they know they share a similar hunger for the forbidden, their passions burning with an unhinged intensity.

As if drawn by an invisible force, they gravitate towards each other, their steps purposeful and full of intent. Cherrie's heart races as she approaches this enigmatic man, her body tingling with anticipation. Azazel feels a rush of excitement as this goddess approaches but he also senses a bit of familiarity. "Well, don't you just look like trouble?" Cherrie purrs, her voice low and sultry, a challenge in her tone.

Azazel smirks, his deep voice sending shivers down Cherrie's spine. "I could ask the same of you, Mrs…" Cherrie smiles as she starts to walk away. “It’s Ms… Ms. Unavailable.”

Azazel grabs her arm gently, running his fingers towards her hand and slips his call card into her palm.

“Well hello, Ms. Unavailable. I’m Mr. Reachable.”

“Well, Mr. Reachable, I hope you don’t plan on stealing my target out there.” Cherrie smirks.

“You’re a… absolutely not. I don’t think so. So back off.” Azazel demands.

Cherrie giggles as her red bottoms echo away and she says, “May the one with the biggest dick win.”

Cherrie calls the number three days later and they spend six hours on the phone. “Thanks for stepping out of my way the other night,” Cherrie says.

“You cheated.” Azazel laughs.

“Or you just need to retire, loser.” Cherrie retorts with a giggle.

“So, does this loser get your name now?”

"Nope. How about twenty-one questions?" Cherrie proposes, her tone playful, yet laced with a hint of challenge. "Let's peel back those layers and see what lies beneath."

"An enticing proposal," Azazel replies, his voice a rich rumble. "Where do you want to begin?"

"Question one," Cherrie starts, her voice low and throaty. "What is your greatest fear?"

There was a brief pause. “Living.” Azazel quickly jumps in with his question, "What’s the one thing that keeps you up at night?"

“Accepting who I really am,” Cherrie answers

“And who are you?”

Cherrie giggles. “That’s two questions, Mr. Reachable. My turn. If someone you loved committed a gruesome murder, would you help them cover it up?”

“Who says I'm not the loved one that committed the gruesome murder?” Azazel questions.

“Do you know how this game goes? You can’t answer a question with a question.” Cherrie laughs.

“Fine, okay. Yes. I would help them cover it up. Alright, have you ever had a dream about killing someone for sexual arousal?”

Cherrie lets out a small gasp. “Maybe.”

“Ms. Unavailable, can you promise me that you will finish this game with me tomorrow? I have to get to work.”

“Ah yes, this very important job of yours that only you can handle… goodnight, Mr. Reachable.”

Two years later Cherrie and Azazel have been an inseparable team since. Their chemistry builds a safe space for them to be a tornado of beautiful chaos.