Silver Lies Within the Hell We Created

Crimson rays of the morning sun shined brightly through the shutters' gaps fixed to the front of the old tavern. Cypress, the tavern's owner, stood tall with his muscles flexing while holding a large wooden bucket fastened with a large rusty ring. The morning's rays of light reflected off the steam from the bucket as he crept towards a dark corner of his tavern.

A muffled snore echoed throughout the empty bar. A snore from a man who should not exist. A man whose existence would mean the end to the peaceful lives of the small town of Aldor. While he knew not of the man's sins personally, he knew he would be a fool to trust anything he said or did. After all, he's a cursed human. A human, their veins carrying the legacy of the one who tried to end all life, their blood a chilling testament to the past.

With a carefree expression on his face, the man sat in the chair, his body relaxed and at ease. A half-burnt cigarette dangled from his lips, sending out wisps of smoke as he snored. Fresh cuts and bruises, evidence of a recent struggle, marred his skin. However, what frightened Cypress the most about his appearance were the large scars tracing down his arm, as if something had cut him open once before.

Cypress moved forward with careful steps as he listened to the man's sleep talk.

"I won't… you can't control me bastard…"

Once Cypress stood directly before the defenseless man, he readied the bucket in his hands. The sleeping man jolted up as if on autopilot as he threw the bucket's contents. He stepped off the chair and leaped into the air. As the water was still falling, he pulled out a silver dagger that reflected the scattered rays and tossed it at Cypress's feet. Once the hot water had landed and soaked the chair that he had once been in, he grabbed Cypress and held the back of his shirt with a death grip as he stared at the back of his skull.

"How…?" Cypress said as Ansel released his shirt.

Ansel, now annoyed from his rule awakening, walked over to the dagger he tossed. His head was spinning from the alcohol he stole from Cypress's stock last night while trying to numb his senses to try to sleep. He didn't have a drinking problem, but he did find comfort in the familiar sting of liquor on his tongue. Ansel looked over at where he was just sitting. A steaming chair and a soggy cigarette were in his sights. Unable to hide his disappointment at the man who had attacked him, he sank into a dry chair at a nearby table, his eyes fixed on Cypress, the silence punctuated by his heavy sigh.

"Look." Cypress cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment. "Sleeping in my bar ain't free. Pay up or get out." Cypress slammed his foot as he locked eyes with Ansel.

Cypress knew Ansel would be bad news, but he did not expect him to be like this. All he wanted was for him to leave the bar and let him live his usual life in peace. His sudden movements struck fear within his heart. The icy glint in Ansel's eyes was all the warning he needed; he knew a single wrong move could be his last, but he could not let his pride take a hit.

Cypress's attempt to hide his true feelings was so transparent that Ansel couldn't contain his amusement, letting out a snicker. He took this job knowing that there would be a spy watching his movements, but he did not realize that they would have influenced the townspeople to hate him. But even as he tried to double down on his unjust treatment, he could see the fear in his eyes. Sweat dripped down Cypress's face as he tried to keep calm.

Ansel's expression finally softened as he led back into the chair. "Asshole." With a smile, he looked at Cypress's shocked expression in response to his single word. It was a faint smile, but Cypress felt a strange unease. "If you wanted payment, then ask dipshit. This is your bar, so be a man and demand it. Don't just try to kill your customers off because of a first-time offense. Or are you the kind to resort straight to violence to get what you want from others?" Ansel could see that Cypress's heart sank at those words. "Heh…How much do you want, old man? My Association will cover the fees, so just say the amount, and I'll relay the info."

Cypress let out an audible gulp as he sat at a nearby table. "Forget the money now…I want information."

"So, no matter how you cut the cake, I still have to pay up. I suppose information sharing doesn't hurt, not like it affects you anyway." Ansel pulled out a fresh cigarette from his pocket and lit it. As a warm feeling numbed his senses, he looked at Cypress. He was carefully picking out keywords that would get the reaction he wanted from him. "So, what do you want to know? My Association? Why did I choose your tavern as an HQ? The killer hiding in this town? Or how I know about the family you are raising, tied together by a thick string of lies?"

A pale look overtook Cypress's face. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and answered the man sitting before him. "How about: Why are you known as a cursed human?"

"Hmmm? Why?" Ansel shifted the cigarette in his mouth around. Ansel looked at the ceiling as a steady stream of smoke trailed off the end. "I thought you knew the answer to that. A being who once tried to destroy humanity had their blood flowing through my veins."

"I meant, why? What makes you so different?" Cypress pressed forward in his chair. "And why are you known as a 'Bad Omen?'"

Ansel fell quiet as he reflected on the last few words spoken. The nickname 'Bad Omen' clung to him like a shadow, as everywhere he went, misfortune seemed to lurk just around the corner. He was not necessarily proud of the nickname, but he could not help but smile a little upon hearing it said straight to his face.

"Bad Omen is just a string of unfortunate accidents that seem to follow me on my mission. They are not really my fault. Sometimes." Ansel said the last part quietly so that Cypress could not hear him. "As for the prior question, what makes us so different? Well…you just saw it earlier." That was all Ansel wanted to say about that topic. For better or worse, Ansel's cursed powers were a reminder of his past. A past similar yet distinctively different to the man questioning him.

"What is your job? Striking fear into normal people with that personality of yours?" Cypress said with a harsh tone backing it. Ansel snickered as he could see that Cypress was still wary of him. The stories his adopted children's late parents would tell over drinks gave him a rudimentary grasp of the city's workings.

"Relax, old man. I'm not gonna hurt you. And I only strike fear into others to protect them."

"As if I'm buying that."

Ansel chuckled. "Say what you will. But I have a stalker who loves to punish normal people for the smallest crimes against me." Ansel's tone then shifted as he stood up from the chair. Ansel looked into his eyes with Cypress and spoke in an intimating voice. "Normal people who have done nothing wrong should not be punished. However, you, on the other hand, are not normal."

Ansel walked over and stabbed his dagger into the table before Cypress. He flinched ever so slightly while keeping his eyes glued to Ansel's. His breathing became rugged, and his right leg twitched.

"Cypress, no surname. The ever so brave soul who led the charge of a small town into battle against a forgotten town after the death of two townsfolk. It was foul play, a detestable move. Or that's how you twisted the story, anyway." Ansel backed off as the color had completely been drained from Cypress's face. "Twisted the story would actually give you less credit than you deserve, mastermind. Lust is a sin that devours a man's soul and drives him to do anything to achieve whatever it is he wants." Satisfied with giving Cypress a little scare, Ansel sat down and kicked his legs up. "But again, I have no interest in your sin. So, answering your question, I work as a detective of the Vindicia Association."

A detective was just a front he used to hide his true job. While he does some detective-like jobs, such as hunting down a killer, he is mostly a tool for killing. While it was a messy job with high risks, Ansel did not mind it much as it paid the bills.

Cypress was stunned by Ansel's assessment of his past. For someone who only just got to town a few days ago, he was very knowledgeable about his past. Somebody must have told him. Cypress dug his nails into his knees as the color returned to his face. Ansel looked at him curiously as he opened his mouth.

"Question for you." Cypress looked up as Ansel held out a finger. "While my nickname is 'Bad Omen,' do you know what an actual Omen is?"

"Besides the old folklore from the city, no. But seeing that you openly say that cursed blood flows through you, I assume that is not just a story." Cypress had calmed down and answered his question. Ansel's effortless manipulation of him left him feeling helpless, so he realized he needed to stop his probing questions.

"Correct. They are not just stories. An Omen is a creature created by God to carry out his will upon the earth. We, members of the Associations within the City of Pandora, are tasked to destroy these creatures on sight. My case, Lustful Vixen, is classified as one. If they weren't, then the city would not have given a rat's ass about this town." Ansel suddenly lifted a brow and looked towards the door of the tavern.

"Wait, so the killer that came to this town is a creature created by God?" Cypress stood up.

Ansel ignored him and put out his cigarette. His gaze was fixed on a young woman standing at the tavern's doors. Her tan and white checkered button-down shirt, with its contrasting patterns and soft cotton feel, was worn over a simple white undershirt. With their rips and tears, her loose-fitting jeans allowed her to move freely, and her pale skin peeked out beneath the frayed edges. Long brown hair, pulled back with a tan scrunchy, framed her face. Her rounded face, with its delicate features and small brown eyes, was a picture of intense curiosity as she stared at the man.

Cypress, his brow furrowed in confusion, followed his gaze, his eyes lingering on the source of the silent scrutiny. "Oh?" Cypress put on an enormous smile and greeted the woman. "Hey, Ashley. Good morning."