Rushed steps, cries, and a gritting fluorescent light. Nor smell or taste known, yet his other senses betrayed him for sure; to see, to hear, and to speak. He squinted his abyss-like eyes as he grunted at that very source of light. Was it because he was but a being of darkness that he despised the light? In actuality, no, simply it was too bright for his liking.
Pulling out a black shade from his pocket and setting it across his eyes. He leaned back against the rowing cold seat, as another man in an all too familiar white coat ran frantically as the alarm set off, disturbing his peace.
"CODE BLUE! CODE BLUE!"
Hospital. Death surely lingers in this place, much evident—a place where life and death are blurred. Humans either live or die here.
He looked around, watching every single reaction of human emotions present that afternoon. Those emotions are unknown to him, as feelings had never been a part of his creation.
A young mother cries over her son's death, an old father's gentle smile to his daughter's tears, and more. All too similar, however, different every single time. Sorrow, despair, yet happiness and hope linger too. To him, it was all but in vain, momentary and fleeting.
Why do humans feel? I will never be able to understand it.
A passing coldness, death has arrived. It was his cue. Standing up, he took deliberate steps through the surgery room as he heard a mother's wailing. The tall, charming young man closed in, his steps purposeful, yet his black leather shoes made not a single clanking sound against the textile floor.
He wasn't wearing his sweeping robe anymore, but an all-black tuxedo, complementing his dark appearance for this occasion. His all black attire was his identity, of what you asked? It shall not be known. However, one thing is for sure.
I deal with deaths. But I am no Angel of Death. That's Ezrael's job.
Bringing himself inside, an instant emergence, gracing his presence, not that they are aware of it. Standing firm on the side, he watches the mother's tears trail down as she cries out in pain. Clutching the railing of the ward bed tighter. Her breathing ragged, as she gasped for air with each forceful exertion.
"You can do it, madam! Just a little bit more! Push!"
The female doctor assigned to her labor encouraged the woman. She let out another guttural cry as she pushed harder with effort. He, who had been watching the whole ordeal, had only annoyance to offer as her deafening shrieks irritated him.
How futile.
He removed his glare and pocketed it once again. A swirl of black mists accumulated, circling his hand. A single gesture and the black mists spread throughout the whole hospital, filling the space. Not that those humans could see it. Before long, a tempestuous shakes the building, rattling the entire area with increasing intensity.
"It's an earthquake!"
Rhythmic cry of help chained to his ears. All drops, all falls, the circuitry failed, thus the whole fold. The side hall collapsed, and with that, death follows, yet the quake never ceased. Before long, in her last effort of demise, she wailed.
"Aaahhhhh!"
The collapse and totality of the exact 3175-meter radius engulfed her scream. Come crumbling down the once lofty structure, and so it did bury those together with it, an all too natural gravesite for whole thousands inside.
Black mists rise along the greyish smoke of destruction. Only to appear upon grand dispersing, a man he once again. Scrutiny his devastation done, as the lives of humans are of no matter to him. Those mere portions of happiness and hope were now buried together as despair, much to his chagrin, as his eyes squinted and a sinister grin spread across his face.
As to instant, his face grimaced. Something was amiss; he could feel it. Amidst his beautiful devastation, born among it was something repulsive, a light.
"A first breath?"
He muttered softly as the wind blew his soft, long locks slightly, his brows yet furrowed. An untainted soul had lived. Through his mind's eye, the mother from earlier now plunged deep into the sinkhole. Somehow, she managed to hold tight to her child who breathed it first, despite his calamity.
"Miracle, they said, huh."
He scoffs.
Is living bearing the death of millions worth it? For she had cursed her with life instead. However, I shall not let such an opportunity go amiss. For I am calamity, and this vessel is but a mere catalyst. In the end, I'll take her as well, as I did with another.
A new form of dark mists appeared before the debris as it rose into the sky. Gesturing with his hand and putting his palm out, the black mists gathered, condensing into a single black orb at hand.
"How beautiful. Yet, not enough, not... perfect."
Sirens heard blaring in the distance, notifying the arrival of rescue for what remains under the wreckage. That day, a devastating day, befell the peaceful city of Old Barua.
The death of thousands yet honored by humans is but a fleeting pity, soon as easily forgotten. He had known how selfish they are, and this will be no different. He glanced at the child again, buried beneath the rubble, under her mother's dying embrace.
"His Rohi. I'll come for you... As I had come for those before you."
He muttered under the swaying of the gentle breeze before dissolving into black mists once again, carried by the wind. The calamity disperses, yielding another beautiful catastrophe.