“Look what we have here boys.  Some little blonde prep school boy that don’t know what turf is.”   The lead hood smiled in anticipation at the weak little rich man that was sitting down with his head lowered.    The other gang members quickly nodded and stated their consent in various demeaning forms.    The man looked up at the five kids accosting him.   They seemed to take their fashion statements straight from the various movies about gangs:  All clad in leather and gold chains with gold bandanas indicating the color that belonged to their brood.   Two were white, one Hispanic, and the other two black.

“I do not want to be disturbed.”   He looked directly in the eyes of the leader, as he made sure not to waiver.

The hood was a bit taken aback by the man’s defiance but he didn’t want to lose face in front of his crew.  “Well, shit. If that were true, then you should of took you one of those door signs from the hotel.  And then hung it on that big ass nose of yours.”

The gang members laughed like a pack of hyenas announcing their intentions to strike on the meat before them.   The man shifted in his seat and the leader read it as nervousness.   The meat was ripe and ready for the kill.

“Yo, G.  My mom forgots to give me some money.”   One of the white ones stated.   “How’s about you loan me the fare.”

“You’re all ready on the train, aren’t you?”   The man realized too late that would be considered a loss of face to the thug.  

“Yo, man.  You trying to be funny.   I cut that tongue right out…” The boy reached in his pocket prepared to take out a blade of some sort.

“Who has a need to funny?    No, I said that I do not want to be disturbed.”   The man’s eyes seemed to change right before the threatening thug and his leader. 

The leader knew that look somewhere before.   The blonde man was ready to take the fight to them.  And, that usually meant he knew his stuff or he was full of himself.   With the way of the man dressed, the leader instantly assumed the latter.   

“Oh, so big boy does have a backbone now.   What, his mommy and daddy make sure to give him some karate lessons?”   The leader instantly posed in various mock positions, while the crew enjoyed the clownish display of antics.

“Something like that…” The man barely muttered.   

The crew heard the statement and continued with their condescending as they howled in mock fear of retaliation.  They began to edge closer to purposely violate the man’s space.    The man did not budge one inch as the gang members started doubt about this potential prey.  

            “Leave me be.”   The man’s voiced seemed changed: a veritable rush of assurance and a cold calculating indirect threat.

            Now, it was the gang members turn to look nervous and unsure on how to continue.   Despite their atrocious demeanor, they usually just hassled the chumps until they tossed some money at them.   But, this was a new predicament.   This man seemed to have two very distinct personalities: one that seemed weak, and the other strong, defiant, and assured of himself.    The leader took this as some sort of affront, a ruse to get the man out of any possible harm.    But, still he didn’t want his crew in more trouble than they could handle.

“All right man.  Tell you what.  Me and mine will leave, but we’ll have to double our fee since you giving us grief.” The leader assessed the man’s breaking point.    “It’s gonna be fifty bucks.”

The man did not hesitate, his eyes looked as though fires danced within them.   “Your persistence will only guarantee the pestilence that runs over your dead bodies and devours them whole.”

At first, the leader had to try to translate what the man just said.   The “smart one” of the bunch deciphered it much quicker.  

“Dude that was cold.   He said if we continue fronting, he gonna cap us.”  The Spanish one stated with a trademark accent.

The leader shoved the smart one.  “I know that.  Damn.”

“Sorry man.  Didn’t mean nothing by it.”

The leader looked back at the man.  “Yo, all the Biblical bull ain’t gonna save your butt today.  You threaten us, then we’s got to act.”

With a wave of his hand, the gang charged forward to grab the man.   Without even rising from his seat, he dodged and parried the various attempts.   After a bit of confusion, the gang reassembled.   They didn’t know what the heck just happened but all they knew was that growing anger inside.   They attempted again, this time to beat the man where he sat.  Once, again they found themselves greeting nearby seats or windowpanes except with more force.    

“All right, you know some stuff.  I give ya that.  But, it don’t make you Superman.”   The leader pulled out his glock and pointed it at the man.   However, there was no loud bang that followed.   Rather, the crack of a broken arm and the clang of a dropped gun as the leader howled in pain.   The others stopped in their tracks, while they watched their leader slump to the floor.    Faster than they could turn around to retreat, their bodies were slammed, hit, kicked, and pummeled until each fell like a sack of potatoes on the floor.   There was no longer a man, but an Angel of Death about to descend on the youth.

“Enough.”   The voice was strong resolute and without a hint of fear.

The Angel of Death gazed at the robed monk, and seemed to bow in respect.   “They are defilers.   Their sentence shall be delivered by Azrael.”

The monk stood his ground.  “They have learned their lesson.  They do not deserve death.”

Azrael became calmer as he allowed more of his host to seep through.  “Perhaps not today.”

The other thugs that regained consciousness took their wounded leader and promptly dragged him to the next car.

The monk watched as the blonde hair man sat back down.   His whole demeanor seemed to shift to one of a feeble man.

“So, the tiger returns.”  The monk sat next to the man.

“Something like that yeah.”   He softly whispered.    “I’m Jean Paul Valley.”

“My name is not important.  I have never seen moves accomplished like that by any man.  The variations of the monkey style you performed are mere legends.”

Jean Paul lowered his head more. “You might say that it’s in my blood.”

“I see.  There are also legends of a dark order, who claimed that Allah the God had chosen man to create the Azrael.”

“You certainly seem to know so much.”  Jean Paul had never had an opportunity to learn about the Order of Dumas like this  “Why don’t you tell me more about your legends?”

“There is a series of tests that one must go through in order to become an Azrael.”

“Not quite the way I would put it.”

“Yes, these tests were to separate the dragon and the tiger, the yin and yang, the light and dark.”

“I get the point.”

“The means of these tests were never revealed to our original masters.   If we had known…”

“You probably wouldn’t be here.”

“Yes, the threat to our temple was great.   But, there was another factor involved in our masters giving our secrets to an outsider.”

“And that was?”  Jean Paul’s interest heightened.

“I dare not speak its name or the demon will visit our temple.”

Jean Paul shrugged.   “Well, if it’s too difficult.”

“Perhaps, there are a few rare places where even the demon has no ears.   But, this is not one of them.”

“We lost track here.  You have a walking legend before you.   There was some disgrace involved since your legends are roughly accurate, perhaps I can seek to repay it.”

“An interesting proposition, but I feel there is a price involved.”

“I seek to put back together that which was separated.”  Jean Paul replied in a coy imitation of the monk’s voice.

“Please, sit down.”   The eldest of the monks waved his hand down indicating the cool hard ground.

Jean Paul respectfully bowed then took his seat.   “I understand that my former Order has transgressed against yours.   I’m not sure if this is some stereotypical movie thing, but I still feel a need to repay for my own sins and my fathers’ before me.”

The monk offered a rare smile.   “We are not here to listen to grasshoppers by your feet, nor to snatch pebbles from anyone’s hand.   And, yes there is the blood rite.   Perhaps, there may be salvation for your family honor.”

“I will do what is necessary.   As long as you do what is needed.   There must be no more separation between the Angel of Death and I.”

“First, you must tell us everything you know on how the Order trained you.   This will also give us keys to unlock what they have done.  And, provide us with what we need.”  

“The System was their main training technique.   It used a variety of tactics: Torture, physical endurance, and genetic manipulation.   All to attain one goal: The creation of the Azrael.”

“Please, be more specific.”

“Well, the torture starts when the chosen one is removed from the womb of a primate.  While still growing, the fetus is subjected to the intense electrical currents.   I assume the fetus lives because of the genetic manipulation.”

 “Wait a minute, the womb of a primate?”  One of the monks interfered with Jean Paul’s explanation.

Jean Paul nodded.  “The Azrael are take from the mother’s womb, then probably the genetic manipulation takes place.  After that, the fetus is placed back in uterus of a primate.   This is so the primate begins to the of the child as her own, and raises it in her ways.   This is why I demonstrated “the variations of monkey style performed by no man”.   It also does something to my immune system, the full effects of which I still haven’t determined.”

“I see, continue.”

“Well, they systematic use a variety of psychological means to create a split personality.   One, is the weak normal individual meant to keep the identity of what he harbors a secret.   The other is the Azrael.   The loyal assassin of Saint Dumas.”

“And, what makes you so different from the others?”

“My father was negligent on many of the trainings for which he was responsible.  Which trainings those were, I can never be certain.  Perhaps that is why I am having an easier time regaining something the Order didn’t want me to get back.” “Describe how you…change…from yourself to Azrael.”

“I’m not exactly sure.  It begins as though there is a fire coming from within, a spiritual one.   Each personality is like a phoenix in a sense.   When one is not required it is burned away, then reborn again at a later time.”

“Is there a specific need to do something?”

“The first initial step always has me go after my vestments of Azrael.  When I put it on, that completes the transformation.” 

“When does the transformation start?”

“Whenever I am threatened.”

The monks all nodded at the response and their postures seemed to relax more on that statement.

“What?”  Jean Paul’s hope rose to new heights.

They all talked for a moment, then seemed to agree on whatever they discussed.   The eldest spoke for them once more.

“I fear that the remedy can not be instantaneous.   For that, it would take a miracle.”

“And, you are not miracle workers.” Jean Paul mumbled as he lowered his head.

“Something like that yes.” The elder quipped back.  “But, this…transformation is the step to breaking the many walls that this System has built between you and Azrael.   I warn you though, you will lose the man you are in this attempt.”

“Yes, I know an attempt to produce more honey might actually make a killer bee instead.    I realize that, and I accept the risks.    Just sharing the same body as him…is a risk in of itself.”

“I believe that your trigger is the greatest fault in this…System.   You see, it is a failsafe lest one of you try to revolt.   All they have to do is to steal your vestments…and there are probably other forms of disable this Azrael as well.”

“How do you mean?”

“You see the first step is a threat.   The world is a balance.   Where there is peace, there is war.    Where there is not a threat, somewhere else there is.   We must trick this System into believing there is a constant threat, which there is…although one is not present.”

“Well, I’m thoroughly confused.  But, I don’t think I’ll like the way you’ll break that particular barrier.”

“As we train your mind to reform, so we reveal secrets long lost.    We will also train the “weak” part of your body to do as Azrael does.  If this System is as rigorous as you’ve mentioned, then surely all the moves of the old teachers may be within your mind.”

“Well, let’s just hope my father wasn’t responsible for my martial arts training.”

His body was as tormented as his mind. It had been a week since they allowed him any sleep.   He was Jean Paul Azrael or Azrael Valley...or something else all together.   Every footstep seemed like a threat, and caused Azrael to emerge.  But, many threats were often false…and Azrael allowed a Jean Paul to gain control once more.    This was typically followed with a true threat.  A master would come from the shadows and attack.   The other monks observed and occasionally drew a diagram of a long lost move that even some of the masters did not recognize.    Finally something had broken.   As he was fighting a master who was blind, Jean Paul realized that…he was still there.     He was wearing the costume, but his mind was his own…and not Azrael’s.    The pause allowed the master to hit Jean Paul squarely in the face.    The resulting blow shredded a part of the mask, and this time it was the master’s turn to pause.    The master signaled for Jean Paul to stop the fight as he lowered himself to the ground.    Jean Paul grew puzzled as the master ran his nails along the floor of the monastery.    The master had evidently found something along side the piece of shredded cloth.   

“Hold out your hand.”  The master stated with an ominous tone.

“I thought we weren’t going to do the snatch the pebble from the hand thing.”

The master’s face furled with annoyance.   “Hold out your hand.”

Jean Paul obliged as he took off his golden gauntlet, and extended his hand out to the master.    He felt small little grains of what he thought to be sand hitting his palm.   Jean Paul seemed more puzzled about what the master was attempting to do.

“What is it?”  He finally asked.

The master hesitated for a moment.   “One of the answers you seek.  This is the sand of time.   As you don the mask, so ends the time of Jean Paul.   And, begins the time of Azrael.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Bright eyes, back up.   You let a bunch of total complete strangers learn about the Order and one of your weaknesses?”   Barbara chided over the phone, as Jean Paul sighed.

“I don’t know what it was.   I seemed to be compelled, almost driven to relate my story to them.  And, the acupuncture…sand thing isn’t a weakness.   It’s just a weird way to activate a particular portion of the nerves on my face.   It’s one of the triggers for me to become him.   And, the secrets of how the Order makes that happen are locked away.”

“Look, Jean Paul.   I know that your desperate for answers but going to this extreme might have some serious consequences.   Despite the fact they don’t know the whole story.     You should have investigated those monks before spilling your life story to them.”

“If they even attempt to use the knowledge I gave to them, then I’ll put a stop to it.   I’ll make a trip back there to make sure nothing has been given away.”

Barbara had to be satisfied with Jean Paul’s answer.  “Okay after that, what’s next on the agenda?”

“For me, nothing.”

“And what about Azrael?”

“There was a time when he allowed me full control of the body.   Now, he wants control.”

“Jean Paul?”  All though confused by the statement, Barbara did not like the implication of his statement.

“Don’t worry, it’s only for one day.   He thinks he can find something to rid us both of the images of Dumas.”

Epilogue

“Your…payment has been accepted.   You shall receive permission to host your little version of the Kumite.”   The monk stated to the woman with a tawdry short black leather dress and long black curly locks to match.

“I didn’t appreciate the fact I was not allowed to watch the proceedings.” 

“Your presence would have alerted Azrael.  And, undermined what we attempted to achieve.  Still, our mission has failed. The boy’s presence was still a part of him when he left.  Perhaps, you underestimate Jean Paul.”

“Without Jean Paul’s conscious, Azrael will be an easy man to manipulate into my new Order.     Though, I will miss sweet Jean Paul dearly nothing will stand in my way to rebuild the Order as I see fit.”

“You will be given a Triad escort, otherwise such a woman like you would be dragged into a corner.    Do you think you will truly find one that is superior to him?”

“The only true superior is whatever god you believe to be real.   But, for any man, no one beats the Angel of Death.   Besides, I only seek to raise an army in preparation.    I shall gather the other hosts around the world, and unleash the spirits within them much like my friend here.”

 A burly man came out from the shadows, adorned in the primary colors of red and gold.   His costume seemed an altered more modern update of a Chinese feudal soldier in full clad armor. 

“What is this?”  The monk was unsure about the presence of the man.

“Give him the answer he seeks, and the answer to something that all men seek.   In fact, give it to all of them.” She stated as she slipped away.

The elder monk looked at the towering figure and prepared for ascension.   “I am not afr…”

There was no time left to finish, but only a sickly thud of a severed head that bounced onto the floor.  The temple and its secrets were forever lost upon the pools of crimson gathering on its floors.

Azk and Ye Shall Receive

No letters really just a general comment about getting told what this System and everything is about {Especially from those people who don’t know a lot on Azrael…Sorry to the Az folks, but this essentially a simple rehash of what you knew all ready…but I tossed in some bits to make things more interesting for next issue}.   I hope it answers some questions, and I’ll be slipping in more details as we progress for those who didn’t get every nagging question answered.

Now, about the Dumas hallucinations…there’s a story I have planned.   It’s effects will severely effect Jean Paul’s and Azrael’s status…. permanently.    Needless to say, the next three issues are going to focus on the side effects of Jean Paul’s tampering of the System.    “System Overload” Part 1 of 3 starts next issue.