no rest for the WICKED

[B L A Z E]

Just Me
Name: Wicked
Pronounciation: like it looks
Nickname(s): The Grim Reaper, Devil in Angels Clothing
Gender: male
Age: five years
Breed: tiger
Pride: none

Who i am
Description: Grim Reaper, or Reaper, as he likes to be called, has a scar on his right shoulder. He also has piercing blue eyes and a great white coat. At the look of it, he seems nice, but he's not. The tiger has many scars from doing his duty. And he is proud of them.
Life Left Behind: first person.
So you want to know the angel of death? I hope you understand that I'll have to kill you once I've shared this information. Him up there wouldn't approve of such secrets being spilt. But if you're willing, I have no reason to object.

So, I was born in a litter of five. My parents were all for religion, I guess they wanted an escape from this hell, something to hope for. And my father believed God told him things, but my mother says it's schizophrenia, and it runs down the family. I believed him. Anway,, I don't really remember their names. It's been a long time, after all. But I do remember my first name. Angel. Coincidence huh? Considering I'm his angel of death. I didn't really like that name though, I knew a female called Angel. And they get the wrong idea about me. Before I go off again on something irrelevant, I'll just continue. So when I was about ten months, I heard things. Strange things. And sometimes I saw things, just a flitting image in the corner of my eye, or sometimes proper shapes. He said I had a duty to serve, and at first I was wary, but it got intriguing. I had been given the duty, of the dozens of cats out there. But his first command was.. to kill my sister. What was I supposed to do? Disobey the lord? That wouldn't do.

I did as he said, she was the weak sister anyway. And I had three other siblings, big deal. It did hurt though at the time, but he reassured me it was natural for the time being. Of course, I didn't know how to cover my tracks, so my family shunned me for it. Understandable, I suppose. But it was my duty. I grew up under the voice of dooms command (my personal nickname for it) and each day I grew colder, which was a good thing. It would be easier to do my job. Years have passed, and each day I grow more efficiant in my job. When I get too old to do this, my successor will continue the job, though I fear they will never live up to my work.
My Understanding: He says; I'm the chosen one. At first, I was unsure, but now, there are no doubts clouding my mind. There is a god, and this god out there has given me a duty. See, though it pains many except myself, death is something that must happen. Without death, you can only imagine a world we'd live in. And so, this god, has given me the duty of the angel of death. I accept my mission with modesty, and do a hell of a good job. He says, I kill. It's the way it goes. And to do this job, I must be cold. Petty feelings such as affection and love would get in the way. Some call me crazy, some call me evil, but me, I'm just a cat with a duty.

They say; He's crazy! He's totally out of his mind. He's not chosen, he's just a schizo. Or hallucinating. Whatever it is, someone needs to get him off the streets. He's dangerous. Not only will he kill if he gets a thought like that, but he has the potential to kill. And he's a manipulator. He tries to get others to work for him and his purpose, giving them the guarantee he won't take their life. It's completely insane. If you see him, stay out of his way. I don't believe he even has a heart, metaphorically speaking.

But who's right; So what is going on? Is he out of his mind, or do they just not believe him? If someone believes something so passionately, it's hard to prove them wrong. If they are wrong.
Likes: death, blood, killing, being the angel of death
Dislikes: love, affection, anything that will get in the way of his duty