The Djinn King Of Toronto

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Somali man is transformed into avenging spirit.
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Samuelx
Samuelx
2,122 Followers

Sitting on the park bench, I patiently waited for my quarry. The Commerce Court West building, one of the tallest buildings in Toronto's Financial District glitters in the distance. I know for a fact that it houses several law firms, mega-corporations and the offices of at least one billionaire. It's where my prey works.

Today's target is Jonathan Wendell, and he is quite simply impressive. Tall and ruggedly handsome, with reddish brown hair, alabaster skin and green eyes, he looks really good in a Brooks Brothers business suit. Born into the wealthy Wendell family of East York, Ontario, Jonathan studied accounting at the University of Toronto and later earned his MBA at Harvard University.

The guy took his family's wealth, which was in the low millions at the time of his birth, and turned their thriving textile business into a billion-dollar empire. Yup, Jonathan Wendell is a golden boy in every way. He's happily married to a tall, lovely blonde-haired and green-eyed woman named Mildred O'Connell whom he met in Boston six years ago. They have a daughter together, Emily.

Jonathan Wendell is a veritable pillar of North American society. At forty one, he's the CEO of Wendell & Thorpe Incorporated, and expanded their operations from Ontario and Quebec to Nova Scotia and Alberta, before finally leaping into the U.S. market by simultaneously opening locations in New York and Texas. The guy seems too good to be true. And he is.

During his rowdy days at the University of Toronto, Jonathan Wendell and some of his frat buddies got into a scuffle with a homeless black man outside of Mac Wilde's, their favorite bar. The homeless gentleman in question was fifty-eight-year-old Jamaican immigrant Cameron Fisk, in Brampton. They beat him to a bloody pulp, called him racial slurs and the poor shmuck ended up in the hospital. When the Toronto police service discovered Wendell's involvement, scandal followed, family lawyers went into damage control mode and hush money exchanged hands.

In exchange for fifty thousand dollars, the Wendell family bought Cameron Fisk's silence. The poor bastard died six months later, the result of head trauma. While it's true that Fisk had several head-related health conditions his whole life, they were never a life-threatening problem until he took some severe hits to the heads, thanks to certain racist frat boys. That man didn't have to die, folks. Someone should pay for what was done to him. That's where I come in.

As per his custom, Jonathan Wendell exits the building for his evening stroll through the park. He likes to do this while he's working late. Clad in a T-shirt and sweatpants, his headphones on, he looks like a regular Joe out for an evening jog. Just another fit and attractive, well-dressed and borderline middle-aged jogger in one of Toronto's top neighborhoods. I know better.

"Hello Jonathan," I whisper, and the man practically jumps out of his skin as I quite simply materialize next to him. Jonathan Wendell stopped by the bench to tie his shoelaces. Oddly, there's nobody around. Or so he thinks. There are people around but they just can't see us. I won't allow it. When will humans realize there's more to the world than they know?

"What do you want?" Jonathan asks, and I allow the Change to come over me. At least partially. My eyes turn yellow, and I give the frightened businessman a smile a shark would recognize. I sniff the air, and the pungent scent wafting up from Jonathan Wendell's sweatpants tell me the rich bozo just pissed himself.

"Justice," I say, and with a simple touch, I set Jonathan Wendell, one of Canada's wealthiest men, on fire. Literally. His howls fill the park, attracting attention far and wide. When his smoldering remains are discovered, there won't be anything that can explain what happened to him. Spontaneous human combustion is a myth, any scientist will tell you that. The police and forensics experts will be besides themselves trying to figure it out.

Look, I'm not going to sit here and tell you that I regret my human days or bore you with how I treasure humanity and endeavor to protect it. I'm not Blade or Spiderman or Angel or Captain America. I'm a motherfucking Half-Demon from Hell and I absolutely love it. The name is Afreet, and I am a Soul Reaper, though once upon a time, I was known as Suleiman Abdirahman of Somalia.

Anyone looking at me would see a six-foot-one, lean and athletic man with light brown skin, curly black hair and golden brown eyes. I was born in Dhamasa, Somalia, on February 5, 1895. In 1919, I encountered a man named Ahmed Bin Yasser while traveling to the Holy City of Mecca, Saudi Arabia, for Pilgrimage. I was a devout Muslim, once.

Here I was, completely and utterly alone in this ancient city, and one of the locals took an interest in me. When Ahmed Bin Yasser offered me his hospitality and friendship, I accepted.

I didn't know that this man was a powerful Sorcerer, one who had been alive for centuries. He once served Baal, a powerful Demon that the people of the Levant and Asia Minor once worshipped as a deity. "The Dark Lord granted me great power but he exacted a terrible price after bestowing my powers upon me," Bin Yasser told me one night, as we stayed at his residence in the Ibrahim El Khaleel neighborhood of Makkah.

I listened with rapt attention as Bin Yasser rambled on and on that first night, dismissing his ramblings as words of folly. The man was fond of wine and had drunken himself into quite a state, after all. Lord knows what I've said while under the influence of the fruit of the vine.

Little did I know that before the night was over, one of the Lords of Hell, Baal himself would come up from the bowels of the earth and make due on his centuries-old claim to Bin Yasser's soul. When the Dark Lord arrived, Bin Yasser tried to bargain with him, and offered my soul for his.

"This one is foolish and innocent, take his soul instead of mine," Bin Yasser said, having roused me from sleep. I looked at Bin Yasser, my treacherous host, unable to believe my ears.

As for Baal, the Dark Lord didn't look anything like I'd been told Demons would. Instead of the fiery hellish entity I expected, I saw a tall, slim young Arab man with golden brown eyes. The only thing that betrayed his unearthly origins were the fires dancing in his golden eyes.

"A deal is a deal, Bin Yasser, and not even I can go back on a bargain," Baal said in a calm voice, looking at the leading Sorcerer with utter contempt in those eerie eyes of his. Desperate, Bin Yasser threw me at Baal and tried to flee. Before he could take off, I lashed out with a foot and tripped him up. Baal's laughter echoed across the opulent house.

"Well done young man," Baal said, and then he stepped between Bin Yasser and I. Gently but firmly, Baal helped the crestfallen sorcerer to his feet. As Bin Yasser mumbled excuse after excuse, the Dark Lord smiled and then did something completely unexpected. Pulling Bin Yasser to him, Baal embraced him tightly, as one might hug a close friend.

I looked on in utter amazement as Bin Yasser's body was set ablaze, and the sorcerer's dying screams filled the air. Baal smiled, and then dusted off his hands after Bin Yasser's ashes collapsed on the carpeted floor. "What are you going to do to me, Djinn?" I asked, clutching the Holy Quran before me in an attempt to ward off the evil one.

Baal smiled at me. "You're strong, young man, and for this, I will spare you. You've got great potential." With that, the Dark Lord suddenly seized me into his arms and even though I was a fit young man, my mortal strength was useless against his superhuman might. Laughing, the Demon stomped the floor with his foot, causing a fiery hole to appear. And then he took me into the depths.

Baal took me into the Underworld, which was not the Hell I envisioned but a separate Dimension altogether. I always imagined that the Angels of Jannah, also known as Heaven, faithful servants of Allah, the one true God, fought against the Djinn, evil spirits who served Iblis, the Dark One, the eternal Adversary of God and Man. Boy was I wrong.

Baal took me to a vast hall inside a magnificent palace which resembled something out of the Middle Ages. "Your faith in God is what spared you from my clutches," Baal would later tell me. The Dark Lord took me to the Underworld and presented me to the Angel Gabriel, whom we Muslims call Jibril. To see emissaries of Jannah dealing with a Demon like Baal turned my fragile understanding of the universe completely upside down.

The Angel Gabriel appeared before me, and the Messenger of Allah was not at all what I expected. For starters, I always envisioned Angels as male beings, but Gabriel appeared female. A tall, bronze-skinned, raven-haired and bronze-skinned woman of about thirty, clad in resplendent green robes stood before me. In Gabriel's eyes, which were completely black, I saw power and wisdom.

"Welcome to the Underworld," Gabriel said in a melodious, compassionate voice, beckoning for me to come closer to her. This I did hesitantly, as you can imagine. Baal radiated power and menace, and in Gabriel I sensed an altogether different power. Would it surprise you if I said I found Gabriel far scarier than Baal?

"Why have I been brought here?" I asked Gabriel, once I finally found my voice. The Angel looked at Baal, and the two of them exchanged a smile. I got the feeling that these two have known each other for a long time. In Islam, Angels and the Djinn are eternal beings, and only Allah is greater than they in power and wisdom. The one true God made the Angels out of the purest light, and the Djinn He made out of fire.

"Baal, you were right, this mortal is fearless," Gabriel said, and then this black-eyed Angel threw her head back and laughed. What unsettled me about the whole thing was how normal her laugh sounded. Baal smiled and started laughing as well.

"I know talent when I see it," Baal said, and then the Dark Lord clapped me on the shoulder. Remembering how Baal set Bin Yasser ablaze with a simple hug, I flinched under his touch but did not scream. I still feared the Dark Lord but I don't think he brought me to the Underworld to incinerate me. Baal could have done that in Bin Yasser's opulent villa in Makkah.

"We have a proposal for you," Gabriel said, folding her lovely arms across her chest. The Angel was serious now, and I swear for a second I saw transparent wings unfurl from her back, but when I looked again they vanished. Must have been my imagination. I nodded, and in a few simple words, the Messenger of Allah told me what was expected of me.

Long story short? The fallen Angel known as Lucifer, which is really the same entity as Iblis, the Lord of the Djinn, who fell from Jannah after refusing to bow down before Adam when commanded to do so by Allah, has been trying to corrupt and destroy mankind since the Beginning. I'm sure you know that. Judaism, Christianity and Islam all share this same story.

"Many of my fellow Djinn have turned against Iblis and now seek redemption by fighting against true evil," Baal said, looking at me with a wistful look on his youthful and deceptively innocent face.

I looked at the Dark Lord, and considered his words for a second. "If you seek redemption, dark one, why did you destroy Bin Yasser the way you did?" I asked, looking Baal in the eye.

The Dark Lord smiled, but before he could answer, the Angel Gabriel held up her hand. "Suleiman, Baal destroys the agents of evil in the name of Allah as part of his journey of redemption. He brought you to me because he sensed a kindred spirit in you."

I looked at the Angel, then the Demon. My eyes narrowed. I looked Baal up and down. "You were once...human?" I asked, the words slowly coming out of my mouth. For some reason, the notion that this devilish entity was once human scared me like you would not believe.

"Yes," Baal said, and I thought I heard a note of pride in his voice. The Dark Lord looked at Gabriel, who nodded sagely. I looked from the Angel to the Demon, and back again.

"What do you people want from me?" I asked, even though, deep down in my bones, I had a sickening presentiment that I already knew the answer. Long before the Angel Gabriel opened her succulent lips, I had already guessed the truth.

"Suleiman, if you so wish, I shall burn away a portion of your humanity and empower you to hunt down and destroy the enemies of God and Man," Gabriel said in a voice as crisp and as inescapable as the morning sun.

"Insha'Allah," I said, and gently bowed my head before the Angel Gabriel, Messenger of Allah, the one true God and an Emissary of Jannah, also called Heaven.

The Angel Gabriel smiled, and then gently drew me into her arms, in an eerie re-enactment of Baal's embrace of Bin Yasser earlier. The Angel's body began to glow, and her bright light went into me. It burned hotter than fire, yet I felt no pain. When Gabriel finally let go, I fell to my knees, spent. The Angel vanished in a flash.

"Welcome to a whole new world my brother," Baal said, and gently laid his hand upon my shoulder. For a long moment I was silent, unable to speak. Too much had happened in a relatively short amount of time. Finally, I looked up at Baal, and he smiled at me, promising to show me new worlds and a myriad things I once could only dream of.

Thus began my journey, ladies and gentlemen. When the Angel Gabriel touched me, a part of her unearthly essence went into me. Overnight I gained amazing powers. I can lift up to seven metric tons and toss huge weights into the air like beach balls. That's cool, right?

Wait, it gets better. I can transport myself anywhere on the planet Earth via means of teleportation. I can generate fire balls, and hurl them as lethal projectiles against my enemies. I don't age or get sick. I can become intangible, allowing bullets and blades to pass through me as harmlessly as they would through smoke or water.

By far, though, my most important power is the Dark Sight. You see, there are men and women out there who do the Evil One's bidding. No, not all of them are recruits. Most of them only do what comes natural. They have no conscience, no capacity to feel remorse or empathy. As a result, they're pure evil. Psychologists call them sociopaths or psychopaths. We who hunt evil call them by another name. We call them the Darklings. Hunting them down is what we do.

You see, the Devil can't be everywhere. He only has a limited number of evil spirits serving him. The Darklings do the Devil's dirty work for him. Your racist boss or colleague. The corporate shark who bilks thousands of unsuspecting folks out of their life savings and takes off to Aruba. The sociopath who messes with people for kicks. The malevolent preacher who encourages impressionable young men to do unspeakable acts, supposedly in the name of the Most High. The Evil One's minions and helpers are many. And it's my job to stop him. Who is the devil YOU know? Be sure to give them a message for me. I'm coming for them.

Samuelx
Samuelx
2,122 Followers
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