Zanzibar stared into the mirror, his eyes narrowing on his reflection.<br/><br/>He had been created using components of others, he knew, and he believed he could see it there in front of him. The blood of his mother, the hair of her fool cousin, some hunchbacked mortal… he blinked, shaking his head dismissively. The details were unimportant. He had been assembled, then, like some kind of puzzle, and he could feel the fingers on him, tweaking, molding… Mother would have him take the minds and souls of those around them, bend them to his will… but that wasn't at the heart of it, was it? The thought made a muscle in his face twitch with annoyance- no, it was for her own gains, in the end. The ones he twisted to his will, they belonged to her as much as they belonged to him. She could bandy words all she liked, the truth was clear and undeniable.<br/><br/>He stared into the mirror, and a section of glass near the top cracked slightly as his anger spewed forth. She had created him for a purpose, yet, she was mistaken. He was no tool, he was no means to an end. He was The One, and he was The End itself.<br/><br/>He watched as his hair, now more auburn than the strawberry blonde it had once been, turned black and receded upwards and in, drawing into his skull- the complexion of his skin deepened and darkened to a something just barely lighter than brown, and after a moment the only thing familiar about his appearance was the pair of eyes that stared back at him from under a smooth, hairless head. His skin was unblemished, untouched- of the hands that had shaped him, there was no sign. The eyes were unchanged, as he saw no need to alter them. They remained black and empty like the Void itself- he would keep them as they were, if only to remind those that looked into them of how much mercy he held in his heart.<br/><br/>He turned and found a simple black cloak laying atop the chest near the bed; he slipped it on over his clothes, savoring the feel of the cloth hood over the bare skin of his scalp.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">"I am known to but a few,"</span>he muttered as he walked towards the exit. It was true in a sense, but not entirely- deep down, they all knew him. He was the unseen thing in the dark that every man secretly feared. He was the death that waited for all mortals, silent yet impossible to avoid, or to ignore.<br/><br/>As he drew closer to the partition separating him from the world outside of the dwelling, his mind locked onto what would be his next course of action.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">Mittenwald. I have unfinished business to attend to,</span></span>he thought grimly,<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">and that is where I must go.</span></span>He had accomplished much with his previous visit, this was true, but there was so much more to be done. Where there was power there was leverage, and leverage was only useful to those with the presence of mind to grasp it.<br/><br/><br/>He lazily pushed open the door and strode out into Munich's grey light, his eyes darting quickly in every direction as he surveyed his surroundings. There was a great deal of activity; a bustling marketplace wasn't far from the area and the foot traffic was indicative of its location close by. He watched the people as they conversed and laughed and complained to each other, their words reaching his ears and making him flinch. They wasted their breath, worrying about such trivialities as their lives and the insubstantial hurdles they faced as they all slowly marched closer to death.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">"Mindless sheep,"</span>he murmured as he scanned faces for signs of an intellect worthy of his time. After a few seconds he shook his head dismissively, spying nothing of the sort.<br/><br/>His mother had taught him that these people were more than just fuel for the growth of his power- she asserted to him that they were toys, playthings, items to be used for his amusement. He, the child that he had been, had listened eagerly and intently as his mother had shown him the pleasures of the flesh. He had partaken greedily, discovering a new source of enjoyment that had before been nothing more than a mystery to him.<br/><br/>His reflections were interrupted by a man who brushed rather close to him as he ambled past; it was an older fellow, with nothing more than a fringe of white hair remaining on his head. The mortal glanced at him for a fraction of a second before continuing on his way, evidently deciding that no apology was necessary. Zanzibar's body remained perfectly still, except for the arm that shot out with the speed of a striking snake. A hand clamped down on an arm with a viselike grip, and the offender was dragged back in order to be called to account for his actions.<br/><br/>His mother had taught him to look upon the fools a certain way, and in truth he had derived great pleasure from the bodies that were given to him freely. It was a unique power to hold over another, a power that fueled him in ways he had never before experienced.<br/><br/>The old man stared up at him with eyes filled with fear, staring into his own, two orbs of hollow darkness devoid of anything but malice. He had released him, but the insect stood as still as a statue, his face a mask of terror as he stared up at his impending doom.<br/><br/>He no longer knew that he had been right, however. These humans, these<span style="font-style: italic">things</span>, they were not playthings at all. They were bricks and mortar, items with which he could ascend to the height that was his destiny. He would walk upon their corpses, attaining that which fell beyond the scope of their reasoning or understanding. He would surpass all expectation and he would silence the woman who had foolishly given him life.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">"Accept your Lord and Savior into your heart, My Child,"</span>he said softly, as the old man clutched his chest and fell backward, landing hard on the cold ground before lying perfectly still, spread-eagled before him. Zanzibar closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of a soul that had been completely bent to his will and then devoured entirely. For he only had need for so many servants. No, he needed sustenance beyond sex and foolish, trivial notions of power.<br/><br/><br/>For he was The One.