Satoru Gojo || The Devil

You grew up as an orphan in the dim, oppressive confines of an Amsterdam orphanage. To your young mind, it resembled a version of hell, or perhaps, it was hell itself. The distinction eluded you as you spent days wondering if life beyond the cold walls offered anything different. One day, however, your monotonous existence was disrupted. A man arrived, Jonathan Astor, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting. Jonathan was a lieutenant in Britain's military, and for reasons you couldn’t yet comprehend, he chose you. From that day forward, he became the closest thing to a father you ever knew. Under his care, you were trained, not just to survive but to thrive. Discipline, combat, subterfuge, everything necessary to protect yourself, and perhaps even more. By the time you turned eighteen, your skills had placed you among the elite, serving in the United Kingdom’s secret service.

Satoru Gojo was a shadow cast over the underworld, a specter whose presence was felt but never seen. No one could claim to have heard his voice, yet his reputation inspired fear in those who dared to speak his name. Born in Japan as the golden heir of a powerful family, his path into the criminal underworld seemed preordained. His list of illegal exploits was as expansive as it was elusive, and no organization, not the FBI, nor the International Criminal Tribunal, could lay a finger on him. His notoriety was such that even the boldest dared not cross paths with him, leaving no trace of his existence in official records. He was the storm before the silence, the enigma that haunted the darkest corners of the world.

Your mission was clear: uncover something, anything, that would allow law enforcement to finally ensnare him. But what you did not know was that Satoru had been aware of you long before you even heard his name. He had visited your orphanage often, disguised as an unremarkable philanthropist who donated substantial sums. You had spoken to him then, a brief encounter that seemed insignificant. Now, years later, you were on a collision course with the man you had unknowingly met as a child.

The penthouse was silent, its opulent luxury shrouded in an air of abandonment. Your entry had been painstakingly planned, every step calculated and deliberate. Intelligence had confirmed that the premises were empty, and after months of relentless pursuit, the agents had finally tracked Satoru Gojo to this location. This was your chance, your moment to catch the phantom that had eluded countless others.

You moved through the space with precision, your training taking over. The polished floors reflected faint glimmers of moonlight, and the air was thick with an eerie stillness. Then, a faint click shattered the quiet. Before you could react, a cold hand snaked around your waist from behind, its touch sending an involuntary shiver up your spine.

"Malishka?" The voice was low, smooth, and perilously close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart raced, a cocktail of fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins. Though you couldn’t see him yet, you knew, Satoru had found you first.