A happy family reunion is taking place on one of the first nice days of the year since this hellacious Winter began. Children are laughing and playing. Adults are drinking their beer, the ladies their weak wine coolers of course. As beautiful as this day is with it's beight, warm sun, it's clear, blue sky and it's gentle breeze all I can think of? Well, all I can think of is vengeance.

I have never hated the human race more than I do now, having grown close to one of their kind only to be betrayed by another of their kind. Their kind. Not mine, because I have always been above them in my immortality.

That little basterd Xerces could have gotten me out of jail, considering I showed him more love than his overrated father ever did. That's where I made my mistake. Trusting one of them, the very same trash that I had been cleansing from this world for thousands of years.

And Tyrone Jackson, that entitled son of a bitch. That man who believes that every facet of Warfare should revolve around him. He was the one who put those pigs on me, and had it not been for their tact vests and machine guns slowing me down? They would all be dead, this body is forever no matter how damned this soul may be.

Who the hell is tugging on my sleeve?

"Hey Mister?"

Pft. Children. Little bundles of annoyance.

Why is this young boy not scared? Does he think he is brave like the Red Dino Ranger on his t-shirt? Or John Cena whom he got that crappy haircut because of? Little idiot. He's playing with fire. Hellfire, nonetheless, as I felt the rage at this human burn within my soul. I snapped at him. "What?"

Unbelievable! He didn't shy away? Brave little twit.

"Oh my god, Billy! Get away from him, you're not supposed to talk to strangers!"

She's right, you know. You all know it. Talking to strangers gets these lemmings kidnapped, or worse, killed. But something bothered me. Neither one of these fragile beings showed any fear of me, sitting here in my black Armani and raybans. Guess they don't see my new toy in my hand? This beautiful butcher knife?

The blade is so shiny...so clean. Too ....

...clean.

I just had to remedy this, amongst everything. I stood and slid down off the table, standing at my full six feet and eight inches. Flipping my beautiful blade, "Sarah", in my hand I stormed up behind the mother. I felt my heart racing...

Thump thump...

Thump thump...

Thumpthump...

Faster and faster my heart raced as that old rush from thousands of years ago once again came over me. The adrenaline made my life complete...until that fuckwitted mortal decided to slug me right in the jaw and yell in my face.

"BACK OFF PAL! THAT'S MY WOMAN!"

Without so much as a thought, but with a lot of frightened screams, I drove my blade straight into the man's solarplexes. Not once. Not twice, no not even thrice. Every human who accosted me would fall by my blade, and as their warm blood splashed my skin, the Mark began to burn.

Two hundred plus stab wounds and seven victims later, I sat upon a small pile of corpses.

I was empowered....I had returned. With great cheer I tossed the child's head like a baseball and let the madness take over, my laughter echoing through the park...

Cain is back.

The awesome banner was brought to you by Morbid Fuckin Angel.