Wrath Of God is an intense psychological thriller that chronicles the life of deadly assassin Za’aphiel and his psychological struggles as he tries to find his purpose in life and whether he is a saving angel, a guardian or just a killer. It is full of intense action, heart-pounding drama, romance and gripping twists and turns.
I Am Za'aphiel
My name is Za’aphiel. The name means “Wrath of God”. Za’aphiel is the angel that the lord sends to punish those whose hearts are blackened by sin and who revel in their wickedness. I am the wrath of God. I punished those who sinned and those who revelled in their wickedness. This was my purpose.
I was given this purpose by The Gentleman. He opened my eyes and showed me the light. For as long as I can remember I have been searching for a purpose, wondering what it was I was supposed to be doing. Now I knew. The only person I had loved had been killed by a monster. My mother was innocent and my father, the sinner, had killed her.
I could not change that but what I could do was prevent monsters like my father from hurting women like my mother. That is why I preferred the name Angelus Servans. It means ‘saving angel’ in latin.
I am the guardian angel that watches over the world and saves the innocent.
Although I am a saving angel it is not enough just to take the innocent out of the bad situation. It is not enough just to save the innocent.
The wicked will just find new victims and the circle would start again.
Evil needed to be killed. The wicked needed to be purged from this world and they needed to be punished for their sins. That is why I am Za’aphiel. I am God’s wrath, I am the punishment of God.
This is my purpose.
In order to become Za’aphiel I had to stop being Kyle Palmer. Kyle Palmer was weak, empty and devoid of purpose. Za’aphiel was strong, determined and full of glorious purpose. My transformation was not an overnight phenomenon. It took lots of blood, sweat and tears but I endured it all because I had found purpose. It was this purpose that got me through it all. Every bruise, cut and broken bone. Every failure, every insult and every form of punishment. I was trained by the best in several different forms of combat. My body was turned into weapon but for it to be successful weapon it had to be broken, moulded and carefully crafted into what it needed to be. My main teacher was named Yurov. He was a man of very little words, preferring to communicate through his actions and his actions were brutal. It was a difficult journey but I learned and I became the best there is.
I remembered one day in particular. The day I stopped being Kyle Palmer and I became Za’aphiel. It was two in the morning, it was icy cold and my thin ragged blanket did little to protect me against the harsh unforgiving cold climate.
My body was in intense pain. Every muscle aching and my body covered in scrapes and bruises. The night before I had endured the last night of intense survival training in harsh terrain against the cruel mother nature and even crueler Yurov who very few survived. Just as I felt myself finally drifting off into a well deserved sleep I heard something roll into the room and heard a faint ticking sound. Quickly and instinctively I leapt to my feet on top of my bed, reached foe the air duct and yanked the cover off. I had loosened the bolts of it before and positioned my bed underneath the duct just in case. One of my lessons I had learned, always be prepared for anything.
Your enemies could strike anytime from anywhere. I grabbed my pillow and threw it in the air vent before quickly hauling myself up and in. I positioned the pillow in front of me and braced myself. I had previously put a sheet of metal inside my pillow case for defensive purposes as well as a thinner piece of metal for offensive.
A small explosive went off in the room sending what little I had into pieces and my bed on flames.
I jumped out of the air vent just as Yurov stealthily entered the room. He fired a shot off at me from his pistol but the bullet deflected off the metal sheet from my pillow.
Without hesitation I pulled the thin piece of metal out from the pillow casing and hurled the small make-shift knife across the room and into the wrist of Yurov causing him to howl in pain and drop the pistol. I gave him no time to recover and stepped forward with a powerful thrust kick to his chest knocking him back and followed with a furious array of strong jabs and hard punched which he desperately blocked and tried to counter but my attack was relentless and forced him back against the wall.
After he blocked a swinging right hand I followed with a massive left uppercut that connected with his jaw hard. I then hit him in his solar-plexus with my right knee knocking all his wind out of him. A strong punch with my right hand broke his nose causing blood to flow freely. I stepped back and delivered a fierce roundhouse kick that sent a ringing in Yurov’s ears and sent him crashing to the floor.
Another lesson I had learned was thought if your opponent was still conscious, he was still a threat and the fight was not over. I raised my fist and went down onto my knees next to my dangerous teacher and brought my fist down hard striking him with a deadly blow to the head that rendered him unconscious. It was the first time I had ever beaten Yurov. My heart was beating rapidly and my breathing was hard as I was still high on adrenaline. I heard footsteps approaching and leapt to my feet and into an offensive ready to attack position. The Gentleman walked around the corner clapping nonchalantly and said, ‘At ease Kyle, the fight is over and you have won. You have made me proud.’
I stood straight up and smiled at the compliment but then my face changed back to that of respect and stern determination. I was not an adoring child, I was a soldier.
The Gentleman nodded, turned around to walk out the door and said, ‘follow me.’
The Gentleman spoke as we walked and I struggled to keep up with him as the adrenaline began wearing off and I began feeling the pain in all my muscles returning.
He said, ‘you have done very well in very little time, far surpassing your peers and those who have come before you. This is because you have a purpose in this world.
You are special. There is a reason for you to be here. What is that reason?’
The Gentleman stopped and turned to look at me then continued, ‘you call yourself Kyle Palmer but this is not who you are anymore. This is not a name that defines you.
You are so much more than just an ordinary human. You have glorious purpose and your name should emulate that purpose. This is a place of rebirth. You are Kyle Palmer no more. Who are you?’
He shouted the last three words out, stepping forward and punching me hard in the stomach. I heaved as all my breath was taken out of me. I dropped to knees struggling to breathe and he lifted me to my feet roughly. The Gentleman then opened a door and pushed me in where I collapsed on the floor. He looked at me sternly and said before closing the door, ‘Who are you?’
The door then slammed shut and I was surrounded by darkness.
In the dark, in the middle of the floor I lay. It was excessively hot in the room, the unbearable humidity causing sweat to run from every pore in my body. My head was spinning, unable to form any resemblance of a rational thought. The pain was unbearable and the hard floor offered no comfort. I moaned as everything spun.
It felt as if the room was getting hotter by the minute. My clothes were completely drenched in sweat, my throat was dry and my lips chapped. I forced myself up into a seated position and swayed dizzily before centering myself. I closed my eyes and fought through the pain, fought through the unbearable heat and fought to organize my thoughts. The Gentleman’s words echoed in my mind, ‘Who are you?’
Who was I? I searched the deep crevices of my mind looking for the answer until I came across a memory from my childhood. That day in the cupboard with my mother as she held me tight and told me that love was an illusion. As we hid from my drunk angry father she told me something else, that I was her little angel.
I was an angel. Not your pretty winged seraphim that sang and played a harp. No, I was angel of vengeance. My purpose was to save the innocent so I was a saving angel but to save the innocent I had to kill the evil. That was my purpose, to punish the wicked and kill the evil so they may never harm the innocent. Destroy wicked monsters like my father and save innocents like my beautiful mother.
I was an angel of wrath. I was the wrath of God. Those that sinned and reveled in their evil would know the wrath of God. I knew who I was. Slowly and purposefully I rose to me feet. I felt the pain no more. The heat was insignificant to me. I had a purpose and an identity and for the first time in my life I felt whole and complete.
I walked to the door, opened it and stepped out to find The Gentleman standing waiting for me. He looked at me, smiled and asked, ‘who are you?’
I looked him in the eye and answered, ‘I am the wrath of God, the angel of vengeance. I am Za’aphiel.’
I was clear in my purpose it was time for me to be who I was. It was time for evil to know the wrath of God. It was time for vengeance.
My target was Rominev Shlabovsky. He was a rich man, owner of nightclubs and casinos. He was given his wealth from my boss, The Gentleman, but he had become greedy. When a tree bears bad fruit, you cut off the bad fruit as to not upset the rest of the tree. I had spent the last three weeks studying my target, making a list of his crimes.
Each day watching him, each day my anger and hatred for him growing and growing.
He was all that I despised. A chauvinistic pig that treated women like objects.
He was violent, arrogant and greedy. One crime in particular involved a woman by the name of Candy. Her real name was Josephine. Rominev hired her as an exotic dancer in one of his nightclubs. Her contract clearly stated that she was a dancer.
When one of Rominev’s honoured clients took an interest in her, Rominev ordered her to wait in one of his upstairs rooms. There he ordered her to seduce the client and fulfill all his twisted fantasies – she refused. Rominev slapped her and tied her down.
The client undressed her and raped her. With every thrust of his large bulk, she screamed and my fists clenched. I wanted to burst in there and rip the man apart, but it was not the right time. I waited. I would be her angel.
It was Friday night. I looked at my watch, it was almost time. I moved through the casino slowly taking in all my surroundings. Bright lights flashed everywhere and a circus of emotions were on display. A man had his head in his hands and was moaning loudly. He had just lost all his money. Another man was shouting loudly and jumping up and down hysterically. Beautiful women flocked towards him as they saw he had hit the jackpot.
Tall muscular men in suits watched closely in case anything got out of hand.
I looked around the casino. Rominev was quite security conscious. The only things there were more of than security guards were scantily clad women with surgically enhanced breasts. This place was full of sin and it disgusted me. I scowled as I watched an overweight man leave with beautiful blonde in a tight red dress. The man was wearing a wedding ring. The woman in the dress was not his wife. He should be punished, but not now. I had someone to save.
I looked at my watch again. It was time. A man walked into the casino. He was wearing a football jersey and jeans with a cap pulled low covering his eyes. He also had a backpack slung over his shoulder. I straightened my tie and moved towards him. I was the first to reach him. I put my hand on his shoulder and he turned to look at me. I said in a deep strong voice, ‘sorry sir, could you please come with us.’
I walked on the one side of him and a large African guard named Samuel walked on the other side of him. My name tag read John Hawkins. To everybody in this casino I was an ex-soldier turned private security guard. Samuel used his key card to unlock the door and we led the man into an empty office. I gestured for him to sit in a chair and Samuel turned to close the door. As the door closed I moved forward and grabbed Samuel in a chokehold. With my one arm around his throat and the other applying pressure it was less than a minute before he passed out.
The man in the football jersey took off his cap and put the backpack on the table.
He looked at me and nodded then walked out the room. No words were necessary, he had done his job. I relieved Samuel of his key card, picked up the backpack and walked out the room. I looked at my watch, I was doing well for time, ahead of schedule.
I moved along the corridors quickly. A security guard was walking down the stairs as I was walking up but he hit the floor before he could ask what I was doing there.
I couldn’t afford any delays. I walked more cautiously now as I neared the top floor.
The top floor is where they kept the girls, where they kept Josephine. Before I reached the top of the stairs I pulled out a small device called the FAKER. I reached the top of the stairs and opened the doors slowly. I moved along the edge of the wall carefully.
The top floor had cameras on every corner. I moved to the closest camera, reached up and attached the FAKER to the camera. The FAKER would integrate itself into the security camera feed and loop every camera for exactly two minutes.
For two minutes I was invisible to every camera on the top floor. I moved fast, two corners and a couple doors down I found room 143. Josephines room.
I opened the door quickly and closed it behind me quickly. She started screaming as soon as she saw the door open, that’s why I had to close the door fast.
The room was soundproof, Rominev didn’t want everyone to hear his girls scream. Josephine screamed and thrashed about, she was afraid. I put the bag down on the floor and sat down in a chair. This is the chair Rominev sits on when he watches his client rape Josephine. I sat quietly and watched her as she hurled insults at me. She was full of so much anger and rage. Soon I would allow her to take out that rage on the man who had wronged her. I leaned forward and opened the bag slowly. Josephine watched me with intense hatred burning in her eyes. I pulled out some of the contents of the bag.
A fresh set of clothes, a new I.D, a new passport and some money. I had everything she needed to start a new life.
She looked inquisitively at me, still weary and said, ‘who are you? What is this? What do you want from me? TALK TO ME!’
I answered in a calm reassuring voice, talking as if I was talking to a frightened child,
‘I am Za’aphiel. I am here to save you from the monster Rominev.
It is my purpose to save the innocent and punish the wicked. I have here everything you need to start a new life. Today Rominev dies and you are freed.’
As we sat and waited for Rominov I looked at Josephine, the chains that had kept her prisoner and I remembered a time when I was chained down alone in a room.
My experience, although harsh and brutal, was nothing compared to the terrible devastating ordeal Josephine had gone through. I had been with Yurov during one of our many survival training sessions over mountain terrain and wild forests.
Abruptly and without warning we were ambushed by several military looking men.
Somehow we were caught off guard outnumbered and overpowered. The men were trained professionals, quiet and effective. It was if they knew exactly where we would be and struck at our most vulnerable moment. We were beaten and had hoods thrown over our heads as we were taken away. Yurov and I were separated and I was thrown into a cell where I was chained to the floor in the centre of the dirty prison cell.
There I sat uncomfortably with the hood still over my head, my hands handcuffed behind my back chained to the floor and without food for two days.
For two days that seemed like a lifetime I sat listening to the screams of men being tortured in other cells and I waited for it to inevitably be my turn. After two days of leaving me in a deprived darkness listening to screams, my cell door was opened and by their footsteps I could tell three men had entered the cell. One of them lifted me to my feet roughly and another pushed me back onto a seat. The first man then punched me hard in the stomach causing me to wheeze. I was then punched in the face twice and then again in the stomach. I smiled wickedly under the hood as I tasted my own blood from a split lip. They actually made me bleed, who would of guessed?
I had been beaten repeatedly before by Yurov and my other instructors. I had taken many hits and all of them were much harder than these pathetic ones these men dished out. One of the men grabbed me around my throat and asked viciously, ‘The Gentleman, where is he? Where is The Firm?’
These men knew I belonged to The Firm under the leadership of The Gentleman.
I was punched again and then asked the same questions again jus this time he added after another punch, ‘tell us what we need to know or this cell will be your tomb. You will never see the light of day again and when we are done with you, you will beg for death. Tell us where he is and spare yourself this pain.’
They wanted me to betray the man that had given my empty meaningless life purpose? I was strong, determined and fearless because of The Gentleman.
I would never tell these imbeciles anything, no matter what they did to me. I would endure it all and find a way out. I was better and stronger than them. I stayed silent and endured more rough beatings and insults followed by periodic questions I refused to answer. One of the men put his face by my ear and whispered menacingly, ‘this is where you die.’ He meant to be threatening but just ended up being close enough for me to bring him some pain. I swung my head back and then forward with great force smashing my forehead into his face. I felt his nose break on impact. He howled in pain and I heard the third man laugh and tell the man with the bleeding nose to leave the room. My eyes widened in surprise as I recognized the third man’s voice. This was all a test. The hood over my face was taken off but none other than The Gentleman himself. He looked at me, nodded then turned to look at Yurov who was standing outside of the prison cell and said, ‘now teach him how to get out of this situation and escape this prison.’ He then turned and left the room leaving me beaten, bleeding and hungry. My lessons were never easy but they made me into the best.
I was brought back to present reality when I heard noise at the end of the hallway.
I heard laughter and footsteps getting louder. It was time. I looked at my watch and heard it tick. The door opened and Rominev stepped in with a huge smile on his face and a cigar in his hand. He looked at Josephine and smiled then turned to his client and said,
‘She’s all quiet today Ronald, I think you need to give her a reason to scream, haha!’
The client, Ronald, stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
The door closed and I moved. I stabbed Ronald with a hyperdermic needle filled with an extremely dangerous toxin. It was another concoction of Yurovs.
It flowed through the body within seconds and brought the victim unimaginable pain that lasted for however long the victim could take the pain. As Ronald fell to the floor screaming I kicked Rominev hard in the stomach and as he hunched over in pain I grabbed his head and thrusted me knee hard into his face. He staggered back and I punched him hard in the face. He fell to the floor with his face a bloody mess.
Josephine stood up and walked towards me and the two men who had caused her pain.
Both men were writhing in pain, Ronald more than Rominev. I grabbed Rominev and pulled him up to his feet. He was nursing his broken nose and split lip.
I held a gun to his head and said, ‘I am Za’aphiel. The wrath of God. The Gentleman made me aware of your sin and I have come to pass judgement. You do not deserve life. Your sins are not forgiven.’
I pulled the trigger and Rominevs brains splattered the wall and his lifeless body slumped to the ground. Josephine had let out a shriek when I had fired the shot but now she walked forward towards his body. She smiled nervously and tears flowed down her cheeks. She was free and she knew it. I walked over to Ronald. He didn’t last long.
Blood came out his ears, nose and mouth and his face wore an expression of extreme agony. In his death he felt a taste of the pain he had given Josephine.
I pulled out a small silver crucifix and placed it in Rominevs hands.
There was no redemption for him. His was a journey straight to the fiery pits of hell.
The cross was not to save his soul but so that when his dead body was discovered it would be known who sent him to hell. They would see the silver cross and know that if they sinned the wrath of God would be upon them.