((Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of cannibalism, Schizophrenia, and Corpse Mutillation. I tried to spare every gory detail leaving in only enough where a general picture could form in the mind of the reader, as I wanted this to be friendly to most audiences.))
"A Picasso? Or maybe a Rembrandt. Hmmmm, the king paints excellent indeed" Said a voice inside the mind of Azazel.
He slowly nodded to himself, as he painted the walls in the blood of his final hideout in Sector 1. The painting was a large crown with "Azazel" under the helm. ((Further description below)) He wanted all whom feared, served, and followed him, to be aware of his return. He smiled as he looked at his master piece. Azazel stepped out of the old house in Kingman, leaving behind a mural to himself made of blood. There were even candles underneath it, which had blood flecked on them. The only thing that separated this from some cult attempting to "Summon" Azazel or some such of lost efforts was that there was a body, and this body was executed in the way Azazel did his deeds.
The lower half of the body's face removed, and used in Azazel's stew. The corpse's eyes plucked from its skull to remove the possibility of having seen a world wherein he did not know that the name Azazel was the God to which he prayed. The dead man's spine removed. This is very pertinent, as Azazel found out if you remove the spine of a clone. You can bring it to a lifenet station, and use a chip given to him by a tech during the war against Ivory's Rangers. That allows Azazel to erase the clone from the database. This is the most notable of the way he kills.
Azazel smiled as he slowly ate his flesh filled soup, then looked in a broken piece of mirror. He was trying to decipher the scars on his face to see if they had faded at all, and he had begun nodding. As he finished consuming his concoction he grinned happy with the flavor. "Not bad, not bad at all. Too bad your face will never look as good as mine will... Some day." Azazel kicked the disfigured corpse. He then changed into his armor, and mask deciding what to do to bide time.
Azazel had decided to then head back towards his largest source of cattle in the wastes. The Crossroads, where a market of diversity lives. It is here he would remain until he found someone who would follow him, and recruit others.