Post by Phoenix on Jun 17, 2008 17:43:13 GMT
((yyyyup, it's Mayfiction time again! *waits for the screams of terror to die down* Anywho! was playing my experimental stalker-type last night and a few ideas popped into my head and said I should write an origin story of sorts for her, and since you people seem to like my scribblings for some reason, thought I'd post it! May develop into something bigger, may not, in any case constructive criticism is welcome and so on and so forth! >.>))
1998
Far above the streets, the walls of the apartment shuddered as an explosion tore the door below from its hinges. As the alarm wailed in a futile effort to attract attention, the block's ragged security forces sprinted for the blackened gash where the door had once stood. Drawing their guns and ducking inside, they were met by... nothing.
Pulling off his peaked cap, the captain scratched his head, puzzled, and took another look at the damage.
"Drive-by bombing? That's new. Oh well, call in a repair team, we're..."
Something made him look back, and what he saw shook him to his very core. His men were scattered across the floor, ornate daggers embedded in their backs, throats slit with uncanny silence. Staggering back, his gun clattering on the floor, he bumped into something, a gloved hand clamping over his mouth. The sound of a blade being drawn echoed in the sudden quiet, and he barely had time to struggle before it was forced through his chest. as the world swam and faded before his eyes. Two robed legs stepped carefully over him, and he saw a small group of bare-chested, heavily-tattooed men emerge from the shadows before all went black.
Wiping his sword clean with a small cloth and sliding it back into its sheath, the black-robed man stalked towards the stairs, his followers falling in behind.
* * * * *
The woman looked up sharply at a hard banging on her apartment door. Rising from her seat at the table, she crossed the room and reached out toward the handle to open it just as the wood around the lock shattered and it flew open, knocking her clean off her feet as a bare-chested, muscular man, his skin thickly covered in tattoos, marched into the room. Crossing the space in three quick, methodical strides, he backhanded the rising father into unconsciousness and spotted a terrified child, a girl no more than five years old, cowering in the far corner. Smiling nastily and shaking out a large sack from one deep pocket, he scooped the child up and hoisted her over one shoulder, quickly leaving the apartment and heading for the street below, where he was met by his compatriots, all bearing similar bundles. At a nod from their black-clad leader, they dispersed into the nearby alleys just as a blur of colour far above signalled the arrival of a hero on the scene. The entire operation had taken less than ten minutes.
* * * * *
2008
The Black Whirlwind, smiling to himself, rapped out the agreed sequence of knocks on the metal door of the warehouse and paused as it swung open, ducking inside and slamming it shut behind him.
As he moved deeper into the shadowed space, the familiar, sickly scent of spice and sweat and blood became more and more prevalent. Stepping out onto a raised platform, he surveyed the room below.
The Tsoo gatherings had always been infamous in Paragon City, drawing legions of disaffected young men and women into Tub Ci's ever-growing army. Below, a trio of skilled artists were etching the gang's magical tattoos into the skins of three of their most promising recent recruits.
But that was not the reason for his presence here. Stalking down a steep set of metal stairs, he pulled aside a heavy curtain and nodded to the guard beside it, pushing through into a separate section of the room. Here was his project, an initiative that Tub Ci himself had granted him responsibility for. Here, his most trusted lieutenants worked with words and whips and blades to break the children his soldiers abducted, turning them into weapons of the Destroyers. Before him sat his most promising prospect, a young woman taken from her family some ten years before. Assistants scurried around her, binding her body in shaped leather panels, pulling the strings between them tight enough to hurt, though the girl did not flinch. The Whirlwind smirked nastily at this. His protégés soon learnt that protest lead to sterner punishment.
Kneeling before the child, he pulled off one thick glove and dipped two gnarled fingers into a pot of thick black paint, daubing it around and over the girl's closed eyes. When it dried, the carefully-concocted mixture would become hard, sealing the eyes shut and forcing her to rely on her other senses. If she survived, it might eventually be removed, and she might eventually be elevated into the higher ranks of the gang.
But for now, another weapon of the Tsoo was complete. Standing her up, the Whirlwind whispered five words into her ear, the normally-invisible tattoos on her arms and legs glowing faintly in response. Nodding in something like satisfaction, he led her to a crate in one corner and withdrew boots and gloves, a cloth overshirt and a pair of shorts, all grey with his personal emblems picked out neatly in white. Dressing her swiftly, he guided her up and out of the crowded room, handing her a carved piece of wood, a portrait of a woman magically charged, and speaking quietly as she ran her fingers across its surface.
"This one has offended us once too often..."
The girl straightened and raised her head, the carving dropping loudly to the ground.
"From the eye of the cyclone I send you to answer this offence. This woman must die."
Without a word, the girl turned and strode away, the Whirlwind watching her leave in silence. Bending to pick up the carving, he pulled a phone from his pocket, dialled a familiar number, and raised it to his ear.
"Inform Tub Ci. It has begun."
1998
Far above the streets, the walls of the apartment shuddered as an explosion tore the door below from its hinges. As the alarm wailed in a futile effort to attract attention, the block's ragged security forces sprinted for the blackened gash where the door had once stood. Drawing their guns and ducking inside, they were met by... nothing.
Pulling off his peaked cap, the captain scratched his head, puzzled, and took another look at the damage.
"Drive-by bombing? That's new. Oh well, call in a repair team, we're..."
Something made him look back, and what he saw shook him to his very core. His men were scattered across the floor, ornate daggers embedded in their backs, throats slit with uncanny silence. Staggering back, his gun clattering on the floor, he bumped into something, a gloved hand clamping over his mouth. The sound of a blade being drawn echoed in the sudden quiet, and he barely had time to struggle before it was forced through his chest. as the world swam and faded before his eyes. Two robed legs stepped carefully over him, and he saw a small group of bare-chested, heavily-tattooed men emerge from the shadows before all went black.
Wiping his sword clean with a small cloth and sliding it back into its sheath, the black-robed man stalked towards the stairs, his followers falling in behind.
* * * * *
The woman looked up sharply at a hard banging on her apartment door. Rising from her seat at the table, she crossed the room and reached out toward the handle to open it just as the wood around the lock shattered and it flew open, knocking her clean off her feet as a bare-chested, muscular man, his skin thickly covered in tattoos, marched into the room. Crossing the space in three quick, methodical strides, he backhanded the rising father into unconsciousness and spotted a terrified child, a girl no more than five years old, cowering in the far corner. Smiling nastily and shaking out a large sack from one deep pocket, he scooped the child up and hoisted her over one shoulder, quickly leaving the apartment and heading for the street below, where he was met by his compatriots, all bearing similar bundles. At a nod from their black-clad leader, they dispersed into the nearby alleys just as a blur of colour far above signalled the arrival of a hero on the scene. The entire operation had taken less than ten minutes.
* * * * *
2008
The Black Whirlwind, smiling to himself, rapped out the agreed sequence of knocks on the metal door of the warehouse and paused as it swung open, ducking inside and slamming it shut behind him.
As he moved deeper into the shadowed space, the familiar, sickly scent of spice and sweat and blood became more and more prevalent. Stepping out onto a raised platform, he surveyed the room below.
The Tsoo gatherings had always been infamous in Paragon City, drawing legions of disaffected young men and women into Tub Ci's ever-growing army. Below, a trio of skilled artists were etching the gang's magical tattoos into the skins of three of their most promising recent recruits.
But that was not the reason for his presence here. Stalking down a steep set of metal stairs, he pulled aside a heavy curtain and nodded to the guard beside it, pushing through into a separate section of the room. Here was his project, an initiative that Tub Ci himself had granted him responsibility for. Here, his most trusted lieutenants worked with words and whips and blades to break the children his soldiers abducted, turning them into weapons of the Destroyers. Before him sat his most promising prospect, a young woman taken from her family some ten years before. Assistants scurried around her, binding her body in shaped leather panels, pulling the strings between them tight enough to hurt, though the girl did not flinch. The Whirlwind smirked nastily at this. His protégés soon learnt that protest lead to sterner punishment.
Kneeling before the child, he pulled off one thick glove and dipped two gnarled fingers into a pot of thick black paint, daubing it around and over the girl's closed eyes. When it dried, the carefully-concocted mixture would become hard, sealing the eyes shut and forcing her to rely on her other senses. If she survived, it might eventually be removed, and she might eventually be elevated into the higher ranks of the gang.
But for now, another weapon of the Tsoo was complete. Standing her up, the Whirlwind whispered five words into her ear, the normally-invisible tattoos on her arms and legs glowing faintly in response. Nodding in something like satisfaction, he led her to a crate in one corner and withdrew boots and gloves, a cloth overshirt and a pair of shorts, all grey with his personal emblems picked out neatly in white. Dressing her swiftly, he guided her up and out of the crowded room, handing her a carved piece of wood, a portrait of a woman magically charged, and speaking quietly as she ran her fingers across its surface.
"This one has offended us once too often..."
The girl straightened and raised her head, the carving dropping loudly to the ground.
"From the eye of the cyclone I send you to answer this offence. This woman must die."
Without a word, the girl turned and strode away, the Whirlwind watching her leave in silence. Bending to pick up the carving, he pulled a phone from his pocket, dialled a familiar number, and raised it to his ear.
"Inform Tub Ci. It has begun."