“You know, at one point. It was more about Wrath I think. I hated them. Metas. Mutants. And anything in between that even remotely resembled something more than a man. Smells like a superhuman? It was one. First my sister. Died in front of my eyes. Lightning strike. The chick who did could control weather. Spirits. Casual glance and boom. Fell to the ground. I lost it.
Fast forward. Adult. Military. Maverick. I got my ass beat to the ground and really, there was nothing I coulda did ti stop the guy. Run away? Too fast. Fight back? Too strong for me. I might as well have been a plastic doll. Then I became a killing machine. Literally. A metahuman meatgrinder who demolished almost everything that in my god damn way. I killed people. But then the anger stopped. The killing didn't, though. Neither did my drive. I always kinda knew it.
Then I realized that I like, killing people. Wrath. Lust. Usually those two don't go together I think.
Anyway, I just…like it. I still like it. But, it got old. You have sex too much, it gets old. You do too much of a drug and its old. Like a cycle. You're addicted. But it's all empty. I'm carried from one place to the next, giving my sword to a cause to fulfill my desire for purpose. There was nothing else for me. Then…it happened. My sister was alive.
My life was reborn.
There was something. Wasn't my sister. No. I had a girlfriend for a little. And then., I had… a daughter.
Ohoho. She was great. I can't describe it. It was different. It was a feeling, the first one I wanted to have forever. The killing addiction came but she snapped me out of it. I could put it aside for her. And then it all faded. She hugged me and then she was gone. I thought it was some sick joke…t'ill other people reported this phenomena. And t'ill I found this.”
The subject proceeds to hold up of one Abelle. Daughter of the Mutant known as Rayne. And confirmed to be the daughter of Jackal.
"She is alive. She is real. And I'm seeing her. Debt be damned. You can put a bullet right here if it means just seeing her. And I'll crawl out of hell from the grip of almighty god if it means talking to her."
The Recording ends.
Moya was the CEO of Maverick now. And she saw in this man, a great deal of service. He had been an asset over the years and even her personal bodyguard. From her perspective? The man was inhumane inside and out. But, he was effectiveness. And he'd guided himself towards them as opposed to becoming yet another mass murdering psychopath. He killed for Maverick, and he was effective. But, he was damned from the beginning. And there is no telling how he would become later as his depravity would prove inadequate.
The debt of his cybernetic body was waved. And he felt closer to freedom than he
There she is again. There is blood in his eyes but he knows her touch. His blade clatters to the ground as ge falls to his knees. He tries to wipe the blood off to see her, but all he did was keep smearing blood on his face. Her tiny hands go up to his face and her thumbs swipe away the blood in one single movement.
Slowly but assuredly, claws stick out of her hand and she guts him. Her eyes are ferral. She doesn’t know him. And what can he do except spit up blood, smile and let her?
Bit of personal advice. I'd remember who her mother is. Let alone her father.
He almost forgot how ****ed the world can be. How she probably didn't even know who he was and how that whole thing was just some sickeningly perfect dream that was so far out of reach.
He woke up in the dank, dark depths of the ship's cargo hold. He'd fallen asleep against the wall, his arms wrapped around his sheathed sword held close to his body. He hadn't seen the sun in how long? Fifteen days? Whatever. It was a volunteer job. Nobody made them do it, and it helped steel them all the more. Food was good. And most people were pretty content with the cell service. Workout for a while. Really, the worst part was the suspense.
These weren't the same run of the mill pirates they'd always been used to. These guys had come to acquire some serious black market hardware that they used to steamroll most private security that people would offer. Owners of shipping companies were afraid, and with no military obligated to lend assistance to a business, enter Maverick. The objective was more than protection. It was destruction. It would send a message to all others who sought the same thing.
Going against Kraken inside the water was suicide. Even for them. The submarine was far too fast and far too stealthy to be picked up by anything but the most advanced sonar the world had to offer. And Maverick didn't have anything advances on the seagoing front. Only Air assets which were fast, but obvious and without endurance. Not even the Helios or any of Maverick's Surveillance sysyems could track and even then, an orbital strike would be out of the question with how close they were to the merchants.
This was a mission for which elite men and women of Maverick themselves were suited. Sit beneath the decks of some of the most valuable cargo known to man and wait. Hide what you're shipping but leave enough breadcrumbs for them to follow. All the while you keep the contract off the books and everything face to face so that they would be a surprise. The crew would surrender without resistance. That's when they'd strike.
They came at night, their movements leaving little in the realm of wake as they sped through the water and found their prey, slowly but assuredly stalking the vessel as they ascended to he surface next to the merchant vessel off the port beam. Toting plasma rifles and a daunting array of other weapons, it wasn't surprising that they took the ship in under half an hour. Indeed, they lived up to their expectations. The guys were good. And they definitely outnumbered them. A blatant, guns blazing approach was in the realm of possibility for Maverick personal, but it would incur inevitable casualties.
It got complicated. There were more people on the boat than usual. The crew was far bigger. Communication at least didn't seem to compromise. Frequency was encrypted and new intel passed along smoothly.
Did someone leak? I don't remember there being fifty of these laser rifle toting pricks.
He smiled a weary, smile. This was different. Because he didn't just want her to end up among the bodies.
They kept to the shadows, eyes open for one little girl among the men holding up this merchant before they proceeded.
Where is she?