KARMA KIDD & DART #0
The wind carried the leaves across Cipot Park with elegance and grace. The ruby leaves merely scraped across the ground before the air pulled back it up from its embrace, continuing its journey. It was 3:00 AM in the city of Onyx...the great city of Onyx, as dubbed by the Uppies. You see, the city was named Onyx for its multiple layers of economic prosperity.
To start first, the lowest level were the Low-lives, as dubbed by the Uppies. They were the ones struggling to scrape by, barely able to pay their rent each month. Crime was uncontrollable, and was climbing digits every 24 hours. Next, is the Middlers. Middle class, with acceptable, and perhaps enjoyable living conditions. They were neither poor or rich. The upper layer was the wealthiest citizens of possibly the entire state. They were the aristocrats; the top of the society. Whatever they wanted they got. And in the year of 2032, it extended to morally complex decisions and requests.
Vigilantes were hunted down after the Mass Cipot Explosion of 2019, which killed more than 53 civilians. It was the aftermath of a clash between an unknown superhero and his nemesis, also unknown. But that didn't stop the most courageous to do what was right and just. Vigilantes boomed and were, ironically, the most violated law in the next following years...that is..until the Act of Allowance was initiated. Vigilantes were still firmly hunted down and neutralized, but mercenaries and hiring organizations were now legal and run by the government. The clients, assassins, and corporations were approved by the top forces of the government themselves.
But of course, whenever there is law and regulations, there is corruption and filth. Under the noses of the government, the Uppies bribed government officials to handle...personal conflicts. It was double the pay, double the risk. Soon an entire system of black market mercenaries was established at the very same locations of legitimate (if you could call it that in the first place) business. Not to surprise, they blended in perfectly. Crimson ran rampant across the streets. But the leaves don't know. They don't know anything, nor does the wind. Nor does the sky. In fact, the all-consuming sky was etched with darkness, and not a person was to be found outside the safety of their premises.
That is, if not for eleven men fighting to the death in Cipot Park. There were four men combating the figure in the middle with handguns, baseball bats, knives, and brass knuckles. Three men were sitting atop the blades of the grass, tiny projectiles sticking out of them; their faces paler than the full moon that shined on that particular night. There were Two of the men lay dead in the red-stained emerald grass, clutching automatic sub-machine guns in their cold hands. There was one single man fleeing the sight, half-barking, half-pleading for his henchmen to keep the beast at bay as he tried to escape. There was also the one man in the middle.
His name was Dart.
Unfortunately, he could not live up to his name. He had taken this mission in a hurry, and only packed a dozen of his signature darts...only one remained. He also didn't pack his suit. Dart had nothing but his trench coat and his civilian clothing. But that was no problem. He knew this would have been an easy mission. All he needed was his wits and martial arts experience. Dart swung his leg in a lower arc, and tripped all four of the men. He swiftly came down on one knee on his fallen opponents, gazed into their eyes, wider than the black holes of the sky itself, and jabbed all of their throats to permanently discontinue their breathes.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
The move lasted less than a second. He saw in the distance his target: Enicv Doiva, a russian mobster who had killed his client's son for reasons he didn't bother listening to. Before he could chase after him, he heard a particular noise.
He spun around and saw that one of the bodyguards who was bleeding out from the broken legs (and possibly arms...he couldn't remember) he had given him three minutes earlier, about ten feet away, aiming a handgun at him. He heard the blast of the bullet escaping the gun, the flash, and the compression of the heated air around him. Dart simply sidestepped and disarmed the opponent, rushing at him with unbelievable speed. The thug himself was shocked, but not for long. As easily as Dart had dodged a bullet (literally), he couldn't let another slip-up happen. He readied his arm to end his fallen combatants: three incapacitated henchmen.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
A faint cry reached Dart's ears from what he calculated was nearly twenty feet away from him. He twirled around and aimed his eyes at the man dashing at full speed across the streets frantically like an idiot. Dart had a bit of trouble honing his vision, and accidentally focused his hearing too precisely and started hearing Doiva's gasps for air...clearly unfit. He reached into his trench coat, and whipped out a small dart. It contained his most lethal poison and killed a man in seconds. Of course, in the other pocket he had the antidote for it. Without hesitation, he threw the dart, and it fell the chubby Russian. The gasps of air ceased.
Finally, the leaves settled, and Dart glanced around briefly. He had planned the battle's location precisely, and his position was constantly in the shadows. Nobody had seen him. And even if they had, there was practically no way anyone could identify him. The leaves had their last dance, as Dart took his first steps back to Mercenary Inc., the operation center for mercenaries like him. He reached inside his left pocket for his next assignment, some type of vigilante that busted one of his clients' operations to rob a diamond store. It was a folded up sheet of paper with a face and name on it, only it was merely an alias. The picture vividly depicted a caucasian male teenager with brown hair, yellow goggles, and green costume of some type. He couldn't tell as it only showed his front profile. Concentrated on the image, Dart shut down his surroundings. The Red Maple leaf cuddled with the cold, stone pavement of the sidewalk beside Cipot Park, as the looming boot of the assassin cast blackness over it.
"Karma Kidd? Seems like an easy assignment," Dart sneered.
And the darkness of the city presumed from the lapse.
KARMA KIDD & DART WILL BE A MONTHLY WRITE-UP, COMIC BOOK STYLE, WITH (HOPEFULLY) VARIOUS ARTISTS TO HELP ILLUSTRATE FEATURED PANELS.
ISSUE #1 WILL RELEASE SOMETIME 2014.