A History - Hawk

There are many stories, some are true and others just exaggerations of half truths. All that follows is the truth, word for word, told through the eyes of those who lived them. This is a history of the Family Anderson.

It was a cold and wet day when the cries of a child ripped though the mountainous landscape of northern Washington state. A woman covered and sweat and blood finally took a break after hours and hours of labor. Her pain and toil was worth all that she bore when her baby boy was placed on her bosom for the first time. "He is a fine looking boy Melynda, already so strong." No one mentioned his father, a stranger who came through town like the first snow, melting away with the rising of the sun. Melynda only ever described him as "a man of undeniable will" whatever that meant.

As the years past the boy grew in size and strength. He began working with the townsmen as a lumberjack at the young age of 12. Having seeming endless endurance the boy they lovingly called "Hawk" because of his crude haircut, became sort of a mascot for the men. Being a bastard child the men of his small village treated him like their own.

It wasn't until the accident that all of it changed. As the timber came rolling down the hill onto the men below a 14 year old Hawk stood and braced himself between the logs and the men. Splinters exploded around him as his feet dug into the ground and wings spread out from this back holding the enormous about of wood.

The men grateful for their life, never spoke of the incident, but they never looked at the boy the same again. He was a freak, and now an outsider among them. Hawk was only too happy when the war came.

It was November when he signed the papers saying he was 18 years old. Being 6ft 4 inches tall at the age of 15 no one gave him a second look. He boarded the boat and spent the next four years bouncing around Europe making a name for himself.

......To be Continued.

Good to see you again Hawk.

Good to see you, though I don't currently recognize you

HAWK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hello dear. With in the next several posts I plan on writting some of the Whisper back story btw.

Welcome back monsieur

AWESOME

But will it last? Or are we looking at another short time revival of a great? <3

Nice to see your return man, will be waiting for the next part

@_hawk_: Can't wait!!!!

Hawk went somewhere but his ability didn't.

That was awesome!

Not bad. Not bad at all

Good read son.

The War:

The fighting in it's self was not all that awful for someone who seemed to be born to do it. It was the style of fighting that Hawk didn't much care for. Trench warfare was a cowards way of fighting according to Hawk and his new found friend. He was a Scotsman who just referred to himself as Greystroke. They became fast friends when after a batch of mustard gas exploded in the trench where Hawk was standing he was seen walking through the mist removing his uniform, down to his skivvies. The troops while amazed that a man could survive the attack, started spreading the marvelous stories of the young man. One in particular stood out amounts the rest.

The legend is told as if the young man were William Wallace incarnate. A blitz was ordered and the US soldiers charge head long into barbwire, mines and enemy gun fire. It was clearly a strategic mistake as they had to battle not only their enemy who had a clear tatical advantage but also the wet ground and the obstucals in front of them. From what is told: Hawk Anderson was much faster than the rest of his remement and took a lead ahead of them. He seem to almost glide over the tops of the barbwire in front of him landing on the other side and quickly moving through the landmined laced ground with ease. Some have even gone so far as to say that he "dodged a bullet" or two as he went. Instead of firing his weapon Hawk pulled out a large matchete and a indian tomahawk that he been seen carrying around camp. As he approached the enemy trench all of the enemy fire focused on the large young man, but he never slowed. It was how he entered the trench that his US servicemen noticed, without any hestitation or reserve he slid into the trench full of German soldiers like he was playing baseball.

This is were the Scotsmen take over the story as they had a better view. The German's swarmed his quickly shooting wildly and trying to hit him with their rifles. But the knife and tomahawk carved a bloody path through their ranks. No more than 25 men lost their lives to a blade in that trench. One man pulling out his Luger side arm fire a shot a point blank range at Hawk's blood covered face. The story has since been exaggerated that the America soldier took the full shot before beheading the man. Though it is more likely that the man missed seeing a raging, blood soak, knife wielding man.

Anyways with Hawk clearing the path for the rest of his platoon they made easy work of the Germans. Hawk was pouring water over his blood covered head and washing his hands as the platoon leader came to find him. Without a word he just put his hand onto Hawk's shoulder and patted him on the head.

Greystroke looked on from a distance with a smile. Tomorrow they would talk.....tonight he would let Hawk sleep.

Thanks for all of the positive words people old and new.

~

@mercy_: Thanks for the bump dear.....

I'd like some feedback on the last post

It was 20 years later when he found himself wearing a black leather suit with a sword in his hand. "This doesn't seem to be too much, Hunter?" The long haired, bearded man looked back at his counter part and with a smile. "It's creates an intimidating presence, does it not?" Hawk almost laughed at this, "I'm six foot four and have wings.....I don't think a bit of leather makes me any more "intimidating" brother."

They had been recruited by an elite military force. Silently they went about there missions, assassination, and other co-oped joint venture missions that no government wanted to take credit for. Basically when people needed to die quickly, they were the ones that people called. For years they were just blood and shadows, no one knowing who was behind the attacks, only that the targets were eliminated. It was the start of what would be known later as Weapon X.

"These missions are starting to take their toll on me brother." Hunter looked exhausted as he spoke to Hawk his deep accented tone. "It is what we are made to do, it is what we were breed for...... I am a killer brother. From the day I first tasted my mother's blood till the die my life is taken, I will be nothing more." Hawk had began to almost live in the blood of the battles. His thirst had turned him in what they wanted him to be...a weapon. Hunter left that night, it would be years before the brothers of blood were reunited.

It wasn't until an optic blast landed on his sword did Hawk's thirst for blood not stop. It had been years of living in death and destruction when the hero stepped into his life. Their battle was one of legend and it was the first time that Hawk had been bested. It was the way that the man with the optic blast spoke that interest Hawk the most. It was of honor, brotherhood, family and a squad of like minded warriors.

Walking into the great hall for the first time it was like walking into Olympus, and then seeing the God of thunder put Hawk over the edge. These were his people these men and women who had tasted battles together and came out a family. But it was his mentor and the man who had first recruited him that would tear this place apart. It was him who would leave Hawk for dead, lying in a swamp. It was him who would make them all "Wanted" ........Andfrene.

hmmph

Auro, New Mexico

Weapon X Training Facility

March 21, 1956

"The vocal journal of Professor Thorton, lead researcher for Project Weapon X.

Test 5: Subject has shown

great endurance and strength in all of the previous test. He is an exceptional being and has more than exceled in the face of adversity. We will proceed with the rest of the testing as scheduled. The only real challenge I see this subject facing is the adamatium fusion that awaits him.....sigh....but he has shown a brutality that no other subject has yet to show."

April 13, 1956

"The vocal journal....ah forget it. Test 54: The subject now known as code name "Death from Above" has shown remarkable results on all level of testing! He is exactly what we have been looking for in every way. The last test he is to endure will ensure his service and all other subjects will be graded upon his scale. The Subject "death" for short, was place in a sealed area with a pack of rabid and starving wolves. His only mission was to survive."

April 14, 1956

"The subject death has surpised us all. Every other subject who has made it this far in the process has entered the Wolf Pack test and killed every wolf in the cage. When we reviewed the film of last nights test the subject did something....well unexpected. Instead of slicing his way through the wolves he sliced open his own leg and feed the wolves from it. They tore into his flesh with an ...... understanding almost a gentleness. He feed them like he was a mother wolf feeding her cubs. Sacrificing himself for the pack. His healing factor being on the extreme side, will leave him with no real ill effects. Now he also has the trust of the animals. I am surprise and overjo........oh my god! Weapon XI has escaped....the wolves are tearing into the....ahhhh nooo! ..................................................................................................

I am not a weapon.

His lungs had filled with mud and murky water as he sunk to the bottom of the cold dark swamp. It wasn't the cold that woke him from his slumber, it wasn't the fish and turtles biting at his legs that cause him to stir. But the slow beating heart of a gator drawing close. He saw himself in the gators eyes slowly growing larger as he swam closer and closer. The black eyes of Hawk opened suddenly and became a ghostly white. The gator swam to him and gently as a mother pulled him to shore.

The blood filled the air and the smell of cooper lit his lungs on fire. A rush ran through him like a drug addict taking a hit and Hawk closed his eyes and took in the sweet smell of victory. He had saw the blood run down the her neck and onto her shirt, he had felt the skin and arteries part under his knife, she would be left to the birds just like the rest of them. Turning to walk away he expected to hear her body hit the ground at any moment, instead he heard the return of breath, and the pull of a blade. Though he could move at staggering speeds he could not believe that this girl could survive, he looked back over his shoulder only to see the shine of a blade.

1968

The shine of the blades spinning in the summer son shone in his eyes. There was a certain energy in riding in an open door helicoptor holding a large gun in your hands looking through the jungle for a gook to blow apart. It was almost calming to him, the thump thump of the blades passing by until the shot of heat ran across his chest. The helicopter filled with bullets and blood as three of the men in the copter with him were bleeding out. In the briefiest of moments Hawk's hands were covered in blood as he tried to keep his squad members blood from pouring out of their bodies.

He hung in mid air hands and feet bound with barbwire in a cruxifics. They had long ago cut at his wings and had ripped and tore his skin until he looked like a deer being field treated after a hunt. They were so fascinated that his body would heal each time they cut him, that shot him up like a target over and over again. Each time they hurt him he would only grit his teeth, but no sound escaped his lips. He would never give them the pleasure of knowing that they hurt him. It must have been days maybe even weeks of this for her body to still be mangled as it was, but still he hung there next to his dead squadmates wishing death would come.....

They had giving him too much time. His body was working fast than they could have predicted. It had been 3 months since his capture and he thought they had finally gotten bored with shotting and stabbing him. Their liquor and diseased whores called to them for just long enough. Spreading his mighty wings Hawk ripped the barbwire off his wrists and ankles. By the time the guard was able to set off the signal he had taken to the air. The following was only spoken of now as "The Night God came for His Angel". The next day the whole village was found hanging dead, all cruxified with barbwire.

To read or not to read that is the question!

Cool to see you writing again Hawk....even though we haven't written together like ever >.>

I actually really don't ever write with anyone except Risky, Mercy, Hunter, and every now and again Gambler. But if I got time I'm always open.