(Nothing too extravagant or detailed, but something I enjoyed writing and elaborating on. Comments and feedback welcomed!)
I can still remember the first time I adopted the moniker Vex and dressed myself in the cheap prototype cloth outfit that would eventually evolve into a perfect representation of who I would become. Ridiculous it may have seemed at first, but necessary nonetheless. I was 16 at the time and had looked like any young adolescent at the time period would. My hair was a lightly colored shade of onyx that highlighted the ocean blue of my eyes while my body was a tad more lean compared to my classmates. Then again, being the high school varsity team running back and a prominent member of Gothic Orphanage's acrobats class, it was expected. However, there had been a subtle, but vital characteristic that set me apart from friends and other children around me.
The sapphire hue in my eyes hid a insatiable hunger for retribution and thirst for justice. The disappearance of my only family member a few years before had left me hollow and bitter. Her kidnapping made me want to hunt and kill her offenders in the most painful ways that a person can possibly imagine. So instead of waiting for Gothic's finest to hang wanted posters of silhouettes that they had no clue or lead on identifying, I went to work. I trained in the local gyms to strengthen my body and studied in the city's less than dazzling library, molding my mind.
Being young, I was far too impatient. Especially now that I look back upon the night that changed my destiny forever and carved a new path of who I was to become. Who I was always meant to be. I had studied the detective work of Dark Vengeance, the mantel I would eventually inherit, with a keen eye whenever his cases were shed into the public media. Rare, given the level of mystery surrounding him. I even went as far as to staring out my room window in the orphanage some nights in hopes of seeing the Emerald Archer and examining his unique and fluid fighting styles.
I never told anyone of my endeavors though. I was sure that my schoolmates would laugh and point their hypocritical fingers at me. The thought of bringing down the evil men that tore my life away from me would have been a ludicrous notion. A victim's pipe dream. My teachers and other adults would have probably sent me to a counselor or therapist with the justification that I would be endangering myself. They might have even diagnosed me with schizophrenia now that I think about it. So I kept my ambition for vengeance to myself. That life changing 24 hours had began like any other day.
0600:I woke up to the sounds of my roommate creeping along the wooden floor just a few minutes before my watch was set to go off. My senses were slightly more sensitive once I began to learn how to train them. It was far from impressive, but the slow change came in handy. Already dressed in shorts and a tank top, I climbed the cathedral stairs of the orphanage and went to work in the run down gymnasium. Thanks to a few donations from some well to do Gothicmites, I had enough equipment to develop myself.
0715The cool water from the shower head washes the salty sweat off my tense body as I take in deep breaths, controlling my lungs and trying my best to regulate my heart rate. A few minutes, but their pointless as the change never comes. The lactic acid from the workout starts to build up and I can already feel the burn pump through my muscles. I jot down a mental note, my endurance is obviously going to need some targeted work. A few minutes go by and I rapidly change into my school uniform before sprinting to the bus and arriving 10 minutes prior to the school bell for first period.
0800-1515 School passes by just as quickly as it started. Below standard education gives me plenty of time to catch up on some personal reading and further investigation into past crimes thwarted by Gothic's local heroes. The research had reminded me of an important detail that I had overlooked while preparing for my first night into the investigation. I have no alias. No protection. No way to conceal my identity or true name. I dwell on it a little more than I should for the rest of the day, but nothing comes to mind.
1600 Gun stores and tactical vendors aren't too uncommon in Gothic city, Land of Destitute. I had decided to skip the school bus and walk myself home. The market in question was bound to be located somewhere on the way. It's not like any of the caretakers or nuns at home would notice my absence. After all, it took my screaming and panicked breathes years ago for them to realize Jessica's disappearance. The neon lights glowed dimly and read, 'Protect yourself!' and 'By ammunition now!' 'Hollow tip rounds 1/2 off!'.
Yea, real protection that is. The bell string tied to the swinging door rings as I give it a firm push, alerting the teller to my arrival. He's a gritty man in a sweat stained and dirty flannel, but it's the crudely shaven facial hair that really captures my eye.
"What are you looking for, Kid?"
I hesitate, unsure of what it is that I really am in the market for.
"Pr-protection" I manage to stammer out a few words of my request, but the broad generalization doesn't really help out the situation.
"I can't sell you a gun if that's what your looking for. If you want one, just tell me and I'll give it to you outback. Damn cameras record everything except audio."
His suggestion leaves be flabbergasted. I shouldn't be shocked, but I still manage to tilt my head in confusion. I heard stories of how kids managed to get their hands on the steel weapons, but I thought that's what they were. Simply stories. To this day, I had never used a pistol against another human being, but if you had rewinded to that day and he would have given me one free of charge. I have no doubt in my mind that I would have accepted it.
I shrug off the offer and manage to escape the conversation to look at his wares, scanning over the weapons and exploring the body armor section. The list of things I can afford is considerably shorter than the list of things I can't, but I manage to leave the store with a bag that held something I thought would give me an edge that night.
1730: My roommate is out on the basketball courts with other orphans, allotting me enough time and privacy to get to work on not only my 'armor', but also my disguise so no one would go in search looking for Little Alexander Rook. The finished product almost seemed to gleam in the rays of the sunset that pierced my dirty window and bounced off the mirror I had been staring into. The orange hues contrasted the black cloth and made the center symbol look elegant, yet simple. The blue bird dyed into the fabric stuck out perfectly to draw attention away from my domino covered eyes and facial features. Jessica had often called me her little eagle growing up. A watchful protector in the sky always looking out for her. I had failed her on that day, but tonight I plan to make amends. No matter the lives, or the cost.
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