#1 Posted by Clara Mass (8334 posts) - - Show Bio


His love is a drug that cannot be undone.  Blessed with the gift of total clarity is Mister Knightfall.  He who's unadulterated dreams have been showered upon two souls deemed very much worthy. Goodness gracious how remarkable it must feel to be chosen among hundreds.  This overwhelming feeling only warmed his body so lustfully.  And as he nudged the creaky door aside, heavenly light emitting from his hopeful green eyes, there's a nostalgic sense of bravado that creep up his naughty parts.  A notion that only heightened when the sight of one beautiful gal graced his presence.  Her scent a sweet vanilla.  Her features withholding such innocence that he'd hate to deflower something so unique.  He stood beside her as silent as a lamb; undressing her slowly with his imaginative mind.  Part of him felt inclined to touch his arranged bride.  What was the purpose of acting married if he couldn't at all play the part?  And as his lukewarm fingertips inch toward her own, there's a sudden cry that escapes the mouth of their newborn assignment.  There's a slight smirk that stretched onto a face so untrustworthy as infantile shrieks encompassed the room.  He's happy.  He's glad.  He's a first time father who's made tons of mistakes.  This time he'd prove his greatness to Mister Knightfall with the slightest of ease.  Raising this child to become someone immensely important.  "What should we name him?"  he said, loosening his white collar as his so called wife walked toward a rocking crib.    
Her sincerity was increasingly apparent.  She hadn't the slightest clue on how to be a mommy.  Her own mother had bloodily perished during delivery.  Nevertheless she grew into womanhood though not as lovely as the curvaceous women married to the richest men.  Some claimed her unwillingness to act dirty was her ultimate downfall.  After all a husband requires a lady in the daytime but a sexual deviant by nightfall.  She never did crumble.  She refused to convert into some sexual object.  No she had a purpose beyond the average gal.  Mister Knightfall saw something beneath her tough exterior.  Her curiosity exploited and given a single chance.  This one opportunity not even his most trusted employees were handed.  Gently caressing the reddened cheeks of her appointed baby boy, this pleasant persona couldn't help but care for this freshly made soul.  She was afraid of course.  It's quite difficult being a mother during the modern century.  Nineteen ninety-five has proven quite rambunctious.  She teared a bit.  Emotions run high when a woman has a child.  An emotion no man can truly understand.  "Marcus Antonio Knightfall...after my father" she said, pinning back her curly caramel hair.  She smiled for once.  It was a sight not many people saw from petite Patricia.  Mister Knightfall had given her true purpose.  She lifted this child from his bed, singing a soft tune as his smooth face murmured inaudible sayings.  Who knew...even abominations could be beautiful. 

Saint Michael's Medical Center

She stood by his bedside, ashamed by the teenager peacefully sleeping beside her.  Patricia was lucky raising him in his youth, because she got stuck with his rebellious tenure.  Children always despise their step parents, no matter how understanding they try to be.  Whilst caressing his smooth reddened cheeks, Clarice Michelle felt the urge to tear out his vocal cords.  Murder this bastard being from existence and start anew elsewhere.  Babysitting the last undocumented Knightfall child is a waste of her exemplary talents.  A hundred ways to end his pathetic excuse for a life.  Seventeen years nearing eighteen wasted on drugs, alcohol, and sexual activity.  Unused talent that could sure as hell catapult him into the most rewarding schools like thee ever so prestigious Phoenix Academy.  She could make his death look convincingly accidental.  Play the part of an ashamed protege and urge Mister Knightfall to place her elsewhere.  She sounds as mad as a hatter but her violet eyes wouldn't even shed a single tear.  She's the devil dressed in optimistic blue. Crimson colored hair often concealing wicked countenances.  As she stood by his bedside the footsteps of another only alarmed her killer senses.  Arching her hand backwards she grasped onto the tie of the unknown figure standing silently like a lamb. 
"Settle down..." he whispered, adjusting his nerdy glasses.  His tepid fingertips lightly touched her honey bee lips.  A preacher and his wife fully prepared to love one another in broad daylight while their supposed son lay unconscious .  "...we have business to attend too.  We only have a few hours to relocate before our entire scheme is dissolved" he hesitantly hissed, their lying lips only touching momentarily.  Medical files required deleting and his bodacious bride knew exactly how to do it.  She immediately  departed the taste of her cherry chap stick lingering on his own.   "Daddy?" whispered the awakening boy wonder, his sympathetic blue eyes not matching his bad boy shtick.  "Clarice d-did..." he murmured, tears sliding down his bruised skin, the aches on his body preventing clear speech.  "Shh don't speak" his disconnected father calmly retorted.  Young Tony knew he made many mistakes in his livid life but this time he didn't do anything wrong.  All he did was discover the truth.  Discover the truth he deserved since he could create a single tangible thought.  He's adopted and he wanted to know why.  He wanted to know the truth and all he got in return was a beating he wouldn't wish onto anyone.  His every muscle yearned for movement.  His mind hollering for escape.  "Shh don't speak" said the alarmingly calm preacher who's love for his son was everything but unconditional.   
A single lie destroys a whole reputation for integrity ~ Baltasar Gracian 
#2 Posted by Maximus_Newcastle (1804 posts) - - Show Bio

Dropping a microscopic portion of blood onto a slide the Silent Knight places another on top, sticking it under a microscope. He was a versatile warrior trained in various arts of the mind and body but he lacked the definitive understanding of genetics or medical practition beyond the ability t field dress his own wounds, The able bodied Mortimer leaning instead over the slide to Define his genetic material. Max begins to swing on the rings hanging from two stalagtites with precise agility and lucid concentration "What do you think"

Adjusting the focus Mortimer pinches one eye into the slide, The inflections of the people of England prominent in his each syllable of his speech,"It is, quite rare. While You share obvious ties to the Knightfall family, this, Newcastle was it? It's beyond anything I've, or any other I dare say, have come across within the medical field. It defies logic."

Twisting into the air with his feet pointed towards the underground ceiling, his face backward to Mortimer as he turns on the rings, "How so?" He asks in his usual stoic deep tone, words never longer than necessary as he flips forward and releases the rings, his mid air body extending from a ball to plant his feet where his hands were

""As far as I can see, and over the years that sight has limited, You appear to have a healing ability."

"We;ve always known that Morty, my injuries are were never more than superficial." Flipping backward the Assassin's Knight lands on the ground below with a sack of his bare feet on the cold stone.

"Yes, but it's since accelerated since your meeting with the fabled Varius. Once more though one can not simply feed you blood and give you power. Yet that is the case. I'm more than inclined to believe there may have been truth to his words"

"Then this man is less of a liar than Quintus and Jayden already..." He says remembered the manipulative ploys of his now confirmed father with a grimace of ill intent crossing his brown features, believing himself a puppeteer among puppeteers was ingenious, he had only came to realize his strings were thinner but more durable, lasting only until the last few weeks until they were severed by the owl reminiscent Animus, "That's not relevant What I need now is a cross reference, of that blood, with every Interpol station, police station, hospital and god damn nursery across the entire northern hemisphere." His emotions obviously lucid and unpredictable, after his stay in The Pit beneath the House of Solomon, a plce he still had yet to venture into again, the estranged Knightfall learned to digress himself from personal conflict and inner turmoil and delve deeper into his historic and history based work.

Turning quickly with wild eyes behind his calm face the feelig subsided as the man who acted as a true father his entire life place a pearly white gloved hand on his shoulder, "Master Maximus...I have know both you, and your brother, he IS your brother by blood deny it or not; The one thing I know with unmitigated certainty is your brother is many thins, some reputable, some refutable, but he is not a man who gains any reward in destroying lives. Jayden... Jayden is another story in another library entirely."

"..." His silence speaks volumes that no man could udnerstand save the diligent Butler, "Please Morty, just run the blood."

"As you wish, Max- Master Maximus." He stutters in a rare show of forgetting his status as an employee, devoting his life so fully to children of another man playing silent games with the proper gentleman's own emotions over the years. Entering the slide into the data banks and breaking down the cellular distinction into two halves he crosses out the names already know as Knightfalls. Throwing out a search for the Newcastle blood line but disregarding the Knightfall, assuming quickly there were no others left.

3 Days, 14 hours Later

"BEEP BEEP BEEP! match, found." Dripping with sweat the Knightfall catches a second wind at the sound of the computer, dashing over quickly to open the matching files. "Computer. Bio and location."

"Certainly Sir."The feminine computer says with a monotone voice entwined with a slight sexual undertone Name Marcus Antonio. Age: 17 Height "

"Skip to location and and birth records."

"Certainly sir. Plasma origination, St.Micheals Medical, New Jersey. Date of Birth 1995. Last blood examination. 3 days 8 hours ago. Mother's Name: Clarice Michelle Father: Joseph (?). ERROR files appear to be doctored, attempt original configuration? "


"Certainly sir. Waiting....waiting...wait- Father's name redacted, real Father's name: Jayden Knightfall. Perfect match with the blood line of Maximus Knightfall, sir. "

"He did it....twice. He raped my mother...twice."

"Sir, logic dictates the attempts at conception could've reached into the dozens for each infant."

Throwing the edge of the Sword of God through the screen the Knightfall Dons his iconic Templar armor, whipping his short cape around his shoulders and hopping into the Varius, "Carmela, are you alright? &As always, sir.& Point me to the listed address of the Michelle family..."

#3 Edited by Clara Mass (8334 posts) - - Show Bio

Room #0034

Love is an emotion best left untouched.  It's an irreversible disease that cannot be undone.  But sometimes when the stars align even the most preposterous can happen.  And on this day of days as the clock strikes twelve there is a sense of unhappiness festering through the hearts of many.  Their lives unraveling because truth found its way through a forest of lies.  It's saddening to know lies cut deep. 

Antonio looked at his father as if he were staring down the barrel of a gun.  His thoughts scrambling together in hopes of formulating a believable lie.  He knew speaking the truth would only cause harm.  He watched through sorely squinted eyes, his trembling fingers evidence of nervousness.  "Marcus?", his supposedly concerned father uttered, whilst caressing his perspiring forehead.  "Clarice told me what happened?"  Blasphemy in the purest sense.  Why would that wretched wench reveal her own misfortune?  Antonio knew whatever tall tale she spun would swerve his father flawlessly.   
"A-And I think it's about time we discuss your recent activities".  Pharmaceuticals, alcoholic beverages, and mature ladies of international descent.  All instruments used to wash away the pain, but father wouldn't understand.  "Tell me son...what did I do wrong", his voice sounded disheartening, was he ashamed of all the lies he's weaved?   
"Y-You're not my r-real father....", he muttered somberly, as tears slid down his finely tanned skin.  His stomach flip flopped as the words escaped his sharp tongue.  Speaking honestly never felt so vile.  Antonio wasn't the type to cry, but this night would become exceptional.  He wouldn't keep up a false facade.  His first mother raised him better.  This was an action of bravery, Antonio thought, brave and risque because he thought Clarice was going to kill him at any moment.   
"Is that why t-this happened?  Marcus Antonio...you think your adopted?"  The way he responded felt suspiciously relieved. "I-I can explain", he said, grasping his young son's hand.   Maybe just maybe there's an explanation for those documents, but it still didn't excuse his step-mother's ferocious fury.  Her actions as of late have been questionable.  So why can't his father see that? Especially when it's so plain to see. 
Elsewhere the redheaded dame relaxes beside an open window.  Her illuminating violet eyes flickering as the moon's light shines down upon her pasty white skin.  Her devilish smirk on clear display.  One can easily tell her plans are unfolding rather seamlessly. Although her motivations are still unclear.  No one will question this foreboding figure.  "Won't be long..", she whispered into the frigid winter breeze.  "..till we're together again".   
The naked truth is always better than the best dressed lie ~ Ann Landers