Tenacity (214 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Hirilnara (View user info) at 2006-10-21 20:53:42 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
...she's without a soul, without a heart...
...sent to Earth by the Lord himself, one of his Dark angels. Sent to scourge his world of evil...
...billowing black coat and a hat pulled low so you can't see the burning coals where eyes should be...
...just doesn't stop; she'll just keep on going until she's done whatever it was she had her mind set on...
...can't be stopped...
Whenever I hear the stories about myself, it's hard not to die laughing. Out of all of them, there's only one thing they ever get right; I'm one stubborn-assed bitch. Never quit before in my life, and don't have plans to start any time soon. Well, they're sort of right about the clothes too.
Right from the start, it would probably been easier if I'd rolled over and let it all go - I was found in a cardboard box on the streets of Terramadre; abandoned, hadn't been fed in two days. Fortune smiled on me though - I was found by a monk; Brother Matthews. He took me back with him to the monastery, argued for me to stay there. He never could explain why afterwards, and he'd never been so stubborn about anything in his life. Most of the time, he called it Divine inspiration; once or twice he blamed the devil instead.
I grew up there, was taught the scriptures, and learnt to believe in the Lord. I learnt about the good in the world, and the evil. But there was more than just the sins of men; whispered conversations that would stop as I walked past, secret meetings behind closed doors. Eventually, bored of my books, I taught myself to be quiet and hidden, and through that I learnt about the second darkness that plagued the world.
The first time I met one of the Damned was when I was eight; a Vampire. It was late, after curfew, and I was trying to sneak back to my room after listening in on yet another hushed discussion. He came out of the shadows at me and tried to drag me back with him.
Instincts I never knew I had kicked in and I started fighting back. I never should have survived that; wouldn't have if it hadn't have been for my eavesdropping. The Brothers came running just as I managed to bury a broken garden cane in his chest.
After the "incident", there were more arguments; I should stay, I should go. I should be locked up, I should be protected, I should be sent away. Brother Matthews was the one who suggested the final, controversial solution; I should be trained.
I'd always been his charge, so becoming his student seemed the obvious choice. He taught me to fight, to recognise different types of evil, and the ways in which they could be destroyed - the power of silver, the Lord's metal, and the power of faith. I freely dedicated myself to ridding the world of the second darkness; I was happy to make that my life. But he taught me other things too - insisted I kept learning my scriptures, which was understandable. He also taught me about music and art, about etiquette, and the world outside my cloistered existence. He gave me a life, rather than an existence.
It was natural progression for him to become a father figure, and by the age of sixteen there was nobody in the world who meant more to me. Sure, we had our arguments; too many to remember them all. Some about training, some about my choice in clothing - for my twenty first birthday, I'd been sent to town with a purse and told to find myself something other than the old robes and second hand tatters to wear. I came back with black leather trousers, corset tops in inky blues and wine reds and, my pride and joy, a full length leather coat that swirled satisfyingly as I walked. Boy, did he yell then - accusing me of vanity and extravagance, and a complete lack of modesty. We never did agree on what I should wear.
It was about three years ago now that I lost him. I'd been out patrolling, searching for a Dahaka demon that had been spotted the previous night. It had been a hard fight, and I was looking forward to coming home to proud words and a warm fire. Instead, I found desecration and death. The altar had been ransacked, the chalice knocked aside; the wine had soaked into the cloth, and dripped down to mingle with the blood on the floor.
It had been Vampires - the countless bite marks were a testament to that, as were the scattered stakes, broken and discarded with obvious contempt. Brother Matthews... he was alive - just - by the time I got back. They... they'd staked him in the shoulder, in the chest; everywhere they could without actually killing him. He was able to tell me as much as he knew about the Damned who had done this; a clan by the name of Senza Cuore. For my part, I was able to make sure his last breath was taken in comfort, and in the company of one who loved him. Even small mercies such as these remind me that my Lord is just, and my heart and life are in his service.
From that day, I had a new mission; I still killed any Damned that crossed my path, but my driving goal was to find the Senza Cuore. By day I would travel, search for clues, sleep if I could find shelter; anything to keep my mind distracted. By night, I would hunt. It was in these last three years that the stories started, that I'm meant to have lost my humanity. I haven't - it still cuts me just as deep. I've just grown a hell of a lot more stubborn. But tonight is different; tonight I'm fighting with a purpose.
Little clues lead the way - a hushed whisper here, a familiar modus operandi there. Just enough to keep me on the trail. It's been easier as I close in; they seem to be less careful on their home ground. And now I'm finally here, I can begin to understand why.
In most places, the Damned have too many petty squabbles to co-exist safely for any length of time. You'd find ten - maybe twelve - a city, if you were really unfortunate. But the Senza Cuore had turned this town into their court, ruling through terror and calculated cruelty. Many people here know of them, and their "palace" - an old church they claimed many years back. I could have gone during the day, destroyed them in their sleep. That won't do though; I want to look them in the eyes as they die, I need them to know that I have finally found them.
So I have spent the day training, trying to hurry the crawling hours with practice and drills. The sky is a filthy smear of clouds now, the setting sun suffusing the grey with murky red, and it's finally time. I gather my weapons - a belt of stakes, a katana I picked up on my travels, and a spiked wrist band. These can all be concealed under my jacket, ready for use. And then there are my crosses.
Two silver crucifixes, presents from Brother Matthews - each adorned with a jewel, and an inscription. The first, a diamond in the centre, bears the legend "Qua vos flos, suus lux lucis mos rector vos domus" and the second, a ruby and "Quod suus lux lucis mos exuro absentis obscurum of Damno". My fingers trace the familiar markings, as I speak the words I've known for as long as I can remember.
"Wherever you wander, His light will guide you home, and His light will burn away the darkness of the Damned."
I clip them to my belt with a muttered "Amen." I'll need His guidance tonight.
The weight of the crosses on my hips is reassuring; for the first time in three years, I'm afraid again. Anger and sheer determination have driven me onwards till now, but suddenly I'm not fighting my way towards something - I'm here.
The walls are still soot stained, a startlingly visible reminder of their arrogance, and power. This church might have been a truly beautiful monument once, but now it reeks of desolation, and corruption. I try not to notice the dark stains on the stones as I work my way back to the private quarters; the way down to the crypt will be there, and that's where I'm bound to find them. Shadows suddenly shift in the corner of my eye, but there's no time to react; a strong hand seizes my throat, and I'm dangling above the ground.
"Careful now Simeon... we don't want to hurt our 'guest'." Over my captures shoulder, I can see the speaker. An Elder vampire, with the impeccable grooming developed over years of practice.
The fingers choking me loosen slightly, and I'm able to draw a few wheezing breaths. It seems to amuse the Elder; his face twists into what could be called a smile.
"So you're the Lord's dark angel? I expected you to be less... mortal somehow."
I'm not expected to reply; even if I had the air to form words, he isn't leaving me the time.
"When I heard the rumours that you were stalking us, I must admit I was intrigued. There are plenty of Damned the world over - why us, little angel?"
Mocking laughter echoes his words; I can't look to check, but it sounds like I'm now surrounded. He watches me expectantly, and then makes a grand show of dawning realisation.
"My, where are my manners! Simeon, put the young lady down so she can speak!"
I'm dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Before I can get to my feet, arms grab me from behind and wrench me upwards, trapping my hands behind my back.
"Answer the question child." He's there, inches away, but I can do nothing.
"You destroyed my home, my family, everything I owned!" The words are nearly choked with bile, but I manage to speak evenly somehow.
He just looks at me blankly.
"The monastery!"
"My dear child, you're going to have to help me a little... there have been too many to know what you're talking about just from that!" There's mocking laughter in his voice, grating against my confusion and fear, dragging anger to the surface.
"The Brothers of Terramadre!"
He ponders a few seconds, and then smiles. "Ahh, yes! It was said they had a demon hunter, but it proved to be a disappointment. They were all just men of God, easily killed. It was a shame; I had hoped to get a decent..."
His voice tails off, and he beams, fangs glinting.
"You! You were their demon hunter! Oh, this is priceless! We leave loose ends, and they come to us to be finished; how delightful!"
They're all laughing now, malicious cawing ringing off the stones and buzzing inside my head. I try to wrench my arms free, but they're too strong.
"Patience little girl... you'll get your chance soon enough." He nods to the ones holding me, and they start tugging at my jacket, leaving me feeling bare to their scrutiny.
"So many toys you have... That's not very fair now, is it?"
One by one they strip me of my weapons; my stakes, the wrist brace, my katana. One of my captures hands strays too close to my hip, and there's a satisfying hiss of pain as dead skin finds crafted silver.
"Let her keep them, for all the good it will do her." He sneers at the crosses - I guess the rumours about Elders are true, about how marks of faith don't affect them.
Finally they release me, and I'm left there standing, robbed of everything except the two crucifixes. That's all I need though; chin raised, I face the one Damned I've been seeking for all these years, and I am not afraid. My Lord will help me. I will not fall.
He watches me curiously. "There is one thing I don't understand. You've been fighting all these years, and now you're about to fail. How can you still stand there? How do you have the... the..."
"Tenacity?" I meet his eyes defiantly.
There's a slight twitch of the face, a grimace just too quick to be fully hidden. "Quite."
"Perhaps I just know I'm better than you?"
There's a streak of movement, and he's behind me, trapping my head and torso. My hand flies to the cross at my right hip, and I clutch it.
"How sweet. You'll keep your faith to the last breath. Silly mortal - you really did think you could beat me, didn't you? And they said you couldn't be stopped!"
"That's what they say." A twist, and the crucifix splits, the dagger sliding free of its sheath. I swing my arm in an arc, ruby flashing, as I bury the blade somewhere in his chest behind me. There's a howl as he releases me, recoiling in pain; crosses may not affect Elders, but silver in the chest tends to burn any Damned up. I release the other dagger, and turn to him.
"For the Lord..." The second dagger finds a home in his shoulder.
"For Terramadre..." The first dagger slides through him easily, down towards his gut, drawing out a wail of anguish.
"For Brother Matthews." That strike is true, straight through the heart.
And as he turns to dust and scatters around me, as the others close in on me with shrieks of outrage, I smile. I'm not giving up.
Things just got interesting!
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Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-06-05 12:27:49 EDT (#)
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