1992 - Brooklyn
It was just another Gothic Church in Brooklyn, the spires being lighted up in glorious silhouettes. The rain was heavy, pouring down hard through the white sky of clouds. The gutters of the church were overpouring and the rain was gathering up in several small, some interconnected, puddles. A young woman ran breathlessly across the streets, holding a tiny bundle in her hands. Glancing back constantly, she banged on the door as hard as she could muster. Placing the bundle right in front of the door, which opened inwards, it was protected from the rain and cold. Running off, she barely noticed the flaring headlights and skidding cars as she desperately tried to make her way across the street. She darted down the stairs into a closed off and abandoned subway entrance, used only by bums and archaeologists, both of whom had not used it in several years.
Running down the tracks frantically, she fell a few times, scraping her knees on some of the rusted iron. She refused to even let out a mumble. The pipes above her, old and dry, dripped slightly acidic water. Then she made it, to some old boards which she had crawled through last time. Pulling them off she did not have time to mind the splinters. There she made it to an abandoned tunnel, the beams holding it up were rotting, fungal and the moss over the floor boards was more visible than the termite infested oak. Running towards the mineral formation at the end of the tunnel, she suddenly found herself unable to breathe and up in the air. Then she saw him and trembled in fear, General Koopa, the Kerog of the Dark Land, was clutching her throat and holding her in the air. Why? This man had been missing for years. He overtook her easily, his gaze intense, his visage handsome but his grip deadly.
Wrenching free, she kicked the support beam closest to Koopa. The rock formations above them began to collapse. Her move was a suicide one, a hope that Koopa would perish with her. It was her last act. The ceiling caved in but none would notice, after all nobody but bums and archaeologists used the tunnel, and both had not used it for several years.
Hopefully Kamek would not follow.
The nuns began to unwrap the bundle with excitement. It had been a long time since somebody had dropped off a child in such a manner, even then, they always had the parents with them. Dropping off a child in this manner was strange. As they pulled the bundle open they were confused. It was a child, a beautiful baby girl wearing a necklace with a red gleaming stone with a small flower design on it. But most of her was wrapped around in an egg, a giant egg big enough to fit her. It did not look fake, not at all. The child's small and tiny hand reached out to the nun's finger and she looked for the first time into the child's beautiful emerald eyes.