Author's note: This is my first ever fanfic, nay, the first ever writing project of a reasonable length I've ever been able to finish. I'm fairly pleased with it, but as a perfectionist, I'd appreciate any constructive criticism of the story/my writing style so that I can improve. So, read and review, please...
Edit: I have now dealt with the fact that much of the text was in large, monolithic paragraphs, which made it a little difficult to read.
Chapter 1: Thaddaeus
Thaddaeus Shepard had always been alone, for as long as he could remember. His first memories were of an orphanage in the south east of England, where he spent the first part of his childhood. Even there, his relationships had been few and distant. Thaddaeus didn't have friends; he had allies, and adversaries. But mostly adversaries. He found the common obsession of humanity to connect with those around them baffling, mainly because everyone was simply boring.
He instead concentrated on gathering knowledge, not of people, but of science, history, philosophy, anything that could give him information that was innately useful or could be transferred. Shepard had no illusions in life, understanding that if his back were to the wall, the only person who could be relied upon to act was himself, therefore he needed to know how to act. The adults he dealt with found his gravity unsettling, and left him alone, simply thankful that he was an attentive and talented pupil that needed little in the way of support. The other children however, reacted as most humans will when confronted with something that they don't understand; they acted with fear and hostility; on the grounds of his half Greek ethnicity, his intelligence, and his growing contempt for those around him.
For a time, the young boy was oblivious to the negative effects of his self-ostracisement, until one of the older boys in the orphanage took it upon himself to make him pay more attention to those around him. Thaddaeus did not enjoy the experience, but understood that if he told the adults who had dislocated his shoulder, there would be other repercussions; including losing any remaining amicability he had with his peers. Instead, he fixed the problem himself; intimidating one of his peers into pulling his shoulder back into place, before stealing into the room of the boy who had done it at night, smothering him into unconsciousness, then quite deliberately dislocating both his arms. The next morning, he was in the crowd as the boy was taken to hospital, and ensured he made eye contact. The older boy understood what that stare meant; 'Anything you do to me, I will do to you. With interest.'
While that solved one of his problems, Shepard knew that it was necessary to come to understand those around him, regardless of their complexity, or more often lack thereof; it was a matter of personal survival. Revenge attacks became pre-emptive strikes, and Thaddaeus became a figure to be feared. However, the boy became arrogant, and more of his strikes became about curiosity on matters of anatomy and less about personal safety, to the point at which many of his peers began to feel that something had to be done to protect their own safety. They did what Thaddaeus had scrupulously avoided doing, and escalated the matter by involving adults; friends who had left the orphanage, now fully grown and in an ideal position to 'put the freak in his place'. Thaddaeus barely survived that beating, and was knocked unconscious, but passed it off as a mere mugging. Once, however, he was let out of hospital, he spent much of his time discerning the identities of the conspirators. Once he had them, his anger got the better of him, and in his enthusiasm, he managed to kill one of the boys.
At that point, he knew that the police would get involved, and it seemed most prudent to take his leave. At the age of ten, he had departed from the orphanage, cut short his education and fled to the capital, London, where within the slums he managed to scratch a living as a thief. He made quite a good one, instinctively understanding the principles of stealth and avoiding attention; yet he lacked the equipment to get around modern security systems, and he was unlikely to get it. His occupation was obviously a dead end, providing some resources but no real path to wealth or power; and these were Thaddaeus' goals in life. He had encountered various gangs as soon as he had entered the capital. They had access to resources he could use, but for that he'd have to join them, and none of them were able to see the use of having a now eleven year old boy in their group. Obviously he'd have to prove his use to them, and clearly the best way to do that was to attack one of the gangs in order to curry favour with their rivals.
Which was why he was quietly making his way through dark, dank alleyways towards the territory of the 'Black Sun' gang, an admittedly pretentious name that for some reason appealed to him. The murder hadn't been difficult. Even the gangs lacked the self awareness to understand that a pre-pubescent boy could present a threat. The boy had located his target, a gang 'lieutenant', important enough to go around with a bodyguard, but not inaccessible. Shepard had ducked into a doorway and pulled a balaclava over his face, before pushing his way through the crowd. This being gang territory, people simply thought he was 'one of theirs' and cleared the way, giving Shepard a path straight to his target, and a clear shot. He had multiple knives that he had found were correctly balanced to be thrown, and as he had found out, (to his surprise, willing to but not relishing the prospect of getting his skill up to standard) he was an excellent marksman. He had only needed one opportunity, before he lost himself in the milling, terrified crowd, ripped the balaclava from his head, and joined the stampede away from the indiscriminate, ineffective retribution of the lieutenant's 'bodyguard'.
"You again?" had been the first incredulous question as Shepard arrived at the Black Sun's headquarters. "We don't need midgets. Wait until you're old enough to be useful, then come back."
"Murdering one of the rival lieutenants to your gang doesn't count as useful?" His response was a jeering laughter. "Check my story." He sighed. "A lieutenant of the Guild was murdered by a 'midget' wearing a balaclava with a throwing knife through the eye. Allow me to demonstrate." He said, and flung a second of his blades...
So that it pierced the eye of one of the obscene posters on the walls of the hideout. The distance had been about fifteen metres. Thaddaeus' story was verified, and he became something of a rarity for the gangs of the slums; a coldly efficient covert killer. As such, he was rewarded with a silenced lightweight Walther P22 lightweight pistol that a rival gang member had bought before he was killed. Shepard's reputation grew, though he had made it one of the conditions of his employment that his identity be kept secret, as well as his allegiance-easy enough as every gang was claiming that this 'Ombre' (selected by Shepard himself; French for 'shadow') was one of theirs, and that the murder of one of their gang members had been their recruitment test. Over the next four years, things went well for Shepard, and he became the leader of a small band of covert killers for the Black Sun, selected and trained by himself.
Then, when he was fifteen, she walked into what he pompously referred to as his office...