AN: This is their third year at Haven and it follows Jette as she returns to her family.
Quick Character Bios
Jette Black: (20) Team BLJC (BlackJack) – King of Clubs
Semblance: Kinetic Energy Empowerment (absorbs energy into body to enhance strength)
Weapon: Katar dagger (Pain), Maximus (Pistol), Punishment (shotgun)
Stark White: Team SNOE (Snow)
Weapon: Desire (fire dust laced Kampilan)
Semblance: Explosive charge: accelerate atom composition to create heat and explosions
Eerie Black: Team SNOE (Snow)
Weapons: Dual knives (Sting and Hex), blow dart (Sleep)
Semblance: Mind swap: able to invade person's mind and control the body
Death Felt Beyond Sweet
Death never felt so sweet as blood slipped between her fingers. Not her blood. But, she was lucky this time. This time. Jette will not have to face those piercing green eyes any longer, eyes she shared. They grew lifeless over time. Both sets. The red life was hot and fresh in her hands and the owner fell silent, with a blade still in his heart.
"It's finished. I'm free," tears welled in the young girl's eyes. She quickly wiped them away, red smearing across her face. The pain ended after its long reign. She will not miss her father or the life he gave her. The lack of life, rather. Now the twenty year old could live on and become the warrior she dreamed she would be. A Huntress. Not some killer.
The girl rose and retrieved her dagger, wiping the blood off the blade and onto her pant leg. Now to face a greater foe. Her team. They knew she went home for the break, a first. Jette knew her father's face will be in the newspapers and soon her own. Then she would have to come clean with her team. How she drove her thrusting dagger into her father's chest so hard his ribs cracked under the force. The girl had not seen so much blood in her life, not even from those Beowolves her team faced a few months ago.
The huntress stepped out in the snow covered Mistral. She crouched by a small creek which flowed by the cabin she lived her nightmare for fourteen years before running away. The blood slowly washed off her hands and into the semi frozen creek. The water hurt, but pain was nothing. The pain quickly turned into numbness. The numbness will never fade. Especially now that her hit count now reached four. Her team must never find out the truth behind her past and what she did just to survive before she joined Haven.
She relived the interaction against the hitman Stark Black once again in her mind.
*Earlier that evening*
Jette unlocked the door to the cabin after a five day walk from Windpath in north central Mistral, near the coast. She was exhausted and only wanted a cup of coffee and to send silly dog pictures to her team. The brawler jumped over the back of a dusty old couch and laid back on a moth eaten cushion. She began to unlock her steel heeled combat boots when the door once again opened.
"Dammit, old man!" Jette looked up and gazed her eyes on the asshole who fucked her over. "I thought you would have died by now."
"I see you haven't changed, Jette," The patriarch deposited a large amount of firewood by the iron stove in the corner. "Make yourself useful and get another load."
The girl hopped up and did as he told, she really did not want an altercation with her father, Stark. He was a hunter turned hit man. He killed more than she could count. Stark possessed a huge drug problem and grew violent when he was drunk or when Jette took a wrong step. Which she did often. It was hard to follow the rules when they were not definitely set. So might as well create your own rules. The girl stepped out and returned with another load of firewood. Upon returning, she watched her father sharpen Desire, a three foot long Kampilan laced with burn dust. She rarely saw this monster and definitely did not like it when she did. She felt a sting on her right arm from the last time she felt the bite of her father's blade. And it was not for training.
The girl chose to ignore it as she deposited the wood and went to the kitchen to fix a fresh pot of coffee. Jette knew she was not welcome here in the cabin, but did not care one bit. She left this world when she was weak, forced out rather. The brawler found new life with her team. Team BLJC will always be dysfunctional, but they work: An architect, a writer, an artist, a killer.
"Black?" She called to her father as she pulled out two mugs and began to pour her own bitter brew.
"You make shit coffee, Jette," Stark countered as he sheathed his long one edged sword. Jette relaxed a bit when she felt the threat pass.
"I've gotten better! Sadly, my team drinks tea…" Jette leaned against the kitchen counter and blew on the steaming cup before taking a sip. She winced as the coffee burnt her all the way down. She'll never learn to wait for it to cool enough.
"Your team? They actually admitted you into that damn school!?"
"I passed the exam!" Jette protested and set her mug aside. "It wasn't that difficult to punch a Beowolf's lights out."
"So, you are hand to hand, like Eerie, your mother," Stark pulled out some crystal and poked it into a pipe. He slowly began to warm the drug with a lighter. Jette wrinkled her nose in disgust. Stark was still addicted to ice dust. Nothing changed. Here sat a broke, drunk, addicted man mourning the loss of his wife. "That arm must come in handy for breaking legs."
"Uh, yes," Jette continued, "We are team Blackjack. It's spelled odd, but it works."
"Interesting," her father replied as he started to relax. She quietly stalked up to the man, ready to complete her mission. He was at his weakest when under the influence of ice dust. It cooled the user down and relaxed the mind. "Tell me about them."
"Burgundy is our team leader. He traps me in a box when I eat all our food without thinking. Lazuli proves the pen is mightier than the sword. And Carmyne will whip anyone and everyone into shape. They are family. More than you ever were!" The girl drove her dagger at her father's chest only for Desire to block it with a half unsheathed blade.
"You shouldn't have done that," Stark's pipe fell to the floor and shattered. He launched to his feet and stabbed back at his new foe. Jette leaned back and barely dodged the blade. The two Blacks fought it out, blocking and striking like snakes. But the stoned and drunk man stood little chance against the young huntress. She quickly had him pinned in corner. This was it. Her revenge.
"I see," Stark frowned, "This is how you treat your old man. The one who raised you and took care of you. I'm just another hit to you, aren't I?"
"You talk too much," Jette drove her thrusting dagger home, feeling bones break and life leave between her fingers.
*Present*
Jette sighed and walked back to the cabin. She went to the kitchen to finish her mug of coffee and relaxed for the first time in her life. She was free.
"Now what to do with that," the girl sighed and walked over to Desire. She fingered the ornate hilt. She slowly unsheathed the blade. This took her arm and her youth. Now look who was on top. Memories of that painful night crossed her consciousness.
*five years earlier*
Jette, a young fourteen year old, smiled up at the broken moon. The moon always reminded her that she was so small in a world she would, someday, explore. She reached up at the stars. She hoped to one day touch them, potential wise. Jette was once told that the number of stars match the number of people and creatures on this earth. She heard the shout of her name. Her father. The fourteen year old quickly rose to her feet. Taking her shotgun and ammo bag with her.
Upon entering the house, the girl set two turkeys on the table and her shot gun next to the door.
"Two?"
"Yes, father. I was able to kill one without the gun. But the other I needed to shoot it. It was out of reach."
"You know how I hate eating buck shot, girl."
Before Jette knew it, she was on the ground in a daze. Blood trickled out of her broken nose. He had punched her square in the face. She spat blood on the rough wooden floor as she tried to clear her head.
"And how I do not like blood on my floors!" Stark withdrew Desire and slapped her in the face with the fuller. Jette recovered a bit and roses her arm to guard herself only to feel searing pain in her right shoulder as the blade tip dug into her soft flesh and clean through.
"And not to raise your hand to your father!"
She did not scream because if she did, he will strike again. He twisted the blade, hoping to get a reaction from the teenager, but she didn't give him the satisfaction. She was strong and had a high pain tolerance thanks to this beast.
"Get up, start cooking. I'll chop some more wood." And just like that, the threat was gone.
The girl slowly stood and held her bleeding arm. She walked to a mirror to assess the damage. Jette gasped. Her arm was barely there. The sword went deeper than she expected and Jette knew she could not fix this with just stitches alone, like usual. The girl needed to use fire dust and fast as she felt light headed. The girl stumbled toward one of her many daggers and withdrew her burn dust infused blade. She took a deep breath because this will burn, but the arm had to go and she needed to stop the bleeding. Jette closed her eyes and quickly slashed with the sharp blade. She screamed loudly and held her cauterized stub. Tears flowed like rivers as the pain surged through her small body. Her scarred arm lay on the floor next to her and it was the last thing she saw before everything went black.
Her eyes opened hours later, still on the floor with her severed arm nearby. It was odd to look at your own arm, when it is not attached to your own body.
"You are awake," She stiffened at the gravelly voice of her abusive guardian. She could smell the sweet smell of burning ice dust and groaned. She tried to rise to her feet but she just fell back down, her mind forgetting she had no right arm to support her weight.
"You dirty my home and bring shame to the Black name," the voice continued, "You are even more weak and pathetic than before without one of your arms. You cannot help me around the house. You are useless. I suggest you leave before I permanently remove your pathetic ass from the world. And I would be doing the world a favor. Leave."
*Present*
"I do have to say, old man," the huntress sheathed the blade, "The underground serves our family well."
The girl walked over to a table in the corner of the one room cabin and flicked through some papers and books. "Alright. Mission complete. Take out the target and recover sensitive documents."
It's true. Jette had her own agenda separate from her team, but that was something for another time. The last thing she wanted them to know she, like her father, was a gun-for-hire. Killing for coin. She took out her scroll and took a picture of her father with a blown in chest cavity, sending it to her client.
"I'm just glad I was the one to kill you. Not some other gun-for-hire." She walked over to her pack and shouldered it. The huntress ducked out the house and took a few gas cans from their tool shed. She walked back into the house and sprinkled gas in the kitchen and on all the furniture, making sure to cover her dad and his underground documents thoroughly. This was a hit and you dispose of everything. Jette took her father's matches and struck it.
"Oh, and by the way, dad. Thank you for making me stronger than every other monster in the world like you. I, at least, kill those who deserve it," She turned and tossed the struck match over her shoulder.