Hello! I have been in love with Hawkgirl (Hawkwoman) and her interesting history for a while now, and it irritates me that DC hasn't made a really good solo series for her yet. Here is my interpretation of her back story. Some things will be taken from the comics (from different universes mind you) and other things will be my own take on her story.
Leave me a review if you like it. Thanks!
I do not own Hawkgirl or any other recognizable characters, places, ideas, or objects. They all belong to DC Comics.
He came upon on us unexpectedly. A demon. A shadow in the night. He had set his crazed eyes upon me. Black, emotionless eyes, they looked almost indifferent. Not caring about what was to inevitably come. Then I felt the iciness of the blade as it was thrust into my chest; my heart stumbles a beat and my life-blood goes cold in my veins. The marriage of steel and flesh.
Now here I lay. Warm, scarlet liquid pools in between the swells of my breasts. Little droplets slip onto the stone ground beneath me. Kohl and paint along with silent tears stream down my face. The soft ivory of my dress is ruined as the fabric absorbs the blood I rest in. The thick jewellery around my neck weighs down on my throat. I can't breathe. I do not feel the cold grasp of death; I feel only the warmth of my own lifeblood.
"Chay-Ara..." A broken whisper rouses me from beside me rouses me into consciousness. I know that voice. I know him. The very sound of his voice dulls my pain, replacing it with an intense longing to touch him. To just feel him on the tips of my fingers, to brush his cheek with a soft caress. With all the strength I still possess in my body I force my eyes open. The world spins and twirls in front of me and I almost close my eyes again.
"Chay...Ara." A hand ghosts across my cheek. Through the darkness engulfing my rapidly failing vision I focus in on the body beside me. The torches on the walls of our chamber cast shadows across the figure. Masculine. Blood gushes from a grotesque hole in his chest. His eyes open. Bluer than the Nile. Khufu. My lips curve upward on their own accord. Then my eyes slip closed for what seemed to be the very last time.
A strangled gasp rips from my throat as I'm pulled from unconsciousness. I claw at the empty side of my bed desperately. Khufu. I tense as my mind is finally freed from the last few tendrils of the dream. I exhale shakily as I sag onto my side wearily. My bedroom is still swathed in darkness. I haven't been asleep for long. My red hair hangs limp and damp around my face and neck; beads of sweat steadily stream down the sides of my face. This is the fourth night in a row. Why can't I sleep peacefully? With a weary sigh I heave myself out of my bed with a slight wince. My newly healed ribs still ache even after a few weeks of being fully healed. I perch myself on the edge of my bed, I rest my head in my hands. Why am I having these dreams? They're always the same. I'm dying alongside a stranger. A man. I always feel safe and...loved when I realize he's beside me. Who is he? That is what I've been asking myself for the past two months.
A sharp beep startles me from my musing. Reaching out a shaky hand I grab my communicator off of my bedside table. Answering the call I'm greeted by the holographic image of Chief Talak. His arms are crossed over his chest, his back is straight and taut. Even over the thready connection he still manages to look intimidating. I roll my emerald eyes. Its too early for this. Besides I'm on leave for at least another two weeks.
"Chief it is 0400 in the morning-" I'm cut off."-Officer Hol. You are needed at head quarters. Immediately. Your remaining time on leave will be saved for a later date." Before I can even open my mouth to protest.
"Talak out." he ends the connection. I restrain myself from throwing the communicator across the room. I instead run a hand down my damp face exasperatedly. Well. Duty calls. I stand to my feet slowly, I wobble side to side unsteadily. My feathers ruffle lightly as they are stretched from their previous position curled against my back. Once I've gathered my bearings I make my way over to my closet to dress. Talak wouldn't have called me in if it was for something as little as a petty theft. Something was wrong. Very wrong. /Officer Shayera Hol. Wingman on the planet called Thanagar. The Earth year is 2013./