Hello everyone! New arc up...and I'll admit that Thresh is one of my favorite supports to play... (outside of Leo of course!). I might have had a little too much fun writing his arc. Apparently I'm not to bad with 'crazy'. I do have a few references in here...see if you can spot them!
Chapter 1
Hayden White watched from across the street as people filed into the church building. His eyes flashed as he turned away. Not long ago…that had been him. Living at the church with Father Peter Mulcahy, staying away from people…
He had enough voices to deal with that wouldn't go away. Why on Earth would he want to spend time with voices he could get rid of…
Just like the priest had gotten rid of him as soon as the voices had come up. It wasn't Hayden's fault that the voices kept at him.
"Stupid kid. Just kill him. Or are you too weak to do it? Yes, that's right…you don't have the heart to do it…"
Hayden shook his head. The voices were his constant companions…speaking every time Hayden saw someone, degrading him, making his temper flare. He understood that he was insane. It really hadn't been that hard to determine all things considered. Normal people did not hear voices. Hayden did.
He found insanity no excuse, however, for stupid behavior. After all…some people were blind, others lost their tempers, and still more heard voices. All the same. But, a man wasn't defined by his flaws. Just by how he got over them. And Hayden? Hayden did his best to ignore the voices…even if they kept him from sleeping and got him to lash out at people.
Hayden counted himself lucky. Most crazy people saw visions or lost control of reality and themselves. Hayden was his own man…
For the most part.
He grumbled to himself, wanting the voices to shut up for once…they didn't, big surprise. But he continued on his way. He rubbed the scar on his stomach…he didn't want to do another run, but he probably would have to. The second largest gang in the city was starting to gain a foothold on the drug sector. The largest, run by Zayne Umbero, was the first and formost leader in 'protective' services, robbery…but not drugs surprisingly. Apparently Umbero hated them and would have nothing to do with them, despite them being quite the source of income. Then again…the police were cracking down hard on drug busts. Hayden narrowly escaped those the last few times.
Eight years ago, Hayden had barely managed to survive on the streets after the kindly Father had turned him over to Child Protective Services. His parents had been put away when he was six and he'd lived four years in 'peace' with the priest. Unfortunately, during that time the voices started getting worse and worse, making Hayden lose sleep and lash out more and more. The good padre decided that he couldn't handle Hayden and put him in the system. But, no one wanted a crazy ten year old. After all…medicine was expensive, therapists were expensive.
So, Hayden had been turned out on the streets and left to fend for himself. He was lucky that one of the gangs decided they could use him. He shuddered as he remembered the first time they forced him to swallow those nasty packages and go to the location told…only to get knocked out and torn open like a Christmas Present and sewn back up. He'd gotten a little money, food and a place to stay…
But he still dreaded when they wanted him to do a run.
Runs meant scars.
Scars meant he'd be recognized.
And being recognized might get him in prison for helping the gangs.
Hayden licked his lips before taking a deep breath. The old man had moved cities not long after throwing Hayden to the wolves. But, Hayden found him…and he figured it was time to repay the old man for his kindness.
He just needed to get his hands on a certain thing before he paid him a visit.
Father Peter Mulcahy smiled as he walked into the sanctuary, seeing a young, dark-skinned man kneeling before the altar, praying.
"Johnny, my boy, what are you doing up so late?" he asked.
The boy looked up and gave a warm smile as the Father put his hand on his shoulder.
"Just talkin' to the Lord, Uncle Pete," the boy replied.
Father Mulcahy smiled, shaking his head in amusement. Jonathan Cross Jr. was the son of his best friend, he'd been living with him since the boy was a year old.
"Do you think you could help close everything?" the Father asked, "It was a rather big service tonight. You did a good job in the choir,"
Jonathan grinned as he nodded, getting up.
"I'll be back soon," he promised, "Maybe I'll grab dinner from the kitchen too,"
Father Mulcahy chuckled, patting the boy's back as Jonathan jogged out of the sanctuary. As soon as Jonathan left, he heard the front doors open. He looked up just to see a male figure slip into the confessional.
"Is there something on your mind, child?" Father Mulcahy asked, walking towards his confessional and stepping inside, "Tell your troubles to me,"
"Forgive me father, for I have sinned," a male voice started, making chills go down the Father's spine…he'd heard that voice, "It has been eight years since my last confession,"
"Eight years…that's quite the long time…"
"I have many sins…one of which is happening now,"
"What?"
"Murdering a backstabbing man of God!" came the furious snarl.
Whether by divine intervention or by old reflexes, Father Mulcahy threw himself out of the confessional right as a shot rang out. He scrambled to get to his feet as the man got out of the confessional. The Father's eyes widened in recognition.
The skinny frame, the long messy black hair, the dirty finger nails, the messy clothes, the yellow stained teeth and the dark bags under his eyes were all too familiar to the Father.
"…Hayden?" he breathed.
"So you do remember me," Hayden growled, smoke still rising from the gun he'd just fired.
"KILL HIM!" the voices shrieked.
He pointed the gun at the father again.
"Did you miss me? No…you couldn't have…not when you threw me out to the streets!"
"Hayden, I couldn't afford a therapist to help you!" the good Father pleaded, "Believe me, child, if I could have, I would have kept you here!"
"Pretty words. Do you know what happened? No one wanted a ten year old. So they dumped me on the streets. I was found by the gangs and the stuck drugs in me to deliver. They cut me open and sewed me back together. So much for good old-fashioned Christian love!"
"Hayden, please, I'm sorry," came the gentle voice that had almost always got the voices to shut up, "Put the gun down…you're sick…you need help…"
"I don't need help from you," Hayden hissed.
"I…" Father Mulcahy looked beyond Hayden and his face went pale.
Hayden looked and saw a familiar face.
It was none other than precious little Jonathan. The boys had grown up together in the Church…but Jonathan was the perfect little angel child that never did anything wrong.
"Jonathan…run!" Father Mulcahy shouted.
"Shut him up!" the voices hissed.
Hayden couldn't agree more. He pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into the good Father's chest.
"NO!" Jonathan shrieked.
Hayden looked up just in time for Jonathan to tackle him to the ground. The two fought, scratching, biting, anything. Each trying to get the gun. Hayden pulled the trigger on the gun. Jonathan shrieked as the bullet went through him, the other boy grabbed the gun's barrel and Hayden fired again…
Only for pain to shoot through his gut. Hayden snarled, kicking Jonathan off him before shooting at random through the blinding pain. Jonathan howled again, and Hayden bolted, limping out the doors as his crimson lifeblood dripped to the floor.
"I got him…" Hayden thought, "I did it…"
Darkness started closing in and Hayden hit the ground, seeing flashes of blue and red light up the sky.
"Maybe I can get some peace and quiet now…maybe they'll finally shut up…"
"Idiot couldn't even kill himself,"
Hayden groaned as his eye fluttered open. He could see pristine white walls around him, see steel and an IV drip at his side.
"The voices are back…" he muttered dejectedly.
He really thought he got rid of them this time.
"You're in really bad shape,"
Hayden's eyes flashed open all the way as he stared at a man at the foot of his bed. The man was dressed in a black trench coat and a fedora, though Hayden could see the white-blond hair that stuck out underneath it. The man's ice-blue gaze cut Hayden down to the soul, looking expectantly at him.
"Hayden White, age 18," the man started, "parents are in jail serving time for substance abuse and so you were raised by one Father Peter Mulcahy…until you were given over to Child Protective Services and then ran away, joining a gang and becoming a drug-mule. Recently you murdered the man who gave you a home,"
"The man who abandoned me, get it right," Hayden slurred.
"Oh I can see why you were his choice…" the man muttered before speaking louder, "Nonetheless…you were shot in a very bad place and you're currently knocking on Death's door. Whether or not she answers is up to you,"
"What are you talking about…better yet, who are you?!" Hayden snapped.
"My name is Andrew Summers, I work for Riot Games…creator of League of Legends,"
"So?"
"I'm here to offer you a chance to not die," Andrew said, "You see, not many know this…but the League is real. Runeterra and her Champions are real. A few years ago, there was a girl involved in a terrible accident. She was going to die…when a Champion took pity on her and offered to bind herself with the girl. The girl became the first in a long line of what we call 'Chosens'. A being that is human from Earth…and Champion from Runeterra. One of these Champions has Chosen you. Why…I don't know, mainly because he doesn't strike me as a charitable sort,"
"Assuming you're telling the truth, which you aren't…you're obviously crazier than I am…" Hayden grumbled, "Who?"
"I thought you'd ask that," Andrew said, reaching down under the bed and lifting something that was just about half his size.
Hayden's eyes widened as he recognized the object. He hadn't played League in forever…but he knew what Champion that was.
For the object was an ornate lantern that glowed with a sinister teal light. He could see swirling light within, forming men, women, children…
He gave a grin as he recognized one of the forms from the 'login screen' of another Champion, a young woman with flowing, wavy hair and a defiant expression.
Hayden reached out and tapped the glass with a sadistic grin. The spectral form winced, covering her head before glaring heatedly at him.
"Poor lost soul," Hayden chuckled, "If I agree…what comes with it?"
"Obviously you get to live," Andrew deadpanned, "But Riot will give you a source of income…since you'll be fighting for the League and popping out of this world and into Runeterra for matches,"
Hayden watched the lantern's flickering light, entranced by the swirling eddies.
"I accept," he grinned, "I accept being the new Chain Warden,"
So uh...next should be Thresh and Hayden getting aquainted and used to one another...as well as Cira training him of course. Like I said...Thresh and Leona bot lane is one of my favorite lanes. Just because it's so mean!
For you people wanting Chosens, here are my requirements:
What Champion
Character's name ( 1st and last)
Age
Family?
Physical Description
Personality
Why were they picked by the Champion?
How did they become the Champion(why did the Champion choose them and what were the circumstances that made the Champion choose to bond with the character? *doesn't have to be tragic accident, but I still want to know why they're the new Champion*)
You will have one month to get me a description of your Chosen before the Champion goes back into the pool. You can have multiple Chosens (my requirement is that they are related/know each other) Limit is 3. I CAN decide whether or not I will use your Chosen, I'm pulling the 'My story, my rules' card. If I see that someone has a very good reason for that Champion, then I will show preference for them mainly because it's easier for me to write.
Champions WITHOUT (meaning NOT TAKEN) a Chosen:
Alistar
Amumu
Anivia
Cho'Gath
Corki
Dr. Mundo
Fizz
Heimerdinger
Irelia
Janna
Jayce
Karma
Kassadin
Kennen
LeBlanc
Maokai
Nunu
Olaf
Poppy
Rammus
Rumble
Singed
Sivir
Swain
Teemo
Tristana
Trundle
Tryndamere
Vayne
Xin Zhao
Zilean
Anyway, hope you liked it. If you did, please let me know!
Qui vállë tóquetë, ván tecë (If no review comes from y'all; no story comes from me)
Máriessë ar mára tecië
Farewell and fair writing
Elhini Prime signing off.