A young girl of eight stretched out her arms to protect the crying five year old in front of her. Backed up against a corner that stank of urine in a filthy bar, she had her back to the drunken mob. Determined not to let her baby get hurt, she paid little attention to the blows that rained upon back and arms. Thank god they were drunk and ended up hitting each other more than half of the time. Still the few that managed to make contact were fueled by hatred and booze, and a the heavy thuds were sometimes accompanied by sickening crunches. Nothing mattered to her more than the safety of her little girl. A beer bottle smashed against her black hair, and she instinctively hunched over her child to protect her from the glass shards. She smiled reassuringly as her child stopped sobbing, and looked up with worried brown eyes that seemed to be too large for one so small. The blood from her head wound flowed into her matted hair and snaked around her eyes, cutting deep tracts in the layers of grime barely visible underneath the dim lights. The dark blood that dripped from the end of her nose into a puddle on her child's shirt starkly contrasted by the peculiar greenish hue her skin held.
After what seemed like an eternity the blows began to abate. The punches that were once fill of malice were now came half heartedly. The men were tired, the girl wouldn't fall, couldn't beg for mercy. They could not find any perverse pleasure in the girl's resistance. There was no misery for them to feast upon. They turned their hollow eyes around, and went back to their seats in a drunken stupor.
All the while soft green eyes looked searchingly over the little girls body, checking for injuries. Over and over again, the faintest scratch, the slightest bruise. Unconcerned with her beating she cared only for the well being of the child. The jeers and cat calls gradually faded as the crowd dispersed. The little girl stood up with difficulty, her raggedy clothes hanging off her malnourished body and clutched her savior to her. Taking no heed of the blood that now covered her. It was safe now, safe enough to rejoice at being alive
For these two, this was safe. But they did not realize that there was still one man behind them. One hulking giant of a man. One man who's thirst for blood was not quenched. On man with a long knife, that none saw, but the girls felt. The blade was roughly shoved into the girls back. Missing her back bone and important nerves. It slid into it's flesh sheath before breaking free. Only to pierce another softer thing, the little girl's eye.
She flung her self away, falling backwards in the filthy corner she had just emerged from, screaming in unbearable pain. Blood flowing from her eye as she released a blood curdling cry, "MOM!!"
Rage welled up in the green eyed girl as she heard the scream of her surrogate daughter and saw her condition. A gasp escaped her parched, cracked lips as a booted foot kicked her of the blade that had so cruelly torn into her, and blinded her daughter's eye. Her knees hit the wood floor, muffled by the dirt and dust that had not been swept in what had to have been at least a decade. She lurched forward, crawling on unsteady limbs. She would make those rotten bastards pay for their actions. But first, she had to take care of her child.
She was blubbering in the corner, big fat tears rolling down her thin, sallow cheeks, She carefully pried away her daughters hand from the bloody mess that used to be her eye, and put her own right forearm in her baby's mouth and raised her left palm to the now useless eye. Green fire licked her palm, and she pressed her palm, in one smooth motion to the wound. The smell of scorched flesh filled the air, as she cauterized the wound. The inhuman wail of the child was muffled by the light green forearm of her mother. Her jaw, clenched in pain, drew more blood from her mother. She cradled her child as the sobs dwindled to silent sobbing.
She cradled her child as the sobs continued and from her position in the filth, glared with eyes so hateful they would send Satan running for the hills, gazed at the monster who was behind this.
The man who had stolen her daughters eye, leered at them, eyes full of malice, but that was no where near the fire that burned within the eight year old. She set her child gently against the wall, and staggered to he feet, blood still slithering from her wounds. She bent and picked up a long sliver that was left when someone tried to hit her with a chair. Green flame licked at the base, and soon encompassed the entire length of wood. With a grunt , it sailed through the air and lodged itself in the eye of the mountainous man. her fire raged through his eye, burning whatever it could find. his head on fire, he finally collapsed, dead at last.
The other patrons of the disreputable establishment, heard the earth shaking crash as their comrade fell to the floor, turned to the little girl, who now looked far more menacing than when she was getting beat. Regardless, the fact that she had downed someone several times her own height did not make it through their heads in time. But her fire certainly did. She did not attempt to dodge any of the blows coming towards her, all she had to do was keep her hands up and the instant the fire touched their skin, it would stat to consume them. only going out when their was naught but ash left. Soon the screams subsided and gave way to the sound of burning flesh. unfortunately with all the fire that she had given off, the building was soon on fire, an orange-reddish colour, quite different from the green that she possessed.
She ran back to where she had left her daughter, tears flowing from her eyes, she hadn't moved from her spot against the wall. She gently gathered the crying child up in her arms and ran through the burning building, using herself as a shield once again. The cold Chicago air hit them as they ran out of the building, and collapsed in a dirty snow drift. The older girl, broke down and cried, kept asking weather her child was okay, and apologizing, over and over again, mumbling words and phrases that her child couldn't understand. She clutched her child, murmuring her daughter's name over and over again. "Betty" and "I love you" The colour of the snowdrift by this time had turned an ugly pinkish colour. Betty pawed at her head, tears still streaming down those cheeks, saying it's okay mama Shego it'll be alright, I promise.
Just a way that Shego and Betty could have started their relationship. In A mother daughter way, there may or may not be more in this line of thought. If I, or what I have writtin doesn't make any sense right now its because its 1 o'clock in the morning night now. Expect updates to come a lot faster than before.