February 5, 2071
Mars
It was cold; it was always cold on Mars. The wind seemed to cut through her like a knife. She pulled her hat down tighter over her ears and pulled the green canvas duster closer. It had been ten years, a more unbearable hell Obsidian could not imagine. He had left her there, in that house, with that horrid monster of a man. Joseph, she shuddered just thinking his name and her steps quickened against the winter pavement.
It hadn't been so bad at first, Vicious was always coming around. Usually he came alone, but every once in a while he'd bring his best friend with. Once he even brought his girlfriend. Julia, that was her name. She didn't seem to want to be anywhere around the wishful family. She didn't seem the type to want anything to do with kids anyway, might mess up her make-up or wrinkle her clothes. She left before he did that day; it seemed like they were fighting about something. Obsidian didn't know.
She approached the area where she was supposed to work and slid into the shadows like a cat. Light seemed to slide off of her under the murky sky. To the casual eye, she was simply another homeless kid, wandering the streets and scrounging for food. How true that little lie was. Obsidian was little better than homeless, as she would rather have been anywhere but there.
Vicious started to teach her when she was about four, he was always around then. Every time he could slip out from under the watchful eyes of the heads of the syndicate, he was with her. He taught her martial arts, both his style, and he managed to bribe or threaten Spike into teaching her his style. Spike never seemed really thrilled to be there, but he was nineteen and felt that he had much better things to do the train the next generation of the syndicate. To her credit, Spike lightened up rather quickly when he found out that she wasn't a grabby spoiled brat.
Obsidian waited, poised to strike, target in sight. When she felt the time had come she slid into the parking lot and in a matter of seconds had picked the lock on the car door. It was simple, though not at all what she was supposed to be trained for. Vicious had other plans for her than petty theft. Joseph, however, made her earn her keep. The alarm had yet to activate, but she could tell by the decal in the window that it was there. She slipped the door open soundlessly and slid into the seat, ducking down under the console to see the wires better. Her penlight clutched between her teeth, she went to work.
On the day they called her birthday, her eighth to be exact, Vicious and Spike took her someplace special. They took her to get her mark. It was on the back of her neck, above a birthmark she didn't know she had. The symbol of the Red Dragon Syndicate was tattooed into her skin, marking her forever as a part of the family. She was so happy, and Vicious made a really big deal out of it. Spike, he seemed sad, strained, and different. He was almost too distant from the group, like he had other things on his mind. Vicious was acting differently that night, like he was waiting for something, something bad that he knew was going to happen.
The alarm went off, loud and screeching. Obsidian was shaken from her memories of the past with a jolt, and smacked her head on the steering column. She dropped the light and fished for it with her hand.
~ Shit, Shit, Shit! ~
The running mantra in her head continued until she had found the light and switched off the alarm. She had to check, she knew, if anyone had come to investigate then she would simply have to scratch the whole thing and run.
It started shortly after the tattoo, the midnight visits from Joseph. He would creep into her room, not so silently, reeking of some such alcohol or another. Whatever was cheap and available usually. The bed would creak under the weight of the inebriated adult, her eyes shut tight as if that would make the nightmare go away. Nothing would make that nightmare vanish, she would scream into the night, but no one ever came to save her. Eventually she stopped screaming when she heard the door open, the weight would press her down to the mattress, but her mind was far away. She would run through her katas in her mind as her body was being used.
She slid the door open and stood on the edge of the car, she carefully poked her head over the roof and looked down the row of cars. Nothing, not even a sound, to betray that someone had heard the desperate wails of the car. Breathing a sigh of relief, she slid back down into the driver's seat, blissfully unaware of the security camera that caught a shot of her from behind.
Spike stopped coming around, and Vicious showed up less and less. When he did come by, it was almost as if he was hurting, like he was wounded deeply inside and it was eating away at his soul. Joseph was careful, he always caught wind of Vicious' visits a good week before they happened and was careful not to hit her face or do too much damage to her fragile body before he came. The little bruises were explained off as her simply being rambunctious or getting into fights with other children. Joseph had a few other orphans at the house that he took care of, but Obsidian was always his special little girl. She would cry bitterly at night wishing selfishly that he would focus on one of the other girls and leave her in peace.
She clenched the penlight between her teeth again and went back down to the wires under the dashboard of the car. The black wire connected to the red wire, then she struck the blue wire against the exposed ends. It took a couple tries before the engine roared to life. Obsidian then reached into the pockets on her coat and pulled out the blocks that she used to reach the pedals on the car. Her coat came off next, and she winced as she twisted, aggravating her bruised ribs. She bundled up her coat and put it under her as a lift to see over the dashboard.
When Vicious went off to that war, everything went directly to hell. Joseph started losing it, the drinking got worse and worse. Soon, he rendered himself unable to perform, and that's when the pain started. He blamed Obsidian for no longer arousing his body when his mind was geared for a night of fun. He would beat her into oblivion when that happened, taking his pleasure in her pain and blood rather than her childish body. Many nights he left her broken and spitting blood only to have her limp out the door in the morning to find more money for his growing need for alcohol.
Meals were few and far between as he drank away every cent she and the others brought home. When the war finally ended, Obsidian was so jaded and cynical of life that she barely noticed. It was a joyful reunion with Vicious, but he left quickly to testify in some trial. Days blurred into weeks then into months, filled with pain and heartache, only broken by the times when her shining star would come to her and she always hoped that he would take her away. Every time he left, he did so alone.
The car zipped quickly out of the parking lot as Obsidian jammed her foot on the pedal. Tires squealed and she made her way to the chop shop where she knew she could pawn off this car for at least 4,000 wulongs. That should make Joseph happy for a short time. With any luck, it would give her a welcome reprieve from a night of pain, if not, she could maybe even just run. She prayed if she had to run, he would never find her again.
Mars
It was cold; it was always cold on Mars. The wind seemed to cut through her like a knife. She pulled her hat down tighter over her ears and pulled the green canvas duster closer. It had been ten years, a more unbearable hell Obsidian could not imagine. He had left her there, in that house, with that horrid monster of a man. Joseph, she shuddered just thinking his name and her steps quickened against the winter pavement.
It hadn't been so bad at first, Vicious was always coming around. Usually he came alone, but every once in a while he'd bring his best friend with. Once he even brought his girlfriend. Julia, that was her name. She didn't seem to want to be anywhere around the wishful family. She didn't seem the type to want anything to do with kids anyway, might mess up her make-up or wrinkle her clothes. She left before he did that day; it seemed like they were fighting about something. Obsidian didn't know.
She approached the area where she was supposed to work and slid into the shadows like a cat. Light seemed to slide off of her under the murky sky. To the casual eye, she was simply another homeless kid, wandering the streets and scrounging for food. How true that little lie was. Obsidian was little better than homeless, as she would rather have been anywhere but there.
Vicious started to teach her when she was about four, he was always around then. Every time he could slip out from under the watchful eyes of the heads of the syndicate, he was with her. He taught her martial arts, both his style, and he managed to bribe or threaten Spike into teaching her his style. Spike never seemed really thrilled to be there, but he was nineteen and felt that he had much better things to do the train the next generation of the syndicate. To her credit, Spike lightened up rather quickly when he found out that she wasn't a grabby spoiled brat.
Obsidian waited, poised to strike, target in sight. When she felt the time had come she slid into the parking lot and in a matter of seconds had picked the lock on the car door. It was simple, though not at all what she was supposed to be trained for. Vicious had other plans for her than petty theft. Joseph, however, made her earn her keep. The alarm had yet to activate, but she could tell by the decal in the window that it was there. She slipped the door open soundlessly and slid into the seat, ducking down under the console to see the wires better. Her penlight clutched between her teeth, she went to work.
On the day they called her birthday, her eighth to be exact, Vicious and Spike took her someplace special. They took her to get her mark. It was on the back of her neck, above a birthmark she didn't know she had. The symbol of the Red Dragon Syndicate was tattooed into her skin, marking her forever as a part of the family. She was so happy, and Vicious made a really big deal out of it. Spike, he seemed sad, strained, and different. He was almost too distant from the group, like he had other things on his mind. Vicious was acting differently that night, like he was waiting for something, something bad that he knew was going to happen.
The alarm went off, loud and screeching. Obsidian was shaken from her memories of the past with a jolt, and smacked her head on the steering column. She dropped the light and fished for it with her hand.
~ Shit, Shit, Shit! ~
The running mantra in her head continued until she had found the light and switched off the alarm. She had to check, she knew, if anyone had come to investigate then she would simply have to scratch the whole thing and run.
It started shortly after the tattoo, the midnight visits from Joseph. He would creep into her room, not so silently, reeking of some such alcohol or another. Whatever was cheap and available usually. The bed would creak under the weight of the inebriated adult, her eyes shut tight as if that would make the nightmare go away. Nothing would make that nightmare vanish, she would scream into the night, but no one ever came to save her. Eventually she stopped screaming when she heard the door open, the weight would press her down to the mattress, but her mind was far away. She would run through her katas in her mind as her body was being used.
She slid the door open and stood on the edge of the car, she carefully poked her head over the roof and looked down the row of cars. Nothing, not even a sound, to betray that someone had heard the desperate wails of the car. Breathing a sigh of relief, she slid back down into the driver's seat, blissfully unaware of the security camera that caught a shot of her from behind.
Spike stopped coming around, and Vicious showed up less and less. When he did come by, it was almost as if he was hurting, like he was wounded deeply inside and it was eating away at his soul. Joseph was careful, he always caught wind of Vicious' visits a good week before they happened and was careful not to hit her face or do too much damage to her fragile body before he came. The little bruises were explained off as her simply being rambunctious or getting into fights with other children. Joseph had a few other orphans at the house that he took care of, but Obsidian was always his special little girl. She would cry bitterly at night wishing selfishly that he would focus on one of the other girls and leave her in peace.
She clenched the penlight between her teeth again and went back down to the wires under the dashboard of the car. The black wire connected to the red wire, then she struck the blue wire against the exposed ends. It took a couple tries before the engine roared to life. Obsidian then reached into the pockets on her coat and pulled out the blocks that she used to reach the pedals on the car. Her coat came off next, and she winced as she twisted, aggravating her bruised ribs. She bundled up her coat and put it under her as a lift to see over the dashboard.
When Vicious went off to that war, everything went directly to hell. Joseph started losing it, the drinking got worse and worse. Soon, he rendered himself unable to perform, and that's when the pain started. He blamed Obsidian for no longer arousing his body when his mind was geared for a night of fun. He would beat her into oblivion when that happened, taking his pleasure in her pain and blood rather than her childish body. Many nights he left her broken and spitting blood only to have her limp out the door in the morning to find more money for his growing need for alcohol.
Meals were few and far between as he drank away every cent she and the others brought home. When the war finally ended, Obsidian was so jaded and cynical of life that she barely noticed. It was a joyful reunion with Vicious, but he left quickly to testify in some trial. Days blurred into weeks then into months, filled with pain and heartache, only broken by the times when her shining star would come to her and she always hoped that he would take her away. Every time he left, he did so alone.
The car zipped quickly out of the parking lot as Obsidian jammed her foot on the pedal. Tires squealed and she made her way to the chop shop where she knew she could pawn off this car for at least 4,000 wulongs. That should make Joseph happy for a short time. With any luck, it would give her a welcome reprieve from a night of pain, if not, she could maybe even just run. She prayed if she had to run, he would never find her again.
