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A Dark Girl in a Bright Place [Styx/Lethe]

Posted: Sun Jul 28, 2019 8:32 am
by Lord of Nothing

Sacha. Lethe. Styx. It didn't really matter. She dreamed the same thing she did every night.


It started with her in the dark. There would be voices. Demons. They spoke to her and if she opened her eyes, she could see the vague flicker of them moving through the dark, their features too hard to see from the lack of light. They would whisper to her, and she would ignore them. Why was she here? A little girl among these monsters?

Oh yeah. It's because I'm a monster too.

This was not a nightmare.

She was among kin. Styx had shot and killed men, women and children both innocent and not. With a gun, she had the power to end the life of any normal man. Only people who were special were a match for her. And few people in the world were that special. Like her. So, she used it to end life. To benefit herself and her brother alone.

I am a monster, because I sleep well.

She had gotten used to the voices which bounced about her head. It almost seemed like they were all arguing. Over which one would have her body. Over which one she would choose when the time came. When she was vulnerable. Sometimes, when she was dead. Some of their voices were familiar. But Styx sterotyped them all. All they wanted was to hurt her. So their words meant nothing, so long as she kept that in mind. Demons were predictable and one dimensional. And yet, they did not ever cease, no matter how aware they were of their mind. They were there for a reason, but she had no idea why.

And then, from the crowd, her brother would appear.

He would lie down next to her, just like when he was alive. And he would sing to her. He would go up next to her and she would vividly feel his warmth, even when she was cold and truly alone, she felt warm. And every night, she slept well.
Until she came here. Then things became abnormal.

Her brother was leaving her. She could feel it. He was here. But only when she was alone. Even then, he wasn't there as strongly. She had noticed how…distant the monsters would become. And how as they faded, so did he.

Her brother would fade. And she would fall into a pit. And her fall stopped when she was sitting in a seat. She looked at ODIN and she relieved that specific moment.

"Perhaps I might be inclined to agree with you when it comes to... knitting. But you walk a fine line when it comes to enjoying what you do. Overindulgence is a much different beast when we're not talking about knitting a couple of unnecessary sweaters... Never the less, I'm glad you agreed. Now then... wait here for a moment. Someone will be in shortly to give you a rundown of what you'll need to do.

The she fell back into the darkness. Alone this time for a while, and things were quiet. And the sun rose, and shined on her.
Sacha slowly woke up sitting at her desk. Before her was a pile of drool, a glock 18 handgun and a flower pot. The pile of drool clearly was from her face, the glock was fully loaded with the safety off and the flower was budding. She was in the two bedroom apartment that she had gotten with Mordred which functioned as their de-facto base in Solar City. It was without a doubt, the nicest place that the girl who haled from some of the most statistically violent regions of earth.

But even here, she could not escape the threat of death.

She had come into the country like a dog which had tasted human blood. And now she was on a leash, her talents in killing put to the test as she was assigned to her newest target. One who resided here, in Solar City. To meet her target, she had to gain his trust. To do so? She had to shirk the moral boundries of those before her and terrorize a group of kids and teens around her age.

A task she knew in her heart, that she was all too delighted to do.

And yet, that phrase rang her head again. About her enjoyment of what she did. When thought about it, she didn't particularly hate any of the people she would be terrorizing. But, she knew it was something she had to do. In the past, there were people who she hated and enjoyed killing. It seemed almost funny to her how he criticized her.

For one, it seemed to her that humans obviously enjoy killing. But not the consequences of the action. So, people instead simulate killing in video games. They make movies about apocalypses where people get to kill “zombies" without any of the weight. Because they were morally right. She liked to kill, and killing got her to sit in the richest city in the world.

Second is a question of passion. It is said that the secret to success lies in desire. The passion for which one has at their job. Simply put, if one enjoys their job, don't they do it better? If one has a dream, should they not achieve it. For her, to dream of ascending beyond all of the beaten and bloody girls in her position. To be useful? Wanted? To be the very best at what she could do? He scorned her for doing what she does. Violence, killing and war. So them, should she not be the best at these things?

If I can't fight and kill, then what good am I?


Her eyes snap to a fly. A necessary creature, but one dangerous to her. Left alone, it an feed on her scraps, poison her food and multiply. The perfect thing to kill in the morning. It sat, perched on a stuffed she put in the window sill.


Looking about the rest of her desk, she her open laptop. The previous night, she had been researching her targets. That was for later though. There is a fly on her plushy, for god's sake. So, her eyes scanned the desk and found a silencer. Smiling, she takes it and starts to screw it on. And after some ten seconds, she aims at it conventionally at first. Then brings the gun down to her hip.

The sound the gun makes isn't like a gun. The silencer dulls the noise, removes the flash and makes the gun sound like something not a gun. The bullet still makes a distinct, supersonic crack but that isn't enough to set anyone off. The fly simply disappears as the plushy is completely unarmed. Sadly, if this were a demonstration, some might be disappointed to see that she was unable to accomplish the mythical feat of shooting the wings off a fly. The fly was simply too small. The bullet, too big. It was like trying to cut a peanut in half with a hammer. Maybe if she had a flechette. Or a bow and arrow.

The Pint Sized Assassin yawned, her stomach growling as she stretched. Her laptop remained open. On it, was a list of every member apart of the so called local “Teen Team" of solar city. She looked at profiles and identities for those who revealed them, and perhaps most importantly, video footage. She made a word document which listed details of how they all fight and what their powers were, from what she could observe.

There a familiar hand on her shoulder.

“You should eat. You've been up for two days, and you didn't put much in you during all that time. You need to take care of yourself, sis.”

She shut the latptop.

Preparations could wait for breakfast.

Re: A Dark Girl in a Bright Place [Styx]

Posted: Sat Sep 07, 2019 3:07 am
by Lord of Nothing


The same dream.

She wakes up, shivering. She is in bed, with a blanket, sweatpants, a hoodie and gloves. At this point, she is matted in sweat. And yet she has never felt so cold.

People who aren't crazy don't see dead people. They don't fight all the time. I'm going to go away and you need to be ready. Go outside. Meet people.

People tended to not like crazed, bloodthirsty killers. She knew this fact. She was a crazed bloodthirsty killer. And she knew this. An expectedly, there were one of two kinds of people she knew in life.; People who would fear her and people who would use her. Daemon, Axiom, Stygian and Mordred had all so far proven to be no exception.

She slid out of bed and now felt the heat that ought to accompany her being drenched in sweat. A shower, during which she sang. The whole thing made her feel better. Then breakfast.

She ate alone, today. As per usual. She woke up early as per usual Mordred hadn't really shown much interest in her company. Indeed, just like everyone else, he was repelled by the Child Assassin. The Killer Kid. It was all he knew and so far, it is all she has established. Blame went inward. All she really did was kill. It was too easy. What else would she do?

Why am I thinking like this?

It is funny that here, in this place, is where she feels the most happy that she can remember. Many memories she had were good ones. So long as she was with her brother, she was happy. And she would endure. And now he's gone.

She got up, obeying his suggestion and walking out the door in a black turtle neck, a kilted colored skirt and socks that went up to her knees.

The elevator door opened, and she was prepped.

You know how this ends right? The life of a killer. Do you remember the people you killed? You remember how many of them were killers? That's how it ends. That's how it always ends. I want something different for you sis. I want you to choose.

Styx whips around and faces him with tears building up in her eyes and ready to explode. He looks at her, blank faced as she grabs him by the wrist and takes him into the lobby bathroom.

“What if I want to choose you? You have always protected me. Even now. Even when you're dead. All this. Being in the richest city in the world doesn't mean anything if you aren't here.”

She sobs profusely, leaning on him. In reality, she is just lean on a cold tile wall, tears mixing with mascara.

I’m bad for you.

He says, his feelings resonating her. It was a cruel irony to him, which he met with a grim sense of humor. Hi hands grasps her shoulder, giving an illusion of warmth. I made you into a monster. But monsters get put down, eventually.

There will come a time when the monster has to go away. You can't just keep feeding it. If you keep going on like this, it will all be nothing. You'll go hollow. Unfufilled. Without purpose or meaning. You know how the life of a killer ends.

He puts one hand on her cheek.

We didn't fight and struggle, just to fight and struggle. Not just the money. The opportunity. The experience. To be anything. You can do it. Really. I am just an extension of you sis. Everything I have done since I have died, has been you.

Snot dribbles down her nose. She can't bare to look at him. So she closes her eyes, leaning her forhead against his. Listening only to the sound of is voice.

Don't let what anyone says tell you otherwise. Don't let anyone tell you who or what you are. Change might be hard, but you can be whatever you know in your heart is right.

It was quiet for some time. A few minutes, she stood there holding him. Then she let go. At this point, she could not see him snymore. He was gone, but not too far awayn

Three steps and she was out of the dimly lit bathroom. A few more and she was out of the building and into the daylight.

Re: A Dark Girl in a Bright Place [Styx]

Posted: Thu Sep 12, 2019 6:44 pm
by Lord of Nothing

The same dream as before.

Wake up. Then get up out of bed. Shower . Eat breakfast alone. And then she'd pick up her backpack and walk out of the Condo she and Mordred had been living in and out and into the world.

She had managed to pick up a job at coffee shop. To any raised eyebrows, she worked there full time. Questions would come and Styx on occasion find it very inconvenient that she couldn’t convincingly lie, but found some pride in her ability to tell the truth. And ultimately. It felt horrible for her to lie. She had told them that she was schooled from home. Which was true. She learned most of the things she did in the confines of a home throughout her life. She was mostly self taught, able to rattle off information but not always things that tests and exams found useful. She talked about the workings of the human bodies, little snippets here and there. People would usually find that interesting and quirky but not too strange. It was also good for taking practice tests.

She did not talk about the intricate details of how to disassemble the Browning 1918 nor about the various ways they had tested the durability and reliability of the glock series handgun. Nor would she describe the difference between the infamous M16 and it's German cousin the G36. That would bring about unwanted questions.

After she would work, she would go to the library. Most people weren't really that into books and it would show in the hours of most libraries. They tended to close early, leaving her with precious little time to scope out prospective books to pick out. She read books both fiction and not, with history lending itself to being a study of human nature itself and fantasy lending itself to any number of things, from escape to some hosting grander themes hidden beneath happy or otherwise sillier seeming things. Study of math and sciences found themselves to be subconsciously related to ballistics and other more practical applications of math. Anatomy worked hand and hand with biology, serving to further enhance her knowledge of the human body to surgical levels.

Next was the workout. Ironically, it was here, in Solar City, that she could be the most fit. The best shape she had ever been in her life. She could go to the gym to observe the workout techniques people used and glean what was useful. She could watch dojos and find out what was the best.

As a fourteen year old girl, she couldn't bank on being able to knock out a grown man with her strikes or leave anything to luck. But she did hold a value in the ability to wield larger weapons and has found herself in need of pushing off a rather large corpse from her person on more than one occasion.

Instead, she would rather focus on explosiveness. Speed. Faster twitch muscle fibers with a moderate degree of endurance. Fighting a grown man became easier with a knife. Even if he had one, because they were both equally capable of harming one another. Just, one of them was faster. And almost every time throughout her life, it had been her. The advantage of the grown man was strength, which could be used to grapple. Hers was speed, which could be used to evade and infiltrate one's defense and exit it just as quickly.

So why not be faster? No matter how hard she trained, she would not be able to fight the likes of Axiom in pure hand to hand.

Perhaps later. If she ever got to be much older. She was just a little girl after all. A human as far as she could tell and truthfully nothing outside of the realm of a well trained human. But she had out-maneuvered him and his robotic ally. She'd shown herself slippery. It was time to expand on that aspect.

Speed came in different breeds. Different aspects. How fast were the hands? How fast can you run? How fast can you dash or roll? She's taken to practicing her movements with light weights, making everything all the harder on her body as she fought imaginary targets her size. But, to build muscle wass not the focus. It was tone hone it. And to enable to function under great stress. Calisthetics, the weight of the body came next. Agility and dexterity would combine, as she was soon able to balance her entire body on two hands. And then many weeks later, one.

Progress. Motivation was in and of itself key. The girl had weaknesses and shortcomings in her small stature. But there were things she could do better than others. Things that made her at least more special than the normal person. When she was younger, it wasn't much. She was marginally fast. Marginally nimble. Lithe. Small for her size. But now, she was a weapon in world of gods, monsters and men. To survive, let alone thrive, would require the very best the girl had to offer.

She smiled at the thought.

After this she would begin the run back home. No running on the rooftops on this day. On another day, she would continue her routine and replace that specific part. Overt specialization lead to weakness, quite literally in this case. She had to be able to run for a fair amount of time and still yet dodge incoming attacks

20 stories up, her back flew in through the window and she'd appear promptly after. She panted, as she looked around, scanning her room for anything in the realm of danger, before she'd just flop into the door for a minute. Her body yet ached, but it was a good pain. It was a better punishment than some of things she'd seen people do to themselves in the past. It helped her forget about other kinds of pain, at least for now. It would occupy the blank space that had been left for a bit.

But it wasn't soon before she'd long for something else.


Posted: Wed Dec 25, 2019 12:20 am
by Lord of Nothing

You've been putting this off for too long sis.

Sacha sat at her desk looking at her laptop monitor.

To the left of the laptop was a flower. It was a budding Iris she had gotten from the store when she moved here. On the other side was a gun. Specifically, a fully loaded Glock 18.

She removed the ethernet cable, disconnecting it from the internet completely as she set it to airplane mode, denying any wireless connections which may seek to peer into what she was typing.
Remember no lies. Because-

“I always keep my promises.” She said, reciting the motto of Styx, the mercenary. After all, people needed something to anchor to. Something to rely on. Sacha wasn't very sure if she was a good person, after all, everyone told her otherwise. She enjoys killing people, after all. Or more so, the thrill of it. Bullets, fists and swords flying. Chaos. The poetry found in a single trigger pull.




She needed some measure of virtue, though. Something to be proud of. Given that one of her only friends in her life was her brother and in a way, her deceased betrothed, she was hardly ever in a situation where she had needed to lie. Most any person she had ever met, she was capable of killing at will. Everyone else? She could escape.


No lies. The situation report must be honest. Her fingers slid forward along the keyboard and the words weren't coming at first. She took a deep breath and thought about something that excited her. That made her smile and would provide the fuel for the job. Scanning the room, she sees something. A fly. Out came a fly. She stared at it smiling. Styx's small arms had some small arms became a blur and a razor blade embed in the wall. But, not before nicking a fly on the way. The fly fell with it's wings cut off. Another whir motion and a razor blade appears and sticks into the table, slicing the fly mercifully in half.

Muse. She is proud of her accomplishment, and this pride lends her emotional fuel.

Time to write.

She sets her fingers to work.
“It has been quiet in solar city. The moth man is illusive and it seems he steers clear of this place. Heroes operate in solar city often and overall orderly. I would say Solar City is one of the happiest places in the world. Most crime is white collar and has seemingly little room for the “high profile supervillainy". So, to find the target , I had to lure him out.
I had to cause chaos.

In summary, I’ll put it like this: I went on a rampage. I like to think it was controlled buy I will leave it to you to decide. Ultimately, the facts remain. The deaths were all found to be criminals. And this was cracked down on by cops who investigated them. My murder couldn't be allowed and so they pursued me as expected. Collateral damage was due to gunfire and damage cars. No civilians were harmed. No police were killed.
The result was contact with the Mothman himself. He aided my escape and I had thought he would meet me. He seem to appear before me and you might ask me, why did I not shoot him then and there? I realized he was merely an illusion. He communicated and I agreed to work for him. We are planning an attack, but the Mothman has specified that no killing is to occur. The term “harassment" is a more correct term, I believe. I am to non-lethally engage a group of heroes at his leisure.

The attack is not for some time, so I have decided to establish something of a life to better blend in.”
Sacha pauses, staring at the screen. She wondered if that last statement was a lie. Or the truth. She would blend in. But was that why she was establishing a life here?

She decided to keep typing.

“I work at a coffee shop.” Another pause. Then she continues typing.” I have also decided to take up mercenary work again, but under a more reliable source. The global contract agency. Or GSA. They have are sanctioned by many governments, and put up high bounties on members. One such bounty I have in mind is a member of the pack. This can help me fund and equipment for things not pertinent to the mission at hand.
Overall, I would say for the purposes of cooperation and psychological evaluation, I am well. I haven't eaten warm food so consistently in a long time. Nor had so warm of a bed. But the hunt continues. I have no desire to live and worry about being taken and thrown to the wolves.
That's wouldn’t be very fun.”

She smiles at the last statement, and sends a signal to a wired printer. She strolls over to the printer snatching the paper and proofreading the report for errors. Content, she puts it into a tiny envelope and slides it underneath the door to Mordred's room before she returns to her own room.
A drawer pulls out and she reaches inside, hastily drawing a bloody handkerchief. Looking it over, two names come to mind. Two alone.

“Daemon. Axiom.”

She murmurs the words low, her gaze lingering a little while long until she leaves the handkerchief on her desk and returns with a box. On it, is an address somewhere in New York. Nobody would know.

Outside, she tosses into the nearest mailbox before she heads back inside.

A promise is a promise.