Review this story
Stories # - L | M - Z | Authors
An Oath of Blood & Thunder
Guys, this part of the Story
gets a little depressing, I ain’t gonna lie to you. I guess I...I
can’t really make jokes about what happens next...what happens
next...is what motivates me to fight evil with lightning in my fist and
a madcap grin on my face every day...it’s not cute, it’s
not funny, it’s what’s at every heroes core...that single
moment in your life where you choose where to go. Evil or Good, Normal
or Abnormal, Hero...or Victim.
This Is a heroes tragedy.
I remember the ride back home
in Uncle Alex’s squad car perfectly. We almost crashed twice and
dragged along 3 cop cars. I was sitting next to my Uncle Alex
thinking things thru in my head...”Why the hell did I go to that
rave!...if I stayed home I could of...of...”. I knew deep down I
couldn’t have done anything. All I hoped was that my mom and
Uncle Pat were ok. I wasn’t thinking about that Rikti freak
Sobek, not about that hero Sparky, not about that weird serum...just
about my mother...just about her...
We got to our apartment at
4:30 AM. And it was an raging inferno. I’ve seen the Steel Canyon
fires before, but this fire had a strange aura to it. The aura was not
born by a match, but of pure hatred and darkness. Fire fighters battled
the flames while heroes fought off lunatic Skulls trying to attack
civilians...I knew some of them. Blue Steel, Boom-Wave, Banshee Punk,
and K-Force. All heroes working with my mother to take down the Skulls
Superadine dealings with the Trolls and, more notably, The Family. I
watched as heroes and Firemen went in to rescue folks. Mr. Raif came
out of the fire with an Assualt rifle in his hands and began to fire
Riot Bullets at the Skulls, helping in the takedown. I watched them
fight and then I heard a familiar voice.
Uncle Pat: LET ME IN THERE, YA DAMN NANCY BOY!
Oh, my Uncle Pat is homophobic. Dunno why, maybe it’s his Catholic upbringing.
I looked to my right, just in
time to see my Uncle Pat fight off a fireman and run into the burning
building. Uncle Alex quickly followed, breaking thru the blocked door
way. It would be twenty minutes before they came back out. In my Uncle
Pats arms was a weak, dead figure covered in burns. His face streaked
with tears of rage, Uncle Pat screamed to the sky, while Uncle Alex
took my mothers dead body and handed it over to the paramedics with a
grim and saddened look. Before the Paramedics put her in an body bag, I
got once last look at my mother, one last look at her fire red hair and
one last look at her light green eyes. I watched them zip the bag as a
shadowy, flying Skull flew out of apartment 26-D on the 4th floor.
2 weeks later
After my apartment burned
down, my Uncle Pat bought us a loft not to far away from the remains of
our apartment. 2 miles away in fact. I spent a week in therapy get over
my mothers death, but it didn’t help at all. “Never give an
Irishman a reason to gain revenge”. My favorite line from
“Sin City”. I wanted whoever did this to feel the pain I
felt...to hurt like I did. I wanted good old fashioned vengeance and I
knew how I would. You’ll see later on kids.
Her funeral was a big one,
with family members and friends payed their final respects to my
mother. All my family was there, even a few blokes who were in the IRA.
Several heroes who worked with my mother in the past were there as
well, wearing a black arm band and a grim face. But, there were 3
people there I want to bring your attention to. First, was a well built
Italian man by the name of Giovanni Fortissimo. During the entire
funeral, my Uncle Pat watched him with a mix of fear and anger. Next is
Byron Harkenson, my grandfather on my fathers side. We won’t get
too much into him now. But I want to tell you about my grandmother,
Delia McClog. In the 60's, she was a super hero by the name of Clover
Leaf, a martial artist hero who gave up her career to raise her
children from an accidental pregnancy. After the funeral, She came to
me and held me for 10 minutes with out saying a word. Then letting go,
she spoke to me:
Grandma: Kenny, I hope you
realize we’re all here for you. I know how hard it is losing a
parent, I had to grow up an orphan in Dublin. Just know we will help
you thru this. All of us.
At this point, all of my
mothers heroes surrounded me and put their hands on my shoulder. It was
oddly comfortable, but at the same time it was un-nerving. Suddenly, I
felt a sickening pain of anger. I threw them off and glared at them all.
Kenny: WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU ALL WHEN SHE BURNED ALIVE?! WHERE THE F*CK WERE YOU!?
I ran home to the loft and
locked myself in my room. I knew it wasn’t their fault. I knew,
but I didn’t care. I wanted to be mad at something or someone.
“They’re heroes aren’t they?” I thought,
“They should have been able to save her...”. Later on, I
went to this seedy bar with my Uncle Pat in downtown BricksTown, a
place called “River Dance”, an Irish joint. Uncle Pat had
connections there and was able to get me a few good drinks. We spent a
good hour or 4 drinking and singing our misery away (Just to let ya
know, I can really hold my liquor, it runs in the family), But it was
still there, all the pain and hate. Sitting at a table, I looked at my
Uncle Pat with lazy eyes.
Kenny: you wanna...you wanna se something cool?
Uncle Pat: what’s that, Boyo?
Kenny: just...just watch. I found out I could do this when we moved into the loft.
I placed my hand over the
table and electric bolts shot from it, burning streaks into the table
cloth. I had discovered that I could fire bolts from my hand a week
after the fire and had been waiting for the perfect tm to tell him.
And, after 4 tequilas, this seemed perfect. I had discovered that I had
more control over this lightning than a normal mutant, but more power
as well. I looked at his amazed face with a grin and told him
everything. Sobek, Sparky, and the Serum, all of it. I then looked at
him with a grin as thunder boomed outside and lightning lit up my face
from the window.
Kenny: you know...you know what this means? We can avenge her!!! we can fight back!
I stood up and grabbed my
amazed Uncle’s hand and ran up to the roof with him. It was
raining and thundering on the roof, lightning turned orange by the spot
lights of the Zig prison. I laughed at the lightning, now knowing
I was its master. It was then and there, as forty heroes that served my
mother flied towards me that I made an oath to destroy the Skulls and
all responsible for my mothers death. It was then and there, with my
odd new family, that I made my Oath of Blood and Thunder.
“God doth loveth his little jokeths”
Review this story