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Defender of Mankind: Avenging the Wronged

By Nathalie Handal

Romance / Fantasy

Chapter 1: Prologue

Mjolnir gave out a mental sigh of frustration. It had been two years now, two years since his current owner had given him away, Me... really as if I were a mere, mortal hammer.

But then again, he thought, my owner promised to come back, promised it was only a temporary solution. My owner said that at the moment and given the situation, my current user needed me, Mjolnir, more than them. But really, why couldn't they take the responsibility of being chosen?

Thinking about said current user reminded Mjolnir of his present situation. Of how this user of his had caused so much damage with his arrogant behavior, his blind pride... about how this user’s 'heroic actions' had only resulted in pain in resentment… they had hurt his brother, the one who always kept to his shadow, always a step behind the golden boy in defeat and, even so, silent admiration and longing for more. He remember how his user, instead of helping his brother, the moon to his sun-like appearance, had only caused his brother's demise… he had betrayed this brother of his when said brother most needed a shoulder to lean on, one that was never provided to the grieving and confused soul.

The more Mjolnir dwelled on the fact and the more that he recalled his current user's actions, the more satisfied he grew, satisfied because he knew what was to come... Yes, he knew (even if he was deeply annoyed with his owner and true wielder for lending him away without a second thought) that if there was one thing that was certain, it was that he would see his wielder again and soon...

Yes, he would see his owner soon, and he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the dark defender of mankind would avenge the wronged and fulfill their destiny...


Looking at her watch she gave out a huff of frustration.

Surprise, surprise, she thought, late yet again.

Sighing, she pushed herself farther, picking up her pace (in the sort of half-sprint, half-run she usually used when running late), trying her best to arrive to the internship interview, well..., certainly not on time, but not so late, at least...

Because really, only I could be late for such an important meeting, but then again, that's Alexandria Darcy for you...

Grabbing her bag closer to herself (it wasn't really needed, but she did have some of her favoured possessions, amongst them her books, that she had thought fitting to carry with her on almost all occasion... Well, she thought coyly to herself, at least it has been so since 'The Incident'...) she advanced as fast as she could…

'The Incident'... She shook her head, trying to get rid of her memories and flashbacks, they were certainly of no use at the moment and she needed to concentrate, needed to get to that interview as soon as she could. Sighing once more and looking at her boot covered feet, she thanked God for her choice of footwear, and for being wise enough to ignore her mother's advice, because really, she would get nowhere in heels.

Other than getting herself a nice trip to the hospital after landing face-first on the floor because of trying to sprint on those damned stilettos…

As she kept her admittedly hilarious way of ‘walking’ (if you could even call it that) she suddenly felt, rather than saw, someone observing her… closely. Something about her, her instincts perhaps, or maybe it was her gut feeling, told that this wasn't the casual observer, and that the best course of action would be to run.

She felt her pace pick up before she had formed full thoughts about her mysterious stalker. She ran, as fast as she could. Thanking her mother (imagine that… oh, the irony) and her step-father, Joe, for all those torturous years of basketball lessons, track team practices, and self-defence lessons that built up her stamina, she turned around a corner near the building in which her interview was to take place.

Suddenly, after pushing herself even farther, she managed to reach the building doors. She soon felt relief course through her, and, taking a few deep breaths, she reached for the handle.

Something stopped her. She observed out of the corner of her eye the reflection on the glass door. Someone was reaching out for her and she barely started to panic, in fact, she was just about to scream out for help, when a black-gloved hand reached for her, covering her mouth and successfully muffling any sound from coming out.

Taken aback, she started kicking and hitting her assaulter to the best of her ability until she suddenly felt a hand nearing her face, reaching out to cover her sight...

What the hell?

…That was her last thought before the world around her went black.


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