A crashing sound could be heard as waves ate at the sand. Stars lit up the night sky with their twinkling, showing the world their pictures. The light of the moon glistened on the water. With the sound of crashing, a gentle rustling came from the palms as they swayed, a hammock rocked along in rhythm. To a person walking by, they could spot a home within the dark.
POP POP POP!
Loud gunshots broke the silence, followed by a haunted howling.
As quick as the noise came, silence filled the home and a strong metallic stench reached the occupants’ noses. A man stood above a dying woman, his eyes dulled with regret. The gun steady in his hands still aimed at the woman who was lying in a deep red puddle. His body was strong and sturdy, but his mind raced in sync with his heart.
“Finally. I didn’t want it to come to this, but I couldn’t let you poison him,” the man said. “I would’ve come sooner, but you really pulled a Carmen Sandiego on me.”
Her body trembled as she stood on unsteady legs, the tremors grew when she giggled. Underneath her breath, she muttered words in what sounded like Latin and a skeletal wolf’s paw replaced her own arm. She stabbed the man in the stomach and yanked her blood soaked claw violently out, and watched with satisfaction as the man slid to the floor, clutching his wound.
“Ironic, isn’t it? They ordered you to kill me, and they ordered me to kill you. Like something out of a movie. It’s tragic, but I can’t bring myself to care,” she said.
The man sneered at the woman and took a painful breath in, aggravating his wounds.
“Very ironic, but as I said, sweetheart, I didn’t want this,” he said.
“Then why? I quit The Syndicate. You should’ve quit The Organization. Hell, I took a bigger risk coming back here,” the woman shot back.
The man coughed, then spat out a glob blood and cleared his throat painfully. “I couldn’t let you poison him.”
“Poison...that’s a laugh...I co-could say t-the same a-about you,” she said weakly.
With a scoff, she fell to the floor. The last of her strength was gone. Both man and woman laid there on the kitchen floor, bleeding out. The two prayed that their six-year-old, who was still sleeping, had heard nothing. Their hearts dropped when they heard the pitter-patter of little feet.
“Mommy? Daddy? Are you okay? Why is the floor all red? Did you spill ketchup everywhere?” the six-year-old asked.
The dying parents wanted to comfort and reassure their little boy, but they couldn’t. Neither of them could move as they spent their energy, and they lost more blood.
“Mommy? What’s wrong? Do you need the doctor?” the little boy asked.
Not receiving an answer, the little boy raced out of the room and dialed 911. By the time the ambulance got there, both parents had passed, leaving a sobbing and heartbroken six-year-old behind.
11 Years Later
Seventeen-year-old Fox Kane walked the halls of Beachfront High with his hood up and music blasting in his ears. He reached his locker and grabbed what he needed after putting away what he didn’t as quickly as he could. He was hoping to avoid Dumb and Dumber.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t that lucky.
Even as Fox took out his earbuds, he groaned as two familiar voices rang out.
“Hey, Kitty!” Dumb yelled.
“Good morning Kitty Cat! Got my homework done and ready? Coach says I need to keep up my grades or I’ll lose my scholarship!” Dumb said.
“Oh no! That would be a tragedy! To lose your scholarship due to your own stupidity!” Fox said dramatically and dripped with sarcasm.
“Hey! I’m not stupid! Just too busy to do my own homework, Kitty,” Dumb replied.
“One, my name is Fox. Two, how will you learn if you don’t do your own homework? Three, foxes are canines, not felines, dipshit.”
“Canines and felines are the same, duh,” Dumber sneered.
“How the fuck did you pass kindergarten?” Fox asked with a raised eyebrow.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Dumber asked.
Fox rolled his eyes, wanting to facepalm. Instead, he pasted a sickly sweet smirk on his face. “Dogs are canines and cats are felines. If you did your own homework, you would know that.”
The bullies sputtered as they tried to come up with something to say back to him. Fox snickered, then turned to his locker and grabbed his books and sketch pad and then headed to class when the bullies called out to him.
“Get back here bitch! We ain’t done!” Dumb demanded.
A teacher poked his head out of the classroom with an irritated scowl. He heard the commotion going on between the boys, and he knew which ones were causing problems.
“Mr. Valdez and Mr. Narus, is there a problem?”
“No sir, no problem,” Fox said. “Alex and Baxter here just needed to know the time. We’ll be heading to class now.”
Fox turned away and headed up a flight of stairs to the second floor. His first class was a study hall in which he usually slept or drew rough sketches for Cyanide, his comic. He arrived at the classroom and took his seat at the front desk on the far left of the room. He dug out his sketch pad and got busy. Fox became so wrapped up in his comic that he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard the teacher speaking.
“That’s a spooky-looking beast. A wolf skeleton with only some fur covering the body is what I’m guessing. Is he the villain to your hero?” she asked.
Fox stared at his study hall teacher for a moment. She smiled at him.
“Sorry. I can see you’re drawing a rough draft. Is it a comic page or strip?” she asked sheepishly.
Fox snapped out of his moment of disbelief and smiled back.
“Page, actually, and it’s an anti-hero,” Fox said, happy to talk about his work.
“It?” the teacher asked, confused but intrigued at the same time.
“Yeah. My anti-hero is neither male nor female. It is a corpse. Sure, it had a gender when it was alive, but since it’s dead, it doesn’t anymore,” Fox explained. “To answer your next question, it was brought to life with necromancy.”
“Necromancy? Fascinating. Since it was brought to life with magic does it serve a master or mistress?”
“It had a master but became self-aware due to the soul inside of it. It decided to rebel and do its own thing rather than listen to a human.”
“Well. Very interesting. Are you publishing your work?” she asked.
Fox was stunned into silence for a moment. He never thought of publishing his work. He wouldn’t know where to start.
“Publish, ma’am?” he asked.
“Sure. It seems you have a knack for story-telling, you should really consider it,” she said with a smile. “Who knows, you could become the next Stan Lee.”
Fox smirked slyly and asked, “Are you a Marvel fan?”
“I have a thing for Iron Man.” She gave him a wink “Well, his suit anyway. The tech is stunning and revolutionary! I wish we had it. Tony Stark himself can suck it.”
Fox laughed and found a new respect for his study hall teacher. After talking more about Marvel and what characters ruled and sucked, Fox went back to work on his rough draft. On the page, Cyanide was locked in battle with the crime syndicate, The Poison Lei. They used black magic to commit their crimes, which ranged from grave robbing to the most brutal of murders. They had done this for centuries, and Cyanide decided to be the one to put them down.
Fox’s hand flew over the page, sketching scene after scene. Cyanide was struggling to escape but putting up a good fight. On the page, Cyanide sunk his skeletal claw into one of the Poison Lei member’s chests and yanked out their heart, throwing it to the Head Mistress’ feet.
The bell rang just as Fox finished the page. He packed up his stuff and headed out to his most hated class, Arithmetic. Algebra and Geometry he understood, but Arithmetic? What in the fresh hell is that nonsense about? Fox was thankful for online tutors.