Dark_Sentinel_NA

Darkness

Peter knew something was wrong before he even opened the door. He’d been asked to work a double, Janice had come home hours earlier, and now he feared the worst, his sixth sense telling him something wasn’t right. He pushed open the door to their small studio apartment and fell to his knees. Janice, sprawled across the floor. The place was a wreck, she’d fought them. The big ‘H’ on the wall told him everything he needed to know. Written in her blood, the visitors were no longer paying him polite visits and inviting him back. They were telling him in no uncertain terms that Hellions membership was lifetime.

He considered joining them, to escape their violent wrath. But as he knelt, staring at the broken body of the only person he’d loved since his mother had passed away, Peter hardened. Joining the Hellions would shame her memory, Maxes memory, and his mothers. They had all thought he had good in him, that his life of crime was not a conscious choice, that given the opportunity, he had a good heart. Giving in now would prove them all wrong, and he wasn’t about to do that.

He pulled his old leathers out of the closet. He’d worn these when he was a Hellions leader, the leather distinguishing him from the rest of the pack. He ripped the gang patches off the sleeve and back and pulled on the old outfit. He flexed his fingers in the hard leather gloves, slipped on the hard soled leather “biker boots”. He tied up the bandana around his head and slipped on his sunglasses. He didn’t bother cleaning up. He didn’t pack anything up with him. He left the door wide open, and left. He’d walked less than a block before he’d killed 2 Hellions. He’d only walked another block before something clicked inside him, and he knew immediately where he was going to go.

Light

“Peter O’Reilly, you are hereby sworn in as a superhero of Paragon City, from here forward to be known as Sentinel”

The brief training had been easy. Using his knowledge in the dark arts, and the natural born skill he’d been given with his fists, Peter had passed near the top of his class. His background in underground criminal activity was surprisingly helpful when it came to the written testing of his knowledge of the law. Now it was official. He was provided a contact, and sent out on his first mission… remove some Hellions from the street, how ironic, and pleasurable. They even had trainers who could help him improve his control of the dark energies that enhanced his ability.

His mother was long gone, Max could teach him no more, his dearest Janice had been buried only days after he’d walked up these very steps and knocked on the doors in the middle of the night, asking to register as one of the city’s superheroes. There was only one thing for him now. Justice. Not revenge, he knew that no matter how much he killed, he could never feel better about the past. But by bringing others to justice, he could spare others the same horrible life he’d had, and that was enough for him.

Well that's it. I hope I haven't bored anyone too much, I just thought I'd share this here and see what you all thought.

New Life

Peter stepped off the bus into the daylight and looked around at Kings Row. It had been bad before, but now it was awful. Gang activity was visible in open daylight. Less than a block from where he stood, a pair of Skulls broke into and stole a late model sedan with a dozen witnesses in plain sight. Peter shook his head, checked the address on the card he’d been given, and started walking.

Janitorial work wasn’t glamorous, it certainly wasn’t fun, and it definitely did not pay well. But it did pay enough to make rent every month. If he’d still been in the Hellions, Peter would be making a months pay in a days time, he’d even been approached, invited to take over a 10 square block area in neighboring Galaxy City, a nice profit could be made. But he refused, and that didn’t make some folks happy. They’d said it was OK, they said they understood, but Peter knew they were lying.

Janice and Peter were only dating for 6 months when they married. She’d been a waitress at the small diner he’d started work at as a short order cook (a far cry from janitorial work he’d done right after his release). On the pay of a waitress and a fry cook, they didn’t have a lot, but they were both happy. They even spent a weekend in a fancy hotel in Steel Canyon as celebration of their wedding.

Married for a year, Peter believed he’d truly changed his life around for the better. He wasn’t rich monetarily, probably never would be, but making honest pay for honest work made him feel good. Having a beautiful young bride who knew about his past, and didn’t hold it against him made him feel even better. He was so happy that the visit from a Hellions leader and his entourage faded from his worried memories within a week, and he was back to leading a happy life. There was even talk about buying a small house in the suburbs, maybe even moving out to the Midwest, to a small country town, and starting a family.

Punishment

“I haven’t had a roommate in ages, what’s your name boy?”

The Haitian accent was so thick, Peter could barely understand it. The man who sprung up from the lower bunk was easily 20 years older than he’d sounded, the grey hair and wrinkled skin belied his true age, but the movements said this old man still had some gumption in him.

The first year went by easy enough. Even though he’d forsaken the protection of other Hellions in prison, once others discovered the hard way that his fists were nothing to be messed with, he was left alone. He even got involved in the prison boxing club, knocking off the reigning “champion” only 9 months into his sentence.

Max, as his cellmate like to be called, was an OK guy. He kept to himself mostly, never tried anything stupid, but something about him spooked Peter, his books and drawings covered the walls, and all contained the darkest and spookiest of content. Max called it voodoo, the black magic. On the rare occasions that they had a conversation, Max would tell him about it, about it’s powers, and how the myths weren’t true, he didn’t kill chickens or goats to perform his magic, no sacrifices were necessary, even though he’d been imprisoned on false charges of just such an act.

Less than a month into his second year of incarceration, they came. Late at night, they’d managed to slip their cells and get by the guards. Peter laid in bed and listened to them as they picked the lock on his cell. He feigned sleep as he heard them, 3 or 4, slip into the cell. He was sure it was the Hellions, come to get him for trying to leave the gang. But then he heard the rustling, felt the struggle, as they dragged Max from his bed. Leaping down from his bunk, Peter laid into the surprised men, beating them mercilessly, as is the only way in prison. One by one, he shoved them outside the cell and slammed it shut once more, and returned to bed, never saying a word to Max, who crawled back into his own bunk silently.

There was never a repercussion for the beating or the cell break-in. This told him that the corrupt guards had been paid off. To bring punishment would bring attention to the whole affair, and shed light on their unscrupulous activities. But the relationship between Peter and Max was forever changed. At first, they didn’t speak for nearly a week about the incident.

When Max finally broke the silence, first there was a thank you, then came the offer, and the acceptance. For the next 4 years, Peter was schooled in the dark arts of voodoo, by what he later came to discover was a high priest of the black religion. He learned to manipulate the dark energies that permeate the world around us, unseen but ever present. An apt pupil, Peter learned how to use the magic to envelop his fists in this energy, giving more power to his already deadly fists. So quickly did he learn, that with still a year to go, he was learning to use the dark energies as a shield over his whole body to protect him, or how to draw the life force from others into himself.

Max passed away only a month before his release, but on his death bed, he made Peter swear a vow. He made him promise to forsake crime forever, and to never ever use the dark arts to harm a good soul. Max explained that the dark gods were not evil, and while they weren’t good either, they preferred the souls of the damned, to bring the dark arts to bear on the pure of heart was to bring the wrath of unhappy gods, displeased with the energies of a good soul. Peter swore, and silently, to himself, he even swore that once back in the real world, he wouldn’t use the powers at all. From now on, he was determined to live as normal a life as possible.

I like to fill out the bio's on all my heroes, and this one in particular I'd gotten a few good comments on. So I fleshed it out and this was the result. I've spaced it out some in multiple posts because I think I might have gone a bit over the word limit for a single post anyways, here goes nothing:

The End of the Beginning

“Peter O’Reilly, you have been found guilty of armed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon, you are hereby sentenced to 5 years in Paragon Maximum Security Penitentiary, due to your violent nature, this sentence will be served without opportunity for parole”

Thank goodness his mother wasn’t alive to witness this, the lowest day of his 19 years. His father, the drunk that he was, wouldn’t care, he hadn’t even cared enough to show up for the trial after being told on the first day that he would only be allowed to enter the court if he showed up sober.

His mother had died when he was only 8. Seeking protection from his abusive father, he’d sought the safety of the gangs and the street at age 12. By 15 he was running his own block for the Hellions in Kings Row, “Knuckles” they’d called him, for his preference for bare fists when violence was necessary. At 18, he’d gotten a little too ambitious, and dared a robbery of Paragon Savings & Loan with a few others. Only he’d survived the shootout with the police. When Blue Steel arrived, it was all but over and Peter was captured and arrested easily by the shield wearing hero. Now the trial was over, and he was going to pay for his stupidity and pride with 5 years of his life.