Call of the Storm (Story of Arc-Rift - Virtue)




Chapter 1
Life flashes before your eyes..

Looking to the sky Christien sighed slightly, seeing that a storm was approaching rapidly and his walk home was a while yet. He really didn't want to be caught in the rain. Thinking back to his football game just an hour past kept his mind busy enough to ignore the dark ominous clouds that loomed overhead. Pulling him suddenly from his thoughts, a bright flash of blue and purple lightning arced across the sky into another cloud. The thunder crash came only a fraction of a moment later, signifying that it had been really close.

Realizing he had stopped he shook his head and looked down the road before he began walking again. He was used to wandering the streets of London at night, but it never got rid of the feeling that someone was always following him. As he walked and the rain began to fall in heavy drops and quickly opened up to a downpour. Pulling up his hooded sweat shirt, Christien tried to cover himself as best as he could, but really was just delaying the inevitable of being soaked.

He shivered in the cold rain while he walked, feeling the goose bumps rise on his skin. The hackles on the back of his neck rose as he saw movement out of his peripheral vision down the alley he had just passed. Looking down the shrouded back street he could see a man heading directly for him. A wave of dread swept over Christien; he couldn't be sure but he was inclined to believe this man was about try to mug him. In the rain filled alley, he couldn't make out the man's face, which only compounded his fears. Not wanting to find out if his night was going to get worse he turned to run, but found that three others had stepped out of unknown locations. His exits had been effectively cut off. “Bloody hell,” was all he could think to himself.

Resigned to stepping into the street he dropped his knapsack hoping he could find a chance to flee. Another brilliant flash of lightning raced through the clouds and he felt the hair all over his body go rigid. It was an odd feeling, like having been too close to a massive discharge of static electricity. His assailants must have felt it too as they paused for a moment and looking skyward. In the light created by the bolt he could make out their features and it did nothing for his already pounding heart. Each one wore white makeup or some kind of skull shaped mask. They were even more creepy and dangerous then he had originally anticipated.

The wind picked up around them and blew his pale blond hair around, giving him a wild look as he backed up some more. For a moment his hunters gave each other a side long glance before laughing aloud. “'E looks like a wild rabbit caught in a trap,” said the one from the alley in a heavy English accent. “He knows e's about to get skinned.” The other three laughed in unison.

Christien looked around frantically, hoping for one last chance to escape, but found nothing but four thugs looking to visit violence upon him. The only real opportunity was to charge one and hope that he gets enough room to run. Without waiting any longer he ran at the lead thug preparing to shoulder him out of the way, hoping that the others would be too stupid to follow. He never got that far; as if being struck by a hammer, the larger white faced gang member struck him across the face with a bat and sent him crashing to the ground. His face hurt like nothing before- he had been punched before, but nothing had compared to being laid out with a weapon.

Spitting blood to the rain soaked street, he tried to return to his feet, but for his effort he was kicked in the ribs. He felt something crack and winced in agony. Falling to his side he was kicked again and felt several more ribs break. With a crash of sound he heard the thunder echo off the buildings, but couldn't tell if the flashes of light was the lightning or his face being kicked in. His whole body hurt now and all he could do was ball himself up and try to protect as much as possible while these thugs relentlessly beat him. He could feel his consciousness falter as they laughed with mirth about their victim.

Christien had always enjoyed the rain, though not particularly in it. It was the thunder storms that captured his attention and begged him to stare on. His fascination was even noticed by his parents, before they split up. During a storm, they could put him in front of a window and he'd be silent for hours. The divorce was a pretty sore subject for him, as it was his oddities that really split them. Though his mother was less apt to judge him, his father couldn't handle a child who wasn't ordinary. As time passed on, they noticed that he was unable to stand too close to any sort of electrical device as he'd usually cause some kind of interference or even cause it to short out.

As he grew older, his unique abilities caused him and his mother to move many times as it attracted attention that they tried to avoid. Unfortunately for Christien the strength of his power grew with his age and it was very unpredictable, so he did his best to suppress it. It worked most of the time, but when he got upset or something violent would happen he tended to lose control over it.

His face exploded in a wave of pain as he felt a boot smash his nose into small pieces. This jolt brought his reality crashing down around him, with all the pain and suffering rushing back to his senses. Despite himself, he shivered in the cold rain as he wondered when the beating would end. The memory of many of the storms he watched as a child came to his mind as he looked to the sky and saw the dark clouds arc lightning between them. As if calling his name, he felt their whispers reach out in tendrils and branches of electric current. He blinked one last time, past the blood and pain, and spoke. “Stop.”

Thunder shook the heavens as a violent explosion hit the street. Lightning touched down close by and showered the assailants with hot asphalt. From down the road a voice echoed out, a police officer came running into view, “Hey you there! Halt!”. He didn't seem daunted by the lightning as he raised his baton. Again, the thunder rolled, but this time the accompanying lightning came down directly upon Christien. His scream could be heard for hundreds of meters as the street cracked and buckled under the strength of the hit. “STOP!” With a roar the clap exploded and sent everyone flying from a massive shock wave. The thugs, closest to the center, hurtled through the air and made a sickening crunch against the walls of buildings while the officer was just sent sprawling backwards several yards.

Nothing stirred in the now paled street except the policeman, who groggily stood up and looked around. In the center of the lightning strike lay Christien, his body motionless. Getting his bearings and scanning for the four thugs that were thrown, he could see their now limp bodies scattered about the street. The officer dismissed them and staggered to the young boy on the ground, hoping he could at least do something. He was a terrible mess, with his face broken and bloody, likely the rest of him was in as bad of shape. Gently touching Christien's shoulder he tried to see if he was responsive at all. For a moment it looked as if all were lost until a shudder of a breath escaped the lips of the wrecked youth. Grabbing his walkie quickly he began calling the attack in, when from above a man in a great cape in the markings of the “Union Jack” swooped out of the sky and landed at his feet.

The markings of Hero 1 were unmistakable as the officer looked up to him, the radio forgotten in his hands. “I'll take him. He's going to need more help then normal medicine can provide.” The cop nodded dumbly, being awestruck by one of Britain's greatest heroes having come to rescue the boy. With careful hands, he picked up the lad and lifted him into the dark clouds. “Make sure those Skulls are taken care of,” were his last words.

((This is a beginning bio story on a new character I've been playing, Arc-rift. I'd love to hear some comments on this, if people are interested in more.

Thanks for reading,