5. The True Beginning


This is where things start actually moving in order. I might want to explain what’s happened so far. Then again, I might not.

I should though. Should. Because otherwise, you won’t get the full experience. You’ll be missing out. Let’s see.

I was born to Hadley “Harley” Morrow and Lucidius Mason. Seventeen years ago. My mother was 20 when she had me. My father was the street boss when I was born. I was raised on the streets, with him, due to my mother’s sudden and unexpected death. Circumstances of which will come later. My father was a lunatic. Hence, my death was faked. There was no other way to remove me from his custody. He believed me dead. And when his own madness wasn’t enough to finish him off, when he wasn’t honorable enough to pull the trigger, I helped him.

I killed my own father. My father, who killed my mother.

He went insane. He killed people. But it was expected. He was being manipulated without realizing it. Or maybe he knew and just didn’t care. My father wasn’t in the best mental state. His mental state rivaled that of the more insane lunatics. The grand total of lives lost during his reign? Uncertain. Why?

Half the bodies are yet to be found.

My father did his work well. As most lunatics tend to. It’s ironic, the fact that they’re insane, but they can carry out their work so effectively. Makes you stop and think. Maybe. If my death was faked, that brings about the question of my adopted parent. Who raised me?

Angyl. Miss Hunter herself. She was there when my father put the gun to his head. She was there most of the time, as he tore lives apart and tried to destroy what was left. And she stopped him, saved a choice few. People continue to breathe because of her. Important people.

But why? What in her heart brought her back? She got away with murder, why come back?

To start the wheel turning. To make the cycle continue. She started a trend, she came back to make sure it got finished properly. When she was still young, I was born. When she left, I was about twelve. And my father had started on his downward spiral. She came back as a duty of conscience. To make sure that everything she had suffered for was done right. And after all, my father was sent to try and kill her. After all was said and done. As a test. And she survived. She passed with flying colors. And she got close enough to him to learn his plan. And she found holes. And she manipulated him to his untimely tomb. But it was necessary.

I was stolen from my life when I was 13 years old. Give or take. She would have been…20 or so. She was six years my senior. Right now, she’s 23.

Angyl Hunter. Check the other stories for background history. If you can find them. There’s no survivors left to tell the tales. Only the shadows and the fairy tales in people’s minds that won’t ever fade away. The stories will live on and be passed on, but there are no witnesses left. No survivors to prove or disprove anything. Just word of mouth. Nothing more.

The thing with her, she was raised by an adopted sort of family as well. And in turn, she knew how to handle things with me. She knew that my father was gone, that he would turn on me. Somehow she knew and found it in herself to care. She took me away from the problem. She was born and bred for it. History repeats. She removed me. And she took care of my father, guiding his madness in a safer direction.

And it’s done. I’m here and this is the now. This isn’t about my father. Or my mother. They’re both dead and gone. I just wanted to get that out of the way, get the obvious off my chest. This is about me. And my adopted mother, Angyl. And the business. This is about the eventually reinvented Black Dragon, the restored Drowning Raven. The reborn Gothik-Serkis.

I don’t have a name, it was destroyed a long time ago for my own protection. I know that I’m a Mason. Fallen is merely a title for what I am. If you think you can come up with a better, more appropriate name, be sure to let me know. I’m all ears. But until then, we’re stuck where we are. So it goes.

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