ZEUS BLACKWING

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On the north coast, it was said that he cut his way out from his mother, knife in hand. That was a little…well, absolutely, false. A sprightly young child, born naturally, came into a world of promise; loved by his parents until his mother passed shortly after his birth. As a child, he played with strings and set traps like his father, and in his teens, he bested the old man. He spoke little and kept to himself, but being Fleet of foot and a natural hunter, he blossomed as a trapper and trader known for a sharp wit and shrewd eye. Eventually his skill outfoxed the fox and outran the hare. As his skill grew, he moved into a home that he built from trees he hewed himself. He picked up a new hobby—because capturing people as his quarry, he could match brains as well as brawn.

It started with just one man—one man who caught his eye with his foppish dress and new mannerisms. He was interesting. So, the chase began. Meetings on the street, seemingly random, but planned perfectly. He took his time, and he knew the man chased back. Just knew. It took three days, and he knew it was time. He captured the man with his bare hands and took him away. He killed him expressly, and he realized he enjoyed it. He really and truly did. Animals wouldn’t look you in the eyes, wouldn’t fight you like a human, couldn’t fight to the very end to try and stay alive. So he did it again, a woman this time. He trapped her in the night and whisked her away. He killed her as he did the last.

He didn’t stop there. Why should he? As they fell by his hand, people began to talk. They realized it—whenever he came into town, people went missing. Of course they’d notice. But if he could just get rid of that one—and that one—and that other one...That could help. It became more and more like an addiction every day. Nobody could ever prove he did it, though. He was being much too careful for that. They called him the devil. They forgot his true name among the fear of his new persona, this bright young boy grown up to be a moody, dark man.

Time went by and while everyone in town went about their business, so did he. Doors were locked at night. Children whispered, and so did their parents. Seasons came and went, and he refused to stop himself. He got confident—cocky—sloppy. He couldn’t take them out fast enough. He was getting worse, unbeknownst to him. The town, however, certainly took notice. One night, they gathered a posse of the remaining men, slunk to the cabin where he lived, and broke the door down.
He wasn’t there. He had become bored by the small village, and longed for profit, excitement, and most of all, more quarry. He had begun to move that morning.

London, 2016

It was unlike anything he had ever seen. It probably wasn’t worth weeks of hitching rides and travelling on foot plus four miserable days stowed away in a ship, scrounging for food and unable to hunt, but it was a large town where he could re-establish himself and remain less obvious. At this point, he knew he couldn’t quit. Quitting would be weak, and he wasn’t weak. Besides, his hobby was much too much fun. London was a trade center that proved lucrative, and he soon looked back on the move with no regrets. He became well-versed in French and English (even though his accent was unalterably German, which garnered more than a little suspicion), and gained footing doing what he did best. He kept little company, as he found himself unable to grasp the mannerisms and propriety demanded by the London social class. It was a small loss, if any. He thought they were uppity pricks. Uppity pricks made good game, though; he had to admit that. Especially the ladies, who habitually belted out shrill squeals on the sight of the knife.

It didn’t last, though. His deteriorating method meant that the city found out fast that there was a killer in their midst; his German heritage was what sent him to the prison. He was finally caught at the age of sixteen for juvenile crime commitment. Fortunately for him , there wasn't enough evidences to sent him to death. Only three months of prison was required along with some community services and followed up psychiatric meetings. On the way there, it was he who swore and kicked and fought for his life, tooth and nail, until they got him into the noose.

He lived in a cage…in a rage…he couldn’t touch them—couldn’t kill—it was the handcuffs and chains! He had to get it off!—It wouldn’t come off! He was trapped—he could tell—and he didn’t like it.

America, Modern day

It took some time for him to get out of that living hell though he finally did. Having decided to start a new life , the young boy was a man now. They say that it is never too late to change and he proved to be a perfect example of this quote. Having understood the hardship of life , the man applied for university in the science domain at Oxford and was eventually accepted. Despite the juvenile crime case in his early years they had given him a chance to start freshly. He was studying and analyzing the domain of the fundamental interaction and the force of the sun. He was quite interested in it. The fundamental interaction and the solar energy intrigued him to no end. He studied the concept of it day and night like the laws of the fundamental interaction and the effects that the sun could have on a human until an unpleasant event happened. Unfortunately for him , the male was sent back to prison for an unknown reason. Having suddenly been exposed to a high radiation of supernova , his head began to hurt and he fainted before discovering that he was chained and taken on a boat to another place in the world. A prison island they called it. Thank to god his life was once again thrown into a mess. He gave himself a code named Zeus and embraced the new life that god gave to him with a straight middle finger up to the sky. This time he is going to decide everything in his life. He is going to be the one to rule and no one else was going to stop nor have control over him.



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