Spoiler
I've tried and tried this project hundreds and hundreds of times. I usually start of all dark flowery and mysterious, so I wanted to do something different.
He woke up, wedged between busty blonde triplets. Not the worst place to be. No, defiantly not the worst place to be. A glorious smile rose on his face, like the morning sun across the eastern sky. It was six o'clock and the beginning of another wonderful carefree day. He would start with a run, and then a good breakfast to wipe away yesterday’s party. Then spend the rest of the day festering in a pool of his happiness, by day saving lives in a hospital, by nights making lives in bed. Last night had been wild. So wild it would make Hugh Hefer look like a virgin. The three mouth watering women that lay in his bed where a living testament to his own brilliance. His life, so far, was going to plan.
He loved this new place, this new country. Australia, great women, great booze and great fun. The way it should be. He lifted himself out of bed, muscular arms flexing with the vigor of youth. He looked in the mirror admiring his rugged features, charming yet dangerous. Who was he? Had he really become what he was looking at? A young doctor, handsome and successful, did I mention ruggedly handsome? Only ten years had past since he left the folds of the white council, sick of being their little guard dog. Yet already he was living the good life. The life he though he would never had.
He moved down the corridors of the old house, buckets of paint and tools lay everywhere. He was going to make his old place his castle. He had already finished the garden and in a couple of years it would begin to flourish, into Eden it’s self. He had already out fitted the basement, the attic was already filled with his old musty books and his glowing antique desk. The rest of the house would come eventually but when it did it would be glorious. He would make the crumbling Victorian maid his masterpiece.
Jumping down the stairs he sung a nineties rock anthem, air guitaring his way down the old grand staircase. Somebody knocked on the door. The sound of brass hitting brass. He stopped and paused. A deep frown flashed across a brow cutting into pale flesh but he brushed it off, probably the neighbors coming to complain about noise, jealous old fools.
He moved forward, long legs carrying him far, opening the door with a yawn.
"Chill, I'll keep it down...."
He stopped. His eyes widened, heart beating, his blue irises quivering with fear and surprise. A woman stood before him. A wild beauty, with enough fire and brimstone to make Hell jealous.
"What? Johanna? What are you doing here? I though you where on the run?"
The blonde woman twitched a tear running down her eye. Her face the image of madness, her once smooth hair as gnarly as Baba-Yaga’s. He felt his eyes move towards her heaving breasts, before snapping them back up. This was Johanna Koch, the black bitch her self, you didn't stare at her chest unless you never wanted to see again.
She sobbed like a lost child, breathing heavily before raising her head, staring at him witheyes that only sang of desperation.
"Wolfgang O'Connor. You owe me a favor," she said blandly, her eyes colder than an Antarctic winter. He gulped. A favor. A blood debt to the black bitch, he had long forgotten, payment for is freedom. What would she ask of him? Murder, magic and mayhem was what she thrived on, it would be what she would ask for.
"I need you... to take my Valkyrie..."
He blinked.
"Just slow down lady. Who the hell is Valkyrie?"
" My daughter. I need you, no I command you, to take my daughter, make her your apprentice. You will train her, watch her and protect her against..."
“Look Johanna, I can't help a felon you know that. I'm still Knight. The oath I took over rides any blood favor," he said, arms folded, all imposing. He noticed the small hand peeping up from behind her long black dress.
“Please, I'm begging you! Take her. Give her the protection only you can give her. They can't hurt her, not as an apprentice of grey knight!" And with those words she fell to the ground, clinging to his with only the desperation a mother could show. He gasped. A child no longer hidden by her mothers dress began to sob, its forlorn cry singing to the iciest part of his steel heart. The façade of happiness disappeared, dragged back into reality by a child. But as he looked into the child's hazel eyes, unfathomable pools of hopelessness, he knew that he could not refuse.
