Out of Rage a Wolf is Born

They say every runner has a story. We're all just running from something. Let me tell you why I run. I want to embrace my past. I’m running to set things right.

I’m still haunted by images from my childhood. I was only two. The visions come as fragments whispers and shadows; I see them in my dreams. I remember my father. He wasn’t like my mother and I, I mean he was human instead of an elf like us. He is a businessman; He was kind and caring when I knew him. Mother and him would fight on occasions, This would frighten me. Kenneth Brackenhaven. That was his name. He was young back then, just a young exec at a small corp. The corp. he worked for didn’t have much influence in Seattle, back then. He didn’t always hate Metahumans. I don’t think that happened until mother and I left him.

I’ve watched him over the years. My father that is, I’ve been keeping an eye on him. He ran for UCAS presidency, became head of Brackenhaven industries, and I’ve even heard he’d the head of "hand of five" now. I wonder what they would say if they knew that the mighty Kenneth Brackenhaven had a daisy-eater for a son? I think it might be time for a family reunion. Anyway, back to my story.

One-day, after mother and I had left, men with guns picked us up while we were at the park. We were loaded into a truck packed with other Metahuman. I was terrified. I recognized the picture on the men’s uniforms; it was the same one my father had on his briefcase.

They took us to a big dark warehouse, where we were herded inside like cattle. You could hardly move there were so many people. I kept thinking mother would take care of everything. It will all be ok. I don’t remember how long we were there but it seemed like we were there for a long time. I was hungry and tired. Mother kept telling me it was going to be Ok. We found a group of elves cramped in a corner who let us join them. From where I sat I watched three massive trolls beat upon the front doors. I watched them for what seemed like hours as they tried to pry the door open. The doors wouldn’t move. Someone said that they had been welded shut.

After a while people started grumbling and complaining. I think that’s when I finally began to cry… Mother just rocked me and gave me her necklace to play with. She used to give it to me to quiet me down. It’s a silver chain with a silver ring. The ring has the phases of the moon engraved across the surface. It always seemed warm to the touch, not hot just warm. I was always mesmerized by the way light reflected off of it. The moons fascinated me.

As I sat playing with the ring, I remember is people screaming. At first they were just crying “ Fire there’s a Fire!” but then people started screaming in pain. People began to press closer as they pushed away from the flames. It was already too crowded in the building but the shoving was making it worse. Someone put me on my mother’s shoulders so I wouldn’t get crushed. The building quickly filled with smoke. It burned your eyes and choked your lungs. Our little band of elves were being crushed against the door. When the shoving grew rougher mother handed me to one of the Trolls. He held me over the people and tried to keep me from being trampled.

The screaming grew louder; I could see the flames beginning to dance across the ceiling. The building was so hot, so so hot. The fire cast ominous shadows across people’s faces. There was so much emotion, sadness, fear, and anger. I could see the fear and rage in their eyes. IN some this rage seemed to burn fiercer than the fires flames. People began to panic, banging on the walls, screaming; My Troll was even getting jostled from all of the commotion.

The next thing that happened was strange. I heard my mother begin to sing. Instantly the room became quiet, and people began to push away from her. All you could hear was the roar of the flames and my mother’s soft angelic voice. She stood alone, next to the door, swaying to the sound of her own voice. She was an angel amid a sea of flames. I could hear people whispering, some in awe, others were making spiteful remarks. I didn’t care; I just watched her dark black hair swirl against her cream white robe. I was enchanted by her voice. After a moment an Ork and a Dwarf joined her. I thought they looked kinda funny. The Ork had bones around his neck and paint smeared across his face He was dressed in tattered leather. He began a twitchy dance that in an odd way seemed to flow with my mother’s song. While the Dwarf had a big staff that he swung in the air as his deep voice began a harmonic chant with my mother’s. They were swaying and dancing together. It was hypnotic, I just watched my beautiful mother swaying, her hair flowing wildly about her face and these two strangers who accompanied her. I think that’s when I first felt it… the tingle burning inside me. When I felt it I wanted to run to her and sing too. I began to struggle but the Troll only held me tighter. For a moment it seemed as if everyone had forgotten about the flames. Then it happened, quick as lightning, the three dancers spun and pointed at the door.

With a WHOOSH the door exploded outward taking half the wall with it! I stared in amazement, I had watched three Trolls try to move that door to no avail. My mother and two small men destroyed to whole wall.

What followed was very confusing for my young mind to follow. As the wall exploded I felt like someone hit me with a hammer. That didn’t seem to matter much at the time because every soul in that building seemed to lurch into motion at that same instant. I watched my mother begin to collapse as a wave of people surged past her. I screamed for her because I knew she was going to be swept away from me. Everyone was focused on escaping that building. We were caught in this violent flood. I found myself clinging to my troll, my little island amid this swarming mass of humanity. As people surged past I began to hear the sound of fireworks accompanied by people’s screams. It wasn’t fireworks I heard it was gunfire. We were trapped. We could face the gunfire ahead of us or the raging fire behind us.

I vaguely remember there were other buildings like ours; they were all on fire. The smell of burnt flesh hung in the air as people ran in every direction. Some people were trying to get the other warehouses open, while others simply ran to save their own lives. Somehow I managed to see my mother amid this chaos. She was being supported between two other elves. I started screaming for her…Mamma…. Mamma. As I screamed my troll began to move toward her. He seemed to just shove people out of our way.

As we got closer my mother’s eyes met mine. She looked so tired. She smiled, a gentle smile at me, the kind that says everything is going to be ok. Then her smile suddenly faded. It was replaced by a look of terror. A cry escaped her lips as she looked past me. “ Kenneth, No no no.” I noticed that one of the elves looked at my mother and then behind us with a look of puzzlement. “Brackenhaven” he said with a look of surprise. I spun in the Trolls arms to get a look for myself. “Dada.” I cried. I reached out for him. He would take care of us I just knew he would. He was standing in the back of a truck speaking with several men with guns. I was confused; he was just pointing at us. He didn’t come to get us. He just pointed us out, turned his back and drove away. That’s when my mother began chanting and the men began firing.

I watched as the men opened firing at us. I can still see the flashes from there guns, feel the impact of the bullets as they slammed into the Trolls back. It’s weird how time seems to slow down at moments like that. The Troll grunted and began to stagger, and then to fall. It seemed like forever before we hit the ground. I landed hard on my side, partially protected by the massive arm that held me. I knew the Troll was hurt bad; I could hear him struggling for breath. It was a rasping sound, like sucking water through a broken straw. From where I lay, I heard my mother scream and I saw one of her elven helpers grab his throat. There was blood lots of blood. Everyone was covered in it.

That’s when I began to feel it again, that burning tingling feeling. It was stronger this time and it seemed to be washing over me like waves. Each wave was more powerful than the one before. My whole body tingled. I closed my eyes and immersed myself in this feeling. It was euphoric, as long as I felt this way nothing else mattered. Until I heard my mother scream again.

When I opened my eyes I could see her. She was staring at me; tears streamed down her face, as she cried. Her pretty white robe was turning crimson red. She looked so very sad as she extended her hand toward me. I wanted to run to her but I was afraid to move. Those men were still shooting. I looked into my mother’s big green eyes and watched as the sparkle faded away. Then I began to cry, or at least I started to cry. While I sobbed I heard someone whisper to me. “Pay tribute to your fallen, defend your pack.” Strangely that made sense.

Upon hearing those words the tingling sensation exploded within me. I can’t even describe in words what it felt like except that for a time it felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. The next thing I remember is waking up next to my mother’s body, as people wrapped me in a blanket.

Vlad Doarden and I were found by a group of Metahuman supporters looking for survivors. We were the only survivors amidst out little band. Vlad had taken several bullets to the leg and I had escaped with only burn marks extending up my little forearms. I was oblivious as to how I had received the burns. Vlad and his brother were the elves trying to help my mother in the crowd; it was his brother that I watched die. I will never know the name of the Troll that helped save my life.

The people that found us were appalled at the carnage that surrounded us. Thousands of Metahuman had been burned alive or cut down by gunfire. They were very surprised however to find several “Hand of Five” terrorists lying not far from us. They found seven men who had been killed in a horrific manner. The bodies could be described as little more than sacks of flesh. It was as if every blood vessel in their bodies had burst, and every bone was crushed to powder. Several of them also looked as if a beast had ravaged them. Claw and bite marks covered their distorted bodies. The corpses lay upon the ground their armor untouched, staring into the night sky through empty smoking eyes.

Vlad took me with him to Tir Tairngire, where he raised me as a son with his own family. His son Drizz and I were about the same age and soon became inseparable. Vlad made us work hard, both physically and at school. He pushed us to excel at everything we did. He also taught us to hunt. We often would go to the woods for weeks at a time, living off of the land

It was during one of these trips that I discovered what happened that night. Vlad and I had never spoken of the evening my mother died until that time. I never pushed the issue until I heard the voice again. We had been out hunting when I heard it. “Dark mane has raised you well, little one.” It said. “Though he’s taught you to hunt like a lumbering bear, not like the wolf that you are.” I was very confused, so I asked Vlad what this voice meant. The first time I asked he looked at me with a look of shock. It didn’t last long but I saw it. He avoided the question that first night. That evening I dreamed of hunting with wolves. We would run through the woods like lightning, stalking our pray silently and then springing upon them. When we made our kill we would howl to the moon. The voice spoke to me in my dreams, “You know this feels right, you were born to run, born to hunt.” The voice explained what it means to be part of a “pack”. That night memories flooded my mind. I was swept back to that frightful evening where I lost my mother. “This is pack,” the voice cried. I saw an image of Vlad; “Dark mane is pack.” Next was an image of his brother. “Swift foot was pack.” I saw Drizz. “Fierce heart is pack.” and finally I saw an image of my mother, “Silver Moon was pack, protect the pack.” These images came as flashes full of emotion.

I woke up sweating, my heart racing in my chest. I found Vlad sitting next to the fire watching me. The full moons light glistened off his jet-black hair. I begged him to tell me what this all meant. He told me to sit down and he would try to explain it. Apparently he knew my mother very well in her youth. He told me about my mother, he told me how she was a shaman and followed the moon totem, He told me what it was like growing up with her and how she was persecuted as a child. He spoke little of my father, but he told me who he was and how he had changed after my mother left him. He then told the details about that fateful evening long ago.

I had always assumed my mother killed those men before she died. Vlad explained that this was not the case. No, her spell was to protect my own life. She died saving me. She spent the last of her strength to cast a spell of protection over me. Vlad told me that when the men opened fire, their bullets stopped inches from my small body, while they tore the Troll to pieces. He watched as the Troll and I fell with a crash. It was an armor spell and luck that saved my little life.

Vlad had given me up for dead, he was sure that if a bullet hadn’t killed me the weight of the Troll would have. It wasn’t until he heard me cry that he knew I was alive. He shudder’s at the memory of that sound. He said it was a cry full of both sorrow and fierce anger. It caused his hair to prickle. It wasn’t just the cry of a boy, but the cry of a beast. Like the howling of the wolves at night. Vlad knew then that wolf had chosen me. His thoughts were confirmed when he saw me crawl out from under the massive form of the Troll. I crawled on all fours, my eyes burned amber in the firelight.

At the sound of my cry the terrorists turned back toward our fallen bodies with a look of confused terror. Before they could respond I had leaped on top of the Troll and let out a feral snarl. It was the growl of a full-grown beast, not an angry boy. Vlad laid in shock as all seven men were torn from their feet and tossed in the air like rag dolls. I was upon them in a heartbeat, tearing and scratching with my little nails and teeth. The sight of a little boy ravaging the guards sent the few remaining people fleeing in fear. As suddenly as my frenzy had begun I stood up, walked to my mother’s body, lay down and cried myself to sleep.

That was 21 years ago, February 7 2039. The “Night of Rage”.

Wolf taught me many tricks over the years. He taught me how to use my surrounding to my advantage. He taught me to “blend” as he put it. He also taught me to hunt like a wolf, to stalk my prey silently. I’ve learned well, but most of all I understand what it means to be a “pack”. That’s why I am now in Seattle. Wolf told me that the pack is in danger again. My father has caught wind that I am not dead. He still wants my pack and I destroyed. Now Drizz and I are here, our pack is expanding and I will destroy my father to protect it. This will be the best and most rewarding hunt of our life.