Black Blooded: Continued

    “Hannibal…I have something important to tell you.”
    “What is it Red?”
    “I’m pregnant.”
    “Honey, that’s great!”
    “I know it is but… that would mean I would have to take a leave of absence from the organization.”
    “Consider it done, why would I possibly have my pregnant wife continue a dangerous job such as that? You don’t have to work from now on; you’ll stay home and raise our child.”
    “That sounds great Hannibal.”
    9 months later at Storms-Wallow hospital. “Did I make it in time?”
    “You’re wife inside this room Mr. Isles holding your beautiful baby girl.”
    “Hannibal come here, she has your eyes.”
    “And she has your gorgeous looks.”
    “What shall we name her?”
    “How about Vivian?”
    “Nah, how about Veronica?”
    “That’s sounds nice, that’s it! Veronica Red Isles.”
And so it was on that day, December 1st, Veronica Red Isles was born…the one Justifier.
    “Dad, where’s mom going?”
    “She’s going out for work sweetie, she’ll be back soon she has a knack for what she does.”
    “Okay daddy.” I said. Times were fine then at least until my father got the word on my mother’s death.
    I remember wearing a jet black dress accompanied with a whit sash and black bonnet. I was angry, furious all I wanted at the time was to see my mother’s killer dead, but is that what she would’ve wanted for her daughter? No, but I’ll carry on her legacy by becoming a Justifier…the best like her.
    My dad trained me intensely but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. He would train me at the Justifier’s training facility along with the other young recruits. I didn’t too many friends there, except for one though. A girl, Isis was her name. She and I trained and sparred together and were even assigned in a squad. She became my best friend in an instant. She understood unlike the others at the facility, she knew what I was dealing with.
    “You’re different…”
    “What do you mean Isis; I’m just training here just like everybody else.”
    “But your motions speak differently. Your strikes are precise but passionate as if you’re fighting to defend someone.”
    “Well, all ever think about is my mother when I train here.”
    “She’s no longer with you I assume.”
    “Your assumption is correct…how’d you know?”
    “Because you when mentioned her just now your face looked as if some struck you with a sharp needle.”
    “It’s just… my dad hasn’t been the same without her. He’s living in the past to keep himself from slipping away.”
    “I see. Come with me to the ring, I want to spar.”
    “Spar…with me? Are you sure about that?”
    “Of course I am. I want you free yourself of your burdens and have some else to focus on, your rival.”
    “You, rival me? Fine let’s do this.” So we headed to the ring where I fought against for the first time.
    “Rules?”
    “Sure, come at me with all you’ve got.”
    “Isis you can’t be serious.”
    “I am, now ready yourself.”
    “Fine…but you’ll have to stop the fight soon.” Isis didn’t know of the constant urge I had to fight relentlessly. This habit formed when my father had me fight all of the top recruits a while back, the feeling when in battle with someone was intense and I couldn’t get enough of it.
    And incident occurred when in the midst of a fight with the top fighter at the time, I blacked and the feeling overwhelmed me. My father filled me in on all that happened. I killed him; he died with several broken bones. It was then I isolated myself from the others at the facility, so no one would spar with but Isis is different.
    When engaged each other, she eluded most of my attacks and pushed me around with one, light hand. It was like fighting a ghost until she got offensive. She struck hard but quick and I knew well that fighters like this are deadly and are able to deal a great amount of pain very quickly. Another person I’ve encountered like this was Sorrel, he fought not wild, not aggressive, but smart. Although he shows pure hatred against people of my kind, good spirited, he didn’t fight using that hate.
    “Keep up with me Veronica; you’re doing fine so far.”
    “Yeah and you’re doing pretty damn fine.”
    “You fight with anger, why?”
    “You wouldn’t understand.”
    “I would if you’d tell me. Let’s take break.”
    I explained to her why I fought the way I did.
    “So you’re telling me you let your inner problems influence your fighting method. Interesting, I believe I can change that.”
    “How do you think you can change that?”
    “Well as your friend I feel that I just can.”
    “Friend?”
    “Yeah.”
    “You’re serious about that?”
    “What’s with and your disbelief in everything I say?”
    “Nothing it’s… it seems hard to take in. I never had a friend and this is probably the longest conversation I held with a person (Until the futile attempt to change Sorrel).”