Fate That Binds (Black Hand & darkangel76)

[darkangel76]

It was dark, the air so very cold as the wind howled and blew. Crouched low, Amaya Ro waited for the moment when she could finally sneak across the wooden ramp to the other side of the large courtyard. Most would’ve called it suicide, her plan. Her idea. Eager to take action, she hadn’t truly thought things through, her passion and want to do something taking over any semblance of logic that she typically had. This was why she was alone. Then again, she was always alone.

Typical.

“Did you see her eyes?” whispered the blonde girl, the one wearing enough frills that Amaya felt her own skin burning with an itch.

“Yes, and her hair?” the red-haired girl then giggled. Amaya wanted to rip the pink bonnet off that rosy head if only to see her gasp in shock.

Trying to ignore the whispers, and failing, Amaya continued to hold her head up high. She had no idea how long she was to remain in England, but from what she’d managed to gather from her over ambitious father, it could be for quite some time. The whole idea of it had always set wrong her, the idea of having to uproot and leave. And for what? To keep friendly ties with a nation that could’ve cared less about their own? Oh, she hated that her father had agreed to such a favor, one forcing his entire family to have to cope with a decision none of them had wanted to endure. It was so unfair. Wrong. He would pay one day. Oh yes, if she had anything to say about it. He would pay.

Licking her lips, Amaya counted to herself as to how many guards barred the way. From what she could see, there were five. But those were only in her line of sight. Who knew what more could be lurking behind the stone walls.

“Damn,” Amaya grumbled to herself and heaved a sigh.

Just then a loud creaking sound made Amaya jump a bit where she was hiding. Glancing upward toward where the sound had been coming from, she could see what looked like a generator of sorts whirling and creaking. No doubt the thing was supplying the power to this monstrosity she was trying to sneak into. It would figure that they’d have the means for such luxuries, even for the military. Her father had spoken of such things, claimed that it was his drive to keep in favor with the right sorts so that they all could share in such things. The thought seemed selfless on the surface, but she knew better. It had nothing to do with providing for the family. It was about self gain. Nothing more. If selling her into slavery would cause him to climb the social ladders, he would do it.

In a heart beat.

Amaya gritted her teeth as anger seethed throughout her body. It was then that she felt her eyes sting with tears. Furiously, she wiped them away.

“Not now, Amaya,” Amaya whispered to herself. “Focus. We need to get those plans.”

Setting her jaw, Amaya looked up at the whirling generator. Knowing it had to be now or never, she tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear and clutched the handle of the knife she had fastened to her hip. She wasn’t dressed very appropriately, not having taken the time to acquire the items and tools needed to properly pull of the job she was attempting so boldly. So brashly. Needless to say, she was sight. A mix of West and East and something in between as her corset squished and squeezed her breasts together making them appear larger, plumper than they were. Then there was her skirt. She’d found one that was a bit shorter than most, to help aid her in moving about. But, the only one she’d managed to find was simple, hugging her curves much more so than any of the skirts she’d seen the women wear in England. Yes, she definitely had an odd look about her. But, she hardly cared. No one ever noticed her anyway. And those that did, she had no time for them.

Yes. Better to be alone. Always better.

“Go!” Amaya then harshly ordered herself in a hoarse whisper.

At that, Amaya darted across the wooden ramp, her footfalls light upon the rickety wood. She tried not to think about the potential dangers, the guards. The men residing within. But it was impossible. She was but a single girl with no one to back her. Even her family had no idea, then again, if she managed to get the plans she sought, it would ruin everything her father had worked for and then some. No doubt they’d have stopped her.

Amaya continued to run, the generator creaking, her breaths coming fast as her heart pounded beneath her breast. Running. Faster, faster. She finally made it across. As she rounded the corner, hoping to find another hiding spot, she bumped into something hard which caused her to fall backwards on her backside.

“Ouch!” Amaya yelped. Looking up, her dark eyes took in a hulking silhouette. “Oh no,” she mumbled.

The silhouette turned to look down at Amaya. As he stepped into the light, she found herself cowering at the expression he wore. Her hand immediately went to the knife fastened at her hip, but it was no use. The massive man easily took it away from her. Just then, she felt a hard sting across her face causing her to crumple back onto the floor.

Amaya cried out then and as she did, she could hear the stomps and grumbles of more men. She was found out. Surrounded.

“You will pay for what you’ve done!” Amaya cried. “All of you!” Her eyes were on fire though she knew there was no way she’d ever win this battle. “So, stay back! Don’t touch me!”

 

[Black Hand]

Lord John Clinton was not the man one might think behind the name. The name brings to mind the idea of a firm yet sophisticated English gentleman. Exactly the type of person one might expect to find in his position as an administrator of the royal province of Korea under the current regent of the region, Earl James McLeary. To most lords like John serving under a Scottish member of nobility would be a humiliation. But John was not a normal lord. Normal lords were not the illegitimate children of regional representatives. Most lords had the title for reasons beyond that there not any other male heirs. And most lords most certainty do not have a hatred of their home countries, the way that John Clinton held with a passion.

He breathed heavily as he ran down the steel stairs of the hanging garden of the palace. It was a beautiful place for a morning run, the various exotic flora from all parts of the majestic British empire literally hanging off of the sides of the garden, and over the stunning scenery of the British controlled city of Seoul. Sweat ran down his bare, toned chest. With each step, his mind and body focused entirely on the task ahead of him. John didn't like to let his mind wander. It brought it to the humiliation he had to bear on a daily basis. The laughs, the looks, and the subtle put downs that the other administrators gave him. All because of the fact that he looked much more like the people that they governed, then the people of the British Isles. When the thought crept back into the lord's mind, his teeth softly gritted for a second, and then he sped off, trying to make sure his focus didn't stay on the hatred in his heart.

"I don't even know why he was even born. He's a crime against the natural order of things." His tutor has said to the manor's maid, back when he was ten. The man didn't know it but behind the corner, the narrow, Asian looking, eyes of the boy was watching.

He had taken this treatment from his classmates, and from some of the other adults in his life. But he trusted his tutor. He had always been fair to him, despite his...condition. And yet here he was, the person he would always come to about all the mean things people said to him, was just like all the rest of them. He couldn't talk to his father. Despite being his father's only male heir, he always gave much more attention to his daughters. It was always his tutor who he had gone too. But not anymore. Never again.

The sound of crying could be heard in the hall that day. That kid that none of the people in the house really liked was whining about something or other. Nobody could really say they cared all that much.

John would have gone through his normal route, and went through the boiler room of the palace all the way back up to the his quarters in the middle of his ship. The worst quarters of any full administrator, in the floating palace. But today something happened to throw things off. Today something happened that would change everything he knew. Today he would see that some disturbance was happening at the far end of the lower courtyard. This was a rather odd thing for him to see. The security of the floating palace was normally much too good for anyone to have gotten on to it without them knowing. And John knew that if theoretically someone were to break the palace's defenses, then the normal red coats wouldn't be the one to stop them. Curious as to what the ruckus was, he walked over towards the disturbance.

As he did he was a strange looking sight. A man who was surprisingly tall for his obviously Asian looking exterior. The small tint of European showing through slightly through his more eastern features. And his dress is just as much a curiosity. His top was bare, revealing his sweaty abs, toned from the daily excersize he used to distract himself from how much he despised his own life. But from the waist down he was dressed in the part of an English gentlemen. A pair made from fine cotton and sewn in Milan. And his boots were of the durable traction laden gear that they gave to the redcoats for fighting, perfect for navigated the often slippery exterior of the massive steam powered fortress.

But as he pushed back one of the guards who had caught the intruder and got a look at what he cause of the commotion was, he gasped in shock. Here in the floor of the lower courtyard, was a young looking Korean woman, glaring angrily at the surrounding soldiers. She was so young and so beautiful, almsot like a thorny rose. John took a glance backwards to what her intended target was. Why on earth was she attacking the generator of the dinner tube system, for the lower section of the palace? What would one accomplish by that?

"Thief!" Shouted the lead guard, obviously coming to the assumption based on the English clothes she was in. He was a gruff looking man who by John's guess, likely sustained a number of scarring wounds in the putting down of the rebellion of the American Colonies. "How did you get here on to the fortress?" He growled, his hand reached out to grip her long dark hair.

 

[darkangel76]

Amaya reached up to grab onto the hands of the large man gripping her hair. He was pulling it hard, making her cry out from the pain of it all. As her tears streaked her porcelain face, her eyes filled with rage, her body surging with adrenaline.

“I’m no thief!” Amaya shouted, her voice laced with sobs as she screamed.

The man shook Amaya hard, his expression one of anger and annoyance. In vain, she tried to wriggle free. She knew it was no use, but she wasn’t going to give up. Not ever. If she was going to be captured or locked up or… worse. She’d die fighting back. Though a quiet and shy girl, she wasn’t the sort to let herself be walked upon. No. She would never let others bully her again. Not ever.

Amaya tripped and fell to the ground. Cursed heels! Why did the English wear these wretched things? Just then she heard the giggles. Those sickening giggles. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the blonde girl. Her rival. Her nemesis. How she hated her.

Trying to ignore the golden girl’s sneers, Amaya stood back up and brushed herself off. Resuming her walk, she could hear the whispers. They distracted her, made her uneasy. Again, she stumbled. Though fortunately she managed to stay upright. Again, more laughter.

Her eyes prickling with tears, Amaya walked away. Her home was but a few houses up the block. Soon she could go inside and shut the door. And with that door, shut out the girls who made her feel worthless.

“Damn you!” Amaya shrieked. She knew such language was improper for a lady. It had been considered scandalous for a woman to use vulgar language back in England and, in her own home with her family, such a display would’ve rendered her slapped. But given her situation, it was the last thing on her mind. This man was hurting her. And, yes, she was frightened. Terrified. She knew this wouldn’t end well.

The large man brought a fist down on Amaya’s cheek. Almost immediately she could feel start to bruise. The ache terrible, so painful she felt her eyes almost roll back. Still, she found the will to look back up at him, her eyes still showing that fire. Again, he struck. This time, she fell backward going limp for a moment. Just then, she felt the hold on her hair go slack. The sudden release causing her body to fall, hard, against the cold stone beneath her. Body crumpled, she tried her best to get up. Her muscles were sore, her face hurting.

Looking up into the large man’s eyes Amaya felt her body shivering. Panting hard, she managed to rasp, “You’ll pay for this… you’ll pay…”

At Amaya’s words, the man struck at her once again. Only this time when she fell to the ground, she found herself engulfed in blackness. Though before that darkness consumed her, she could’ve sworn she saw another man standing in the background. One who, like her, didn’t seem to fit in, was out of place. No… she had to be mistaken. It was her mind playing tricks. She’d been hit too many times. Too many…

And Amaya’s dark fiery eyes rolled shut, her body appearing lifeless as she laid there before the man who’d beaten her.

 

[Black Hand]

John looked on in mild awe through the crows of guards, as the leader dealt with the thief. The British army had been told to shoot anyone trying to rob a English family in sight. And this girl obviously seemed to have stolen quiet a bit. Even the clothes on her back were English design. Had she hoped to try to steal from some of the ultra wealthy families who lived on the Floating Palace? John turned back towards the center of the crowd, where the girl was continuing to get hit. Her soft features roughening up at the blows that she was helpless to block.

In particular something caught his attention. This girl had very pretty eyes. Even as the guards around her screamed insults, and the scarred up captain punched her every time she tried to resist. But the lord was only focused on the black jewels that hung gently in her face. They were gorgeous and intense, roaming the room anxiously in desperation and anger. At the moment, despite holding the radiance of a jewel, they right now seemed more like the eyes of a prey caught in a trap. Hopeless for the most part, yet desperately searching for a nonexsistant way out. He wasn't even focused on the girl anymore by the time that the final blow was struck, leaving her slumped on the ground in a heap.

"Your mother?" his father asked out loud, anxiously looking around the room. It was a topic he never liked to discuss with anyone. Now he had to talk about ti with the very result of the liaison. John just sat on the floor, passively, just hoping to have his curiosity saked on the matter. After all, he had never met his mother before. He had never even heard his father talk about her.

"She was....well..." The man said uncomfortably, "..she was among the slave girls that were used in the palace, back in the Emperor's Court in Korea. This one was the best looking of the bunch. She was the one who was asked to go to the room of the various dignitaries most. It was a surprise when she came to me with a swollen belly, telling me I was the father." He finished, his posture shifting rapidly, as he tried to figure out the best way to tell his seven year old son all of this information.

John didn't seem to visibly react. He didn't even know what to think of this information now that he knew it. How could someone his age process something like that? "What happened to her?" John asked wide eyed, not sure what he would think of his father regardless of how he answered.

"She's dead now I think." The man answered, turning away from him to face the fireplace of the room. "She was sold off to a work foreman nto long before I left, and it was in a region that was destroyed by the bombings. If she is still alive....then I don't know. I barely even knew her name. She shouldn't matter to you." He turned back to his young son, looking deep into his eyes.

John blinked slightly as he looked at her crumpled form. One of the guards was giving her a pulse check on the far side of the crowd. "She's still alive," He heard the guard checking her pulse say clinically. The man in front of John moved to the side, giving John a easier view of the scene. It was only then that he decided to take things more into his hands. He was an administrator afterall, what was he letting the guards make the decisions here for?

Stepping forward, he parted the two redcoats in front of him out fo the way. Some of the people didn't recognize him, and started to tense back up. But the few who did stepped aside letting him take to the center of the group of guards. Upon watching the others do so, they figured that they must know something about the man that they do not, and simply let him through. Once he stood in the center, John began to give orders.

"Okay, I want you two bring her up to the detention hall. Tell them not to have anyone come in to interrogate her, until after I've gone in. I'm curious about this thief" He pointed too two of the redcoats on the peripherals. "Then I want you to go up and file a report about the incident. Nothing too quick, just something for our records. Leave out the part about how she got on blank. I'll fill that out myself once I've gotten a chance to talk to her." He said pointing to the brutal captain. "Finally the rest of you lost need to get back to work. She may have fends, and the other guards need to be alerted." He said addressing the rest of the guards who he had not already given orders too. Mot of them responded to his commands with a immediate salute, with the exception of one of the first two, who had at first given a skeptical glance. The man next to him had straightened him out though, so John was okay for it for the moment. It wasn't like it was the worst case of stupidity he had to deal with on a daily basis.

Finally he turned away and began jogging off in the direction of his lavish quarters. Along the way he asked himself one singular solitary question. Why exactly had he asked the guards to put her in a detention room till he came? Why did this matter at all to him? She was just some random thief who had come in. Maybe this would distract him a bit, he rationalized. And it wasn't like he needed a good break from work here and there. And torturing this poor fool might be more fun then a day at the fair.

 

[darkangel76]

Amaya had no idea as to how long she’d remained unconscious. Minutes, hours… days? The fact that she’d been moved from the courtyard of the floating fortress suggested a couple of hours, at the very least. Sitting upright, her head pounding, she glanced about herself wondering where exactly she’d been taken to. It didn’t look like any sort of prison or holding cell. This was different. It was odd.

“Where am I?” Amaya whispered mostly to herself, though a small part of her hoped that somehow someone could answer her. Of course, she knew that was silly, but given her circumstances, it made her feel better to hold onto that tiny piece of hope.

The room she was in was Spartan, nearly bare. Though there were a few ornate touches here and there indicating that someone of wealth presided over this… facility? Yes, it seemed like she was located in a special wing of sorts. Was she still on the fortress? Was she elsewhere? She supposed it didn’t matter. In the end, she’d be questioned, interrogated. Maybe even worse.

The thought of ‘worse’ made Amaya shiver.

“C’mere you harlot, bitch!” came the gravelly voice.

Amaya’s almond eyes went wide as the large man loomed over her. She was trapped. Nothing but a brick wall to her back and sides while this man barred the only way in or out of the small alley way she’d walked along. Oh how stupid she felt for believing this man to be an honest peddler!

“No, please,” Amaya pleaded, her voice full of desperation. Fear.

The large man only laughed, the sound of it grating to Amaya’s ears. Her skin began to crawl as realization of her situation began to sink in. She was trapped and no one was going to help her. Even if someone heard her cries… her eyes, her hair… They’d turn a blind eye. Walk away. Pretend nothing was happening right there under their noses. At that, she began to tremble, her hands shaking terribly. She knew that no amount of begging would get her anywhere. She was Korean. This man was British. Class and position hardly mattered when you didn’t look like everyone else around you.

The blonde girl had taught Amaya that…

Amaya stood up and walked over to the door on the far side of the room. Peering out the window she could see a corridor of sorts. It was dark, making it difficult to see anything in detail. But it was clear that she was in a place cordoned off for the unwanted, the troubled. Wrapping her arms about her aching body, she felt a shiver run along her spine. As she began to rub her arms for warmth she could feel the sting on her cheeks. That guard had bruised her, roughed her up. If she’d had a looking glass, no doubt she’d see black and blue marks all over her face. It made her sigh heavily at the thought. She’d been silly to move ahead with this plan, without the proper support and back up she’d needed. Her haste and anger made her act impulsively and now she was reaping the seeds she had sown.

Just then, a tear ran down Amaya’s cheek. “Drat it all,” she grumbled as she furiously wiped it away.

Walking back to another corner, Amaya curled up and sat down on the floor. Burying her bruised face against her knees she waited for a fate she was certain would be worse than death.

 

[Black Hand]

It was a full three hours later before John found himself in the detention block, meeting with the pretty young thief who had somehow found her way on to one of the best guarded places in all of Korea, despite not being competent enough to even cross a courtyard sucsesfully. And it was a full two hours after she had woken up from her induced nap. In that time he had gone with his usual morning ruitine. He had finished his jog, and returned to his quarters, where he dug into a fresh grape fruit all the way from British Palestine, and then went about his morning messages. It was only once he had free time again in the early afternoon, around eleven o'clock, that he walked down to the cell block, flanked on both sides by a pair of guards.

Unlike how he had been dressed in the morning, John was now dressed to meet his noble title and position, wearing a full red coat with various golden patterns stitched into the fabric. He even underneath it was a someone dignified undershirt, with a bit of frill at the collar. He had even brought his hickory cane with the golden round top on it, just to complete the look. When strolling through the palace ground it payed to peacock, as he was constantly surrounded by the kind of people who would judge him on his appearance, and demeanor. If not his appearance that is.

John scanned around the large detention block as he walked in, the metal room staffed by many of the empire's finest soldiers. It was here that they kept the various terrorists and revolutionary's who tried to stir up trouble in restricting plain steel rooms. It was an irony that Amaya was being kept here while being charged as a thief, because had they known her real reason for coming then they would have put her here for a slightly longer stay. But as he eased his way down the corridor to her cell, John only knew that she had tried to break in. The reasons why and how were what he had hopped to discover. When he reached the cell that had been left for her, he motioned to his two guards to stay outside. He didn't quite know why, but he wanted a private conversation with her.

He only had ever seen a picture of her once. One that his father had left lying around in one of his old souvenir cases. It wasn't even of her, so much as she happened to be in the background. Standing over the man who had raised him, with a beaming smile on her young face. He hadn't even ever gotten a chance to see the picture again after that. The case where he had found it had been thrown out the next day. Almost as if his father had just been waiting for him to find that picture one time. So he could throw it out immediately afterwords.

When he stepped into the cell, his eyes wandered the room for a moment before finding girl, still dressed in the skirt and corset, but now with a face with several easily visible bruises. The captain seemed to have really done a number on this girl. He felt a small pang of sympathy run through his spine before, he straightened out again. This was a thief and an enemy of the empire. He was simply here to get the information he required from her. there was no time for sympathy for ants such as her. It was far beneath his stature as a lord.

"Ah, if it isn't the little thief who somehow managed to get through our security? Charmed." He said in pitch perfect English walking toward her with a leering grin on his face. He hadn't expected her to understand, but what did it matter to him. The line was for his benefit, not hers. He must look quite strange to her, he thought, dressed in the full regalia of the regential government, yet looking perfectly like one of the residents of the subcontinent. John gracefully slid over to the other bench, folding into a dignified sitting position, with perfect posture. In his mind, he silently cursed and swore to himself that he had to praise the designer. It amazed him to no end how good the royal engineers were at making life uncomfortable for enemies of state. John kept his perfect posture though. There was no way he would ever let someone see it if he was uncomfortable.

A loud slap ran through the study room. "You will do it right this time, or I will strike you until you are blue. And I will continue to do so until you get it right." His teacher shouted at the teenage John. In the years since learning about the man;s hate for him, he had grown to respect him quite a bit less. A response that was only met with a pick up in the pace of the man's anger and dislike towards him.

The teacher put the books back on his head, and then proceeded to take a step back to wait. His fist balled into a tight fist in preparation for the next strike, when John inevitably slipped up. The young lad manged to hold it in place for a few minutes, but slowly the books slid down until they fell to the ground. The moment the thud of them striking the granite floor went out, the teacher was already in motion, come towards John with fists raised....

John switched over to Korean seamlessly for his next sentence. He had never actually learned the language of his ancestors when he was younger, his father wanting to discourage the connection as much as possible. But when he had decided to defy his father and seek a post in his homeland, he had been sure to pick it up quickly. He was a natural, but not perfect, hints of his British accent still slipping into his Korean speech, ever reminding him of the fact that he wasn't quite as eastern as he appeared either. "So then, you were an interesting little creature to find down there. And quite the temper too." He chuckled lightly, in an exaggerated manor, trying to get a rise out of her. "Interesting too. It takes alot of guts to try to steal from the palace....If that is what you were doing that is. You do realize that the minimum penalty is a punishment of a lifetime in slavery. And you may or may not know this, but should we find you guilty of anything more then that, you will be killed for sure. Hell, even if you aren't properly guilty we will just be done with you."

He stood up again, so that he could look downwards to her. It was a treat being taller then some people over here. At home he was below average height at 5'8. But over here he was actually above average, a fact that seemed to delight the often times petty lord to no end. He leaned in closer to her, one hand reaching out towards her chin. "And if you were remorseful you would tell me how exactly it is you got on to the ship." His teeth gritted slightly, and his tone darkened. "We don't want to confuse you for someone in the put to death line, do we?"

(There you go, tried to give you plenty of options as to how you want to go about your response ^^.)