New Fiction

[Blackjack]

Hello, HEROdom...

 

This is an introductory short story I wrote for one of my characters. I present it now and hope that you enjoy it.

 

*Disclaimer: This story is PG to PG13, with some content comparable to a typical episode of _Law & Order: SVU._ Reader discretion is advised.

 

***

 

Sorina could tell she was turning heads; she usually did whenever she entered a room. In this case, she had made an effort to do exactly that. Her shoulder-length raven-black hair framed her face perfectly. Her cobalt blue eyes sparkled, and her full lips were curled into a stunningly charming smile. Most of all, her red evening gown hugged her curvaceous body in all the right places. Her décolletage offered a tantalizing but tasteful view of her perfect breasts – just enough to tease. Though the dress was ankle-length, its waist-high slit showed off her shapely right leg with each forward stride. She smiled and winked at the various men, and the couple of women, whose gazes lingered over her as she walked past.

 

Sorina quietly reveled in the attention as she crossed the atrium of the world-famous Casino de Monte Carlo. Her smile grew just a little wider as she contemplated the irony: a woman of her unique talents strolling through what had been described as “a monument to the Gods of Chance.” The Gods of Chance, she mused. If there are such things, then my very existence must be a blasphemy against them. She thought back to the stories that she’d been told all her life: how her clan’s chovihani – her great grandmother – had blessed her on the day of her birth. Using her gifts of foresight, the chovihani declared the infant special, saying that she would have a unique power to influence the fortunes of those around her. I wonder if she knew just how true that insight would turn out to be, Sorina mused.

 

She passed into the casino’s lounge and turned to the bar, perching herself on a stool and scanning the room. Suddenly, a double door on the far side of the lounge flew open. A man and a woman stumbled into the lounge from the Salon de l’American. The couple was announced by a wave of raucous shouts, cacophonous bleeps, and other noise that accompanied American-style gambling. For just a moment, she wrinkled her nose in distaste. European tradition called for the quieter, more dignified casino atmosphere that could be found in other rooms throughout the Casino de Monte Carlo. Fortunately for her, the man Sorina was here for fancied himself a proper gentleman. He would surely avoid the Salon de l’American.

 

She had nearly finished her glass of wine when her quarry entered the lounge. Clive Langston. Even from across the room, Sorina could feel the arrogance that practically flowed through his skin. It was almost understandable – he did cut a dashing figure. His tuxedo was a perfectly tailored, his dusty blond hair expertly coiffed, his watch and other accessories tasteful, and he walked with the natural confidence born of wealth and royal blood. Royal, perhaps, but certainly not noble... Langston could legitimately claim blood ties, distant though they were, to the British royal family. By his fortieth birthday he had made millions in commodities and currency trading. Every bit the aristocrat, he wore it openly and proudly for everyone to see. Yes, Sorina could certainly understand how convincing the façade would be to most. She would probably have believed it herself if she did not know better, had she not seen with her own eyes the damage wrought by the monster that lived behind that handsome mask.

 

Sorina’s eyes shifted from Langston to the shaven-headed giant standing next to him. The bodyguard’s tuxedo, ironically requiring even more costly tailoring than his employer’s own couture, could not quite camouflage the rippling mass of muscles covering every inch of his 200-centimeter-tall frame. His shoulders reminded her of pictures she had seen of American footballers in their protective equipment. His eyes expertly scanned the room, assessing each patron. Sorina flashed the hireling a pleasant smile as their eyes met. She watched him scan up and down her body, and to his credit, despite her stunning beauty, his scrutiny seemed professionally attentive rather than ogling. He’s good, she thought, her smile never wavering. She expected nothing less given Langston’s wealth. His gaze passed, and the two men crossed the lounge and entered the hallway that led to the Salons Privee.

 

Sorina turned back to the wineglass resting on the bar in front of her, gesturing to the bartender to order another and finding a comfortable position on her barstool. She didn’t need to follow Langston to know where he was going. There was only one place he could be going: a private and very high stakes poker game being held in one of the private salons. She didn’t have the 50 million euros required to buy into the game, but that was fine. She had no desire to play, but she was certainly going to be involved – in her own unique way. And “private” is a relative term for a woman with her attributes.

 

She nursed her second glass of wine for nearly two hours, deftly fending off several advances and giving the poker game a chance to get well underway before finally rising from her stool. She confidently followed in Langston’s footsteps as she entered the hall to the private salons. As she made her way, she studied her surroundings. Perhaps it was the thief in her, but she couldn’t help but notice how completely the burgundy carpeting swallowed the sounds of her footsteps. The light sconces brightly but softly illuminated the hallway, accenting the veins of color in the polished marble of the walls. The quiet, combined with the understated opulence… she always imagined this must be what a temple would be like. A “monument to the Gods of Chance,” indeed… For just a moment, she allowed herself to soak in the ambience of the storied history of this place, made famous in history and literature. Then she shook her head. Live in the moment, Sorina... she chided herself softly. The past is gone, and the future may never come. The now is all we have, so live to enjoy it to the fullest. That, and the honor of the family, is all that matters. The thought abruptly shook her back to the task at hand. It was the honor of her family that had brought her here tonight, and it was time to get to it.

 

Ahead of her, she saw what she was looking for: a man standing stoically before the door of one of the salons. To the untrained eye, only the brass nametag clipped to the breast pocket of his suit jacket marked the man as casino employee. But Sorina was far from “untrained” in spotting and assessing a security professional.

 

“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle, ” The casino security officer’s tone was a perfect, well-practiced balance of politeness and insistence. “This is a private game,” he continued in French.

 

“Pardonez, s’il vouz plait,” Sorina replied. She liked how her Romany accent gave an exotic tinge to her French, and judging by the familiar flash of lust in the officer’s eyes, so did he. She leaned in, getting just close enough to let a soft breath brush against the man’s ear, and whispered conspiratorially. “Monsieur de Marquez is expecting me. I am… his good luck charm.”

 

“I see,” the officer responded with a knowing smile. “If you will wait here a moment while I confirm that with Monsieur de Marquez…”

 

Sorina’s lips turned down in a slight, sexy pout. With a feather-light touch, she brushed a fingertip down the officer’s lower arm, essentially but ever-so gently keeping him from turning away. “Surely you understand… Monsiuer de Marquez would be most… displeased… if someone in that room were to tell Madame de Marquez about me…” Her voice trailed off as she met the officer’s eyes with her own.

 

The officer smiled knowingly, and she watched him run his eyes up and down her body, taking her in. “Oui, naturellement mademoiselle…” This time, when he turned, she let him. He reached over and opened the door for her, inviting her to enter with a silent, gallant gesture. She stepped past him and into the room, suppressing the petulant smile that threatened to escape her lips. Men… she sighed inwardly, so willing to do so much for just a smile. It does make things so much easier. It was a fact she utilized, shamelessly, nearly every day, but she was sure it would never stop surprising her.

 

Her eyes swept across room. As usual, her own glances were met by those in the room who were now looking at her. And as usual, she took great pleasure in noticing that their eyes seemed to linger upon her longer than hers lingered on them. She noted that four of the five players who started the game were still sitting at the table, including Langston. Judging by the piles of chips and plaques in front of each player, Langston was doing quite well. Sitting in chairs scattered throughout the room were about a dozen other people: girlfriends – hired and otherwise, bodyguards, and other entourage typical of those who could afford to risk 50 million euros in a card game. She noted the faces of the rest of the players. She recognized a few of them: Langston, of course, and Sandalio de Marquez, the man whose name she used to get into the room.

 

And then there was Vinko Stanic. He was whisper-thin, and even seated, one could see he was of below-average height. What hair still covered the sides and back of his head was bright white. The wrinkles touching his gray eyes filled them with a sense of perpetual laughter. The overall image was one of an avuncular grandfather – a perfect disguise for one of Eastern Europe’s most powerful smugglers. Sorina’s own family clung fiercely to their Romany – what some people called “gypsy” – traditions. She herself had been born and raised in her father’s circus and nurtured by dozens of uncles, cousins, and the like: a large clan of travelers who, like their ancestors, had little need or respect for artificial borders or oppressive laws. And men like Stanic had been part of her life for as long as Sorina could remember.

 

Two months ago, Stanic had used his considerable resources to help two of Sorina’s cousins slip out of Bulgaria unnoticed. It was a favor, and the Ionescu clan always repays its debts. Sorina was frequently called upon to use her remarkable abilities to that end. The poker game was a perfect opportunity. Sorina told her cousins to get the word to Stanic: he could be guaranteed to win the game and walk away with 250 million euros – more than sufficient compensation. Now, on behalf of her clan, Sorina was going to make it happen, and set the stage for her real reason for being here at the same time. It’s going to be quite an evening, she thought. Surely Stanic would wonder how they’d pulled it off, but as long as it worked… Stanic would never even know who she was, or that she was involved at all. All he would know is that her cousins had delivered on their promise.

 

The game continued for several more hours. One by one, the other players fell out until just Langston and Stanic remained. The two were nearly tied in their chip count. It was nearly midnight; after the next hand, they would break for two hours. Sorina needed Langston to be free for the rest of the night, so the time had come to finish this game.

 

As the dealer started to shuffle the deck, Sorina reached out with her mind, invisibly manipulating the very laws of probability. With each cut and riffle, the order of the cards changed in the most improbable, nearly impossible, ways. Only the dealer’s fingers touched them, but each card found itself exactly where Sorina needed them to be to create the result she needed. When the dealer picked up the shuffled and cut deck, the cards within were carefully stacked to produce a very particular set of hands.

 

Clive Langston couldn’t believe it. In all his years of playing poker, he’d never been dealt such a hand. Years of practice at hiding “tells” managed to keep the excitement from his face and eyes as he glanced at the cards once again. He confirmed that his eyes hadn’t tricked him. There they were: the six, seven, eight, nine, and ten of hearts – a perfect straight flush: the best hand in poker. This was his chance to finish the game and walk away with it all. The dealer turned to Stanic, who passed the bet to Langston. Langston coolly slid 10 million euros to the center of the table. Stanic called, and asked for one card. Again suppressing a smile, Langston, of course, stood pat. The draw over, the dealer turned to Langston for his bet. Hoping to trap Stanic, Langston checked. Giving his cards a quick glance, Stanic put another 20 million euros into the pot.

 

Langston couldn’t believe his luck! The fool thinks he has a winning hand! Langston crowed to himself. It had worked! Stanic thinks I have a weak hand and wants to buy the pot. Langston looked over to his opponent, looking for a hint of confirmation. But Stanic was just as skilled at hiding his tells and Langston was. Still, the opening bet was his, and he had to pass. He didn’t start with better than two jacks. I must have the winning hand. It was time to spring his trap. Langston let out his breath in a long, slow exhale.

 

“Mr. Stanic,” Langston addressed his adversary in an even tone with no hint of true emotion. Sorina listened as Langston spoke. Experienced in the arts of seduction, she knew all too well how that erudite accent could sound so harmless, be so disarming, so inviting. “Mr. Stanic,” Langston continued, “would you object to lifting the table limit?”

 

“No limit, eh?” Stanic glanced again at his cards.

 

Langston’s heart beat faster. He keeps checking his cards… he’s unsure.

 

“I don’t object,” Stanic finally replied after an interminably long two seconds. “No limit it is.”

 

“Very well, I raise.” Langston pushed 50 million euros into the pot.

 

Stanic glanced at his cards yet again. “I think you wish to intimidate me, Mr. Langston,” Stanic’s Croatian accent now thick and dripping with menace that betrayed his true nature. “But you do not intimidate me.” Using both hands, Stanic pushed his entire supply of chips and plaques forward. “I am all in, Mr. Langston.”

 

This time, Langston simply couldn’t hide his excitement. Though now, it didn’t matter. Stanic was committed. Langston actually had about 50,000 euros less than Stanic, so to call, Langston would also have to go all in. But he didn’t need to check his cards again. He had a straight flush. It was done. All he had to do was call. He quickly pushed his own stack of chips into the pot.

 

“Mr. Langston calls,” the dealer intoned. “Please show your cards.”

 

Langston’s smile grew wider as he turned his cards face up.

 

“Straight flush, 10 high,” the dealer announced, prompting a thrilled murmur to rise in the room. Langston reached forward to claim the pot.

 

…until Stanic turned his own cards over: an eight, a nine, a ten, a jack, and a queen. All of clubs.

 

“Straight flush, queen high,” the dealer said breathlessly. “Mr. Stanic wins.”

 

“What?” It was a genuine question, as though Langston didn’t actually understand what the dealer had said. Then Langston looked at the cards now laying face up on the table, then at Stanic, at the dealer, and then back to the cards. “WHAT!?!?!?” he roared, leaping to his feet. “But… that’s… IMPOSSIBLE!” Langston’s furious bellowing echoed off the walls of the salon.

 

Not “impossible,” Sorina thought with a fierce smile creasing her perfect lips. Just very improbable… or perhaps just terribly unlucky for you. For a moment, Langston’s true face was revealed. Not the handsome, polished, mannered aristocrat, but the vicious, evil monster that lurked within him. Then Langston noticed the shock and disdain on the faces of those in the room. Realizing his mistake, he instantly re-asserted control. The charming, eloquent Langston was back, his mask restored. He smiled and nodded once, wordlessly, to Stanic, then to the dealer. Without a word, he and his bodyguard walked smartly out of the salon.

 

Sorina smiled another rueful, knowing smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Stanic talking to a casino employee. No doubt he’s arranging to collect his winnings. She’d settled her family’s debt of honor, and dealt a brutal blow to the two things Langston cared about the most: his money and his ego. He was primed, and she was ready to make her next move. No, Clive Langston, if you think your luck at the table was bad, wait until you see what Fortune has in store for you next.

 

She filed out of the salon with several of the other spectators, walking directly out of the world-famous casino. Her purposeful stride quickly covered the several blocks to where she had parked her Winnebago. Like most people who shared her culture, she loved the freedom of not being attached to a particular building or parcel of land. This is the only home she’d ever need. She went into the bedroom in the back of the vehicle, stepping out of her high heels and unzipping her gown. In seconds, she had stripped off her evening wear. Free of her clothes, she took a few long, relaxing, luxurious stretches, warming up her cat-like muscles for her next move.

 

Sorina then stepped over to her wardrobe and opened it. She reached inside and applied gentle pressure to a section of the wardrobe’s roof, lifting it a fraction of an inch and sliding it open. She pulled a leather knapsack from the concealed compartment and tossed it gently onto the bed. One by one she pulled items from the knapsack and put them on: a blousy, long-sleeve, low-cut white shirt; bright basic blue tights; a sleeveless black leather unitard; a scarlet sash; black leather boots and gloves; and finally, a bright blue domino mask. Taking the last two items from the pack, she completed her transformation. With preternatural grace and quickness, she expertly twirled the pair of 70cm fighting sticks before sliding them into holsters built into the back of her unitard.

 

She indulged in a quick glance in the mirror. Her costume, a bit reminiscent of the garb she wore on the wires and trapeze of her father’s circus, managed to accentuate her sex appeal while concealing her identity. It was a last moment of self-indulgence. Moments before, she had been Sorina Ionescu. Now, she was the avenging angel of the Ionescu clan. Clive Langston, you have maimed an innocent child. She was a member of the Ionescu family – my family. Your crime has scarred her and wronged us all. Your wealth and name have shielded you from justice. But no more. Your money and power mean nothing to me. Tonight, you will face your crimes and be punished.

 

No one saw the costumed, masked apparition as it left Sorina Ionescu’s mobile home. No one saw her take a running leap, her feet landing gracefully, almost miraculously, on a 15cm-wide second-story window sill. Her body coiled in an expert crouch, absorbing the momentum from her first jump. Then that energy burst forth from her legs again, propelling her up and back. Somersaulting as she flew, she made another perfect landing on the fourth-story ledge on the other side of the alley. Again, then again, she bounded and soared. No one saw the dazzling display of aerial gymnastics. But as her feet finally came to rest on the roof of the 12-story building, she landed with a brilliant, flashy, crowd-pleasing flourish borne of years of habit, practice, and performance.

 

She kept running, vaulting from rooftop to rooftop, the principality of Monaco passing beneath her feet at remarkable speed, until her destination was in sight. One more leap put her on the top level of the parking facility that serviced the private marina. Just less than two hundred meters away, she could see Langston’s yacht in its slip, resting gently in the still Mediterranean waters. She had studied her quarry. She knew that, whether elated from winning or furious from losing, Langston had his own inviolate ritual for consummating the evening. Another chance to ruin his evening… she thought wickedly.

 

She leaned backward, doubling herself over and resting her outstretched palms on the short concrete wall of the structure, then lifting her feet off the ground and bringing herself into a perfect handstand. For the space of a heartbeat, she held herself there, vertical and upside down. Then, she pivoted on her palms, curling her body in a perfect arc. She flattened out her body as she passed over the wall and the car parked in front of it, two levels down, then tucked into a ball and rolled out, coming up on her feet eight meters below where she had been standing just a moment ago. From there, it was just a few strides into the shadow of a support column where she could wait, invisibly, for Langston’s goon to return from his “shopping trip” with his precious cargo.

 

As expected, a short time later, Sorina saw Langston’s Jaguar XJS pulling onto the level and, a few seconds later, into its designated parking spot. She stepped out of the shadow, striking a sexy pose with one hand on her hip where she knew the driver could see her as he got out of the car. Of course, Langston’s bodyguard saw her immediately. He adopted a defensive stance and let out an amused snort as he looked her over.

 

“What is this..?” he asked in broken French.

 

Sorina flashed him her most seductive smile and answered in the bodyguard’s native English, wanting him to understand her perfectly. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m a dream… your wildest dream…” She pulled her batons from their holsters. “Or am I your nightmare?” She winked. “You know… with a woman, you never can tell until it’s too late…”

 

For just an instant, a look of confused concern crossed the bodyguard’s face. The expression quickly changed to an angry challenge as he opened his tuxedo jacket and revealed the pistol tucked into the holster under his left shoulder.

 

“I don’t know who you are…” The British accent and measured tone couldn’t soften the menace of his words. “… but you need to be moving on, while you still can.”

 

“I think not,” Sorina quipped with a menacing edge of her own.

 

He reached for his gun. He was fast, she had to admit; he would have beat most people on the draw. But Sorina was not “most people.” Preternaturally graceful, raised in a circus, and able to manipulate luck with a mere thought, she moved with blinding, superhuman speed. She cartwheeled in, close enough to kiss him, before his hand even touched the butt of his weapon. The stick in her left hand caught his right wrist, pulling it out away from his body. She pinned his wrist between the last few centimeters of her stick and her wrist, while she swung the stick in her right hand. Her first blow struck him viciously against his right kidney. Her follow-through left her perfectly positioned for a mirror-opposite swing that hit his left kidney with equal force.

 

Each blow, by itself, would have sent any man to his knees. Perhaps, had he just been Langston’s employee, she would have left it at that. But this man was more than a bodyguard. At this very moment, he was actively facilitating his employer’s brutal appetites. Had she not been here, this man’s actions would have led directly to Langston destroying another girl. He deserved no more mercy than his employer did. It all passed through her consciousness in a hundredth of a second. She brought her stick around again, this time smashing it into the base of his skull, right into the soft tissue between his jaw and his neck.

 

A satisfying gurgle bubbled from the bodyguard’s lips as he slumped to the ground, unconscious. She smoothly slid her batons back into their holsters and knelt down beside the man. She deftly, expertly found and lifted the keys to the car, his gun, wallet, watch, and other valuables from him. She pulled the cash – several hundred euros – from the wallet. Keeping the gun, the keys, and the cash, she threw the rest bodyguard’s valuables out over the wall of the garage and down onto the street below. She then stepped to the back of the car and unlocked the trunk.

 

She knew what to expect when she opened the trunk, but looking inside and facing the reality of it still took Sorina aback. The child lying there, trembling with terror, couldn’t have been more than thirteen. Younger even than Mirela…

 

She met the girl’s eyes. “There, there… you’re safe now, child…” Sorina hoped her voice was soothing and reassuring enough to penetrate the horror that was surely gripping the girl. She kept talking, softly, until the girl’s shaking subsided. Sorina slowly reached out, careful to control her movements as to not frighten her again. It took several patient minutes, but eventually the girl allowed Sorina to reach in and help her out of the trunk.

 

“You are okay now, child?” Sorina asked. She handed the cash from the bodyguard to the girl. “This is yours, now.” She led the girl into the front passenger seat of the car and gave her the car keys. “Lock the doors. That button is a telephone. Call the police, tell them what happened. They will take you home.”

 

Sobbing softly, the girl reached out, hugging Sorina tightly. After another minute, Sorina slowly extricated herself. The girl locked herself inside and Sorina could hear her anxiously talking to the police. Sorina walked back around the car to where the bodyguard still lay deeply unconscious. She dragged him to the back of the car and stuffed him into the trunk, hearing it lock with a satisfying click. Even if he manages to recover before the police arrive, he can’t escape, and he can’t hurt the girl. At that moment, Sorina heard distant sirens shatter the calm of the night. She waited just another minute, until she was sure the officers were close enough. She chuckled to herself. This is a first… I’ve never stayed and waited for the police to arrive before. Of course, she had no intention of being here when they arrived. She looked into the car’s rear window to check on the girl one last time. The girl smiled weakly at her, and Sorina smiled back with a reassuring wink. Then, Sorina ran toward the marina side of the parking structure and leapt over the wall and down to the street below. As the police arrived, she vanished without a trace into the shadows of the night.

 

Seconds later, she had vaulted over the fence to the marina slips and, with the grace and stealth of a panther, made her way undetected to Langston’s yacht. She paused only long enough to pull the ammo clip from the gun she had taken from the bodyguard and to throw them both into the water. The closer she came to finishing her task, the more anxious she grew. A predatory smile crossed her lips as she approached the yacht. With his preference for raping little girls, Langston couldn’t risk traveling with a large retinue. And with his bodyguard now in custody, Sorina was certain that Langston was now on his own. She took a moment to carefully scan for surveillance cameras or other security, but she wasn’t surprised to not find any. Again, with Langston’s predilections, he couldn’t afford to keep records of his “visitors.” Sorina stepped softly from the slip onto the transom deck at the aft of the boat, careful to keep her booted footsteps silent. In a few steps, she had entered an opulent lounge. A few more took her to a stairway that curved down to the cabin deck below.

 

As she quietly slid open the door to the main cabin, Sorina could hear water running in the shower from the bathroom to her right. She padded across the softly carpeted floor to the large, circular bed. She laid down on her right side, facing the bathroom door, and stretched out seductively, propping her head up on her right hand. The water stopped, and a few moments later, Langston stepped out of the bathroom. He was dressed in a bathrobe and toweling his hair. He nearly cried out in shock when he saw Sorina lying there. Surprised, you wretched son of a bitch? Sorina mused as she felt her lips curling into a fiercely wicked smile.

 

“Who the bloody hell are you?!” Langston roared as the towel slipped from his surprised fingers and fell to the floor.

 

“I know I’m not what you were expecting, handsome,” her exotically accented English and wicked smile were flirtatious and dangerous at once, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t still have some fun, does it?” In one fluid flash of movement, Sorina spun herself forward and lifted herself to stand up in front of the bed while her hands drew her batons from their holsters. “More precisely… it will be fun for me. I seriously doubt you’ll enjoy it very much.”

 

For a moment, Langston looked almost amused. “You cheeky slut…” His eyes moved to the sticks in her hands. “Are you threatening me?” he asked, incredulous, his voice rising in anger and frustration.

 

Sorina saw him glance ever-so-slightly at the door, and laughed. “If you’re thinking that your bodyguard will be walking in here any moment to save you, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. He’s having a very bad night… but not as bad as the one you’re having.”

 

“Bah… I don’t need anyone to protect me from a woman.” Langston was sneering and took a step toward her. “Normally, when I don’t get what I’ve ordered, I send it back. But, since you clearly need a lesson in respecting your betters, I’ll be happy to make an exception.”

 

She laughed again, a deep, hearty laugh, as she raised her sticks and adopted a defensive stance. Infuriated, Langston lunged at her, his arms outstretched, his hands curled into grasping claws. Fueled by adrenaline and rage, he charged across the room in the blink of an eye. But against Sorina’s uncanny reflexes, he may as well have been moving in slow motion. She took a half-step to her left, turning her shoulders parallel to Langston’s path and easily avoiding his clutches. In the same instant, she brought the stick in her right hand down, hard, on his right wrist while smashing her left-hand stick into his throat. He would have yelped in pain, but the sound was quashed as his windpipe buckled. This time, she didn’t have to think about it. She swung both sticks in pair of vicious arcs. Her right stick hammered the back of his right knee; her left one delivered a perfect rabbit punch – slamming into him exactly where his spine meets his skull.

 

Langston collapsed, his leg unable to support him, his breath ragged and stinging in his throat. He lay there, groaning, stunned, utterly defeated. Sorina smiled as she looked down at him, literally and figuratively. Getting savagely beaten by a woman was a humiliating punishment for such a misogynist, but it didn’t even come close to being enough.

 

“You’ve raped children…” she hissed, “murdered their innocence… shattered and scarred them forever… devastated their families. Even with all your wealth, it is a debt that can never be repaid. But it can be avenged…”

 

She kicked him over to lay face down on his stomach. She considered her final move with great care and a single purpose in mind. Mustering her strength, she dropped to one knee, driving the tip of her baton into the base of his spine like a stake into a vampire’s heart. His whole body convulsed, and a resounding crack told her she’d struck her mark. Clive Langston would never rape another child. Just as he had maimed his victims and left them still breathing, to live each day with the scars he had inflicted upon them, so had she left him. That was justice. He would also never walk again. That was Romany vengeance.

 

A few short hours later, the rising sun peeked over the Italian Alps as Sorina Ionescu’s Winnebago pushed eastward. Despite her huge vehicle and the mountainous terrain, she was making good time. She’d be in Torino just in time for breakfast. She reached out, picked up her phone, and pushed one button. After two rings, the line connected.

 

“Papa...?” A moment passed as she listened. “Yes, papa,” her native Romany rolled gracefully off her tongue, and a satisfied smile touched her face, “you can tell them. It’s done. Yes, papa, I’ll be there in a few days. I’ll see you then. Love to mama… I love you, too.” She drove into the golden rays of the morning sun, and reveled in the love of her family, letting both wash away the ugliness of the past day.

[Trebuchet]

Re: New Fiction

 

Excellent; and repped.

[aylwin13]

Re: New Fiction

 

Nice job. Very entertaining. The descriptions were well done, I could "see" the people, places, and actions quite clearly.

 

The lead character sounds very interesting. Is there any chance of seeing a write-up?

 

Oh, and have some Rep.

[Trebuchet]

Re: New Fiction

 

I'll let Blackjack post her character sheet and/or .hdc file, but I can tell you the character's name is Jinx. I've run a couple of adventures for her. As you've probably guessed, her schtick is luck manipulation. I think she's pretty cool myself.

[Blackjack]

Re: New Fiction

 

*smiles*

Thanks Aylwin... I'm glad you like her. As for your question about seeing a write-up, when you're dealing with a luck manipulator, "chance" is a relative thing.

 

Seriously... since you asked:

 

Jinx

 

Player: Jeff Spurgeon

 

Val Char Cost

15 STR 5

38 DEX 84

23 CON 26

10 BODY 0

13 INT 3

11 EGO 2

13 PRE 3

24 COM 7

 

5 PD 2

5 ED 0

6 SPD 12

10 REC 4

40 END -3

30 STUN 0

 

9" RUN 0

2" SWIM 0

7" LEAP 0

Characteristics Cost: 145

 

Cost Power

51 Gypsy Luck Manipulation Powers: Multipower, 64-point reserve, (64 Active Points); all slots No Push (-1/4)

5u 1) Jinx: Drain DEX 4d6+1, (1/2 END; +1/4), Limited Range (50"; +1/4) (64 Active Points); No Push (-1/4)

5u 2) Combat Jinx: (Total: 60 Active Cost, 48 Real Cost) Negative Combat Skill Levels (-4 to opponent's DCV), (1/2 END; +1/4), Limited Range (50"; +1/4) (30 Active Points); No Push (-1/4) (Real Cost: 24) plus Negative Combat Skill Levels (-4 to opponent's OCV), (1/2 END; +1/4), Limited Range (50"; +1/4) (30 Active Points); No Push (-1/4) (Real Cost: 24)

4u 3) Group Jinx: Change Environment 8" radius, -5 DEX Roll and all Skill Rolls based on DEX, (1/2 END; +1/4), Selective Target (+1/2) (63 Active Points); Limited Range (50"; -1/4), No Push (-1/4)

4u 4) Malfunction: Suppress 10d6, Any Technological Power (+1/4) (62 Active Points); Limited Range (50"; -1/4), No Push (-1/4)

4u 5) "You MIssed!": FW (10 PD/10 ED), Invisible to Sight Group, SFX Only (+1/4) (62 Active Points); Limited Range (50"; -1/4), Cannot form barriers or confine targets (-1/4)

3u 6) Luck I: Telekinesis (33 STR), (1/2 END; +1/4) (62 Active Points); Limited Power Only to simulate "luck" or "unluck" (-1/2), Limited Range (50"; -1/4)

3u 7) Luck II: Telekinesis (10 STR), Fine Manipulation, (0 END; +1/2), Invisible Power Effects (Fully Invisible; +1) (62 Active Points); Limited Power Only to simulate "luck" or "unluck" (-1/2), Limited Range (50"; -1/4)

12 Arnis Batons: HA +6d6, (1/2 END; +1/4) (37 Active Points); OAF (Arnis Sticks; -1), Requires Multiple Foci or functions at reduced effectiveness (3d6 per stick) (+1/4), Hand-To-Hand Attack (-1/2), Does half BDY damage (-1/2), Real Weapon (-1/4)

10 Lucky Shot: Find Weakness 13- with with Defensive Strike (20 Active Points); (-1/2), (x2 END; -1/2)

4 Agile: Leaping +4" (7" forward, 3 1/2" upward)

6 Swift: Running +3" (9" total)

Powers Cost: 111

 

Cost Martial Arts Maneuver

Arnis Stick Fighting

5 1) Defensive Strike: 1/2 Phase, +1 OCV, +3 DCV, Weapon Strike

3 2) Legsweep: 1/2 Phase, +2 OCV, -1 DCV, Weapon +1 DC Strike, Target Falls

4 3) Martial Disarm: 1/2 Phase, -1 OCV, +1 DCV, Disarm; 25 STR to Disarm roll

4 4) Martial Dodge: 1/2 Phase, -- OCV, +5 DCV, Dodge, Affects All Attacks, Abort

4 5) Martial Block: 1/2 Phase, +2 OCV, +2 DCV, Block, Abort

0 6) Weapon Element: Default Element: Arnis Sticks/Club

2 7) Weapon Element: Blades, Empty Hand

Martial Arts Cost: 22

 

Cost Skill

3 Acrobatics 17-

3 Breakfall 17-

3 Climbing 17-

3 Contortionist 17-

3 Lockpicking 17-

3 Riding 17-

3 Security Systems 12-

3 Seduction 12-

3 Sleight Of Hand 17-

3 Stealth 17-

3 Streetwise 12-

0 Language: Romany (idiomatic)

1 Language: English (fluent conversation)

1 Language: French (fluent conversation)

2 Language: German (fluent conversation)

2 Language: Russian (fluent conversation)

1 MIF: Zills 8-

1 PS: Circus Performer 11-

2 PS: Dancer 11-

1 KS: Gypsy Culture 11-

1 KS: Fashion 8-

1 KS: Motorcycles 8-

1 KS: European Criminal Underworld 8-

1 KS: Yoga 8-

1 AK: Europe 11-

0 TF: Everyman Skill, Small Motorized Ground Vehicles

0 TF: Equines

2 TF: Large Motorized Ground Vehicles, Two-Wheeled Motorized Ground Vehicles

3 WF: Blades, Clubs, Off Hand, Thrown Knives, Axes, and Darts

3 +1 with Arnis Stick Fighting

Skills Cost: 57

 

 

Cost Talent

4 Double Jointed

24 Combat Luck (12 PD/12 ED)

Talents Cost: 28

 

Total Character Cost: 363

 

Pts. Disadvantage

20 Psychological Limitation: Gypsy Code of Honor: Debts must be repaid and grievances must be avenged in kind (Common, Total)

15 Psychological Limitation: Values her freedom (Common, Strong)

10 Psychological Limitation: Disdainful of government authority (Common, Moderate)

5 Psychological Limitation: Hedonistic (Common, Moderate)

15 Social Limitation: Secret ID: Sorina Felicia Ionescu (Frequently, Major)

5 Social Limitation: Gypsy (Occasionally, Minor)

10 Distinctive Features: Very beautiful (Concealable; Noticed and Recognizable)

10 Distinctive Features:Style: Arnis (Not Concealable; Noticed and Recognizable)

10 Distinctive Features: Mystical Aura (Not Concealable; Always Noticed; Detectable Only By Unusual Senses)

25 DNPC: Ionescu Gypsy Clan 8- (Normal; Group DNPC: x8+ DNPCs)

20 Hunted: Rival Gyspy Clan 11- (Mo Pow, Harshly Punish)

5 Reputation: (as Jinx): swashbuckling superhero, 8-

Disadvantage Points: 150

Base Points: 200

Experience Required: 13

Total Experience Available: 13

Experience Unspent: 0

 

 

Background/History: According to her family's oral tradition, on the day of Sorina Ionescu's birth, she was presented to her great-grandmother, the matriarch of the Ionescu gypsy clan. The old woman immediately proclaimed that the child would have a unique power to influence the fortunes of others. It was well known to the clan that the matriarch had the gift of The Sight. Still, no one could have guessed just how accurate this prediction would turn out to be.

Sorina grew up in her parent's circus, surrounded by her much of her extended family and living many children's wildest dream. By the age of eight, she had already mastered contortionism, trapeze acrobatics, wire-walking, juggling, trick horseback riding, knife-throwing and dozens of other circus acts. As she grew into young adulthood, Sorina realized that her uncanny agility was more than athletic talent. She discovered that she literally had the power to consciously manipulate the very laws of probability. She could make "lucky" or ''unlucky'' things happen at will. She subtly developed her unique talent, using it to help and protect her family and clan.

At seventeen, with her parents' blessing, Sorina left the circus to explore the world, and her self, on her own. Her culture and nature led her to the seedier sides of life. She taught herself the defensive art of Arnis, both armed and unarmed. She often used her powers and dexterity as a world-class cat burglar for hire. At other times, she used her beauty and• grace to earn her living as an exotic dancer. Wherever she went, though, the members of the Ionescu clan knew that if they called upon Sorina for help, the problem would be resolved. To preserve her anonymity and the safety of her loved ones, she has adopted a masked, swashbuckling persona, calling herself "Jinx." As Jinx, she used her powers to protect clan members, avenge wrongs, and repay debts of honor.

Recently, Sorina has begun to consider acting even more widely as a superhero, knowing that people beyond her clan could also benefit from her using her powers to fight injustice and protect the innocent.

 

Personality/Motivation: Sorina Ionescu was raised with the gypsy heritage of contempt for artificial laws and government. She believes in a more natural concept of law and justice, often disdaining laws and rules passed by governments in favor of "real" justice and doing the "right thing." Sorina's natural hedonism is balanced by a powerful sense of responsibility, foremost toward her family and clan, but also to anyone in need of her help. Her exploits as a superhero have brought her tremendous joy and satisfaction, feeding her love of fun and showmanship while allowing her to help people.

 

Quote: “I think your luck is about to change.”

 

Powers/Tactics: In combat, Jinx uses her power to manipulate luck and probability to put her opponents at a disadvantage. She can "hex" them, making opponents clumsier and less able to protect themselves or hit their targets. She can cause machines to malfunction. She can cause improbable things to happen to help her friends and hinder her enemies. Finally, she can find weak or undefended points on an opponent to maximize the effectiveness of her own strikes while having a remarkable knack for avoiding being struck herself.

 

Appearance: Sorina is stunningly beautiful. She is 5'10" with lustrous, raven-black hair and royal blue eyes. Her slender, toned muscles, flawless skin, classical features, and preternatural grace exude the smoldering sexuality of a supermodel. As Sorina, she dresses comfortably, usually wearing tank tops, jeans, and boots. As Jinx, she wears a blousy white shirt, cut low to flatter her décolletage, bright blue tights, a black leather fencing corset with matching boots and gloves, a red sash, and a bright blue domino mask.

[Hermit]

Re: New Fiction

 

Excellent fiction, thank you very much for sharing.

 

Have some more rep

[aylwin13]

Re: New Fiction

 

Nice work, Blackjack. In return for sharing the write-up, a little something for you. I was messing with the Hero-Matic program and came up with a Bruce Timm version of Jinx. I couldn't get the blouse look on the collar and cuffs, there was no sash for the belt, and there was only one baton, but I think she came out pretty well. Hope you like it.

[Blackjack]

Re: New Fiction

 

Nice work on the picture, Aylwin. I love it.

 

Thank you, all, for your consideration of my work and for your praise. It is very gratifying.