There are those who are aware I’ve been working on a series over the last few months – a story of heroes and villains in a dystopian future where nothing is what it seems and everything you think you know is clouded by shades of grey.

The first installment, Dark Fire 1.0, is officially complete with all chapters up on Patreon for viewing! Chapter one is below for a little taste of the world, but please don’t hesitate to dive in and explore~ www.patreon.com/artinclined

Look forward to character sheets and profiles in the future with all sorts of tidbits about this world’s cast of characters!

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Chapter 1

It was on nights like these when the villain known as Black Death counted her blessings. 

Long, slim legs draped with baggy linen pants crossed beneath an oversized cardigan, a hefty book on her lap. She took a swig of her tea, spiced chai with almond creme and honey, as she hooked a strand of raven-black hair behind her pointed ear. Thunder rolled lazily in the distance, like some great beast meandering along the mountain tops. The constant patter of raindrops on the library window was a comfortable contrast to the crackling of the fireplace.

Taking a deep breath, she relished the scent of used paper and old books – which she was lucky to have plenty to choose from.

She had been rather tame as of late, the stormy weather calming her ire. Not that she felt she should be known much for raging tirades, but her damage record was high enough that most would likely disagree.

I think Ben is catching up, actually.

She was but one of an entire family line of villains, the lot of them unique in appearance.  But while they were a sore sight to the eyes, all of them possessing sharp teeth, claws, pointed ears and some of them wings and tails, they were also gifted with a talent for destructive capability and unmatched durability.  They each bore the ability to materialize an essence that was the key component of their talent.  Whether it be chitinous armor over their form that could deflect bullet and blade, a thick crystalline skin that could encase the body and protect against heat and cold, or a hide of spikes that could be flicked off and used as projectiles.  With this came strength that could tear and rend nearly anything, metal, polymer, rock and so on.  As such, her whole family was a force to be reckoned with.

It was ironic how often they discussed what great heroes they would make.

However, as controversial as Daimo were, monsters in human form were hardly what the public or government wanted for their poster children.  Even some heroes defected because of the falseness and hypocrisy of it all.  It was well known that if a person did not prance around saying what they were supposed to say, smile at the right time, come when they were called and ask “how high” when told to jump they were dropped or “disappeared”.  And as much as any one of them wished to be seen in any light other than disgust, disdain, or fear… shackling themselves to the machine that was government control was hardly a worthy tradeoff.

She heaved a sigh, nibbling on the edge of her cup with her too-large teeth as she reread the last paragraph for the seventh time.

Yes, nights like these where she was able to sit and relax and ponder life in general prompted her to count her blessings.  But wayward thoughts still got the better of her.

A faint thumping sound cut through those thoughts, and she raised her head, giving more attention to her hearing.  As abruptly as it had come along it seemed to have gone.  Her brows drew down and she narrowed her eyes.  But all she could hear now was the pitter-patter of the rain.  She looked back to the page of the book in her lap.  Her instincts kept her on alert, so while she tried to continue reading, none of the words sank in.

And just as predicted, the thumping came once more.

She closed the book quietly, listening to the rhythmic thudding in the distance.  As hard as it was to tell through the rain, her best guess was the sound was coming from near the front of the house.  Her immediate thought was it was at the front door, but that made no sense.

Her home was nestled far up into the mountains.

It was the same for all of her family.  They were not in a country that was accustomed to old castles repurposed for modern living, but the concept took hold a few decades back and so the family tradition of building their homes out of rock was born.  Her father had been no different, having picked this particular plot of land and built this very house with his own two hands.  Of course, he had called in contractors for the things he could not do, other family and friends that were well trusted.  And, here it now stood.  Her modern-day castle and refuge from the world of villains, heroes, and general normal people who sneered and screamed.  That said, it was not as if no one knew of her home and its location.  If it was one of her siblings, cousins, nieces, or nephews, they would hardly be caught knocking.

The thumping came again, though this time it was slower and more muffled.

And definitely at the front of the house.

She stood, taking a long sip of her tea as she listened to the thumping fade once more.  Setting the cup, too small for her large, clawed fingers, down next to the book on the table, she walked out of the study.  She darkened the hallway as she went, her tail twining shadow from her form.  Past the bedrooms, the entrance to the aviary, the hallway to the kitchen and dining room, the common room and finally the foyer.  By the time she made it to her front door, the entire house was dark, swathed in the physical shadows she weaved.

For her name was not given based on a solid object that she materialized.

She was known as Black Death because the darkness she created from her form was so thick and absorbed light so thoroughly that being within it had been likened to being in the Valley of Death.  Just like everyone else in the family, she had rolled with the name.  Though, she found it as amusing as the others that the general populace never seemed to realize she had never killed anyone.

On purpose.

Or, unprovoked would be the better word.

She took a deep breath, forming her shadows up and around her, hiding her mundane clothes and leaving only her slim, pale face visible, as per the usual when she made any physical appearance to any outsiders.  She narrowed her eyes at the door.

At six feet, seven inches, she could easily see through the panes of glass at the top of the door.  As such, she usually could see something of who was present.  Even if it was just the top of their head.  But in this case, she saw nothing.  Tilting her head, she listened, wondering perhaps if she was wrong after all.

No.  No, I’m not.

One benefit of having extra sensitive ears and darkness as a second skin was understanding sound a little better than most.  And there was most definitely someone on the door.  Not in front of it.  On it.  The patter of the rain was not hitting the wood of the bottom center.  More importantly, in place of the raindrops, she instead heard the unmistakable sound of movement.  Not a great amount of it, and rhythmic.

Breathing.

She tilted her head back and to the opposite side.  Now, this is interesting.

She waited, continuing to listen as she subtly felt around using her darkness, feeling the perimeter of her home, going over every nook and cranny to make sure everything was just as she left it.  It was.  Nothing had been done to the inside of her home.  She started to extend outward, testing the outside walls when movement at the door stilled her progression.

Heavy sliding, wet but not rough caused her to narrow her eyes yet again.  A soft thunk – leaning an arm on the wood perhaps?  Then came the thumping, once again.  It was far weaker than she expected.  And there was more time between each sound, which she now knew to be the raising of a fist to pound the meat of it against the door.  Then, with one particularly weak thump came a slide.  She stiffened.  With the sound came a soft wet noise that she recognized.

They’re bleeding.

She finally moved, closing the distance to the door and flinging it open.  The figure stumbled back, the action of the door appearing to spur some adrenal response.

The breath left her lungs as she stared…

Into the eyes of her arch enemy.

The emerald motes of the hero known as Silver Phoenix looked at her from under that silver hair he was known for, now soaked and plastered to his face and neck.  His normally trimmed and pristine beard was ragged and patchy.  But as odd as that might have been, her eyes took in the rest, which all together created a sight more disturbing than she would have ever imagined.

He was naked.  He had not a single scrap of cloth on his body as he stood shivering and soaked to the bone on her doorstep.  What was worse was he had been injured and not simply from a trek through the woods in his birthday suit.  Her keen eyes noted the bruising and raw red ringing his wrists and ankles, the dozens of red lines spider webbing his abdomen from an electrical wand, and the blood dripping down his sides and legs, presumably from some wounds along his back and sides.  Her gaze darted back up, catching the angry gashes along his chest and rope burns around his neck.  What horrified her further was what she finally noticed about his eyes.  Those gleaming emeralds that she loved to hate looking into were filled with quivering pupils. His eyelids were heavy as if he were but mere seconds from unconsciousness.

She was speechless, entirely unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

“Di… didn’t… know where else to go…” he croaked.

He wobbled.

She jolted forward, instinct guiding her faster than her mind could follow.  He fell into her arms, and she took his weight easily, bending her knees as she wrapped her arms and darkness around him, lowering him carefully as she knelt to the rock floor.  “S-Silver…” she managed, her deep voice wavering.  “What happened?”

He shook in her arms, trying to lift his head.  She reached over him, cradling her fingers around his neck, and lifted for him.  His eyes met hers again, but they were unfocused, one eye closing completely.  “M… my…”

It was too much.

His eye shut and he went limp against her.

Panic shot through her mind, and she adjusted her hold, feeling at his neck for his pulse.  After a few tense seconds, she found it.  It was weak and erratic, but it was there.  However, the relief that came with finding it pulled something else along with it.

Memory ran through her mind as she gazed at his soaked and beaten face.  How this man of fire ordinarily looked so confident and strong.  He was almost exactly her opposite, aside from being her arch-nemesis.  Sometimes, she even thought he picked her on purpose.  For while she commanded shadow and darkness, he commanded fire and light, her frigid night always at war against his blazing day.  Their battles were constantly in the headlines and somehow each one was memorable from the last.  Despite their relatively small area of influence, it seemed the whole country had eyes for their altercations.  They made each other famous as much as themselves.

It was an interesting circle to be in when the reality was they actually did not hate each other.  There was a guarded comradery between them.  On more than one occasion they had surreptitiously aided one another.  And they were guilty of being on friendly terms when not in the spotlight.

But it was a dangerous balancing act.

And as relieved as she was that he was still alive in her arms, tailing along behind that relief was something dangerous. Because she knew exactly what had happened to him.

Her arms shivered around him, but not from the cold.  Her eyes stung, but not from despair.  A deep breath shuttered into her lungs and her face contorted as she held him closer, cradling his head to her chest.  A growl vibrated from down in her throat and she closed her eyes tight before turning her face to the rain and roaring out her fury.

And fury it was that burned in her bones, reaching out from the well of her inner being.

The same fury that came to life whenever she was faced with the reality of not what she was, but what people saw her as.  The same fury that clawed out of the depths when fighting the government lackeys that came to claim her like some animal.

Because she knew.

The very people this man fought for…

Had betrayed him.

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