Kyril Nicos

I can feel the winter through my cuirass as we wait outside. The sound of the cold air makes the city appear lifeless. In my nervous calamity I can’t help but to slightly stroke both my kopis. I glance at the shield I carry and start to fall into nostalgia. I often wonder what my mother was like in battle and if I truly measured up to her skills. She is a legendary warrior to generations and a God to others. I can only hope that because I have her blood in my veins that I carry the same strength and intelligence she once did; that left this world breathless. I have heard countless stories of the enemies she has vanquished and the symbol of love she became to the universe. I presume there truly is nothing of equal value than the love from a woman’s heart. I was told that I was premature by 2 months and she lost her first fight. I often feel plagued that my birth meant her death; perhaps that’s why my father abandoned with a island of strangers. Sure, they cared for me but there’s nothing like the feeling of missing your parent’s love, your parents presence whether it is to mold you into a wonderful human being or to destroy you; I think it is better to at least know that to be left so unmolded. Everyone’s parents mold them out of clay and breathe life into them so easily; but I am so unsure of where I stand. My only options of my parents are the great stories I am told and I have no idea if I will truly measure up.

The whirling of a metal whipping through the air makes my sister jump from a sitting position to standing on the ledge of the building. We are prepared for anything tonight but it seems the new arrival is just my older brother. He always has to make an entrance. He didn’t know my mother but he knew of our father; always claiming that he was moody often but highly intelligent. Obviously, he took after our father and I took after my mother thankfully. I hear his mother was raised with assassins but never once did she actually care. Her lack of love molded him into who he is today. Unfortunately, we have to put up with it. I see my sister roll her eyes and greet him with “Damien, must you always make an entrance” and he ignores her. I wonder if he’s trying to be dad since he died.

Damien walks over to me with darting eyes, “Have you seen anything yet?” I wish I had an answer for him but I don’t. My silence irks him he firmly states “How is that we all have the same dad but I am the only one who ever comes up with a plan?”. My sister Layla snarls at Damien “Excuse me, son of the mislead”. Damien whips “Better than being the daughter of a thief”. Layla reaches for her whip but as I stand the two of them decide to walk away from each other. It is difficult being the youngest and yet having to keep everyone in check. Even though we are all half children of a legend I still prefer my sister over Damien any day. I want to check on Layla but she’s a defensive woman when it comes to her emotions. I open up the dialogue with “We can’t fight like this. We have to come together and not insult each other’s moms...”as a glance at Damien, he rolls his eyes but I continue “We all came her for one thing, and this is to finally rectify the murderer of our father. Both of you have had the luxury of knowing your mothers, and our father. I have nothing. I have stories and remnants of their battle armor to pretend they are around.” Layla interrupts “ Kyril, we’re not trying to fight. Sorry but this is tense. This woman is the only person who was able to kill our father. Damien and I are not strong enough to kill the person who killed your mother. Let’s just wait and relax” I want to finish the speech that I have practiced but it seems no one wants to hear it. How did my mother motivate her armies? How did she do any of the wonderful things she did?

There’s an eerie whistle coming up the street below us. I look to Layla and she’s holding the golden whip that I gave her to use; since I have no use for it. Layla’s standing on the ledge of the building and Damien is on the other end. We stand strong by the sight of us but this woman seems to not be

impressed by us. She has been doing this game far too long. She wears thigh highs with a skirt short enough to tempt any man dumb enough to look; and may God bless the man who was dumb enough to try. Her whistling echoes through the streets like a death invocation on the violins. She stops at a lamp post and tips her hat to us. I can feel my heart through my chest beating against the cuirass. Her voice curls up our spine with “It is a bit disappointing that it took the oldest of you three to figure out who killed daddy dearest”. I can hear Damien growling to himself and he’s about to lose his temper. The silence in the air is deafening so I choose to speak “He was a great symbol to Gotham in many ways, why?”. I can see the curl of her smile spit up at me “He vowed he’d never kill anyone but yet he made a change with my father. And my poor pathetic Stockholm ridden mother was no match. The old man had it coming” Her words sound like hissing of a snake. Layla stands her ground to her and speaks “You shot him in the middle of a public function!..” Layla is interrupted with “BECAUSE the world needed to know that the laughs my father gave them are nothing like the punchline I can create. They didn’t get his jokes and I didn’t at first. My mother knew having me was a mistake, but did your father save me from them?....no. It was imperative to my psychosis for everyone to see that there was no going back.” Her grin is unnerving and she begins to shift her attention to me “Ahhh, the son of a Goddess. Come half‐ling what power do you truly hold? I see you gave your mother’s whip to kitten thief because your hormones aren’t good enough to hold it; wonder if I held it what kind of things can that whip make you tell me?”

The air in my chest escapes me. She knows who I am? Did she know my mother and why does she know so much about the whip, the history. What else does she know? In the midst of my thoughts I realize I am lunging at her. She jumps to the side and I feel the blow of her cane against my temple. I slide into a car across the street. I see my sister is charging at her. In hindsight it seems she may have more of a plan than Damien could cook up. Where is Damien? A hip thrown punch cracks into Layla’s breast while she reaches for the whip. As I begin to charge to help my sister, my mother’s whip is wrapped around me. Why can’t I break the whip? A smirk runs across her face “Didn’t do your homework I see, but then again how could you know what your mother’s weakness’ are; besides giving birth to you”. Who is this demon child? Her hair glows to me of a bright amber fire with green tips on the ends. I finally see Damien and watch those two tango in a brawl of kicks and punches. Layla is recovering and running to me to untie me; just in time to see Damien getting carved out by a gun she must have had in her boots. It is an usually long slim gun; who would carry something so strange? She shoots and Damien protects his head with his arms but falls back to us. She begins to clap her hands at our team performance and mumbles “It makes sense now. When bats are born they stick to their mothers until they are ready for the world; perhaps you all can join yours in the afterlife until you can stand on your own. You’re all just as weak as your father was when I shot him. 10 years of schooling, combat training from young, and all I needed was one bullet and a ticket to an orphanage event to say thanks for ‘giving back’. Her mouth is ruthless. She begins to laugh and out of the corners of my eyes I see a thick red fog rise from the sewers into the streets. She calmly puts on a gas mask and walks away. Layla and Damien collapse to floor coughing. I want to go after her but I can’t leave my only family to die. I grab them both and jump to the sky. As I seek somewhere to land with them I realize I am nothing like my father and I am not the man my mother might have hoped I could be. All the training of the amazons was not enough; I need more.