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theelderhazelnut · 2 years ago

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Ombra's Biography

Warning: mentions of trauma, death, mental health problems

The image on the left is made with X-girl maker and the one on the right is made in artbreeder.

General Information

Full Name: Atoosa Aryan

Name Meaning:

Atoosa - Daughter of the Cyrus the Great, bestowing very richly

Aryan - Relating to or denoting peoples speaking Indo-European (or specifically Indo-Iranian) languages

Nicknames/Alias:

Ombra - widely used by Metalrealmers and her allies

Boss - given by her comrades

My soul - given by Quan Chi

Stone Face - given by her comrades

Ağlamaz Gülmez - meaning “doesn’t cry, doesn’t laugh”, given by Gizem

Age: 36

Date of Birth: November 26th

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius

MBTI: INTP-A

Sex: Female

Gender: Demigirl

Pronouns: She/They

Sexuality: Demisexual

Species: Half-human, Half-Metalrealmer

Race/Ethnicity: Iranian

Country of Origin: Iran

Current Place of Residence: Metalrealm

Physical Appearance

Skin: Normal. and smooth. Pale ivory.

Height: 5'10 / 178 cm

Weight: 149 lbs / 68 kg

Eye Color: Abnormal light gray

Hair Color: Dark brown

Hair Texture: Thick, almost curly

Body Type: Muscular, hour-glass figure

Prominent Features:

Square face shape

Iron-jaw

Thick eyebrows

Broad Shoulders

Clothing Style: Ombra’s default outfit includes a black overcoat with a black vest which is secretly bulletproof, black pants and bottom-up shirt underneath the coat, and knee-high punk boots. These items can vary in their gothic and steampunk elements. In general, she prefers her outfits to be gender neutral.

Personality

Positive Traits: Mature, intelligent, understanding, patient, confident, logical, calculating

Negative Traits/Flaws: withdrawn, stoic, bloodthirsty, vengeful, gloomy, impious, stubborn, controlling, easily annoyed, remorseless, radical

Hobbies: playing chess, reading, writing

Likes: playing chess, solving mysteries, studying, studying people,

Dislikes: 98% of the people, singing, children,

Goals: destroying the Cult of The Elder Gods and taking revenge

Fears: losing her political position and power in Metalrealm, falling under the Cult’s control, losing Quan Chi

Health

Physical Health: Ombra has had an eye surgery as she used to be short-sighted. A few years ago, her jaw was severely broken, so she replaced with a metal one, resulting in the scars on her cheeks. Her vocal cords are damaged due to a throat tumor. And later one in the story, her right sclera becomes oxidized.

Mental Health: Ombra has had depression, OCD, and ADHD as long as she remembers, and those symptoms in her worsened once her parents died and she was left alone in a foreign country. She used to be suicidal during the time she worked as a servant in the Sky Temple. And when Falkus dragged her to Metalrealm to train her as an MRD agent, she learned to build a thicker wall around herself. During those years she felt nothing but powerless. She watched as her superiors made decisions for her long lost life, and she could do nothing but obey. Gradually, she learned to use her psychology knowledge for her own benefits. She learned how to manipulate people, especially from Falkus, and discovered that she actually has leading skills. Ombra became more and more of a control-freak, especially when she eventually earned the position of the head of the MIS. Taking control is like a coping mechanism for her through which she makes sure she doesn’t get hurt. Meanwhile, her repressed wrath made her a vengeful sadist, ready to use her power to take down empires.

Phobias: Thalassophobia

Professional Life

Education: Ombra was close to earning her Ph.D in psychology when she left to live in Metalrealm.

Professions: The president of the Interrealm Forces in the MRD Organization

Fighting Attributes

Abilities/Powers:

Ferrokinesis - Ombra has the ability to manipulate anything of iron or has iron in it. This includes distorting the shape of those materials, and creating iron out of thin air.

Heat and electricity manipulation (very limited) - iron is a heat and electricity conductor, so if Ombra turns her limbs into iron, she can manipulate them to her advantage.

Sound manipulation (very limited) - sound can travel through iron, so Ombra can sometimes make a use of it.

Blood manipulation (very limited) - due to iron existing in blood she can manipulate it to her advantage.

Skills:

Leading

Intelligence

Using melee weapons

Martial arts and self defense

Deception

Psychological manipulation

Strengths:

Ranged-combat

Negotiable

Weaknesses:

Impatient

Stubborn

Closed-combat

High electricity pressure

Extreme heat

Strong soundwaves

Weapons:

Melee weapons she created with her power

A gunblade

Relationships

Family:

Unknown father - deceased

Unknown mother - deceased

Older sibling: Gizem - alive

Friends/Allies:

Quan Chi

Gizem

Shinnok

Kano

Erron Black

Kabal

Noob Saibot

Havik

Shao Kahn

Menace @bisexualjohnnycage

Andrius Nils @scentedcandleibex

Sienna @loverofthewindgod

Zoe @zoetheneko

Dia @darialovesstuff

Enemies:

The Elder Gods

Hanzo Hasashi

Varian Hasashi @middlechildwhoescapedthebasement

Kuai Liang

Jax Briggs

Jacqui Briggs

Nightwolf

Kotal Kahn

Love Interest:

Quan Chi - lovers

Alternate Universe:

Lady Xuna @bisexualjohnnycage

Huepazu @huepazu

Leila @takiisieju-moved

Alex Demir @chadillacboseman

Backstory

Centuries ago, Delia had a vision about a woman dressed in all black outfit who was slaying the cultists one by one, threatening the Elder Gods themselves. She couldn’t discover her name, but one thing was certain about her: she was a half-Metalrealmer.

Atoosa Aryan was born in Hamedan, Iran among religious people whose lives were ruled by a religion centered society. Atoosa's family was considerably functional. She was a gifted kid who gradually became a perfectionist, and also a people pleaser thanks to her controlling mother who cared a lot about what others were thinking about them. Atoosa's powers were revealed when she was a toddler. Her powers were extremely weak, yet her mom constantly warned her to conceal it.

Atoosa used to be a cheerful and quite energetic child, but growing up in an extremely male dominant country which was also torturing its people with poverty and increasing number of crimes, turned her into a reserved and stoic adolescent with a pretty low self-confidence.

In order to escape, save herself and create an ideal life Atoosa emigrated to Turkey. She studied psychiatry in university. She was one year away from graduation and earning her PhD when her parents decided to pay her and her older sibling, Gizem, a visit. But the airplane was targeted by two rockets. Atoosa swore to find and punish anyone who was behind that incident.

Meanwhile, without her knowing anything, Metalrealmers were searching the universe for that certain half-metalrealmer to kill her. Metalrealmers believed that their gene must not become impure as they wanted to preserve their magic. Raiden was also aware of this, so he also began to search -as his duty to preserve the cult- only to find out that she lives in Earthrealm, and as its protector it was easier for him to uncover her identity. Raiden saw a great potential in her, yet he was quite afraid of her and what she could turn into, so he decided to offer her a place in the Sky Temple. He wanted to keep a close eye on her and make sure that she never gets the chance to gain power and become that monster in Delia’s prediction.

Eventually, Atoosa reluctantly trusted him only because she needed some help in order to survive. She moved to the Sky Temple, and began her job as a maid. She was miserable. She barely had time to focus on her studies and dreams.

A complicated relationship was formed between Raiden and her. Atoosa needed him, yet she was mad at him for putting her in so much misery. On the other hand, Raiden didn’t want to see her suffer, but he had no other choice.

Atoosa’s depression got worse, and suicidal thoughts began to lurk in the back of her mind.

Then Falkus came to action. He knew about Atoosa, and had discovered her location. He wanted to use her as an intelligent weapon to destroy the cult, and gain his freedom. He made contact with Atoosa, and tried to talk to her, and technically, brainwash her to believe in what he believed. He wanted her to escape Raiden on her own. Falkus told Atoosa about the cult, and that her parents’ death was their fault. He reassured her that if she came with him, he’d protect her from Metalrealmers and give her all she needs to take her revenge.

Atoosa didn’t want to trust anyone ever again, but she had nothing left to lose after all, so she only pretended that she trusts him, and moved to Metalrealm. She had other things in her mind. She must be the one in control this time.

She started her training in the MRDO, and focused more on her psychology studies. Without Falkus’s knowledge, she took every opportunity to earn a higher place in this organization. She helped the chiefs and soldiers in numerous missions by her strategic mind and great knowledge in psychology. Eventually, she achieved her goal, and also gained the nickname that almost replacedher real name: “Ombra the Ironhead”.

Ombra became the chief of the Interrealm Forces. She arranging her own plan for the revenge on the cult. She wasn’t under anyone’s control as she desired. She told Falkus that she was merely his ally, not a servant or a weapon.

Now Ombra wants to unleach her wrath, and destroy those who took away her innocence, childhood and dreams.

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theelderhazelnut · 1 year ago

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Rise of the Villains: Darker than Black

Warnings: death, graphic violence, drinking and smoking

Pairings: None

Characters: Ombra (my oc), Erron Black, Kabal, Kano (is mentioned) and two minor OCs

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Nine years after the airplane incident, Ombra who is now the Interrealm Forces Chief goes back to Earthrealm to begin her plan of destroying a mysterious cult along with two mercenaries by her side.

Author’s Note: It’s finally here!! I’m both excited and nervous about this lol. Just one thing: Ombra’s negative opinion about the other characters has nothing to do with my own personal opinion. Also, I appreciate any thoughts and feedbacks!

Taglist: @neonneurons @roofgeese @vivilovespink @darialovesstuff @scentedcandleibex @confidentandgood @spacestephh @takiisieju-moved @sstewyhosseini @inafieldofdaisies @jillvalentinesday @shegetsburned (pls let me know if you’d like to be added)

Nine years ago, June 28th, 8:20a.m

Atoosa Aryan, could now take a relieved breath without the intrusive thoughts regarding the university flooding her head. Two weeks away from that toxic atmosphere, she cherished it. She couldn’t wait any longer to overwhelm her mother’s ears with nagging complaints only to earn some sort of empathy.

Atoosa took a weary glimpse at the clock on the nearby column: 8:25. She was five minutes away from finally pushing her adulthood to a far corner, and follow her family around like the youngest child she was.

“Here. Not as tasty as its price, but it’s better than nothing.” Gizem, her older sister, handed her a hot cup of coffee as they collapsed on the bench next to her. The smoky eyeshadow barely suffocated the scream of exhaustion in their hazel eyes, but they did a splendid job at taming their short, teal hair.

Their phone rang. Gizem pulled it out of their pocket. A long sigh left their lungs before they answered it. Typically, they had at least three of these phone calls related to their engineering projects in one day.

The next tedious ten minutes passed in utter darkness as Atoosa allowed the lacking amount of sleep flood her eyes. Her brain was nearly letting itself to shut down, the ocean of the chatters gradually subsiding into the void of a dream.

But the water rose. Shouting replaced talking. The entire ward shook in the waves of terror. Blinking the sleep away, Atoosa was once again seeing her surroundings clearly. She looked at Gizem who was leaning on their knees, staring at their phone screen, their hands shaking uncontrollably.

“Gizem?” Atoosa muttered. They didn’t flinch. She leaned closer to peer at their phone.

Her vision fluttered, the words fading away in an annoying blur. The only sentence her sight could manage to recognize was “Boeing 720 flying the route was shot down by two rockets shortly before landing, killing all 176 passengers and crew abroad.”

The world spun around her head in an abnormal speed. Her heart was torn apart from her chest, and fell down somewhere deep and dark, an abyss. People were silenced, dispersedly moving in black and white blurs. Denial wounded her throat, her lungs longing to shriek, but all she did was to stare at her empty palm. She needed to reread the sentence, she must’ve read it hastily, but she couldn’t dare to even flinch, fearing the reality would touch her.

But all the doors to a happy, normal life had always been closed and locked. Only the path of misery was lit by her footsteps wherever she ran to. However, it belonged to her, its road was marked as her territory. She was born in it. Her veins were accustomed to be fed with misery; her heart was familiar with the smell of grief. So she hardened.

+++

July 4th, 12:23p.m

Aircrafts flying in dispersed directions, skyscrapers piercing the gray clouds, the cars being drove on the highways which decorated the view of the city with their flawless engineered patterns, these were the elements of Metalrealm. As it is transparent through its name, metal plays a crucial role in its people’s lives. The inhabitants are the heirs to an ancient form of magic: metal manipulation; this magic is divided fairly among the races that each race has control over one kind of metal.

Iron benders, cupper benders, and other manipulators of hard and less reactive metals are the best options for the military jobs. They perform well in combat. Ever since the mysterious disappearance of the realm’s protector, which goes back to centuries ago, it is the military’s burden to preserve the people and their sacred form of magic. The military’s factions are assembled under the name of MRD Organization (Metalrealm’s Resistance and Defense).

Reclining on a chair, Ombra was spending her morning in the balcony of her office. Her eyes still demanded sleep, but she was forcing them to work properly and stay wide open. She needed their full potential during this day. Her gaze passed the other three towers which circulated a much smaller building. In the past years, this home to soldiers and generals had embraced her in its cold arms. She had nowhere else to call home. She did not feel safe enough to. These towers taught her how to be unbreakable as metal, how to stand rigidly like themselves. However, it felt like a slap to her face to think about it from that perspective. If it was not for herself, she wouldn’t be sitting there as one of the most powerful iron-benders, governing the Interrealm Forces faction and having enormous currents of money being poured into her account.

Nine years of running in the path of law and pushing herself to her limits to rightfully earn the status of one the most powerful iron-benders in the MRD was pounding in her veins as she reviewed the upcoming night. Her chest ached in anticipation; in the anticipation of staining her hands with the blood of those who stained her heart. Long ago, she had promised herself to remain loyal to the morals which was taught by her parents, but ever since that cursed day in the airport, she came to realize that morals only build walls around one.

In conclusion, she ripped herself apart in order to gain the name of the president of the Interrealm Forces faction. It was the highest point she could reach her hand to where she was not obligated to bow her head to any greater boss. Ombra was her own boss who was playing a twisted game even with the law.

She saw her phone screen buzzing in the corner of her eyes. It signed that someone is requesting to enter her office. She stared at it. Another presence in her private area sounded like swearing to her ears. A few seconds later, a notification from Ferriel appeared saying “Ombra it’s urgent”.

He assumed that would give him a license, but he was a comrade after all, so Ombra accepted his request. After a few moments, a man in a uniform stepped in the balcony. His gray skin perfectly matched the weather, and his chestnut brown hair resembled an oxide piece of iron. His brooding eyes avoided contact with her. Ferriel felt as though he was compelled to play the role of a bigger brother for her. When more than the half of the population was rejecting her presence - a half Metalrealmer - he stood beside her and reminded her that she can become more powerful than them. Perhaps he regretted that later on, Ombra guessed, but at least he did not stop doting on her like a mother hen.

“Atoosa, the new trainees were nearly getting their hands on the gun blades, if I wasn’t there.” Ferriel began with an indifferent undertone.

People would intentionally call her by her real name hoping to near her interior, hoping to affect her with their rambling words, or so she believed. Those people, also, had a tendency to opt a nickname for almost everything and everyone, and “Ombra” which meant shadow was given to her not long after she commenced her job as the president of the Interrealm Forces. It made her feel even more powerful, so she kept it, and now it had technically replaced her true name.

He meant those gun blades which were illegally transferred from the Special Forces basement in Earthrealm. Gizem had arranged everything from a hidden corner in their little workshop. Ombra did not bother herself to concern her thoughts for them, yet she was grateful for his watchful eyes in her absence. The density of her thoughts did not permit any other outlandish disturbance to enter her mind. She was fiercely focused on her plan.

“Thank you.” Ombra mumbled reluctantly. “Well, since you came in yourself I’ll tell you now. I’m going to stay in Earthrealm for a while.”

She saw that he wrinkled his forehead in surprise. “Why?”

That question followed up. All of those variations for an answer she had deliberated in the past few weeks dazed her mind. She could simply lie, and then disappeared in the desert with the mercenaries a particular man had hired for her, or she could put the truth on the table before him, exposed and naked. And blindly trust him with this secret which could aim her back as of a sharp dagger.

Ombra chose a third option. She was definitely in need of a shelter, and that would often be those about whom she did not feel wrong calling friends; the presidents of other factions which Ferriel was one of them. They needed a clue to be able to find her in case she was helpless against their loaded guns and sharpened knives.

“I made a deal with a man called Kano. He’s in charge of an extensive gang. It’s worth-“

“Is it about that cult?” Ferriel cut through her words.

Ombra forced her eyes to remain emotionless as her heart was clenched in pain. Throughout these years, she had shared the process of her researches about the cult with him. His encouragement would provoke her lips to curve into a smile occasionally, and would boost her already eager mind to go further. But she never allowed her harmful desire of trusting him thoroughly to conquer her outlined plan, and suddenly push her down once again.

“It will help me continue my research.” Another maimed lie. Her research had come to an end a while ago. The cult had gathered an immense amount of followers all around the seven realms throughout the past numerous centuries, the power they held was beyond the comprehension of a peasant who desperately prayed their God for a Spring rain. Therefore, the cultists and the monks created the best opportunity to roam their lives as they pleased, devouring their money using conscious manipulation, and to commit countless crimes derived from their unquenchable thirst.

However, eventually, Ombra would be the devil they begged their God to harbor them from.

Ferriel took a long breath. The tides of agony washed away the glow in his yellow eyes. He was always too cautious to not take a forbidden step into Ombra’s land of privacy, so he was apparently convinced by that little information given.

Suddenly, his eyes sparkled once again. “But you have to watch over the new trainees. You can’t just leave whenever you want.” He was clutching at the threads of excuses to keep Ombra where she was safe.

“I asked the general to be in charge while I’m away. It’s like a little vacation. Everything is handled. You shouldn’t worry about it.” And with that she was done talking.

Ombra left her office. Not even a second had to be frittered away. Tiny sparkles of rage were ignited in her legs, charging them forward in an annoying spasm. On her way to the shared office of all four presidents of the military factions, Ombra had to nod and reluctantly pay attention to the agents and soldiers to respond to their greetings. All of them were the same: “Good morning Miss. Aryan!”, “Ma’am.”, “Miss. Ombra”. These were followed up by the occupant blundering away from her path.

After descending to the ground from the 25th floor, Ombra was tracing the narrow path to a much smaller tower compared to the ones surrounding it. It belonged to the four of them presidents which provided a place for them to have their meetings and related businesses. In the central room, the pitch black in a wide open portal was staring at her, patiently. The light touching the edge of the circle’s perimeter was being absorbed into the void as though liquefied. Beyond the blackness, hunters and mercenaries were anticipating her command to sabotage. At the end of this path, the endless possibilities were dancing in blurry motions. The flame of a war was waiting for a snap of her fingers to erupt.

Ombra suffocated the tiny chatters of fear in her mind and stepped into the portal. The devil in their sacred stories carved into the back of their heads now had adopted a physical form, and was charging to burn their home in her hellfire, just as they did to her. The nine-year-old rage in her had emerged from every bit in her body, showing its sharpened teeth and claws and ready to devour, break and dice.

+++

Kano’s truck was unsurprisingly uncomfortable, and that ancient vehicle which was soaked with the smell of rotten oil and sweat was his best offer.

Ombra chose to drive. Even though Kano and his crew were her business partners for several years now, she didn’t want to let her guards down. Tons of reasons motivated Kano’s already money thirsty ego to stab her back, and Ombra had enough money to guarantee its probability. But he had behaved like an actual fifty-year-old man until then, and had not dared to play with her fire; the fire of an iron-bender.

The ivory desert was endless from either sides, and driving in it with two mercenary men by her side, following her to the destination, was as though running in a loop. She felt like she’s stuck in the swamp of those cultists hands, and with each pull her grip around her honor, wealth and sibling became looser. They pulled her beneath their kicking feet, and years of sorrow and struggle poured out of her eyes as a colorless blood.

Ombra blinked the thoughts away, and found herself gripping the steering wheel too tightly as if her life depended on it. She released the breath she did not realize she was keeping captive. Her hands relaxed, and slid down the wheel in a confident motion. It was too much expressing herself through her body language, if those two men were clever enough to notice.

Erron Black, the man who seemed like he just jumped out of an old western movie, pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. Ombra had been observing each of his subtle movements and analyzing his witty words from the corner of her eyes, hoping to spot a sign of worthy intelligence and skill as Kano had promised her. She had learned that he was quiet experienced, and the small scars on his tanned face and trained muscles were an evidence to that, yet that did not pick up the heavy weight from her shoulders.

The second man sitting in the back, examining the boxes of diverse weapons, was called Kabal. He used to be a NYPD officer who one day was brutally burnt, and lost his ability to breathe independently from respirator masks which oddly looked like a helmet that covered his whole face. How did he survive was a question remained unanswered for Ombra, but counting his supersonic speed in, she could bring out some legitimate answers herself.

“I don’t like it when I don’t know what the job is all about.” Kabal spoke after a few moments of silence, his voice sounded slightly harsh behind his mask.

Kano was appointed for the responsibility to elaborate the job for these two men. Ombra mentally laughed at herself for expecting too much of that always-drunken boss.

Ombra sighed silently. Although those words creeping on the tip of her tongue would send cold shivers down her spine, she began her speech. “I asked Kano to provide me a vacant flat, so we have a hideout to gather in. I also asked him for a few mercenaries. You two were the only available options for now, or so Kano said. Our target is a certain monastery with the occupied cultist.”

“Me going there and finishin’ him would save you lots of time. Why doin’ this the hard way?”

“Because I say so.” Ombra replied firmly, and her glare spoke the rest. Mentally, she thanked him for remaining quiet, and stopping penetrating his unwanted opinion into the situation.

“This’s going to take us a long ass time, I reckon.” Erron broke his silence. Suddenly, air was not enough for her lungs to claw at, and the black hands of envy covered her eyes. He could see the future, and speak about it as though it was riding his favorite horse. If he had any. That future was a wormhole the other side of which was a totally different time and space, stepping into it could distort her yet she was going to enter it.

Erron continued. “Assassinating cultists and monks is risky work.” He glanced at Kabal in the rear view mirror. “You gotta use your fast legs in the scene.”

The words came out of his mouth so freely without sending him to numerous sessions of overthinking and calculating, he was just going to be present there in that scene to earn his money. He knew nothing.

Ombra’s train of thoughts crashed to the minuscule walls of a cabin standing in the horizon, faded in a dense mirage. With a noisy exhale, she begged Kano for a considerably clean place which was not about to collapse on their heads in a few moments. She halted the fossilized vehicle close to a wooden wall.

Ombra got out of the jeep, her palm touched the set of the keys in her pocket. Without minding what those two were doing with the arms, she swiftly twisted the suitable key in the oxidized lockset. The wooden door opened with a creak. The subtle, leathery smell of paint thinner hit her in the face, sending small fractions of pain to her forehead. The dusty, worn out furniture included two white couches which were turned brown thanks to the thick layer of dust on them, a coffee table which was barely standing on its legs, a small television and a fossilized refrigerator. The savage sunlight could barely reach through the tight frame of windows. Ombra bit her lower lip. If in any case they were attacked, this cabin would accelerate at killing them first.

“Didn’t know he had such a…neat place in the middle of nowhere.” Kabal observed the room. “What does he keep here? Dead bodies?” He opened the door to the fridge. “His favorite snacks?”

The men’s chatter faded in her ears as she sat on the sofa, and pulled out a yellow folder from her black suitcase. Ombra laid the folder open on the wooden desk, and stared at the articles printed on papers. The titles gave the paint thinner a hand to worsen the pain in her forehead. Murder, grand theft, sexual assault. She briefly snatched her gaze to avoid reading the details, the evidence she had spent months to gather. The evidence of a cultist’s list of crimes, Nicodemus Sullivan. The pain and grief dripping from each one of them had been running in her veins for her entire life, and that airplane incident was the final pound. These evidence were waiting patiently to be exposed.

“Gentlemen.” Ombra called in her usual numb tone. She knew she was lying by calling them that; for now, at least. As they walked up to her once seeing the papers before her, she continued. “The first thing we do is to report these to as to many police stations as we are physically capable. For now, we only go to one. But this task is ongoing.”

“You hired us for a lifetime.” Kabal said. His tone did not resemble an objecting one. Ombra had promised them a dear price after all. She did not respond to that as the future was still hidden behind a thick fog in a dense forest.

“And then tonight, I will assassinate this man.”

+++

The bloody orange sunlight poured into the jeep, piercing her blank eyes through the old trees of the police station. The thoughts lurking in her head were thick enough to cover her eyes.

Absent-mindedly, Ombra traced her fingers on the silver barrel of a gunblade; her own gunblade. Its blade was curved and its body was carved for her to show no mercy. That night, the weapon would stand and shine among the teared flesh and the broken bones of an offender who dared to test her. Her lips trembled into a smile while terror was firing at her heart.

The bloody orange sunlight poured into the jeep, piercing her blank eyes through the old trees of the police station. The thoughts lurking in her head were thick enough to cover her eyes.

Kabal’s voice cut through the curtains of thoughts covering her ears, and it was when she realized that she was gripping the barrel so tightly, obstructing blood to reach her fingers.

“Holding that weapon is a part of the job? Interesting.” He teased.

Ombra greeted her teeth to avert her savage words to slice his tongue. He was still a man stuck in his childhood years. She still had the capacity to be more patient with him. Erron’s job at the police station was just done, and he was hanging on the edge of the sit, impatient to get to the point already.

Ombra took a glimpse at Erron from the corner of her eyes. His frowned brows clearly spoke of his disturbance: the disguise she told him to wear at the station. Sending him was the easiest and the quickest way since he looked more human than the two of them. Even though thick layers of defense were visible to Ombra through his manners and the way he chose his words, Erron despised pretending to be someone he wasn’t. However, merely existing around her required some sacrifices let alone expecting an accolade.

“Now, off to the monastery.” She declared in a low tone.

Her instructions of their next job filled the silence between them until the sun perished behind the hills, and they arrived at the location. Ombra was certain that the news had been at least reached to the civilians nearby, so waiting would merely be a waste of time.

The monastery stood rigidly among the dense branches of ancient trees. The jagged peaks of its massive columns scolded anyone who dared to stare for too long. The silvery moonlight kissed the sharp edges, but the building remained stoic, not appearing delicate even for a second.

Ombra heard the grieving cries of her younger self, the little child echoing through those gray walls. They had called her once again. No matter how fast she ran, how far she could hide, their hands would stretch out to grab her and retrieve her to hell. Wherever she went, they followed.

“We’ll wait for your signal.” Erron said as he hung his rifle on his shoulder.

“Please, try not to harm the people.” The words toiled up her throat. She was reaching her hands to the edge of the cliff to save herself from falling into the abyss of immorality. Those hands which were wrapped around her gunblade could grope their throats anytime, Ombra was only averting them, holding them back and begging them to behave.

Erron nodded lightly, and along with Kabal he dashed to the back of the building, disappearing in the thick fog of the night.

Steadily, Ombra walked up to the massive gate. She stepped in, and an uncontrolled smile raised her cheeks as not even a soul was seen on the wooden rows of benches. They were lonely. The truth about their master was put right on the faithful’s palms, and seemingly there was some bits of brain left in their empty skulls to avoid him for now.

At the far end of the hall, a black figure hunched on the floor before a pale sculpture of a woman. Either the two men had flawlessly done their job, or the was vacant in the first place. Anyways, the cultist was unbothered.

Ombra marched towards his direction, head up and shoulders broad. Her black overcoat flew behind her with pride. Her boots tapped loudly on the ground, announcing her presence. The man stood up, and turned to face her. His black outfit forcefully concealed his obese abdomen. His double-chin connected his head right to his neck as though there were never a throat underneath. Ombra hold her hands still to not cut his meat which was well-fed from the faithful’s money, and definitely many others.

Mr. Sullivan landed his bottom-like eyes on the weapon in her hands. His brows rose in concern, but his voice remained emotionless. “The promised day has come. The avenger is born and prepared.”

“You know me?” Her voice came out so quietly, hiding the sudden terror behind the walls of her throat.

“No.” Her heartbeat slowed down. “I am merely aware of your intentions. The police will carry the burden of my punishment. You should keep your hands clean for it only adds to your greatest regrets.”

Ombra had erased all the paths behind her. Should she return and walk rearwards, she would only fall down. She pointed the gun at his belly, the tip of its barrel touching the black fabric. “Did you feel any regrets when you were busy filling this with our blood? With our money? Or when you were building this castle-like church?” She slowly walked up the steps. “You didn’t, you don’t, and you won’t, so will I.”

“My life is doomed already. After your thirst for blood is quenched, you will be the next target for another victim.”

“Shut your mouth!” Her voice rose. “You have no idea what being the victim is.” Her knuckles were nearly breaking the weapon. The ball of a lump felt heavy in her throat. She greeted her teeth so forcefully to prevent the tears from pouring down, her brows roofing her eyes to conceal the crimson grief. No, she wasn’t weak. The one that had to break down was him, not her. The images of her past-self, shattered and lost, spun around her head. No, she wasn’t weak. She had control; over her emotions, over everything. He must not see the victim, he must only see a stone which happened to have a body and a face.

“You will all fall to your knees.” Ombra snarled.

The thunderous gunshot struck through the air. A silent grasp came out. Nicodemus staggered to his back as he helplessly covered the injury with his palm. Ombra didn’t hesitate. She moved her left hand above her right forearm, the waves of energy poured out of her palm as though it was pierced. She commanded the tides to solidify, and transform into iron metal. The metal stuck to the black fabric, adhering the path of her hand, and sharpening at the end.

Nicodemus‘s eyes caught a glimpse of what she just created out of thin air. They grew wider. “You-you’re an iron-bender.” The dreaded words snuck out.

Ombra ignored him. “Those offenders must be punished not by the hands of justice or the law, but by the hands of the devil herself.” Her arm went into position to strike.

“You are Falkus’s worst mistake. He has failed.”

Ombra’s arm landed precisely on his face, the iron penetrated the bone and the flesh. The cracking sent shivers down her limbs. “No face, just like your victims.”

She pulled out her arm, painted red. His head was wide open, destroyed, like everything else inside it.

Ombra stared.

She had killed, shot and stabbed before as an act of duty, or defense. But she never really felt proud of it. But this time she tore her opponent apart as of a brutal animal. Disgust punched her in the stomach, the pain evolving into acidic claws which scratched her throat.

She was an animal.

“Ombra, run!” Kabal’s shout rang in her ears. She remembered. The building would explode in a few minutes. Drowning in the lake of her thoughts, and needing Kabal’s hand to come back to reality, however, was not a part of their plan. She darted across the aisle. Punctually, Erron slammed the door open for her to jump out. Just when she stepped out on the grass, the deafening explosion of metal and plaster threw her on her face.

+++

The countless stars above in the infinite, black fabric of the sky shimmered brightly enough to lit the wooden table before her. The endless silence soothed her ears, and emptied her head of the remaining noises of the explosion. Instead, her mother’s voice vaguely rang in her mind. “This cycle of bloodshed won’t change anything. You’ve become exactly like them.” Another wound was cut on her heart, some more inches of her brain were turned to stone.

I’ll be the change, Ombra thought. Only a monster could destroy another monster.

Nicodemus‘s perished face flashed before her eyes, and the last sentence he managed to say out loud. “You are Falkus’s worst mistake! He has failed!”

Falkus, the long lost protector of the Metalrealm, once failed in his duty centuries ago, and she was born. The evident signs to elaborate this rumor -at least to her- were just like justifying the existence of an omniscient creator by the laws of nature. However, the rigid prejudice Metalrealmers hold close to their heart against their sacred, metal-bending magic, has constructed an enormous cage around their world; reproduction with any species from the other six realms was strictly forbidden. Yet centuries ago, someone had dared to break this rule, and seemingly, it was Falkus’s fault. Some said it was the very reason why he was vanished in the first place, but Ombra refused to believe it just yet.

The door was opened with a soft crack, and Erron stepped into the terrace with a glass bottle in his hand. The dead darkness had coated him in utter blackness, so when his other hand slipped into his pocket, Ombra knew it was a pack of cigarettes hearing the muffling paperboard. To her surprise, he offered it.

“The cops are lookin’ for us. What’s the next plan?” He asked.

Ombra waved her hand in decline along with mouthing a thank you.

“Wiping out more monasteries. There’s another one in the rural area. It’s technically a whole village. There are several buildings with many cultists living in them.”

“How many of these we’re goin’ to blow up?”

“Every one of them.” She stared directly at his eyes.

Erron dropped his head, and after a brief hesitation, he continued. “Catchin’ the cops’ attention what was that for?”

“I didn’t know they bothered you so much.”

“That was a stupid move. You wanted to beat ‘em with the law then changed your mind mid-way?”

Ombra raised her eyebrows. She had almost forgotten how it felt like to hear others detect mistakes in her plans. It had always been her who saved the situation with her strategies no matter how absurd the seemed to be. She pushed back the urge of retrieving the permission of speaking from him, but she had to be mature.

“I provided a reason for my actions for them. And by “them” I mean those who will eventually rise to join me. They’re still scared and are hiding in their shells because who dares to fight with the divine? Well, I do, and I encourage others to do so.”

“They broke up the wrong tree. You want everyone against them.” He muttered as he blew out some smoke. “They gotta be shittin’ their pants right now, or else their face is all gone.” A breathless chuckle escaped his throat.

Her eyebrows fell lower, intensifying her roaring glare. What a stupid, thoughtless man, jesting in the wrong situation, she thought. The story was just about to begin. Ombra would play with them and spin them around like her puppets, and not even the gods could stop her.

#rise of the villains: darker than black #ombra the ironhead #mk oc #mk gizem #mortal kombat #mortal kombat oc #mortal kombat au #erron black #kabal

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