Part I of IV

My story begins when I was four years of age. I was living in a small village in northern Eshka225;shem. My parents died when a Soviet bomb destroyed our house. I was trapped in the ruble for fifty four hours before rescuers were able to find me. I remember thinking how unlucky I was that I survived the bombing. How much better it would have been if I died in the explosion. Then my death would have been instant. Now alive, an orphan, a child, and a girl, my death would be a long drawn out experience.

After a couple weeks at the refugee camp I weighed a mere twenty five pounds. I survived by eating the scraps that the other starving people turned their noses at. I found myself hunting and eating any rodent unfortunate enough to cross my path. They don't offer much in terms of nutrients and they are few and far between.

The air in the camp was filled with a mixture of swarming flies and a smell of rotting flesh. Both were centered over the medical tents that the relief workers have set up. The tents are filled with amputees, some missing legs, some missing arms. I considered myself one of them, an amputee, only instead of missing limb I am missing hope.

One day as I lay in the dirt, staring, just staring, I saw a man returning to his family, he carried a cloth sack and a large grin. When he put the sack down on the ground next to his family I noticed white rice swelling out of its top. It was only a burlap sack but to me it was the most sacred of treasures in all of Afghanistan. His family laughed, and cried and welcomed him, embraced him.

How could they be so stupid? They cared only for him, not the treasure that sat at their feet. I crawled toward it, slowly, slower, hours, days it seemed. Finally I was close enough to the bag to be able to touch it and the family had not taken any notice of me.

They would pay for their ignorance. I snatched the sack and I ran. I ran far away, from the family, the camp, and my old self, I left her behind. After running as far as my legs would carry me I stopped in the middle of the desert. I began shoveling the uncooked rice into my mouth handfuls at a time. I doubt that even the apple of Eden could have tasted as sweet. From that moment on I knew what I had to do in order to survive.

I stole. For the next four years of my life. I stole food, money, trinkets, anything that would help me survive on the streets. I prowled market places, swiftly, discreetly, picking pockets, taking food from vendors. I had never been caught, until one fateful day. A day that forever changed the direction of my then meaningless life. I was watching from several yards away. A man sat cross-legged on the floor of the marketplace. In front of him was a rug filled what the man claimed to be authentic jewelry. I saw something that caught my eye. A necklace on the edge of the rug. It was silver with a red gem as its pendent. Beautiful. The man caught the attention of a passerby and the two began discussing his product. I knew this was my chance. I walked by the rug casually. I slipped my foot out of my shoe and grabbed the necklace with my bare toes. I then carefully brought my foot back inside my shoe, necklace and all. The vendor took no notice.

I got it! I thought to myself as I began to walk off. Suddenly I felt a hand grab my shoulder. I turned and saw a large bearded man with an eye-patch holding on to me.

``You little thief! I saw what you did!'' he said.

A lookout! How could I have been so careless?

``Aasif!'' called the eye-patched man. At once the vendor walked up to us staring at me. ``I caught this urchin stealing from you brother.''

``No!'' I cried ``He lies!''

``Check her shoe!'' ordered the eye-patched man. I struggled to get away but the man had a firm grip on me. Aasif grabbed my ankle and took off my shoe. He shook it and the necklace feel to the ground. I was exposed. The eye-patched man held me tighter as Aasif drew a knife from his robe. He slowly waved it in front of my face.

``You know what this is for?'' he asked. I knew, but I did not answer. ``This,'' he said ``Is for punishing thieves, like yourself.'' I knew not what his intent was. Was he to kill me? Leave me dying in the street? Or perhaps mutilation, I had often heard of shoplifters having their hands and fingers cut off. The man drew his arm back. I closed my eyes waiting for my fate.

``Stop!'' called a new voice. I opened my eyes to view its owner. He was a white man with sunglasses and hair as red as the sunset. I had never seen hair in such a color. The man wore a bulletproof vest and a handgun holstered on his hip.

``This is none of your business American!'' Aasif yelled. ``This girl stole a valuable possession from me. I have a right to punish her!''

``Perhaps,'' said the man ``But I have a right to tell these fine people in the marketplace that you are selling them `counterfeit' valuable possessions.'' The man pointed to the necklace that had fallen on the floor. The red gem was shattered and the silver paint had chipped off. Fake. Aasif snarled at the man, he then nodded at the eye-patched man who pushed me toward the red haired stranger. He put his hand around my shoulder and walked off with me. I had no idea who this man was, what did he want with me? After walking in silence for several minutes he spoke to me.

``That was quite a risky thing to do.'' he said. He spoke with a thick American accent. I said nothing. ``Where do you live?'' he asked. Again I remained silent. Then the man stopped walking, I stopped as well. The man removed his sunglasses, took a deep sigh and kneeled down so we were at eye level. ``Do you have any family?'' I tried to look away from his emerald green eyes, but they hypnotized me. I shook my head no. ``You have a place to stay?'' Again I shook my head no. ``Come on.'' he said as he lifted me up and carried me to his jeep. He sat me in the passenger's seat and he began driving. I sat in silence throughout the whole trip. After twenty minutes we arrived at a bombed-out house.

``Come on.'' The man said stepping out of the jeep walking into the house. I followed, not sure of what I would find. The man lifted a cellar door that led beneath the house. I slowly crawled down followed by the man. If you had told me then that in that cellar laid heaven I would not have believed you. The cellar had clean furniture, running water, electric lighting, air conditioning, and many other things that I did not recognize but knew that they were gifts granted by God. Then I took notice of several people in the room staring at me. A woman with black hair and a braded pony tail stood up and walked over to me. She spoke in English.

``You were supposed to bring back supplies, Summers, not a person.'' She said with a smile.

``But, Zehara, I got her at such a bargain.'' Said the red haired man grinning.

``What's her story?'' asked Zehara.

``I saved her life.'' Replied Summers. Zehara kneeled down and looked at me.

``What is your name?'' she asked me in Dari Persian.

``K-Khatira.'' I told her. She looked at my tattered clothes. ``Do you mind if I see your hair?'' I was reluctant at first. No one living had ever seen my hair before.'' I hesitantly agreed. Zehara slowly removed my dingy white khimar revealing my dirty, matted black hair.

``Wow.'' She said ``You have such beautiful hair.''

``Thank you.'' I said blushing. My hair was beautiful.

``When was the last time you bathed?'' asked Summers in Dari Persian.

``I don't remember.'' I confessed. Summers nodded at Zehara. She held her hand out to me.

``Come on.'' She said warmly. I took her hand and she led me to the shower.

Over the next few years I got to know those people in the cellar. They were all members of a group called ``Shadowfiend.'' They specialized in the illegal transportation and selling of firearms. Gun runners. I did not care if they were criminals; they were the only people who ever cared for me. They kept me as an assistant, I cleaned and cooked and every once in a while I came in handy on their missions. Having a sleeping child in the backseat of your car makes you less suspicious to the border police.

There were nine of us in Shadowfiend, and I learned something from each one of them. The black haired woman was Zehara, from Isreal, she taught me Krav Maga, Goloth a large man from America taught me to box, Sophia, a brunette from France, taught me Xing Yi , Feliks, from Russia taught me Spetsnaz hand to hand style, Carlos, a bald man from America, taught me how to manage and maintain a gun, Yoshi, whose true name was Shi, was a yakuza who fled from the law in Japan. He taught me karate and Jigen-ryu, Slava, from Russia, taught me how to use explosives, then there was Summers, leader of the Shadowfiend. He taught me Marine Corp hand to hand, how to speak English, how to read, how to write, how to be disciplined, but most importantly he taught me that only the strong survive. We were the freaks and outcasts of our cultures, but together we were family.

At age sixteen I discovered my true name. We were in a small village in Pakistan. We had just completed a successful transaction with a small group of ``freedom'' fighters. We were making our way back to base camp, Summers was walking just ahead of me, when suddenly a would be assassin charged him with a knife. Without hesitation my training kicked in. I drew my handgun and fired a single round through the man's hand. The man dropped the knife, and stopped in his tracks tending to his wound. I walked over to him. He looked up at me; his mouth open with shock, his gaze met mine. His eyes pleaded for mercy. I granted him none. I fired a bullet right between his eyes. He was the first man I had ever killed. The others congratulated me on this achievement. I was now officially one of them.

Later that night as part of my initiation Carlos tattooed the Shadowfiend emblem on my arm. As an extra surprise Summers gave me a gift. Two steel daggers, I named them my Dragon Teeth. Shi began calling me Kira, a Japanese butchering of the word killer. Soon the others began to call me Kira as well. I accepted it, it was my true name. No longer was I Khatira, that poor weak girl who let others hid her hair behind a tattered veil, and who stole food like an animal. I was no longer an animal, I proudly wore my hair down in public. I had become strong, I had become a killer, I had become Kira.

Later I learned the reason the man tried to kill Summers was because the weapons we sold were responsible for the death of his wife and daughter.

It all ended a few years later. It was night, we were in the middle of the Hindu Kush Mountains. We were meeting with a small group of Taliban fighters interested in buying some assault rifles from Shadowfiend. We stood back and watched as Summers negotiated with the group's leader. We nervously gripped our M-16's; they nervously gripped their Ak-47's. I assume they were just as anxious for the bargaining to be over as we were. Suddenly the negotiating turned to disagreeing, the disagreeing turned to arguing, and soon enough the arguing turned to shooting. I do not know who shot first but I know Goloth was the first to fall. They shot him in the head.

I was ducked behind a large boulder. I could feel the bullets whizzing by my head. It was near impossible to see anything in the murky blackness. The only light came from the enemy's muzzle flashes. Having no alternative I fired at those in short controlled bursts hoping to hit something, anything.

The firefight came to an end when I emptied the remainder of my clip into the chest of one of the Taliban fighters. I frantically searched for my next target, there was none. I was completely alone, aside from the silence that enveloped me. I quickly missed the sound of combat that had just filled the air. Anything was better than that damned silence.

How long had the battle lasted? It felt like hours, but it was probably only a few minutes. After the adrenaline had run its course it dawned on me, I was the only one left.

Zehara, Goloth, Sophia, Feliks, Carlos, Shi, and Salva all lay around me dead. As for Summers...

``Ack'' coughed a voice in the darkness. I rushed over. Summers lay on the ground bleeding. He had two large bullet wounds in his chest. I could not save him, not with all the blood he had lost. I held him in my arms.

``Summers!'' I cried out. He looked up at me. It took him a minute to realize who I was.

``Kira'' he said with a smile crawling on his face. And just like that he was gone. I wait, a minute at least. I give him enough time to cross over. And when I am sure his spirit has passed, I cry. I pray to God he never saw me like that. Crying is for the weak, only the strong survive. And still I cried. I held his body in my arms, hot tears flowing down my cheeks, and I cried, and I whispered...

``Father...''

I returned to basecamp. My once welcoming home, now entombed in silence. I sat in that base for hours thinking about what was left for me. I was once again completely alone.

``Stop it!'' I told myself. I knew feeling sorry for myself wouldn't get me anywhere. At that moment I knew what must be done. Summers was dead, but Shadowfiend would live on. It was my duty, neigh, my destiny to continue what he started. However, no man in Afghanistan would dare buy weapons from a woman. I thought quickly. I would hide myself behind a mask, hire someone to speak for me. No one would ever know I what I was.

I dyed my hair red. The same sunset red as Summers' hair. I tell myself it's just in case anyone sees my hair through the turban. If they had known Summers then they would think he was me. That is what I told myself. In truth the reason I dyed my hair red, was that that it helped me remember him.

I hired a boy, Babur, he was seventeen, one year younger than me. I hired him as my interpreter. My clients must never know that I had a woman's voice. Everything I wanted to say I whispered to him and he would repeat it. Our buyers were none the wiser. For the next six years of my life the two of us were able to keep Shadowfiend alive. It became too much for us to manage alone however, so we hired Yasir as some extra muscle. He was an outlaw wanted for murdering three women. He was not my first choice, but he was willing to work for cheap. The day before his first sale with us he found out that I was the one who was in charge of selling. This angered him more than I anticipated.

``A woman has no place in the realm of business!'' he yelled savagely at me. After some convincing from Babur, Yasir agreed to stay with us. I should have killed him then.

The next day we met with a small group of Taliban fighters in a cave buried deep in the mountains. Things were going perfectly. We negotiated for nearly an hour. ``What kind of weapons do you want? In what condition? How much are you willing to pay? When do you want them?'' Soon we reached an agreement, but before the deal could be finalized Yasir tore off my turban and mask, and revealed me for what I was.

``Behold brothers.'' Shouted Yasir. ``You have been fooled by a woman!'' Anger flowed through me like a raging river. I quickly drew my dagger and cut Yasir's throat.

``Kill her! Kill her! Kill her now!'' ordered the Taliban leader. I threw one of my daggers at him, plunging it deep into his heart. I then dove for cover behind a large indentation in the wall just as a hail of gunfire filled the cave. Babur was not as lucky. He was torn apart by Taliban bullets before he could find decent cover.

``I'm sorry.'' I whispered as I watched his body fall. Just then a Taliban member jumped into the indentation. He had a bayonet attached to the end of his rifle. He thrust his it at me. I quickly disarmed the man and stabbed him in the chest with his own weapon. He staggered backward out of cover and was quickly gunned down by his own men; they must have thought he was me.

I took advantage of their confusion and rolled to the body of their leader retrieving my knife. I noticed one them standing a few feet away from me. I lunged at him before he could react. I shoved both my daggers into his side. I then slide the knives across his midsection leaving two massive slashes in his gut. Again I took cover. This time behind a large wooden crate. Chunks of wood flew off as the bullets struck it. I was worried for a moment it would not be able to stop their fire.

``How many were left?'' I thought to myself. I had killed one...two...three, there was eight when they came in. Five now, assuming they didn't have any backup. Just then I heard them speak.

``Go, go, flush her out!'' said one of them. It was followed by the sound of footsteps closing in on my position. Quickly I jumped on top of the crate, I then kicked off of it propelling myself further into the air. As I was soaring I saw two gunmen standing at the entrance of the cave, as well as three more that were shoulder to shoulder closing in on where I had taken cover. Five left. I focused on the three who were shoulder to shoulder. I landed on the middle one plunging my daggers into his chest. I then put one dagger into the men on either side of me. I looked up and saw the two men at the front of the cave taking aim at me. I quickly pulled the two men I had just stabbed in front of me. When the gunmen opened fire their bullets were unable to penetrate the two bodies. I quickly pushed toward the gunmen, keeping the two men ahead of me as a shield.

The two fired futilely at me as I got closer, and closer to them. When I got close enough to one of them I dropped my shields, and in one move I slashed the gunman's thigh causing him to drop to his knee. I then shoved my dagger strait through his neck. I turned to face the last of them; he stood only a few feet away. He was in the middle of reloading his weapon when he noticed how close I was. He dropped his gun and unsheathed a sword he wore around his waist.

``Interesting'' I thought to myself. The man let out a battle cry and charged toward me swinging like a madman. He was strong and fast, but he lacked any form of control or technique. I easily dodged all of his blows, just waiting for my opportunity. Finally it came. He swung at my head. I ducked and then grabbed his arm by the wrist. I pulled it toward me and shoved my other hand into the man's elbow. His arm snapped like a twig. I then kicked his knee inward, breaking that as well. He screamed. I then grabbed the man by the hair and dragged him out of the cave. Near the cave was a large ravine, I brought the man over to the edge. He screamed the entire way. I took one last look at his face.

``Burn in hell.'' I told him as I tossed him over the edge. His screaming stopped when he hit the bottom, and it was replaced with a loud crack. I watched as his body slowly rolled out of sight. I turned around to see a man staring at me. He wore what appeared to be a gas mask and a black trench coat. Startled I drew my daggers.

``Relax.'' Said the man reaching out with his arm. His voice had a strange hint of machine in it. ``I'm not here to hurt you.''

``Who are you?'' I demanded.

``My name is Kabal.'' He said. ``And you are very talented.''

``Talented? What are you talking about?'' I asked in confusion. I grasped tightly on my dragon's teeth, not wanting to let my guard down. Kabal seemed amused by my question.

``You singlehandedly fought your way through a cave filled with armed gunmen. Not many people can say they've done that. You have tremendous potential.''

``What are you talking about?!'' I was frustrated and confused. Who was this man? What did he want with me?

``I have a proposition for you. You see I want you to join my organization. The Black Dragon.''

``The Black Dragon?'' I said with a smirk. ``I heard of them. They were that terrorist group that completely collapsed a few years ago. Why would I want to join a group like that? What could you possibly offer me?'' Kabal laughed lightly.

``You ask a lot of questions-'' he paused. ``I'm sorry what`s your name?''

``Kira.''

``Kira...You ask a lot of questions Kira, and I am more than happy to answer them for you. Yes, the Black Dragon collapsed, but I assure you the Black Dragon will rise from the ashes more powerful than before. And in terms of what I can offer you...'' Kabal then disappeared in a blur. I turned my head back and forth searching for him. I then felt someone grab my hair and pull it back. I then felt a long blade being pushed against my throat. It was Kabal.

``I can train you. Help you hone your skills. You can become more powerful than you have ever imagined.'' He said. He then let me go and disappeared in another blur. I quickly grasped my throat making sure it had not been cut. Kabal re-appeared in front of me.

``You're good Kira, but if you join me, you could become great.'' I stood there watching him in bewilderment. Was I finally ready to leave this hell where I had lived? What was left here for me? Nothing. Everyone I had ever known was dead. There was nothing left for me to lose. Kabal offered me power. True strength. I was not about to turn him down.

``Okay,'' I said. ``I will join you.''

``Excellent.'' He said. ``I already have your first mission planned.''

Author : Casey

Creation date: 2011-2-16-9-58

Modification date: 2011-2-16-9-58