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 Posted: Mon Jan 18, 2016 1:33 am
A series of recollections spurred by multiple therapy sessions between Dr. Minrou and Fiona G'wandoya as part of a psyche evaluation issued by Deacon.
WARNING: Crude language, gore, and over-the-top action.
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Posted: Sat Feb 06, 2016 7:36 pm
 A.K.A Meaning of the Mask
Wearing the mask means something different to everyone who chooses to do so. Whether it be for selfless justice, or atonement, the mask changes you. At least, that is what most would think. For Fiona the mask was a symbol of rebirth, and a shifting in the atmosphere of her life. Never again would she be the victim. Criminals foolishly believed that a kryptonian and a billionaire were the biggest their worries. Fiona sought to remind them who the new kid on the block was. She didn't pull her punches. She didn't believe in letting the police handle the criminals. The ineptitude of the justice system never ceased to amaze her. That is why she, in spite of being bent and broke, hopes to be everything this justice system failed to be; what it failed to be for her. Criminals were welcomed into her courts with a jury of her making, a judge of true discernment, and a executioner who found pleasure in doling out punishment. The mask didn't always hold that value to her. It meant something else entirely, and for good reason. Reasons a certain therapist hoped to uncover...
"Mrs. G'wandoya?!" Doctor Minoru waved his hands in the air to catch the attention of a woman whose mind had since wandered. A deep gaze from chocolate hued eyes cut over at the shrink. He sat there with his notepad and horn rimmed glasses, surely feeling all too pleased in his questions. If she didn't know any better, she would have believed he enjoyed his job.
"Geez, I hear ya, doc. No need to get your cardigan all in a fuss. You'd think with all those degrees you would have cracked my code by now." An unedited response shot from the lips of the young African woman sitting across from the shrink. Her arms were crossed defensively over her chest, and legs swung over the arm of the chair she rested in. Her body language screamed disdain for her current predicament. The young woman was stuck here for the next few hours until she worked out the bullshit that was her life with a man who could never possibly understand her story. And the story of Fiona G'wandoya was a long and complicated one.
The shrink pinched the bridge of his nose and removed his glasses. "I know how much you hate doing this, but rest assured that if you just answer honestly, Deacon will end these sessions." He smiled compassionately at Fiona. The heroine rolled her eyes as she straightened up her posture.
He was right. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. If she could just prove she wasn't a unfixable cog in the grand inner workings of this group of vigilantes, then the pouring out of all her guts could stop, metaphorically speaking. "Fiiiine. You already know spewing all my feelings out makes me wanna throw up a little in my mouth, right?" Her tone was laced in all the sarcasm she could muster as the doctor smirked. Ha, ********, ha.
"Why put on the mask?" Minrou questioned as if her answer should be as obvious as the thickness of his bifocals.
"Same reason you decided to make a living listening to fu-----" Fiona sucked her teeth harder than a dog with peanut butter stuck in its mouth. She would attempt to keep her rather snarky remarks to a minimum. Key word being, attempt. Fiona’s dark brown eyes traveled to the floor, transfixed as if she had found the answer there on the burgundy hued carpet. Somehow she did…
- Flashback -
“Somebody help me!” A gut wrenching cry for help echoed from a secluded alley in the slums of Boston. An elderly woman was about lose all her earthly possessions in one fail swoop thanks to a thief with a knife. The man breathed with all the unnecessary intensity an air conditioner. With a knife to her face the woman felt powerless. She unhooked her pearls from her neck, and prepared to hand it over along with her purse. It seemed the criminal would getaway with exactly what he wanted. That would have been the case had The Butterfly decided not to put on her mask tonight.
“Ooh, aren’t you a scary fellow. It’s soooo much easier when they can’t fight back, huh?” Fiona teased upon entering through the alley way. She unsheathed her tonfa and twirled it with intended intimidation. “Let’s get a move on granny, if you wanna live to knit another sweater.”
The elderly woman moved at breakneck speed from her oppressor and thanked Fiona repeatedly. The thief just glared at her with shock and disgust written all over his beady face. “You picked the wrong night to be a hero, b***h.” Ouch. If she actually had any ******** to give, that might have actually hurt. Not as much as this beatdown was about to hurt, of course.
“Aw, tell me how you really feel!” Fiona childishly stuck her tongue out at the man. The man came charging at her with an unexpected quickness and flailed his shirt blade at her. Fiona bobbed and weaved her way out of his reach before finding an opening in his attack pattern. As soon as he swiped to her left, Fiona sidestepped and aggressively brought down the hilt of her tonfa on his hand. The force of the blow knocked the knife from his grasp. Fiona readjusted her handling of the weapon so that she now held it properly, then proceeded to strike the thief with a well executed uppercut. The thief was sent flying backwards. But he wasn’t staying down like Fiona expected.
“s**t, and here I was thinking you’d be pushing daisies after one round.” Honest surprise crossed the masked vigilante’s face as the thief rose back to his feet. Normally one good blow with this tonfa and her opponents were left seeing stars. Not wanting to waste anymore time, Fiona went on the offensive. She swung her tonfa outwards into an attack stance before charging the thief. A great martial artist knew never to attack in such a reckless manner as it left you vulnerable to error and defeat. This was her first lesson. The thief blocked the initial swings, ducking at just the right moments. His opportunity to go on the offense presented itself when Fiona tried to unload a backhanded swing with her weapon. The thief tackled her within that moment of her swing when her back faced him. Fiona hit the ground hard. The man played to the strength of his weight to prevent Fiona from wriggling out of the tight predicament. He drew another blade from his pocket and pressed against Fiona’s neck. How ironic it was that she would meet her end in an alley just like her rapist did. The thief grazed the knife across her neck to cut her ever so slightly. He proceeded to then cut the back of her leather jacket. He ripped it off her and began dragging the knife across her exposed back.
“Agh!!!” A scream poured from her lips only stopping when she decided not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had hurt her.
He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Not so tough now, huh, hero?” His breath sent shivers down her spine. Fiona was reminded of everything she promised to never be: a victim. In this moment all she could think was fight or flight. Images of her past seared her mind, filling her with rage in each passing moment. HE would not win. The Butterfly jolted her head backwards and knocked it right into the thief. That loosened his placement on top of her enough for Fiona to flip him off of her. Fiona cocked her leg back and side swiped him in the face. Frantically she grabbed his knife. The fighter held it tight within her grasp and leaped on top of the thief. “Stop!!!” He exclaimed with a sound of that was like music to her ears. Fiona plunged the knife into his chest without giving it a second thought, and did it again and again. And again…
Warm blood splattered in droplets on her face as she drove the final plunge in. Her breathing had become ragged and heavy. The sensation of killing this criminal had left her in ecstasy. Fiona stared deep into the eyes of the now deceased man. As if to see him clearer, her left hand reached up to her face to remove the leather mask concealing her identity. It seemed that the removal of the mask changed the look of her victim. No longer did he have knife wounds, but a single bullet wound to the head. “Randall…”
- Present -
“Fiona?” The doctor questioned once more, this time with more concern than demand.
Brown eyes traveled from their transfixed position back up to the eyes of the therapist. His question had left her curious about why it was she took up vigilantism. It wasn’t because she wanted to help people. The heroism aspect of what she did was just an added benefit. She wasn’t chosen by some ring or blessed with any special powers. Hell, she didn’t even have friends in this big world of superheroes. Fiona was a selfish vigilante. She became a hero so that she could fill a void that had been left in her soul. She became a hero so she could relive a rather traumatic experience over and over again, but with a different outcome. Assailants would not find satisfaction in their crimes, instead they would find death by a butterfly.
“The mask justifies everything I do and reminds me of who I’ve become.” Fiona smirked at Dr. Minoru. She removed a silver flask from her pocket and took a long swig of the brown liquid inside. “Next question?”
To Be Continued…
|| Location: Minrou's Office|| Company: You, me, and Doctor Dupree || Clothing: X ||
Tonfa Style in a Nutshell
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Posted: Thu Aug 03, 2017 3:05 pm
A.K.A Making Friends
Aromas of old leather and worn paper wafted through the office, comforting her like an old friend. Hell, they might as well have been the best of friends considering how long she had been in this office. Dr. Minoru had given her a little reprieve before finishing up the rest of this 'therapy session'. That's what they were calling it at least. If she didn't know any better, she'd believe Deacon and the others saw her as a liability. She scoffed at the idea. They were lucky she was even gracing them with her expertise. For now she was playing along. Even though it was utterly tempting to just magically disappear during her break. Fiona needed the team to trust her, and if this is what it took, then so be it because she was here for the long haul. Fiona leaned up against the Doctor's desk instead of sitting this time around. To say she was getting anxious was putting it lightly; the silver flask she was currently gulping down being quite the indication.
"You don't seem to gel well with others, but you do have friends?" Dr. Minoru asked from his luxurious brown chair. His horn-rimmed glasses complimented his round, and aging features. It was super cliche for a therapist but it worked for him. She hadn't noticed before, but for a middle eastern man of his age, he looked good. The streaks of salt and pepper throughout his hair and beard added to the endless wisdom she saw in him. Plus, he actually made graying hair look badass.
"Friends are overrated." Fiona took a hard swig of the Bulleit in her flask. The rather blunt choice of words was not without truth. You couldn't trust people farther than you could throw them nowadays.
"You are aware that a lone wolf mentality won't make your transition on to the team an easy one." Dr. Minoru warned. "Then again, I know that you are aware of that fact...Care to explain the nature of your relationship with 'Jonesy'?"
There the doctor went prying again. Fiona stared at him with sharp daggers for eyes. "Is this an interrogation or therapy? You're starting to blur the lines a bit there, maat." Fiona scoffed at him, slightly heated from his inquiry about her hacker friend. Since that file told him so much about her, why even bother asking? "And I don't see the relevance of your question." The Butterfly had already mentioned how much she did not like spilling the details of her personal life no matter how minuscule the information may seem. Yes, she did like to keep a tight circle. So tight, that the only friends she had really made outside her family was Zoa and Jonesy. Why? Because she had trust issues. The constant paranoia didn't help the matter. To her everyone could become a threat until they proved otherwise. She wasn't sure if that stemmed solely from the aftermath of her attack but as always, the good doctor had an answer.
"Victims of PTSD often have a hard time creating or maintaining relationships as a result of their trauma. In your case, that trauma was created by someone else, someone you trusted." The Doctor paused for a moment as if to gather his thoughts. "So for you to have developed such a fondness for this Jonesy is peculiar. Especially considering that he is a man, and two, the only history you two have is that you saved his life; at least according to your file. Is there a reason why this friendship has lasted? What makes him special?" Clearly satisfied with his phrasing, the doctor sat back and sipped from his water glass.
Fiona crossed her arms over her chest. She pondered what to say since the doctor did have a point. Her friendship with Jonesy was a reminder that she did have the ability to be normal. Or so she hoped. Part of her was prepared to be told by the doctor that they were only friends because of her own twisted psyche and not from anything genuine. But she knew that it was a genuine friendship she had with the hacker. Fiona really wasn't sure how to answer the Doctor's question. Maybe there was no answer? Fiona tugged aggressively at her bottom lip as her eyes casted down towards the burgundy carpet beneath her feet. In true fashion, she deflected the question once more. "Are you saying I can't make friends? 'Cause I'm actually quite charming." Fiona made her rebuttal as her feet absentmindedly began to take her around the room.
"Understanding why you let your walls down with him will allow you to do the same with others. It is necessary for you to build healthy friendships. You lack any kind of trust, and these friendships will help your healing process to rectify that." Dr. Minrou encouraged. The vigilante knew he only wanted to do his job and help her. She couldn't imagine not being as paranoid as she was. It was by keeping people at arm's length that she had managed to avoid ever getting hurt again.
Fiona stopped in front of the window of Minoru's office, and peered out to view the city skyline. A deep sigh escaped her body as she began to take a trip down memory lane. There wasn't anywhere else to begin but here. The twist of fate that made them cross paths. "Our relationship is complicated....like quid pro quo complicated, but without the sexual favors."
-------------CONT. in "Making friends" Pt. 2--------------
|| Location: The Office|| Company: Dr. Minoru|| OOTD: X ||
Tonfa Martial Arts in a Nutshell
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Posted: Thu Aug 03, 2017 3:10 pm
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