mirage vigil. d9f. fin.

The Vigils never knew what death had in store for them. It was a doomed family from the start; two parents trying to hide their double life from a relentless child. Needles protruding from their pockets, weapons strapped to their belts, drug packets concealed behind trench coats - they could not crawl out of the hole they dug themselves into. The slums in Nine always found themselves vulnerable to gang influence, and it took everything in their power to raise their daughter properly despite the danger. Strangers came in and out of their home, Mirage watching through the keyhole in her bedroom door. Her parents tried to give her as much attention as possible, but sometimes duty called. Nights playing alone in her bedroom became boring. When she demanded their affection, they watched television together - usually the Games. Then they would wait for her to fall asleep.

When neighbors found their bullet-wounded bodies down the street, they knew exactly what they would find in the Vigil home. A lonely Mirage, sitting with her teddy bear and watching television. With no immediate family or distant relatives to turn to, Mirage was adopted by a single caretaker in a foster home.

Nobody could warn her of what trouble Mirage would bring. Her parents had noticed her quirks at a young age - the way she curled away from physical affection, the apathetic stare she gave them when they told her why they had to leave in the middle of the night. Now they were too dead to tell anybody.

Mirage did not adjust well to her new home. She hated Miss June and all of her stupid rules. She argued with her every chance she got, and broke Miss June's stuff whenever she got angry. Miss June installed locks on her doors so Mirage wouldn't steal her belongings in the middle of the night. She was a spiteful child with no love to spare. At school, she was a problem child who bullied other kids for fun. She laughed at others' misfortune, and when Miss June asked her why she did it, she simply shrugged.

Growing older did not fizzle her out. She became craftier, scarier. Miss June locked every window from the outside and placed her on a strict curfew. Mirage got tired of the control, but she couldn't hurt Miss June without facing severe consequences.

Unless she could hide it, of course.

The first time she sprinkled rat poison into Miss June's breakfast, she smiled. It was the tiniest dose possible, and she wondered what it would do, how long it would last. How much time would it buy her? As her nose began to bleed and her bowels became erratic, Miss June became too sick and too distracted to worry about Mirage. Such an easy way to get that bitch off of her coattail. She snuck out and partied as often as she pleased, indifferent to what Miss June suffered back home.

Mirage only repeated the act a few times. She didn't want to accidentally kill the woman - not because she liked her, but because she didn't want Peacekeepers dragging her away. At age seventeen, she was finally kicked out. That part didn't bother her at all; she took her shit and found the nearest brothel. She had been planning to join them for awhile now, because she was never without a backup plan.

The gig didn't last long. When a client brought his palm to her face, she wrapped her hands around his throat and squeezed until he turned blue. Her boss warned her that she couldn't hurt clients like that - it bad for business. She left soon after.

The apple never fell far from the tree, even the rotten ones. She never meant to follow in her parents' footsteps, but she was naturally drawn to unconventional jobs. Factory work and marketplaces were dreadfully boring. Where was the fun in standing around, following rules, and talking to average-minded sheep? She needed an adrenaline-infused job, one that offered power. She joined a drug pushing gang and slowly climbed through the ranks. It took every ounce of restraint in her body not to hurt those who disrespected her in the process. It was all a power trip and the higher-ups enjoyed berating new meat. Mirage was not a patient woman, but she forced herself to be.

When she earned her own position of power, she unleashed everything on those who wronged her. She mocked them, insulted them, laughed at their injuries and misfortunes because they deserved it. She became an ominous face in the gang. When clients owed money, she appeared on their doorstep as a warning. If someone betrayed them, she would be the last person they saw. Her messages to the victims were always patronizing, always laced with a sadistic amusement. She didn't care about feelings unless they benefited her. People tried to guess why she was the way that she was; was it from neglect? mistreatment? Was it possible to be born evil?

Evil was a strong word. Mirage didn't think of herself as good or evil. She certainly wasn't ethical, but she considered her desires as normal as anybody else's. She wanted power, money, and fun. She did want to have a family someday, but she never admitted that to anybody. She enjoyed responsibility and influencing others. It was usually for her own selfish desires - perhaps making her an unfit mother - but she will be the first to point out humanity's obsession with self-preservation. She was just like everybody else! Everyone wanted to be rich and protect themselves. She just had a fucked up way of achieving that goal.

But at least it was fun.