#daggersoflight

[nega-peetahrabbit]

#inktober2017 #mysterious Cloak and Dagger. The light and the dark and the mysterious shadows they cast. #cloakanddagger #thelight #thedark #shadows #darkdimension #daggersoflight #marvelheros #vigilantes #tyJohnson #tandybowen #tantonedpaper #pentelbrushpen #copicmarkers #fabercastellpittartistpen #whitejellyrollpen

[contemplativeonimaker-blog]

daggersoflight "You certainly are an interesting sight. "

[daggersoflight]

Beginnings

Once upon a time… Ugh – that’s too cliché, even for me.  Let’s just say a long time ago, in what feels like another life, I was someone different.  Actually, we both were.

Runaways – both driven away from our own homes and forced to find respite and refuge on the streets.  Of course, on the streets, you’re nothing by prey for other people.  When the evil men found us, we didn’t stand a chance: either for Ty or me.

We were locked up and hey, it would have been great if it had stopped there. But it didn’t, of course.  Wouldn’t be much of a story if it did.  They experimented on us with an addictive drug, hoping they’d find the next heroin or cocaine, I guess.  Both Ty and I watched them die, one by one.  In that tiny little room where they kept us, they all died.  Except for us. 

At first, I wished I had died with the others.  Everything was so different and strange: having these powers.  But at least I wasn’t alone in the struggle, Ty was there too – every step of the way. 

Even now, every day is a struggle as we move forward with our mission.  We fight every day to find food, to put shelter over our heads.  We have each other, but we are still running.   We chase the men like them – the men that took us; changed us. 

We are on a mission.  That must be the reason why we received these powers: to do good and to measure out justice into this world: to bring the darkness into the light.  It’s the law of retribution and vengeance that drives us.  

Tandy stands in the alley behind the church, listening to the sounds coming from the basketball court of some of the local teens having fun, egging each other on as they played.  Happy sounds. Closing her eyes, she wraps her arms around herself and lets the sounds warm her soul.  

Her calming zen is shattered with the piercing scream as a woman rushes out of a tattered brownstone nearby with wild eyes as she clutches to nearby strangers with a life or death urgency.  ‘My baby, they’re going to kill my baby!’

Gangs rule the street in this part of town and in those places; people were nothing but causalities, or currency.  Neither were acceptable to her.

A pale white light faintly glows from the crescent circle on her face as she feels the growing desire for reparation.

“It’s time, Cloak.”