No matter how someone viewed life, whether you were a glass half full or half empty. Whether you were pessimistic or optimistic, everyone would have to agree Victor Black's life was total shit.
His father was an alcoholic abusive asshole. Capable of downing multiple bottles of booze in a single sitting. He would rise only long enough to eat, take a shit, and give one of his rage-filled "why are you such a disappointment" speeches.
When he was having one of his better days he would just sit and watch old war documentaries. Taking up space on the coach, living a stationary life like a potted plant. Of course he would always make sure to get down to the bank to collect his pension the first of every month. And of course he would stop to celebrate at the local bar on his way back home.
Whatever sobriety issues were, he was without a doubt the bright and shining example of an abusive father.
In his eyes his son was nothing but a disappointment and he let him know this everyday.
He never studied hard enough, he was never disciplined enough, nor did he ever pay his father the proper respect.
He would ring him out for the slightest mistake, constantly telling him he was mooching off his father's "hard earned" money. If words didn't do the job and he failed to meet his expectations whether it be grades, sports, or chores there was no teacher better than his belt.
As a result Victor had to quickly learn to fend for himself, since his mother was a rather feeble woman. She had tried to stop her husband on a couple of occasions, but then his father would aim his fury at her instead. She then decided that the best course of action was just to pretend that everything was fine, and that they were a "happy" family.
Victor tried to earn his father's love and approval, but it was to no avail.
No matter what he tried it was never good enough. He had read stories of bright shining heroes wearing costumes who would swoop in and save the day. Upholding justice and protecting the innocent. But no matter how long he waited no hero ever came to defeat his evil father and rescue him or his mother.
Every Sunday his mother would drag him to church to pray to worship a supposed omniscient benevolent god. Yet no matter how much he prayed, or how good a person he tried to be, no miracle ever occurred.
"If god is so good and all knowing then why won't he help me?" He asked himself.
Eventually he came to the conclusion that there was no god, and if there was one he simply didn't care. So he stopped wasting his time with fantasies and praying. Instead he spent his time reading and studying. School became his only haven, but that only lasted until middle school.
After reaching eighth grade it didn't take even a week for the bullying to start. Victor's cheap clothes and dreary attitude made him an easy target. He had grown so used to being berated and tossed around he hadn't even bothered to fight back. After a month and a half of the round the clock abuse, Victor couldn't take it anymore.
He decided to report his fathers antics to the proper authorities through an anonymous tip through a pay phone. But between the department being overworked, along with his father's decorated service, the assistant made one visit and never came back. His father suspected that he had something to do with the surprise visitor so he got an extra long "education" that night.
Then he attempted to end the bullying by reporting it to the teachers. Who just delegated the matter to the principal. The principal didn't see the need to meddle with what he considered "young boys' antics", so he decided to just call Victor's parents to inform them. He hoped his parents would sort the matter out for themselves and it would be the last he heard of it. His wish came true.
Victor on the other hand received a beating and a lecture that night.
"Are you really that much of a pussy that you've learned nothing from me?!" He asked as he whipped him. Never yield! If you have a problem, face it head on like a man and handle it yourself!"
Victor felt powerless and that everything was out of his control. He was desperate, crying his eyes out that night begging someone to save him from his misery. And again all he received was silence.
The following day he felt different, his mind was clear and still. The time for crying had passed, now was the time for action.
It would be years before Victor realized that something inside of him had died that night. He no longer felt empathy, or trust, or compassion. He categorized everyone around him as either an enemy or an asset. To survive he needed the strength to fight back. Bullies after all didn't need a reason to harass you, they needed a reason not to.
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So he began a strength regime to build up his body. Everyday he would wake up two hours early and perform a calisthenics routine, and then go for a five mile run around the block. He then approached his father and asked for his permission to let him join a local Krav Maga gym. To his surprise he actually agreed, happy to see his son making an effort in becoming a man.
So began his new training regime he would focus on strength training and cardio in the morning, and practice martial arts at night. In a few months he could do several hundred push ups, squats, and core exercises at a time. And as it turned out Victor had a natural talent when it came to fighting. He wasn't the fastest or the strongest, but he was by far the most vicious, and driven of all the gym students. He could spot a hole in his opponent's defense, and perfectly time the moment to attack. Even when the instructor would teach grappling techniques that were meant to only restrain or disarm. Victor could easily see the lethal applications after only one look.
It was as exciting as it was disappointing since his talent had no real world use. Even if he went to a tournament, hits to the groin, headbutting, and eye strikes were all illegal.
For the past few months Victor had flown under the radar, trying not to draw attention to himself as he built up both his body and skill. After the first semester Victor would stop hiding from his bullies and actively seek them out. If one of them tried to accidentally "bump" into him, Victor would side step and let them fall flat on their face. Or if they tried to trip him in lunch, he would "accidentally" crush their toes. He always paid attention not to stay in the bathroom too long and whenever he was alone he would have a faculty witness nearby.
All of it came to a head during gym class. They were playing basketball that day, and Victor was lounging in the bleachers. As he took a sip of water a group of four boys made their way to him. The one leading the group was a young boy by the name of Noah Meller. He was a handsome young man with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He made friends easily and was one of the most popular kids in the whole school. Of course the only thing he could think to do with his many gifts was torment those he considered beneath him. And today that was Victor.
"Whatcha doing here all by yourself Mr edge lord?" He asked with a sarcastic tone.
Victor didn't respond, only rolling his eyes at the moniker.
"Oh not feeling talkative are we?" He asked with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Nah just don't have anything to say to a greasy haired little twat that's all." He responded back.
Noah's eyes twitched at his words, while his entourage tried and failed to keep themselves from laughing.
"You know what I'm parched." Noah said as he turned to the biggest member of his group nodding his head.
The big oaf reached out and ripped Victor's water bottle from his hand and handed it to Noah. Victor just frowned as he watched the blonde little shit drink his water.
"Aah much better." He exclaimed as he wiped his mouth. "Thanks for the water, you can have the rest."
He then splashed the rest of the water in Victor's face, getting him soaking wet. The boys started to laugh and pointed their fingers at the still expressionless boy.
"See you around edge lord." He said with a laugh as he walked away. "Be sure to bring me more water tomorrow."
As the group of four boys walked away, he noticed the rest of the class had seen what happened, and were busy snickering and giggling with each other. A small smirk broke out across Victor's face.
"Finally." He thought the time he had been waiting for was finally here.
After gym class had ended the group of boys had stayed behind in the locker room to skip math class. As they sat and talked on the benches Victor slowly entered the locker room. He had waited for all the other students to leave so he could have some alone time with the group of boys. Using the key he had swiped from the PE teacher he locked the door behind him. As he made his way inside he made his presence known.
"Hello boys." Victor said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
The group of boys became startled at first, thinking it was one of the faculty members. Until they realized who it was.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Noah asked
"Oh I just thought we should have a chat." He responded.
"Yeah you must also be looking to get your ass kicked." He said with a laugh.
At those words the big oaf that took his water bottle earlier approached him. Victor stayed calm as the much larger boy drew closer to him. Once he got close enough Victor threw the textbook he brought with him at him.
The oaf caught it by reflex and as he held it, Victor proceeded to soccer kick him right between the legs as hard as he could. The large boy dropped like a sack of potatoes clenching his family jewels as he fell. As the boy writhed in pain on the ground, Victor followed up with a second kick to his face. Victor then turned his attention to the three remaining boys.
The group of boys looked stunned by Victor's sudden violence. His instructor had told him time and time again about the necessity of violence. How violence of action shocks people making them unable to react. Victor stepped toward one of the other boys.
He hit him in the throat before he could get a word out before slamming his head into a locker. The boy slowly slumped to the floor, his face leaving a red smear of blood on the locker. Only two of the original four were still on their feet now. The third boy charged at Victor slamming him into the lockers as a frightened Noah watched. The third boy held him by the throat with both hands squeezing with all his might. Victor reached up and began bending the boy's fingers backwards forcing him to let go and then head butted him. As he yelled in pain, Victor hip tossed him to the floor. He then climbed on top of him and began to repeatedly punch him in the face.
Noah became completely terrified and tried to run for the door and get help. He pushed against the door with all his strength but it refused to open. As he continued to bang on the door and called out for help, that's when he heard whistling. He turned and found Victor just a few feet away from him. As he slowly started to walk toward him, Noah began to beg.
"No, please don't." He pleaded. "I'm sorry we were only joking around. We won't bother you again so please stop."
Victor didn't respond, just continued to walk slowly toward him. As he got closer Noah slumped down to the floor, his legs giving out on him from the sheer amount of fear.
"Please don't!" He cried tears streaming down his face. "Please!"
As Victor towered above him he slowly bent down until he was eye level with him.
"I know." Victor said calmly with no anger in his voice. "You're going to send a message for me."
Victor then reached down and made Noah look him in the eye. What he saw frightened the poor boy; he only saw cold indifference in his eyes. No anger, or rage, or any other perceivable emotion. Looking into his eyes was like looking into an empty pit.
"Message?" he asked, his voice still shaky.
"Yeah I want you to tell everyone in this school, that if they get the idea to fuck with me, dont. You got it?"
"Y-yes" he stuttered.
Victor then slammed his hand against the door right near his head.
"I couldn't hear you?"
Noah didn't respond; he just felt something warm pool beneath him. Victor heard it too and looked down, noticing that the pretty boy had sprung a leak. A smile broke out across Victor's face.
"Good," He said smiling. "Nice chat."
He then stood up and used his key to unlock the door. He walked out without looking back leaving three of the boys bloodied and beaten, and the last in a puddle of his own making.