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The Life of a Juggernaut; An in-depth look at Xerox's past
Topic Started: Jan 28 2010, 03:10 AM (83 Views)
NX77
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n00b Destroyer
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This life… This time I’ve been given… What am I to do with it? All my life has been one disaster after another, and no matter how hard I try to do the right thing, I always end up in the wrong.
I remember the day my mother died. I was eight years old. I remember how broken my father had been at the loss… yet not once did he cry. Shortly after her burial, he said to me: “My son… many a hard day awaits you throughout out your life, and after the first wave of misfortunes a larger one follows. But you must remain strong; remain solid in yourself. No matter how tragic or how hopeless things seem to unravel before your eyes, you must not let that wave wash you out with it. A man must choose his own destiny, and not let the burdens of sorrow hamper his resolve. Cling to the ones you love, Xerox, but be prepared to release them upon their destruction lest their deaths weigh you down. Know this, son, and live by it.”
I have lived every damn word of this to this day.
I remember high school, and I remember hating every blasted second of it. When a sixteen-year-old was seven feet tall and had more muscles than the zoo’s 800-pound gorilla, friends were hard to come by. I recall having the entire student body flinch when I so much as raised an arm in their general vicinity. I would get A’s in all my classes, although I knew I wasn’t smart enough to have excelled more than half of them. Everyone feared me, and I couldn’t blame them. At first, I enjoyed not having to deal with my peers and not having to put any effort into my classes, but soon I longed for friends and to be challenged mentally. I tried to make friends on multiple occasions, but was almost always disappointed by terrified kids scampering away from me.
Almost always.
Ever since I was a baby, I had befriended Shane Folbrith, son of a wealthy mechanic my father was friends with. All the way through our academic years, Folbrith and I were inseparable… despite our major differences. Shane had always been the handsome, heroic figure that attracted all the females and popularity, while I didn’t give a flying crap about heroism and was lucky if a girl didn’t grimace upon seeing me. So I was VERY lucky when I met Selena. It was my senior year, and I was ready to get the hell out of there and head to military training, where my size and strength would be more appreciated. Then I met Selena. The fact that she was the one who approached me, Mr. Ugly, left me dumbfounded. She was the first and only member of the opposite sex since my mother to have shown true affection towards me. I will always remember her face, so flawless and beautiful, beaming with radiance and adoration whenever she looked upon me. Our relationship was the perfect image of that archaic earth story about “Beauty and the Beast”. After I graduated from multiple training fields in record time, I promptly married my beloved Selena. It was not long before we began our own family together. My son, Dirk, was born not a week before my dying father was laid to rest. My father, beholding my son from his hospital bed, had smiled like I hadn’t seen him smile since the days mother had lived. The death of my father stung me, but like he himself had taught me, I stayed by his side till the end and then released him willingly to whatever comes after death. The next few months were some of the happiest times of my life, as I watched Dirk grow and as I adored my Selena.
But then a bigger wave struck.
My only real friend, Shane, had been prancing about the city at night as the vigilante “Arch Angel” the past few months, installing fear in gangs, saving damsels in distress; blah blah blah insert other cliché, heroic deed here. Anyway, one night he chewed off more than he could swallow, bursting in on a drug dealing that involved a lot more armed crooks than Shane had expected. The ensuing gunfight led to my friend being paralyzed from the neck down. To make matters worst, the police came upon the scene and promptly arrested Shane for illegal heroism… that’s right, illegally saving lives. When I received the news, I was so aggravated that I didn’t think about my actions until I had committed them. Using my advanced military training and some impromptu explosives, I managed to “juggernaut” (oh, the irony) my way through the police station and free Shane Folbrith (I had to carry him, him being disabled and all). Selena was a bit less than thrilled when I brought the handicapped convict home, but I managed to calm her enough to help me pack up as many of our essential belongings as possible and flee. Or so I thought. Before we were out the door, a police ram shattered it, and Special Forces poured in, opening fire before I had time to surrender. Everything seemed to slow down, all the chaos, and my ears went deaf as I saw my wife, my sweet Selena, pierced again and again by the rain of unmerciful bullets. I was too stunned, too torn apart, to move for what seemed like an eternity. I knew it should’ve been me, not my innocent beloved, lying there dead upon the floor, but by some cruel twist of fate, my position at that moment prevented me from being shot. After the horrible sense of agony came rage. A LOT of rage. Everything that occurred after that was a blur: I only remember snapshots. I remember the terrified face of an officer before my fist connected with his head, disfiguring it beyond recognition. I remember raining down a series of kicks upon a screaming man, breaking bones after bones before he bled to death. I remember coming to my senses to find myself surrounded by over a dozen mangled and gored corpses.
After my vengeful massacre, I desperately searched for Dirk, my son, to no avail. I couldn’t find him dead or alive anywhere. Finally, as I heard sirens in the distance, I forced myself to leave, Shane slung over one shoulder and the limp body of my love over the other. I ran for miles, using my training and knowledge of the streets to avoid getting caught. Once I had sufficiently escaped, I gave Selena a burial atop a hill outside the city and let the tears come. Later on, people would say I could blame the death of my wife on Shane for getting caught or the police for rashly opening fire, but I know better. Everyday, when I wake up, I kiss the portrait of my wife and pray for her forgiveness, knowing she would still be alive if it wasn’t for me. But despite my guilt, I have accepted her death. As my father taught me, I clung to her with all my passion while she lived, and came to accept my loss when she died.
Eventually, I shook off the police for good and came in contact with a mysterious being simply known as “Creator”. With his help, I was able to restore Shane’s body to a certain degree by encasing him in a neutrally-controlled suit. Through the “Creator”, I came to meet Shadow and the first few members of DEATH Squad. When I was invited into the Squad, I agreed, not knowing what I was getting myself into. Folbrith took more convincing to join, but eventually he did. All members of DEATH Squad used an alias instead of their real names, so I chose “Juggernaut”. I chose this name because its definition fit me well: an unstoppable force. When I fought, I became invincible. I charged into fights others deemed suicidal and always came out alive and surrounded by the bodies of my enemies. Selena is what drives me. All I need to do is draw a mental image of her lifeless body, pooled in blood and staring at me, and I get myself into a frenzy, decimating all around me.
And so life goes on for me. I see another wave on the horizon, perhaps the biggest one yet, but I will stand firm and remain solid. Just like my father taught me.
Edited by NX77, Jan 28 2010, 03:20 AM.
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