I wrote and illustrated this story over a period of 5 years, published by the magazine HegemonyShift. Primarily influenced by "The Chinese Connection", I then added characters who were a mix of imagination and people I actually knew.
Each illustration was based on real individuals.
Edited by Mike Routliffe.
Blood on the Tracks
Prologue
Part I: Enfant D’ Enfer
Shanghai November 1881
The young Master stands in the pouring rain, water flickering on his face, the memory of his beloved is still as present as life can be. A man in a yellow robe is still talking about Chen Zhen and as the rain keeps falling the coffin is being lowered, and the cries and the weeping play in his mind like a faraway song. With the determination and a will as strong as the dragon, his decision was made.
The white linen fell perfectly on his dark clothing, turning curves into lines, heavy with water, the flow he can feel throughout his entire body.
The evening has come.
The brutal Japanese occupation is never-ending, and even though the school will be allowed to stay open. Li has no hope any more. The far away and new country is his next only destination.
Some will believe he is running away.
Others will believe he is a traitor.
But deep in his heart he knows the rumours will only be follies.
As he stands still in the rain, while everyone is gone, he draws his future life in his mind.
He will rebuild. He does not yet have the skills. But he knows with certainty that a master he will become.
He doesn’t wonder in unknown places any more. His mind has never been this clear. He can foresee, the path the school will take. He knows changes will be made. Major and intense changes. Most of them he will have know control over, but he will be the legacy.
A forbidden word re-enters his watery mind. A word of thunder.
Revenge.
The highest love is still present, but the good must be protected at all costs. Chen Zhen might have been right.
He will rebuild and advocate. He will co-ordinate and teach, and after, long after his death he knows the time will come, and the truth will cut like a sword.
A short but sharp cracking noise, like a branch being stepped on, rake him away from his state of fullness. In seconds he’s turned into a lethal weapon. The young female child looks at him, half-scared, half-fascinated.
Li focuses on her so intently that the child begins ( ? ). The young man walks toward her, and as the child is still nervous, kneels in front of her.
-What is your name?
-Kindvan Hel
-I never heard such a name, what is the significance of it?
-My father was from a faraway land, whispers the child. He gave me the name after my mother died.
A silence appears and the music of the rain is all they can hear. As if, surrounded by a veil, they feel a strange but agreeable intimacy.
-What does it mean? Asks Li, at last.
-Child from Hell.
-From now on, Li says with such a powerful voice that Kindvan Hel shivers, every single ( ? ) sense will carry your name child. May the powers always stand on our side. May the good be avenged, and the evil pierced to their death. As he said that, he finally realizes the most important decision he will ever make. The warriors will have to be female. All but one, says the uncontrollable voice in his head.
“Always” says the voice before bringing an eternal silence.
Li rises up, the water still falling down, straight and pretty, and takes the small hand in his palm.
-You are alone.
-Yes murmured the child.
-You are coming with me. We are going far away. Come in my arms. I will always protect you, and the warmth of my body will teach you the powers. After your growth, the roles will inverse, the legacy will be you. You will never die, for a warrior queen will always be with you, in you, the exterior of who you are, who you will become.
Li takes the child in his arms and while the rain has doubled in intensity, walks away from the cemetery, to never be seen again on that continent.
Part II: The Burial
San Francisco November 17th 2003
The weather has created a pattern with time.
As the rain keeps falling, the mourning goes on. The memories, as painful as they are, bring everyone together. A procession a ritual to the adored soul. The Mission Dolores Church Cemetary is almost deserted, but the rain drums on the ground and on the heads of the supreme six.
The Leader stands still, well above the others.
Her memories are mixed with regrets and concerns. It has become her role to lead, so fast and unexpected that she can feel her heart being crushed in her chest. Still, she stands still and listens to the priest, her eyes on the coffin, seeing red again.
She has inherited the highest duty. She will find the next “Child from Hell”. She will follow the scriptures and turn it into the most powerful scene of all time. She will....
The pain is growing, and for the first time tears are knocking at her eye’s door. The image of her master is growing to intensely for her. The face. The lips. The way she walked and fought. The touch of her hand, soaked beyond reason, raises her eyes, letting them come to rest on the solid face of Mykl.
As Devilicious still wonders about the true meaning of his presence. She more than anyone, follows the sacred scriptures.
-“One male. And one male only”
“He will have the sacred mark on his back.”
“He will stand will all of you, and will have the ultimate balance.”
As she watched the handsome man, she acknowledged in silence, that she didn’t understand him. But she accepted.
Further in the back. Far from anyone else, she stands where she wants, protected by the massive oak tree which she sees as a cherry blossom tree.
She don’t mix. She ain’t like other people And he ain’t like them either.
She touches the wet ground, the dark mud. Her fingertips stained, she brings them to her mouth and sucks them dry. The rate of dirt mixed with water is smoothing. Again, she looks at the burial scene. She never cries. She likes to stand alone in the dark. She sleeps with her weapons and the taste of blood. She is never afraid. She smiles and touches the mud again. I’m ready is the only thought that comes to her mind now.
Tonight is our night. Oktavia takes one of her Shiriken, turns it over a little in her hand, brings it to her mouth, then climbs the gigantic tree.
Mykl Magus is in perfect control of his mind. A complete and silent control. He feels not the rain falling. He is above the elements. Memories have little effect on him. But his mind is set. They all had their minds set after the death of their beloved sensei was poisoned again. The story seems to repeat itself. Instantly, his mind says No. And for the first time in days, a smile appears at the corner of his mouth. The time has truly come. The ultimate battle. The one to solve all battles is being held tonight. They will come to conquer, but we will be waiting. With blood and pain we will thank them. They will get no decent burial. Suddenly he feels a soft touch. Something on his face and shoulder. He turns his face faster than any human can. His eyes are his leader’s eyes. He is surprised by his smile. Then she understands. Their inter connectivity is at its peak. Indeed, Mykl is right. The time has come. She closes her eyes at last. She tries to project the events that will take place later on. She can see herself, her 2-handed sword in hand, her face splashed with her enemies blood. Her dark hair falling across her face. The vision stops abruptly.
A hand is on her shoulder. A friendly hand. She opens her eyes and turns her head at the same time, allowing her face to dance a strange dance. Lucid Poetress is standing right beside the leader as she always does. As soon as ‘ eyes are filled with hers, Lucid whispers:
“It’s your turn master. The priest just finished. Your voice must be heard”
She looks around, and the familiar faces ease the pain a little. She walks toward the hole, the master’s new residence, closely followed by Lucid.
The kid doesn’t care.
Or does she?
She is crying, heavily but silently. She can’t control her emotions. She feels weak and lost. Her beauty doesn’t mean anything any more. She looks at the ground and keeps on weeping. She has no will left. No strength, and very little hope.
Her white and black hair, mixed with emotions and water make her look young and fragile. With tears as clear as a lost lake, and dark eye-liner, she is the XXX Emotional Kid. She is a little naïve. She likes birds and rats. The soft smell of her master is still present, comforting and guiding.
The music from Japan fills her head as her eyes close themselves. The childhood, her childhood, brutalized and raped, stolen from her. The cries and the blood, her head turns for the first time. The black veil and the powerful feeling that always follows. The carnage...
Who’s the next follower. And that sense of peace and achievement.
The light-haired woman walked closer to her. There was no fear. No pain, no tortured mind any more. Just a motion of peace. Only this white hand and a seriousness in the moment. And never a smile. The long voyage. The painful learning curve. The others and the challenging path to control. The never-ending white hand. Her face in her hair. The “I will always be there” which was never said. And at last, the control over the demon inside. The duality then, ceased to be an act of the devil. It had become a powerful friend. XXX Emotional Kid raises her head silently as is still talking and for the first time she can look the future in the eyes. No fear is left. Because, more than any others, she is the Berserker.
Listening
Listening and analyzing then acting.
A katana As sharp as a mind.
A leather coat.
An L and a P.
She liked to dance. Before...
Before Sarah.
Before Sarah and Mary.
No emotions left. Only a strength. The Strength.
Lucid can have many thoughts at once and can control them all.
To that extent she is unique. A fragile soul with a robust shield.
Devilicious has paused for a few seconds.
Lucid observes and stands.
The rain will never stop falling. The clouds are getting darker. The light will be obscured and cold very soon.
For an instant, the glittering music of the rain transports her to the faraway lands she likes so much. The huge yellow river. The people working in the fields. Her master walking beside her. The warmth. The little wind with its perfumes and white butterflies.
Lucid looks at the kid and shares her pain. She can heal people. She has this power, too.
As the kid raises her head, Lucid has done her work. Or part of it.
After tonight, it will finally be completed.
Voila, that's all for now folks.
Suite and end tomorrow.
Sincerely,
Serge
Janeiro 19th
Each illustration was based on real individuals.
Edited by Mike Routliffe.
Blood on the Tracks
Prologue
Part I: Enfant D’ Enfer
Shanghai November 1881
The young Master stands in the pouring rain, water flickering on his face, the memory of his beloved is still as present as life can be. A man in a yellow robe is still talking about Chen Zhen and as the rain keeps falling the coffin is being lowered, and the cries and the weeping play in his mind like a faraway song. With the determination and a will as strong as the dragon, his decision was made.
The white linen fell perfectly on his dark clothing, turning curves into lines, heavy with water, the flow he can feel throughout his entire body.
The evening has come.
The brutal Japanese occupation is never-ending, and even though the school will be allowed to stay open. Li has no hope any more. The far away and new country is his next only destination.
Some will believe he is running away.
Others will believe he is a traitor.
But deep in his heart he knows the rumours will only be follies.
As he stands still in the rain, while everyone is gone, he draws his future life in his mind.
He will rebuild. He does not yet have the skills. But he knows with certainty that a master he will become.
He doesn’t wonder in unknown places any more. His mind has never been this clear. He can foresee, the path the school will take. He knows changes will be made. Major and intense changes. Most of them he will have know control over, but he will be the legacy.
A forbidden word re-enters his watery mind. A word of thunder.
Revenge.
The highest love is still present, but the good must be protected at all costs. Chen Zhen might have been right.
He will rebuild and advocate. He will co-ordinate and teach, and after, long after his death he knows the time will come, and the truth will cut like a sword.
A short but sharp cracking noise, like a branch being stepped on, rake him away from his state of fullness. In seconds he’s turned into a lethal weapon. The young female child looks at him, half-scared, half-fascinated.
Li focuses on her so intently that the child begins ( ? ). The young man walks toward her, and as the child is still nervous, kneels in front of her.
-What is your name?
-Kindvan Hel
-I never heard such a name, what is the significance of it?
-My father was from a faraway land, whispers the child. He gave me the name after my mother died.
A silence appears and the music of the rain is all they can hear. As if, surrounded by a veil, they feel a strange but agreeable intimacy.
-What does it mean? Asks Li, at last.
-Child from Hell.
-From now on, Li says with such a powerful voice that Kindvan Hel shivers, every single ( ? ) sense will carry your name child. May the powers always stand on our side. May the good be avenged, and the evil pierced to their death. As he said that, he finally realizes the most important decision he will ever make. The warriors will have to be female. All but one, says the uncontrollable voice in his head.
“Always” says the voice before bringing an eternal silence.
Li rises up, the water still falling down, straight and pretty, and takes the small hand in his palm.
-You are alone.
-Yes murmured the child.
-You are coming with me. We are going far away. Come in my arms. I will always protect you, and the warmth of my body will teach you the powers. After your growth, the roles will inverse, the legacy will be you. You will never die, for a warrior queen will always be with you, in you, the exterior of who you are, who you will become.
Li takes the child in his arms and while the rain has doubled in intensity, walks away from the cemetery, to never be seen again on that continent.
Part II: The Burial
San Francisco November 17th 2003
The weather has created a pattern with time.
As the rain keeps falling, the mourning goes on. The memories, as painful as they are, bring everyone together. A procession a ritual to the adored soul. The Mission Dolores Church Cemetary is almost deserted, but the rain drums on the ground and on the heads of the supreme six.
The Leader stands still, well above the others.
Her memories are mixed with regrets and concerns. It has become her role to lead, so fast and unexpected that she can feel her heart being crushed in her chest. Still, she stands still and listens to the priest, her eyes on the coffin, seeing red again.
She has inherited the highest duty. She will find the next “Child from Hell”. She will follow the scriptures and turn it into the most powerful scene of all time. She will....
The pain is growing, and for the first time tears are knocking at her eye’s door. The image of her master is growing to intensely for her. The face. The lips. The way she walked and fought. The touch of her hand, soaked beyond reason, raises her eyes, letting them come to rest on the solid face of Mykl.
As Devilicious still wonders about the true meaning of his presence. She more than anyone, follows the sacred scriptures.
-“One male. And one male only”
“He will have the sacred mark on his back.”
“He will stand will all of you, and will have the ultimate balance.”
As she watched the handsome man, she acknowledged in silence, that she didn’t understand him. But she accepted.
Further in the back. Far from anyone else, she stands where she wants, protected by the massive oak tree which she sees as a cherry blossom tree.
She don’t mix. She ain’t like other people And he ain’t like them either.
She touches the wet ground, the dark mud. Her fingertips stained, she brings them to her mouth and sucks them dry. The rate of dirt mixed with water is smoothing. Again, she looks at the burial scene. She never cries. She likes to stand alone in the dark. She sleeps with her weapons and the taste of blood. She is never afraid. She smiles and touches the mud again. I’m ready is the only thought that comes to her mind now.
Tonight is our night. Oktavia takes one of her Shiriken, turns it over a little in her hand, brings it to her mouth, then climbs the gigantic tree.
Mykl Magus is in perfect control of his mind. A complete and silent control. He feels not the rain falling. He is above the elements. Memories have little effect on him. But his mind is set. They all had their minds set after the death of their beloved sensei was poisoned again. The story seems to repeat itself. Instantly, his mind says No. And for the first time in days, a smile appears at the corner of his mouth. The time has truly come. The ultimate battle. The one to solve all battles is being held tonight. They will come to conquer, but we will be waiting. With blood and pain we will thank them. They will get no decent burial. Suddenly he feels a soft touch. Something on his face and shoulder. He turns his face faster than any human can. His eyes are his leader’s eyes. He is surprised by his smile. Then she understands. Their inter connectivity is at its peak. Indeed, Mykl is right. The time has come. She closes her eyes at last. She tries to project the events that will take place later on. She can see herself, her 2-handed sword in hand, her face splashed with her enemies blood. Her dark hair falling across her face. The vision stops abruptly.
A hand is on her shoulder. A friendly hand. She opens her eyes and turns her head at the same time, allowing her face to dance a strange dance. Lucid Poetress is standing right beside the leader as she always does. As soon as ‘ eyes are filled with hers, Lucid whispers:
“It’s your turn master. The priest just finished. Your voice must be heard”
She looks around, and the familiar faces ease the pain a little. She walks toward the hole, the master’s new residence, closely followed by Lucid.
The kid doesn’t care.
Or does she?
She is crying, heavily but silently. She can’t control her emotions. She feels weak and lost. Her beauty doesn’t mean anything any more. She looks at the ground and keeps on weeping. She has no will left. No strength, and very little hope.
Her white and black hair, mixed with emotions and water make her look young and fragile. With tears as clear as a lost lake, and dark eye-liner, she is the XXX Emotional Kid. She is a little naïve. She likes birds and rats. The soft smell of her master is still present, comforting and guiding.
The music from Japan fills her head as her eyes close themselves. The childhood, her childhood, brutalized and raped, stolen from her. The cries and the blood, her head turns for the first time. The black veil and the powerful feeling that always follows. The carnage...
Who’s the next follower. And that sense of peace and achievement.
The light-haired woman walked closer to her. There was no fear. No pain, no tortured mind any more. Just a motion of peace. Only this white hand and a seriousness in the moment. And never a smile. The long voyage. The painful learning curve. The others and the challenging path to control. The never-ending white hand. Her face in her hair. The “I will always be there” which was never said. And at last, the control over the demon inside. The duality then, ceased to be an act of the devil. It had become a powerful friend. XXX Emotional Kid raises her head silently as is still talking and for the first time she can look the future in the eyes. No fear is left. Because, more than any others, she is the Berserker.
Listening
Listening and analyzing then acting.
A katana As sharp as a mind.
A leather coat.
An L and a P.
She liked to dance. Before...
Before Sarah.
Before Sarah and Mary.
No emotions left. Only a strength. The Strength.
Lucid can have many thoughts at once and can control them all.
To that extent she is unique. A fragile soul with a robust shield.
Devilicious has paused for a few seconds.
Lucid observes and stands.
The rain will never stop falling. The clouds are getting darker. The light will be obscured and cold very soon.
For an instant, the glittering music of the rain transports her to the faraway lands she likes so much. The huge yellow river. The people working in the fields. Her master walking beside her. The warmth. The little wind with its perfumes and white butterflies.
Lucid looks at the kid and shares her pain. She can heal people. She has this power, too.
As the kid raises her head, Lucid has done her work. Or part of it.
After tonight, it will finally be completed.
Voila, that's all for now folks.
Suite and end tomorrow.
Sincerely,
Serge
Janeiro 19th
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