The Nightmare

Posted : 4 days ago
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❚ＳＡＮＤＡＲＡＰＡＲＫ ▶▶「ＨＹＤＲＡ」

Age: 20
Position: Assassin, spy
Locations: France (birth country)
Alias: Zen Adeline Blanc

Background: Carelessly casual with every movement, Dara is one woman you wouldn’t want to meet in an alleyway alone. Being fiercely chaotic starting a fight with her usually ends in a very bloody and messy loss for one not ready to meet her fury. She prefers to not be seen as anyone threatening but the façade is a farce for the fact she is simply trained with the ability to eliminate your existence easily. While seemingly innocent she holds a secret past it would be better left unspoken.

－HISTORY－

She was born privileged, so was her little brother. Born on the sunniest day of 1992, her mother used to say. It was like the world rejoiced her birth. Everytime she remembered her mother’s words, she can’t help but scoff. How can a world rejoice the birth of a being that would soon be trained to kill the lives of countless of people? But nevertheless, it did.

She lived happily for ten years. Her life was a fairytale, until life threw her a curve ball. Well, to her it was. To her parents, it was expected. Like a ticking bomb.

Gunned men burst through their door two nights before her tenth birthday. Her mother burst through her door not a second later, her brother in her arms, and pulled them towards her closet. She knew there was a hidden room there that had stairs that led to a tunnel that housed a car on the other end. It was her closet after all. Her mother kissed her cheek and then her brothers before she closed the door on them, whispering her last words to them.

Run, mon cheri, run. And never look back. Forget us my little darlings.

And run they did. They ran as fast as they could, down the stairs and through the tunnel, but they were not fast enough to outrun their mother’s scream as their father got shot. And they were not fast enough to outrun the sound of the gunshot that killed their mother.

She thanked every single god she knew for her brother’s silence, because if he asked questions, she wouldn’t know what to say. She held on to his hand tighter as she pulled him to where a sleek black car was parked.

She was forced to throw away her childhood the moment they reached the other end of the tunnel. When they reached the black car that would take them to safety, wherever safety may be. She climbed up the driver’s seat with ease, her brother climbed up the passenger’s seat with wary eyes.

Grabbing the phone that rested on the dashboard, she flipped turned it on and flipped it open. The moment the home screen appeared, a text arrived. For her parents, it seemed. But it arrived a little too late.

They’re coming. Hide yourselves, now.

The number was blocked so she ignored it, scanning the contacts for that one name her father told her to look for when in trouble. After her text, she looked for the key.

Can you even drive, Zen?

Only he ever called her Zen. Everyone else called her Adeline. Zen was too rough, they said.

She could. She was taught every Friday, ever since she was eight. She was taught how to drive, what to do on checkpoints and how to avoid them. Best of all, she was taught what parts of the forest to drive through when she couldn’t afford to stop driving.

She then understood why she needed all those lessons that she thought she was too young to learn. Why her mother taught her seemingly random things, why she was forced to remember what certain colors stood for, why she needed to learn to speak Korean and read Hangul when she never even set foot in Korea. Why her father taught her how to drive at a too tender age.

You were supposed to be taught too, you know. You were supposed to start tomorrow. She replied as she wiped the tears from her eyes, starting the car but turning off the lights. He made a little noise of protest but decided to ask where they were going when she made a sharp turn towards a mountain trail.

Seoul.She replied as she sped through the trail only she knew a trail to safety, a trail leading to Barcelona.

—-

After driving for almost two days she parked the car near the entrance of the airport. Crawling from the driver’s seat to the back, she changed into a white dress that stopped above her knees while she threw her brother a pair of white pants and dress shirts. She opened a red bag, red for documents cheri, and pulled out two passport holders. Rummaging the bag for their passports, she stashed them on individual passport holders along with their ids before she looked for money. As soon as she found them, she put them in her mother’s floral wallet and proceeded to put it on a different bag with their clothes along with the envelope that contained the necessary documents to make their escape. Grabbing the bag, she rushed out of the car, holding her brother’s hand all the while.

You be quiet, okay? Let me talk. She told him before they entered the airport. She brought their tickets without a hitch, telling the lady that her father was busy on the phone, pointing at a random man that was on the phone outside.

This isn’t how she was supposed to spend her birthday, she was just ten but she was on the run. And she had no idea what she was running from. Tears started to sting her eyes again but she stopped herself from crying. As soon as their flight was boarding, she grabbed her brother’s arm and dashed to the front of the line.

Zen Adeline Blanc

It felt funny, hearing her name. Like it was the last time in a long time she’s going to hear somebody say it. Like it was the last time in a very long time she was going to use it. She waited for her brother to get checked before they proceeded to the plane. First class.

Ten hours later, they landed on a whole new country, the country where their new life was supposed to start.

Seoul, South Korea.

Forget.

She was asked to forget the life she had. The life filled with love, the life filled with so much promise, so much future. She grabbed her brother to the nearest restaurant, exchanging her Euros for Won, and fed him.

Can you promise me something, mon cheri? She asked him as soon as he was done eating, using the the term of endearment her mother used to use on them. Her brother nodded quietly, knowing fully well what she was going to ask. He wasn’t the smartest kid on his class for nothing.

Can you promise me you will forget? Forget everything. Tuck it in the darkest, dustiest corner of your mind and never return there. Can you, for me? He nodded without a word. She knew it was futile. That he won’t ever forget, just like she won’t. She nodded back before she pulled out the same phone and texted the same man.

We are here now.

Moments later, she saw her brother’s eyes grow wide before she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw a man about twice her age smiling down at her. He looked dashing in all back. Like he was a part of the shadows, even though he was pale.

You must be Sandara, and you Sanghyun. I’m your father’s friend. He sat on one of the empty chairs and turned to her. I’m sorry about what happened to your parents, but I can’t change anything now. I know your mother told and taught you things. What to do, when to do it and why. You know what to do now, right?

She could feel her brother’s questioning gaze set on her, and it tore her. With a nod, she turned to her brother before she motioned for his passport holder. Digging inside the bag, she handed him a blue bag that contained his new life. The man nodded, smiling a sad smile, before catching the boy that started to lose consciousness. Carrying the boy out, with her in tow, she led both of them into a car.

You can leave him a message, if you want. He told her as he handed a pen and paper. With a nod, she wrote in Hangul, she knew that Sanghyun won’t be able to read it yet and it will buy her time, because that’s all she needed. Time. She needed time to track down the enemy before him.

Sanghyun,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry but I needed to. I know who the enemy is, Sanghyun. I know who killed them. And I’m leaving you to protect you. If you wish to follow, you can, if you wish to forget me, much better. And I’d be happier if you would.

Remember when I asked you to forget? To tuck in every single memory of our life in France into the darkest corner of your mind? Please do it. Because I need you to stay safe. And forgetting is the only way.

You are Park Sanghyun now. Forget who you were. Forget who I am, if you can. This is you now.

I love you Sanghyun.

Love again. Live again. This time, live better.

Saranghae, mon cheri.

She intended to write everything in Hangul but it was as if she heard her mother whisper her little term of endearment and she couldn’t help but write it down for the sake of it. She folded the paper and tucked it on his breast pocket, securing it with one of her colourful bobby pins.

This is it, Dara. This is your goodbye to him. The man told her. She nodded as she fixed his hair, unwilling to shed the tears that formed in her eyes.

What will happen to him? To me? She asked, holding her unconscious brother’s hand.

I don’t know what will happen to him but you, I will train you. I teach you how to hold a gun, how to throw a knife, how to maim, how to kill. Because you will have to. You can watch him if you want, but only from afar. He’s your only family and I won’t take that from you. He turned around to face her, eyes mourning. You made him promise to forget. Now make a promise to him. Promise him you won’t. That no matter what, you will remember. Because at the end of the day, it is the reason why you’re here. So promise him, promise me, promise yourself revenge.

She could only nod, eyes downcast, a million things running through her mind.

How did everything turn out this way? Why was she robbed of her happiness? Of her childhood? Of her family? Of her brother?

Who is the enemy? She asked as she let go of her brother. The man soundlessly went out of the car and opened the backdoor, taking out her brother and walking towards the entrance of an orphanage. Fifteen minutes later he came back, sans her brother.

Remember two names. Castor and SHIELD. They are never to be trusted. You are Hydra now. The only person you can trust now is yourself. Build a wall around you and never let anyone get in. That’s the only way you’ll live. That’s the only way you get to protect him. The only way you get to avenge them. He told her as he started the engine and drove away from the orphanage.

How do I know I can trust you then, Mr. Lee? She asked without fear. He laughed, he looked younger when he laughed. Looking at her through the rear view mirror, his reply was short and straight.

You don’t.

—-

She is often asked ‘What brought you here?’ A question she could easily answer but always choose not to. Not because her life was so unspeakable, not because what happened to her was unthinkable, but it was because she no longer regarded revenge as hell. She came to terms with the fact that she has already drowned in her sins, in the blood of the wicked, that although she still wants revenge, it is no longer the thing that drives her.

She does the things she does because she is addicted. Addicted to the feel of passing judgement to those who are already neck deep in hell.

Personality: Her façade is a mask of a bubbly, carefree and child like person. She is always smiling and laughing, she is always upbeat and optimistic. But even she can’t keep up her happy façade. Whenever she gets too tired of keeping up her mask or she just can’t be bothered to, she tends to sleep. It was her own little way of escaping her life. She likes to sleep most of the time. But Sandara takes a complete hundred and eighty degree turn once involved in a fight or is sent to kill. She just puts down her walls and lets her trigger happy self consume her. She likes to make it rain blood whenever she gets do decide how a fight is supposed to end, especially if it’s a fight against the people she hated the most.

Skills: She specializes in killing, spying and interrogating.

Her lies are so believable, even a polygraph believes it. She is so good with pretending that she manages to blur what’s real and what’s not but, in the end, she always pulls herself out without a hitch with the needed information or object in her possession.

She knows how to wield a blade and a gun. A blade for torture and interrogation, when things get rough and subjects become uncooperative, and a bullet for when things needed to be clean and fast. She loves dramatics and torture before death is always a good way to practice it, but she rarely manages to do it. There is never enough time. She sticks with her hand guns and knives, opting to get as close as possible to her targets. Just to get the pleasure of seeing life leave them. She is after all, a monster when unleashed.

Weapons: She never leaves home without a set of throw knives strapped on her leg, or both. If she needs to threaten or to interrogate, she uses her butterfly knife, her brass knuckles or her throw daggers. But when things get serious and she needs to kill, she trusts her Gloc 35 and her HK P2000 the most.

Weaknesses: Sandara is by no means fearless and unbreakable even though, most of the time, she acts like it. Hiding behind her seemingly monstrous self is the child that lost what was supposed to be a happy life. Her fears and weaknesses sprouted from that loss.

She was asked not to trust anyone. She was asked to build a wall to protect her heart from the rest of the world. And she did. But somehow, some people managed to slip past it and entered her life. They attached themselves to her and in the end, they made themselves matter. They became her weakness. She would do anything to protect those that managed to crawl their way to her heart. It wouldn’t matter how they’re connected to her, if they are in any kind of danger or if they need her, she’d do anything in her power to save them. Even if it means she lay down her life.

She hates deep water, the feeling of drowning and the feeling of death. She slipped and fell in a lake when she was a child and almost died. She never really got over the fear of being so helpless and hopeless. No matter how many times she tried to overcome her fear, she couldn’t. That certain memory of the light fading, the warmth of life leaving her and the water filling her lungs manages to crawl back to her and the fear creeps like cold winter chill down her spine. So, no matter how much she loves the smell of the sea, she doesn’t dare go near it for fear of drowning, for fear of dying.

URL: dara-hydra

The Nightmare

out

Alive for an hour…

Hello, let’s plot!

-Life Under Construction-