Histoire de la Scorpion Rouge

The Red Scorpions

2009-10-20T05:20:00.000-07:00

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

So.. it's finally over! The story is complete but.. it won't stop there. I promise. Now that her life story's done, we move on to this:

Next book will be The Red Scorpion: Rivals featuring Lt. Khutulun Khan and the Black Cricket. I disclaim both.

Oh, and read Blood and Gore too!

All artworks by Alexei Kazansky. Now go check out his DA. XD

The Red Scorpion, Chapter 5

2009-10-20T00:33:00.001-07:00

2024
Pic La Selle

She hugged her knees close to her chest, staring out into the horizon. The blood-stained mercenary watched as the sun slowly disappeared under the vast stretch of forest beneath her, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. She continued to stare out into the distance, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips until the darkness of the night enveloped her.
She closed her eyes, savoring as the memory of the hard-fought battle hours ago flashed before her - black horsemen ridding atop jet-black horses; the clash of swords, steel against steel; gunshots disturbing the silence of the forest around her; the battle cry of her men; explosions caused by the tanks; the rancid smell of burning, dying, decaying flesh. Her enemies never stood a chance. She smiled. Ciel would’ve been very proud. If only he could see her now.
At the mention of her Mentor, her thoughts shifted to that of a time when her days and nights were devoted to learning how to fight. Honing her skills for combat… For revenge. Her anger consumed her. Ciel fostered it. Used to it to push her to her limits. Vengeance fueled her need to prepare herself for the day when she faced her parents’ killers. Retribution drove her to committing the one act that she would regret all her life. She remembered it all too vividly…

**********
2024, A few months ago
Ciel’s Chambers
Section A (Red Scorpion Tactical Command)
Char de combat Invisible des Scorpions Rouges (CISR)

“You called?” Nicolette asked, pushing the carbon fiber-covered aluminum door behind her, directly her question to the smiling man, bed-ridden yet maintaining about him an air of command and respect. She picked her way about the chamber and sat near his side.
Ciel waved a hand at his nurse, currently pouring copious amounts of what looked, disgustingly enough, like yellowish-green vomit, to an overflowing cup. The nurse set the cup down and promptly left.
Nicolette made a face and turned to Ciel, helping him to recline amongst the many big fluffy pillows surrounding the bed. He caught her hand in his.
“Say yes to him, child.”
Nicolette blinked, thoroughly confused. “Say yes to who?” A smile was all she got in return. She shook her head and grinned, “Riddles. Again. I have no idea what you’re on about, old man.”
Ciel reached up and touched her cheek, “I’m not losing you to the Avalon Knights, cherie. You came to me for revenge, but I won’t have it. Marry Alastaire, lead the Scorpions. Don’t go chasing down trouble.”
She looked at him, startled, “You knew?! All this time, you knew about my search but you kept your silence.” Disbelief laced her words.
Ciel sighed and nodded, silent as she figured out his intention to keep her safe.
Nicolette stood up in defiance, fists clenched, “No. I’m going after the bastards who killed my parents and my entire village. All these years I’ve waited and waited for a chance to face them, to fight them and I’m not about to let a sick, bedridden man ruin my plans. So no, I’m going to set out and wipe them all out whether you like it or not.” With that, she turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door at her wake.
And search them out, she did. She left the Red Scorpions to bring down her wrath on the men that raided her village years ago. She spent years gathering information about them.
The Black Avalon Knights were a family of elite assassins who, obviously, love to dwell on the past. They were excellent horsemen and revel in the glory of killing atop their black horses for pleasure. Clearly, they were nothing but a bunch of rich, bloodthirsty folks with no purpose whatsoever but annihilate any village they come across. Or so she thought.
She was lucky that she only had to face a quarter of the family when she discovered their château. Facing the whole Avalon Knights would’ve led to her death, only because their numbers would’ve overwhelmed her.
Their fortified power house, perched near the side of the cliff, was surrounded by a thick solid wall and a keep. It looked ancient, at the least, and has maintained its grandeur. Getting inside posed a problem.
Her research unearthed a very important fact – the Avalon Knights financed the Black Army. In return, the Black Army took all the blame in the Knights’ escapades. And every month or so, a convoy of Black Army soldiers would be granted permission to get inside for their supplies. Nicolette took her chance.
Sneaking up on a pissing Black Guard, she slit his throat and took his clothes, leaving him to die on the forest floor. She joined the convoy to get in and hid herself long after the Black Guards left.
Night fell. She took her time waiting. Sneaking around, she poisoned the water supply with Poison Hemlock to ensure that no Avalon survived her mass massacre. One by one, she slaughtered them. The sun rose on spilled blood.
Her victory, however, was short-lived. She went back to the Red Scorpion camp of find the bodies of her Mentor and the majority of her comrades, piled up, dead, on the forest floor.
**********

The light sound of familiar footsteps snapped her out of reverie. A pair of dust-covered boots, stopping beside her, “The men need your orders, Scorpion.”
Nicolette nodded once, slightly turning her head towards the sound, “Set up the perimeter. We’re camping here tonight. Tomorrow, we set out for France.”
“With all due respect, Scorpion, but...” Nicolette’s second-in-command hesitated, “France?”
Nicolette grinned and got up, brushing the dirt off her clothes, “Yes, France.” Her hand briefly touched the Deagle holstered on her hip, “An old friend awaits us.”

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The Red Scorpion, Chapter 4

2009-10-20T00:32:00.001-07:00

2022
Pic La Selle
On the border of the Dominican Republic
Haiti

“Alaistaire! Hey, wait up!” Nicolette called out, pushing wayward branches out of the way.
The forest surrounding her was dark, eerie and thick. Barely any sunlight permeated through the closely-knit trees. Nicolette and Alaistaire have been traveling for almost a year. After months of rigorous research, they had finally picked up information on the elusive elite French mercenaries’ whereabouts. Or at least, their ‘rumored’ whereabouts. The Red Scorpions proved to be elusive indeed. So far, they have been scouring more than a dozen of forests and jungles all over Haiti, each one harsher than the last. The area on the foot of Pic La Selle on the border with the Dominican Republic was their last chance of finding the Scorpions.
Still no sign of the mercenaries. Nicolette was starting to lose hope and faith together with her waning energy. It wasn’t their constant searching and wandering that exhausted her but, rather, handling Alaistaire’s pain and disappointment after yet another failed attempt to locate the Scorpions. Already, a part of her was fervently wishing that they have never left the orphanage in search of an army that may already have been wiped out.
She caught a glimpse of her lovers’ dark black hair and doubled her efforts to keep up. In her haste, she tripped as a particularly nasty branch slapped her face, leaving a small cut on her right cheek. Swiping away at the blood that made its way slowly down her chin, she stumbled on the last few steps before she bumped into Alaistaire.
Sunlight hit her squarely in the face and she brought a hand up to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. She surveyed her environment while absently brushing away the irritating creature that was attempting to climb up her neck.
They were in a clearing and much deserted by the looks of it. Her face crumpled in disappointment, and, sighing, she turned to Alaistaire, noting the same disheartened look that mirrored hers in his otherwise boyish face. “Come on, my love. Let’s get back to get some rest.”
Another dead end.. Another heartbreak.. Another long sleepless night where the responsibility of mending his broken heat and putting the pieces back together again falls on her heavy and already-burdened heart.
Alaistaire glanced at her and gave a tiny shrug, golden brown eyes shining with renewed hope, “They were here. We just missed them.”
She shook her head in frustration, “Enough, Alaistaire!” Her belief in the Scorpions have dissipated which was evident in the reprimand she gave him, her voice echoing throughout the empty clearing, rising to a full shout. She was breathing heavily as she reached the end of her tirade. Her anger had taken hold of her and she blurted out the words that she had long wanted to tell him. “The Red Scorpions do NOT exist!” she finished, immediately regretting her words at Alaistaire's apparent despair.
Her words rang back at her, eventually swallowed by the forest behind her. Cold steely silence fell but not before a chilling whisper made the hair on the back of her neck stand up on end, “Au contraire.” Both she and Alaistaire whirled around in a flash to face their would-be attacker, fists clenched and raised, poised in defense.
A man, 6 feet tall, stood before them, his aristocratic face set in calm demeanor with his hands clasped behind his back. “The Red Scorpions do exist,” he said, regal and fit to be called an angel, the soft breeze playing his mass of blond locks. His serene face was a sharp contrast to the dark and foreboding forest background behind him. Startling aquamarine eyes sparkled as a soft smile graced his features. He took a step towards them and reached out to gently lower their fists, his placid voice saintly and composed. “I am Ciel, the Scorpion.”
The man had piercing blue eyes and wore a maroon cap with a black tactical vest. He held a Steyr Aug in his right hand, and had a cigarette in his left. He motioned for the two of them to come with him.

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The Red Scorpion, Chapter 3

2009-10-20T00:31:00.002-07:00

2021
The new Orphanage
France

A shrill alarm sounded, forcing Nicolette awake. “Fuck,” she muttered. Sitting up and glancing around, she sighed as the bitter reality of her whereabouts hit her. “I’m back at the orphanage. Great.”
“Talking to your self, again, Nic? You know, that’s a sign of insanity. Wow… insane at seventeen.”
She jumped at the voice and clutched the flimsy blanket close to her body. Realizing who it was, she grabbed her pillow and threw it across the room to the bed opposite hers, “You idiot! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
A soft thump followed by a string of colorful words was heard as the pillow hit the intended target. Giggles followed suit as the other two occupants of the room started to rise but was quickly cut short as another alarm sounded.
Nicolette made a disgusted sound at the wake-up call, “I swear to the gods above that woman got a banshee for an alarm.” She pulled on a sweater and climbed down the bunk beds, repulsed as the thought of the orphanage resembling a barrack ran across her head.
“So, what do you think we get for breakfast?” asked her cheery blue-eyed roommate.
“Us,” she replied seriously, starting out the door. “…If we don’t get our asses there in time.”

“Nicolette!!”
The annoyingly loud command made her wince and added to her already gloomy mood. Her hands were already hurting from sweeping the debris left by the fire almost a year ago and the heat of the sun, unbearable. “What?” She snapped, earning her a sharp whack on the head followed by a slap to the face. “Fuck!” she cursed, rubbing at the sore spot on her cheek.
“Don’t you use that language on me, little girl.” the big lady looming over her boomed.
She scowled at being called a ‘little’ girl and glared at the caretaker. “What do you want now?”
“Alaistaire called for you, little girl.” she answered, a smirk full of malice in place.
She rolled her eyes, stomping off towards the orphanage.

A sense of foreboding ran down her spine as she walked the length of the hall. The imposing oak doors came into view, adding up to her uneasiness. She took slow and deliberate steps, delaying whatever it was that awaits her beyond those doors. She breathed in deeply as she prepared to push the doors open, bracing herself.
“One would think you’re afraid of me with that look on your face, mon cher.”
The dark room and the fire casting eerie shadows made her scoff, “Now all you need is background music and your setup would be perfect.”
A slow languid laugh resounded as Alaistaire turned on the swivel chair to face her. “Sarcastic as ever eh, Nicolette?” He said her name in almost a purr.
She raised her eyebrow at him but said nothing.
A momentary silence enveloped the room before she decided to cut through it, “What do you want, Alaistaire?” she asked, spitting out his name.
A smile formed on his lips, making the atmosphere melodramatic in her opinion.
“Do you want to leave, mon cher?”
His question caught her off-guard. She opened her mouth to reply but he beat her at it.
“No, don’t answer that. I know you do.”
She gaped at him, struck speechless by his new-found bluntness.
“How about this, love? We leave tonight. Together.”
Together. The word echoed through her brain, snapping her out from her shock. “What?!”

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The Red Scorpion, Chapter 2

2009-10-20T00:31:00.001-07:00

2020
Still at the Orphanage
France

Nicolette woke up with a start. The intense heat had troubled her awake. Smoke alerted her to her senses. A distant scream was heard, “Le feu!!”
Fire! An all too-familiar fear coursed through her. She shook her head to clear the rising panic that had gripped her. The rapidly increasing temperature made it hard to concentrate. Bone-chilling screams permeated all throughout the orphanage, mingling with her own. No no no.. This can’t be happening to me again. A wave of nostalgia washed over her accompanied by a crushing blow of nausea. Her surroundings swan before her and she blacked out.

Nicolette found herself plunged into a world very much like her past. She was in a forest clearing, she knew. This was where she was walking with her parents the day they were killed. It was a sunny afternoon; the cool wind was playing with her hair. This was her perfect paradise.
She brought her hand up to shield her face from the glare of the sun. She gave a start as she heard female laughter ring out. She sharply turned, her breath catching as she saw her parents walking towards her, their hands entwined between them. She blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall.
She wanted to call out to them but her voice stuck. A whispered cry came from her lips, shrill and desperate even to her own ears, “Mère! Père!”
As her parents came to view, a black-armored horseman atop an ink-black stallion, both their eyes flaming with the fiery depths of hell, charged at her parents. The grueling scene from her childhood tragedy came to play before her. Everything around her was sunk into a pitch-black world. Thunder rolled and lightning clapped. Nature’s tears fell on full force, drenching her, mingling with her tears. The rain pricked at her but she ignored it. She ran towards the dead bodies, not caring if the horseman will slaughter her or not. Blood painted the ground where they lay, her dad holding her mom close. The sight of her lifeless parents fueled her anger she had long since buried. Revenge coursed through her, warding off the chill of the biting wind.
“What now little girl?” the rider asked her in a low-pitched voice, breathing down her neck. His voice made her shiver; his maniacal laughter piercing through her heart.
Another bolt of lightning flashed through the sky followed by a long rumbling thunder, illuminating her tear-streaked face. The rider spoke again, taunting her, “Come find me, princesse. Don’t you want to avenge them? Your parents who died to let you live? Come to me, jolie fille. I will be waiting.”
His mocking laughter made her boil. With a scream, she turned and lunged at him only to find herself pitched into nothingness.

Bang!
The loud thump snapped her into wakefulness. She opened her eyes to discover Alastaire entering the room, smiling sheepishly. “Oh, you’re awake.”
Nicolette rolled her eyes but gave a weak smile. Taking hold of her voice she asked, “The fire, Alastaire?”
He shook his head, giving her a charming smirk, “It’s over now, mon amour. We’re at the Febvre’s. They were kind enough to keep you and me here while they sort out the orphanage. You’re safe now. You are with me, after all.”
Too tired to argue of him calling her his ‘love’, Nicolette chose instead to keep her silence.
“Thinking of me, mon cher?” he said teasingly, walking over to her and laying half his body on top of her.
Nicolette scoffed, pushing at his shoulders but to no avail, “Get off me, Alastaire.”
“No.”
“Get off!!” Nicolette pushed at him harder.
His answer was to kiss her sound on the lips. She glared at him as he pulled away, smirk in place. “If you’re ready, cher, dinner is waiting downstairs.”
“Pompous bastard,” she muttered, getting up and spotting the clothes put out for her at the foot of the bed.

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The Red Scorpion, Chapter 1

2009-10-20T00:28:00.000-07:00

2010
The trapdoor
A small inconsequential village
France

Gunshots assailed the air. The stench of death and blood overwhelmed the senses. The village was ransacked down to the last measly cottage. Smoke and fire rose into the heavens like a beacon of despair. None survived but for one kid, Nicolette Joanne Delacroix Blanchfleur.
As the ruckus died down, the little girl, no more than six, peeked out from under the trapdoor she was hiding. The sight that greeted her would forever be etched into her mind. The tragedy and horror she witnessed that wretched day erased any fragile blissful memory she carried.
The sound of hoof beats sent her scampering back down to her hiding place. Afraid of what might happen to her, she curled up into a tight ball, fervently wishing this nightmare would be over. She curled up into a tight ball, hugging her knees to herself on that dark dank place. As she slowly drifted off to sleep, her last thoughts were that of revenge.

2011
The orphanage
France

“Déjeuner!!”
Nicolette inwardly groaned. Oh no, not again. The lunch bell trilled, sending chills down her spine. She rolled to her back and sat up from her bed, rubbing the sleep out her tired eyes. She looked around and sighed wistfully, wishing, more than anything, that she was back at home. A home burned down to the ground by a bunch of dim-witted maniacs riding atop jet black horses. Who rode horses while ransacking villages nowadays, anyway? The same questions ran through her befuddled mind. Same unanswered queries she faced each day. A routine that plagued her every waking thought.
Almost a year had passed since her village was raided and the memory brought painful waves that slashed at her, more painful than the bruises she receives on a daily basis inside the orphanage.
She was pulled out of reverie when another call sounded, making her flinch at the shrill sound that echoed around the orphanage. Wincing at the pain that shot through various parts of her already-black and blue body, she threw the covers off her, stood up and trudged out of the room.
The ‘orphelinat’, as it was called, was more of a slaughter house than any. It housed the rowdiest and meanest of kids fit to be compared to criminals. They stole, fought, and, if necessary, killed. Here, mercy meant nothing; survival meant everything.
A sharp pain in the head caught her unawares. Reflexively, she turned around, her body tensed and poised for battle, arms raised to brace herself for another blow. A familiar arrogant laugh made the hair on her neck stand on end.
“Too slow, petite fille,” a rough voice boomed, followed by two sinister cackles.
‘Just my luck. Malory, that big fat idiotic bully. All muscles, no brains. I can take him down easy.. and before breakfast too,’ she thought to herself, eyeing the insanely overweight bully and his two cronies. A smile crept up her lips as the thought of getting practice early in the morning brought a wicked sense of elation no seven-year old kid should feel.
“Bullying Nicolette again, Malory?”
The soft silky tone behind her made her jump, sending chills down her spine.
“N-no, of-of c-course n-not Al-Alast-taire,” Malory trembled, quickly backing away and running off, fear evident in his tone and face.
Nicolette watched them run, disappointed that her hunt was taken away from her. In sheer irritation more than anything else, she whirled around to face a smirking Alastaire. She poked him in the chest, pouting, “Just coz you’re 3 years older than I am doesn’t mean you get to take my fun away from me.”
He smiled, throwing his arms good-naturedly around her shoulders, leading her towards the dining area, “Fun? Ha! They’d slaughter you.”

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