Frankie Carter/Origin
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
5 Years Ago
Frances Jean Carter was a slight timid girl. She rarely socialized and preferred the company of books to people. She lived with her mother, Liz, in a tiny apartment in Kings Row. Her mother worked as a cocktail waitress in a dive down the street. Liz had been a wild girl who would party with any boy who showed her the least amount of attention. So, when she had found herself pregnant at 17 she had no idea who the father could be. When tiny Frankie had been born the doctors informed Liz that the child was a mutant. Liz didn’t seem to mind. She finally had someone to love her, always.
As the years passed; Liz continued to party with any man who would show her the least amount of attention. Liz would leave Frankie alone in the apartment for days while she partied with her current lover. Frankie learned to be self-sufficient at a very young age. Liz maintained that she loved Frankie; she just didn’t see why she should have to give up her fun. Hadn’t she sacrificed enough?
The years continued to roll by and Liz careened from one lousy job to the next and from lousy man to the next. Her looks faded quickly and she became convinced that all her bad luck stemmed from Frankie’s mutant DNA. She constantly warned Frankie to never, never show anyone Frankie’s dark abilities. So, Frankie became isolated and rarely ventured anywhere but the library where she could lose herself in tales of mystery, romance, and intrigue.
When Frankie was eighteen, Liz met a new man. The Reverend Darryl Islip had founded his own church, The Church of the Blessed Human. It was more of a cult than a church promoting the superiority of man. The Reverend claimed mutants had been corrupted by an evil force and only he and his Church could cure them and show them the way to enlightenment. Of course, Liz was delighted by the attention the Reverend showed her and she hung on his every word. She dragged Frankie to his sermons each Sunday. Liz ignored the way the Reverend watched Frankie. Frankie noticed and knew what the Reverend stares meant. When Frankie was only sixteen, Liz’s latest boyfriend had tried to sneak into Frankie’s bed. Frankie was terrified and had unleashed her mutant powers on the man. He managed to escape and never returned. Liz never suspected what had happened. It was a warm Friday in July and Liz was going over to the Reverend’s apartment. The Reverend had insisted she bring Frankie so he could begin the process for the cure. Liz had colored her hair that afternoon in anticipation of her visit with the Reverend. The box described the color as ash blonde. Frankie knew better than to tell her mother that the color looked more ash than blonde. Liz insisted that Frankie wear her one good dress. It was a simple cotton frock the color of cornflowers with a white lace peter pan collar. Frankie’s golden hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the total effect made her look much younger than her eighteen years.
The Reverend was delighted when they arrived at his door. Liz nervously smoothed her hair and laughed a little too loudly at the Reverend’s jokes. Frankie sat quietly in a corner on a small sofa, trying to disappear. The Reverend served ice tea and talked to Liz about the cure for Frankie. He was sure it would solve all of Liz’s problems. Hadn’t Liz sacrificed enough to care for this mutant child? Didn’t Liz deserve all the good things life had to offer?
He assured Liz that if he left Frankie with him for a few hours he could make a difference. Frankie went cold with fear. Please don’t Mama, please… Liz nodded and smiled and told Frankie to be a good girl and listen to the good Reverend. Liz walked out the door without a backwards glance. The Reverend smiled at Frankie and sat next to her on the sofa. His eyes never met Frankie’s as he laid his hand on Frankie’s arm. Frankie moved quickly towards the door trying to escape. The Reverend grabbed Frankie and tried to kiss her, to touch her. Frankie’s fear twisted and she felt a shadow rise within her. Dark energy flowed out of her and enveloped the Reverend. He screamed as the negative energy flowed over him. The front door opened and Liz stood frozen outside. She had forgotten her purse and had heard the commotion in the hallway when she returned to retrieve it.
The Reverend shouted at Liz accusing Frankie of being the devil, incurable, criminal. Tears ran down Frankie’s face as she tried to explain what had happened. Liz looked from the man to her child. She had a decision to make. Go with the man and maybe, finally, have someone to take care of her the way she deserved. Stay with the child she loved and stay miserable, in a grubby little apartment, working in a crummy dive as her looks continued to deteriorate. It was no choice, really. Liz dragged Frankie into the hall and shut the door to the apartment.
Frankie begged her mother to listen to her. Liz shook her head and explained that Frankie was eighteen now and old enough to take care of herself. Hadn’t she sacrificed the best years of her life for Frankie? Liz would calm the Reverend down but Frankie must be out of the apartment before Liz got home. It would be better this way, Liz reasoned. She told Frankie to take the money out of the tip jar, pack her bag, and get out. She kissed Frankie on the forehead and suggested it might be better if they didn’t see each other again. Surely, Frankie understood that this was Liz’s last chance to have something, anything. Liz went back into the Reverend’s apartment and slammed the door behind her. It was the last time Frankie would ever see her mother.
4½ Years Ago
Frankie shrank back into the shadows of the alleyway across from the small park. It provided a good vantage point to watch the families enjoying the afternoon sun. Frankie came here a lot. Sometimes she would close her eyes and imagine she was part of one of the happy laughing families. There was family in particular that she took pleasure in watching. It was an older couple with a daughter who was maybe three years younger than Frankie. Sometimes they brought their sons, too.
The mother would always bring a large hamper of food and start setting up in the picnic area. The daughter would sometimes help her mother, but, more often than not, she would chase after her brothers. The father would try to sneak some of the food before his wife had a chance to unpack everything. It was obviously an old and cherished routine between the two and would always end with the wife playfully slapping at him and the husband grabbing and kissing her hands.
Some nights the scene made Frankie happy to live in a world where such kindness and love existed. Other nights, she felt more bitter and alone than she thought possible. On those nights, if she had any money she would find a cheap room and cry herself asleep. If she didn’t have any money then she would go to one of her regular spots on the street and hunker down for the night. She didn’t cry then, that wouldn’t be smart, that could be dangerous.
The first few weeks on the streets had been the most terrifying time of Frankie’s life. She had been able to rent a cheap room for the first week but had quickly run out of money. She spent her first night outside in a dim, dingy alley with nothing but some feral cats to keep her company. During the day, she went to the library and grabbed a Dean Koontz novel to keep her company. She tried to ignore the growling in her stomach and concentrate on the plot.
During the next few days, she located a couple of the local shelters. One seemed okay. They offered her food and a shower without any questions. The other one required that she listen to a sermon before she was fed. She knew, instinctively, that the people there meant well, but due to her recent experience, religion, any religion was disagreeable to her.
The first attack happened late at night several weeks after Frankie had been tossed out by her mother. Frankie had just started towards the back of the park where many of the homeless gathered to sleep. Two Skull gang members stepped out from among the trees to block Frankie’s path. They leered at her as they circled her. Frankie felt her heart thump against her chest. Frankie ducked at they grabbed for her. She began to run, not paying attention to what direction, just running. She was fast but they were quicker. She ran out of running room when she ran into the fence that surrounded the park. The Skulls laughed and one pulled out a knife as they advanced on Frankie. Frankie felt a tightening inside her, a churning dark miasma. The first Skull reached her and she released the growing shadows within her. Frankie’s first punch clouded the man’s vision. She followed it up with a succession of blows that quickly incapacitated the first Skull. She turned to the remaining gang member and opened up a window into her dark world. His eyes went wide and he cowered in terror. She wrapped herself in the negative energy and channeled it into the terrified Skull. He dropped like to the ground like a rag doll.
Frankie was breathing heavily. Not from exertion, but from the effort it cost her to reign in the darkness. She could feel it roiling and thrashing, demanding to be let loose again. She closed her eyes and concentrated until she had regained control. She opened her eyes to find several of the homeless staring at her. She heard their whispers, animal, devil, monster. Frankie bent down and searched the gang members. She pulled out their wallets and grabbed the plastic, their i.d.s, the cash, and a gun. She already knew she could sell the plastic and the i.d.s on the street and pawn the gun for some quick cash.
She slowly backed away from the gathering homeless. As soon as she had achieved a little distance she turned and ran. There was enough money for a room and a hot meal and she had successfully defended herself. But, that wasn’t what she was thinking about. The words kept tumbling around in her head, animal, devil, monster.
