Cnidocyte
Legacy Name: Cnidocyte

Kelly Brennan's mother had always wanted a lovely little girl to call her own. A lovely little girl with bright eyes and freckles, and a merry laugh that could send even the darkest of clouds far, far away. A lovely little girl with the flaming Irish-red locks that she herself had, an eyes of a clear slate-blue. A lovely little girl who would one day grow up to be a doctor or a professor at a university.

Kelly Brennan's mother wanted a lovely little girl, but she didn't quite get what she expected.

Kelly Brennan's mother got a lovely little girl with flaming Irish-red locks and eyes of a clear slate-blue. Kelley Brennan's mother got a lovely little girl with bright eyes and freckles.

Kelley Brennan's mother got a lovely little girl who wet the bed until she was twelve. Kelly Brennan's mother got a lovely little girl who couldn't seem to figure out what the truth was or how to tell it. Kelly Brennan's mother got a lovely little girl who was always getting in trouble for bringing lighters and books of matches into school with her. Kelly Brennan's mother got a lovely little girl who loved to make her pet mice squeak and squeal in agony in the basement as she slowly tore them apart.

Kelly Brennan's mother got the lovely little girl she had always wanted, but her lovely little girl was also a lovely little psychopath.

Kelly was always a little different. Some part of her recognized this, and that same part of her didn't really care. She had used to wonder why she was different, until the day her Irish Catholic mother read her the story of Adam and Eve from their family bible.

Why did they do it, Mama? she had asked, not so much concerned with the incriminating original sin as she was with the First Sinners' motives.

Because the Lard gave us free will so that we could choose for areselves, her mother had answered in a voice still thick with brogue after so many years of being away from her rainy birthplace. An' they used their free will ta sin.

Free will. So free will was the reason why she was different? Because she chose to be that way? Fine. For years after Kelly stopped putting much faith in "the Lard", she would still use that to justify her actions. She had been given the freedom to choose.

The Ten Commandments--which her schoolteachers tried to hammer into her head--were inconsequential. The rule of Free Will had come first. Kelly Brennan put great stock in rules, but she didn't like contradictions. And as far as she could tell, the Commandments were nothing but ten ugly contradictions.

Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. But she had the free will to choose whether or not she told the truth, and if she could choose between getting in trouble or getting away scot-free, she'd choose getting away and she'd have to lie to do it.

Thou shalt not steal. But she had really wanted that toy, and her mother had been using her own free will not to buy it for her daughter, so Kelly could use her own free will to get it for herself, and she had.

Thou shalt not kill.

Well.... That's where things got interesting.

She started with mice. Small, bright-eyed, squeaky little things. She liked them. Her first one was a little white pet store mouse, one that someone might buy for the sole purpose of feeding to their large, exotic snakes. Kelly named him Squeak. A simple name, but she was nine at the time, and while she was startlingly intelligent for her age, she still preferred childish simplicity.

Graceful, slender fingers twisted the cap off of the green highlighter, and the chisel-pointed tip squeaked across the line of K's, P's, and numbers. The cap clicked back down over the highlighter, and those same nimble fingers began stroking the neat line of stitches carefully, parting them one by one, while the young woman counted each under her breath. Same number as she'd started with--excellent.

She was a beautiful creature, slender and petite. Thick hair the color of burned wood was tucked behind her four-times-pierced ears and held in place with a stretchy headband, with more than a few stray wisps playing about her face. Her eyes were a bright, almost cat-like green, and they glinted intently from behind the glasses sliding down her long, pointed nose. Her willowy body swayed slightly to the left, rocked to the right, then centered again as the bus pulled to a stop. She looked up from her knitting as more riders began to board, her eyes locking onto one of the men.

Target acquired.

Though there were plenty of other seats in the bus, she patted the one beside herself. "Sir," she said softly as he drew nearer. He turned. "You're more than welcome to sit here." He balked, glancing around the other empty seats, before nodding and settling in next to her. She smiled warmly. "I'm sorry--if you wanted to sit somewhere else..."

"No, it's fine." He grinned. "I'm not about to turn down the chance to sit next to a pretty young lady."

"I'm flattered, sir."

He glanced curiously at her lap. "What are you making?" he asked.

Interest captured.

"Oh, this?" She looked down as well, smiling slightly. "Cabled arm warmers for a friend of mine."

Time to go in for the kill.

She lifted the knitted piece from her lap, giving it a practiced, invisible shake so that her cabling needle slipped free from the yarn. The item fell loose, slipping down and grazing the man's hand. Its sharpened tip scraped the skin as it dropped past, and its carefully poisoned side rubbed against the flesh. He hissed in pain, drawing his hand against his chest reflexively. Her green eyes widened in an expression of carefully calculated surprise.

"Oh, sir! I'm so sorry! Are you...Are you all right?"

The man studied his hand. The sharpened needle had broken the skin, but not to bleeding depth. It didn't need to, though. Whatever poison didn't make it in through the scrape was quickly ingested when the man put the back of his hand to his mouth and began to suck on the tender injury. He took his hand away. "I'll be fine. It's really nothing to worry about. Just a scratch."

"I really am sorry." She looked up at the road briefly, then began packing her knitting back into the worn bag at her feet. "And I'm even more sorry that my stop comes so soon after I've just assaulted you with my cabling needle."

"It wasn't assault," the man assured her with a laugh. "I'll be fine. Really, don't worry about it." He watched her rise from her seat. "It was wonderful speaking with you. I hope your friend enjoys her arm warmers."

"Thank you." She grasped the sleek metal pole to help balance as the bus slid to a halt. Smiling over her shoulder at the man, she got off the bus and made her way down the street. She slipped into an alley and pulled a cell phone from her pocket, jamming down the speed dial button she'd assigned to her most recent client. Three rings, and the woman on the other end picked up.

"Yes?"