Some stories are more lurid than others. Vigo’s tale, though, is colder than the maggot’s dinner. Fate can be an unreasonably cruel screenwriter, let me tell you. Some may even think that God, if there ever was any, is a sadistic deity of old myths and cults. If Vigo holds onto such a belief, that would be no surprise to me. No surprise at all.
Although atrocities and misery defined his whole life, Vigo proved himself a resourceful and rightfully feared survivor. Beware of his rage once he comes for the hunt. Bearing all his scars, he hardly learned to be merciful.
Miscarried and Dumped-Out
If it had never happened, life would be less grim for many. If only his mother, Anne to few, nameless whore to many, never got knocked up… Some of her fellow “friends” even gave her a few tips here and there. Successful abortions were part of the lore, after all. Anne, the nameless whore, however, wasn’t so lucky. Despite her best efforts, her undesired son finally saw the dark of the day in the filthiest sex pits of Vaporwaves.
As her feminine looks kept on fading with age, she had to take whoever granted her a piece of weathered bread loaf. And life went on. Right, until one day, when she had to put her holes to use with one incredibly dirty, stinking drunkard, and the trajectory of regular suffering suddenly turned so left. So vile.
The boy is on his way. Anne would never guess who exactly from all those filthy junkies might be the father until the boy was born. That ugly nose and crooked limbs can belong to only one of her clients.
Well… Anne wasn’t bad by nature. She just had to survive, and in her care, newborn Vigo would soon snuff out anyway. Desperately she traced down the assumed father. There weren’t that many places to look, though. The filthiest and grimmest pub in the vicinity, after all, housed many of his feathers.
“Fuck off,” he yelled, not even willing to acknowledge her by raising his sight from the half-empty bottle. The cheap booze ain’t blood — got it? But she was persistent. Well, until his fellows explained the words’ meaning more physically — and Anne landed on the muddy bog outside. Yet still, the boy must be gone.
As the toddler grew, the clientele waned. By that time, she really looked weathered and aged. The sickly web of wrinkles covered her wind-swept face, and her eyes were blank. With a baby always by her side, no one had the taste to bang anymore. Until one ugly day, that is, when she made her move. Anne finally took courage.
(Un)luckily, there’s plenty of room to make a few bucks on the side on Ether Islands. Ever since Hackhunters syndicate advanced their wild experiments, even malformed miscarriages could be taken the proper use of.
That’s how they do biz
It went surprisingly well. One wealthy citizen accepted the offer, handing her a tiny pouch of coins in return. Thus, Vigo’s life shifted into a completely different kind of hell. The ganglord who bought him was well-established in the Midnight Syndicate. A bit too high to still fight exclusively in a man-against-man fashion.
Raising his ranking within the syndicate, he had enough means to send cyborgs instead. And with that comes thorough maintenance. Those greedy crooks at Hackhunters Syndicate don’t make anything easier with their extortionate prices too. It’s always faster and more efficient to buy up some kiddy mishaps. There’s always some skillful factory worker who enjoys some penny aside and knows his way around cyborgs.
One day, such a cyborg needs a new leg — kids will supply. Another day a new arm? — even more so. A few fingers… Nothing seems off-limits. As the market for cyborgs and humanoid fighters burst out, some even made a living by catching lost kids and selling them over. Or buying them up from their lovingly whoring moms — so-called whore-to-whore sales, they say.
And so it went on. Vigo’s childhood was fenced within the dark cellar chamber along with other kiddy suppliers. Well, this somber stay cost him eyes. Both pupils plucked out roughly isn’t a nice start for a five-year-old. Shortly after, Vigo was kicked out. Back in the streets, blind and terribly malnutritioned, everything suggests that he won’t see another day.
Will The Doctor have mercy at last…?
If it wasn’t for The Doctor, Vigo would surely have died. Was it fate or just an accident? Hard to tell, really. What matters is that the infamous doctor from the South Moon came across starved and aimless Vigo while roaming the streets of Vaporwaves. From time to time, he went there to scavenge some trash to use for his experiments. Or maybe some mamma’s drop out? Learn the difference.
Now he had found the boy. Malformed, malnutritioned, blind, lost — a perfect subject to train on. No one seems to be missing him, either. It wasn’t hard to lure Vigo under The Doctor’s knife. Sometimes a handful of dry breadcrumbs serves better than a million arguments. Right?
And so, The Doctor performed his best. By enhancing Virgo’s poor state, he tried so hard to push his own limits… And sure, he made it. After several weeks of recovery, Vigo got a new ’sight’. He became an all-seeing seer who could instantly catch the tiniest motion before it hits the zone of his peripheral vision, while some of the other body improvements The Doctor premiered on Vigo granted the poor boy strength and vigor many others could only envy.
Back to where it began
Vigo spent several years in the South Moon, enjoying The Doctor’s thorough treatment. After some time, though, the experiments and various body enhancements seemed to go too far. Vigo didn’t like the way The Doctor was carrying out his twisted experiments, so he fought back. Being gifted with great strength, he pushed The Doctor out of his way and rushed out of the lab.
Vigo is an unforgiving avenger. Being done with the doc and the whole South Moon, he has set forth on the way to settle some old accounts. A few words here, few words there, the rattling of coins made people speak up until he had the list of the ones who made his life living hell. Vaporwaves welcomed him, spread like the legs of an old hooker, as miserably as one could expect. The stinking smoke, factory fumes, poverty, and dirt — home sweet home, indeed. He knew where to look, though. Vigo’s loving mother was still whoring on the same old streets as back in the day. Now she was just way more rugged and used up.
There was no ceremony nor words to be spoken. Until this day, Vigo believes that Anne didn’t even recognize him when he was sliding the knife across her neck. His assumed father, as well as the company of his crooked boozing rogues, followed suit. The last one to go, Midnight Ganglord, was even easier to manage. Vigo caught him beaten up to death in the slimy groove right next to the dusty road. Little did he know who provided the business in the first place.
With his new sight and enormous strength, Vigo is not the right one to fuck with. For Vigo understands loyalty and doesn’t forget or forgive. He avenges. With his old accounts sealed, and ample murderous prospects ahead, Vigo grinned: ”When they sell you over, you never sell out, right?”
