. . . a biography
- Born under the reign of King Louis XIII on Sunday, July 20, 1614, the sovereign vixen was raised beneath the watchful eyes of the Royal House. The young French duchess had grown up in the central European town of Condé. Her father, Henri II of Bourbon, became the Prince of the region shortly after his birth, reining his membership within a branch of the Capetian dynasty. Her mother, Charlotte-Marguerite of Montmorency, was an heiress to one of France's leading ducal families, and Princess of Condé by her marriage to Henri.
Since the beginnings of Victoria's youth, she was vividly remembered for her inexplicable beauty and veracious amours. Being the only daughter of three, she was educated with great strictness in the convent of the Carmelites in Paris. It is not a disappointment in the least to say that she lived the life of a flourishing human. With long, flowing raven locks, big, brilliant midnight blue eyes, and the slender hourglass figure of a goddess, it did not take very long for her to be swept off her feet and into the arms of Damien-James Blackwell, Duke of La Rochefoucauld, a commune located in Western France.
Prior to the woman's fateful disappearance in 1635, she had absolutely no experience in the arts of battle. She was no warrior, despite her athletic form. In fact, she simply hated anything and everything that involved fighting. The smallest sight of blood made her queasy. She did not know the difference between an arrow and a bullet.
However, Providence had a destined her otherwise.
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On Victoria's 24th birthday, she was to meet her betrothed at his home, the château at La Rochefoucauld, for a small reception in her celebration. Unfortunately, her intentions of getting there had been thwarted, for a man by the name of Lucien captured her as she traveled unaccompanied up the winding pavement of the property, just 25 feet from the door.
Harassed with brutality, marauded with sexual intension, tormented with sadism; the woman suffered greatly to get where she is now. That was all Victoria would ever remember of the incident. Pain, and so much more. What had happened during the course of the episode would remain with her for the rest of eternity, for as long as she survived this barren world. That night, the woman's entire being was transformed into something she thought had only existed in the myths and legends of the past. She was turned, bitten by a creature of the night. It hurt like hell, to put it in blunt terms. Doused in her own blood and dirt, she underwent the mutations that would alter her entire being.
Lucien had left her to rot behind the castle of her fiancé, where she was never found. Terrified by her new form and the reaction of the Royal Family if they saw her, she stood, with difficulty, using her swelling power as an aid; the majority of her vital fluids oozing down the side of her neck where the bite wound was. Casting a sorrowfully pained look towards the edifice, she quickly turned, limping into the forests before she darted off and ran as far as her newfound powers would take her, tearing herself away completely from the mortal world and her nobility.
The ambiguity of the crime had left the House of Bourbon in an uproar.
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The tatters of her garb, the stiffness in her hair; Victoria had fled from the regions of her home, traveling just until she reached the border between France and Italy. It was there when her solitary journey had come to an abrupt stop. She had crossed paths with two males by the names of Michael and Trent exactly four days after her painful shifts into what she feared most. They found her, bruised, bloodied, and hungry, lying beneath a large evergreen tree. Concern had crossed the two friends for the first time, knowing exactly what happened, for they too were the race of immortals. Unsure of their motivation, both men had picked her up and carried her into their cottage a ways off near a bubbling brook. They had cared for her, fed her, and taught her the means of survival as a night creature, giving her every reason to love them like they were her own brothers.
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More than a century and a half had passed upon their meeting, and it was now 1786. Her loved ones buried into the dusts of Bourbon. The entire Haide family dead; her father, her mother, and her two brothers. The most heart breaking of them all, her beau, Damien. The once innocent and prosperous princess of Bourbon-Condé was no longer existent. Victoria underwent a rigorous transfiguration as the walls of the guarded life she previously lived in broke down, allowing her true colors to form.
Deaths. Countless, merciful deaths in the hands of the maiden. The venom of Lucien had tainted her pure soul. It seemed almost unreal, what the vixen had become. She turned into a killer, and yet, at the same time, she did not know the reason why. The guilt of leaving her royal throne. The remorse of never being able to see Damien. The terror of watching the response she would get if she stood before the Parliament. The factors were endless, however, the wild and uncomprehending emotions built up within her, changing her thought process, her mentality. Victoria Lynette Haide had developed into a pure nightmare.
As she slowly adjusted to the life of obscurity, she became the ultimate desire of the male population once more. Walking tall, she stood five-foot five with glistening porcelain skin, her enviable figure remaining the same.
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On one particular warm, summer evening in 1792, the trio had been raiding a nearby village, murdering both men and women, leaving their children hiding in fear beneath the security of their beds. As they came to the end of their onslaught, they were bombarded with silver-masked individuals, taken into the custody of the Renegade.
These people, these killers, they were strong. They had brought down Victoria, Michael, and Trent within five minutes, and soon, the swindling vampires were on the brink of execution by interfering with the routine of their sanctioned killings.
As Raiden, head honcho of the Assassins Division, rounded Victoria, who was at the time bound to a metal chair with resilient chains, he looked deep into her crazed azure hues, seeing something that had somehow stopped the entire process. With a little grin, the Boss stood, turning, his back now faced her. The tall man sauntered with confidence towards the Elite, apparently their form of Parliament, and whispered something to them, to which a pleasing smile had crossed their handsome features.
They were one of the few selected to work under Raiden's command.
At first, the three were skeptical, because not only were they able to keep their souls, but they now were a part of this strange underground society they had never heard of until the very moment they were pardoned from capital punishment. However, they accepted the offer with no regrets.
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The Renegade was an underground organization of systematic assassins located all across Europe, with several branches and divisions scattered amongst nine countries: France, Italy, Romania, United Kingdom, Ireland, Spain, Portugal, Germany, and Bulgaria. They are a world-class ring of compensated slayers run by Black Market. Established by the Elite in the mid 14th century after the conclusion of the Hundred Years' War, this association has grown exponentially, carrying with it recruits from all over. An estimated total of 60 ranked killers work beneath the order as of 2009, however, there has been speculation of unofficial members who have aided the company in certain disputes during the past few decades. Infamous for their brutally cruel hirelings, their erotically prodigious nightclubs, and their recognizably distinctive symbol of sex and alcohol, the Renegade has become one of the most auspicious and lucratively enigmatic governments within the Western Hemisphere.
Time had passed and Victoria effortlessly made her way up the ranks of the Renegade, going from bouncer, to bartender, to co-owner, to executive officer within a year just in the Boss' division. Soon after, she started making her way to the bigger positions within the entire organization, making her the most well known member. The woman's passion for violence and sex had aided her along the way. She became the very thing she hated, the very thing she was opposed to when she was a human, but it did not matter, not anymore. She was getting heavily paid for feeding herself and her comrades, and there seemed to be nothing else better than that in this god-forsaken world.
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Later on, a forth criminal found her way into the group; a Spirit Warrior, Rider Gorgon, or more famously known as Medusa, the Greek Chthonic, had joined the force. Then, more came. Alfred. Dark Mousy. The additions had allowed their faction to expand, becoming the largest branch of trained killers within the company.
There was no happy ending, though, not in this tale. 1815, a strange event had occurred within the lives of the group, resulting in the retirement of Victoria and the separation of her comrades. It was on her birthday when Victoria found herself drifting mindlessly along the lands once more. Through her travels, she came across an extravagant castle that loomed high upon the hills of a thick woodland area within Europe. It was this exact incident that changed the course of her life forever; and now, in the twenty-first century, she is slowly integrating her newly found life with her old, standing more powerful than ever, at the side of her Countess, Analiese Wemyss.
