Tuesday, January 31, 2012

The Fenian Avenger - Chapter 1

Table of Contents

Excerpts from James Beardsley’s interview segment from his upcoming book The Profile of the Fenian Avenger.

At the time, I cannot say I chose to become the Fenian Avenger for noble or heroic motives.
I wish I wove a more dramatic or inspired tale.
My truth is the story of a seventeen-year-old sheltered kid whose world disintegrated and left him hurt and angry. I placed a chip on my shoulder the size of Russia. The fact that I had the ability to battle whomever I felt wronged me is the scary part. I did not know who I was, or even what I was. The trauma in my life made me question my family. My father felt like an enigma. To me, my father was supportive and loving. However, a doubt lingered in my mind because of his profession as a Garda detective. Everything I heard brought into doubt the Garda’s integrity. The logically, if the Garda was crooked then so was my father. My emotional analysis told me he was an honest man, possibly compromised because he needed to protect his family. I was the only student in a facility known as The Foundation. Under the guise of educating a child, The Foundation in reality trained a killer, and I became something my family did not approve.
I made a promise to my father that I not take lightly or abuse the abilities God bestowed and my training at The Foundation. My father spent his career in battle against criminals and in constant frustration from the bureaucrats. The thought that I could become like the people he fought frightened him. In contrast, The Foundation desired to mold into that exact person my father detested.
A number of events came together, and the affect on me was profound. These occurrences led me to understand my powers on an elevated level. The proceedings were merely bricks in the road, but together led me to what I am. The irony of this story is though my powers and skills came from The Foundation, their actions inadvertently led to the genesis of The Fenian Avenger, which became the enemy of The Foundation. The fact I existed was their fault. The Foundation visualized a different outcome to their experiment.
What am I? I posed that question often. I was an angry teenager with the power to fight everyone. My reasons were not noble in the slightest. My methods, though, were quite effective. I convinced myself the Irish people needed me.
Revenge locked my mind with a firm grip. However, the Irish people saw something different from the reality of an angry youth. The people saw a hero.
Contrary to the story circulated by the Fenian Frithbheart, I did not become the Fenian Avenger out of inspiration to help my fellow Irishmen, or their twisted cause. And I would save them if it coincided with my pursuit to beat on corrupt authority figures. In Dublin, we never experienced a shortage of people in authority who abused their positions. The heat increased at a rapid pace. With the majority of the Garda on the take, I saw evidence everywhere of their corruption and greed. I mean, how bloody daft or arrogant are you to shake people down in the middle of Grafton Street, in full view of everyone.
In the end, I was stupid to attack the Garda. They were the law and many in number. My anger raged on so many levels and it fueled on my power. Unable to see the disadvantage of my situation, I continued to bait my foes. Despite the fact that they more resembled criminals, they still represented the law and no court of law would side with me, because I became the outlaw who defied authority. Battery on a Garda officer elevated us to the level of a cop killer. They would not rest until they caught us, beat us, and brought us to justice, and perhaps not in that order. A few rouge officers helped us anonymously, though no one willingly defied the establishment. When the heat was on, we could neither depend nor ask for their help. The rest of Ireland could go to the dogs as far as the Garda was concerned. Nothing else mattered to them until they brought the Fenian Avenger down in chains. The point of fact we never hurt an honest Irish citizen was moot.
We used my powers, the technology available to us, and the resources in our bank account. The excitement of the event enveloped us and overshadowed common sense. We always stayed one-step ahead of the Garda, and frustrated them in the process.
Once I donned the armor, I felt untouchable and invincible. At least, at the time, this was the delusion two young men convinced themselves. Lucky best describes us. I reflect upon our stupid actions and decisions. One wrong step either direction could have resulted in my or my associate’s funeral. I could avoid the big bully in school only for so long. The inevitable conclusion is the eventuality that you would have to fight the bully.
We made many mistakes, but luck was always on our side. I survived knife wounds from criminals and gunshots from the Garda, but they were not able to touch me, not for a long time.
The people of Dublin called me a hero. Before long, I started to believe it and revel in the glory. That is when I became more dangerous than helpful. When the people yelled my name in the street, when my mask topped the Halloween sales in Ireland, when the girls flashed me in the street, this fed my ego. The anger went away. The fame went to our head. Before long, I forgot the reasons I became the Fenian Avenger.
I was addicted to the uniform. I never abused drugs, but from my studies, I know that my high when I wore the green steel mesh was the same when a heroin addict shot up. The steel mesh electrified me and in my mind, I was indestructible. The mask made me safe. The visor and communication to my partner at the control center let me know I was not in this alone. Moreover, the emotion when I bested evil intoxicated me.
First, I was angry and I thirsted for revenge. Motivation for my early days centered on my parents, and I vowed to find the man responsible for their deaths. Well, the statement that I needed to find the man is an incorrect phrase. I knew the identity of my enemies. When you pursue the richest and most powerful man in Ireland, you will find obstacles at every turn.
Later I became the young buck ready to challenge the alpha male for supremacy. Like a swashbuckler, I broke into his stronghold and I dared him to take action against me. Even my best friend and partner in crime thought me a fool.
When my enemies stepped up to my challenge, I appreciated too late the folly in my plan.
The lofty costs of my mistakes still astonish me.

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