Oaxaca was burning.
Rafael ran, trying to find a way through the winding streets of the city. The French forces were advancing, and General Diaz's men had been routed, Rafael
with them. The streets were full of people fleeing, with many of them rushing to get their loved ones and their valuables out ahead of the fires set by the
Emperor's artillery. The Captain had ordered the men to fall back as a squad, but a musket ball had struck him down, and they had run.
Now Rafael found himself lost among the burning buildings. The smoke and heat gave everything a strange, dreamlike quality. The sounds of combat filtered
through the smoke and rushing people as if from far away. Rafael knew he was in danger, but he could not urge himself to rush. All of the panic had been burned
out of him, by the fire and by the fight.
Fallen soldiers littered the street, from both the Mexican and French sides. He saw a French sergeant leaning against the side of a building, covered in blood.
The man looked exhausted to the point of collapse. As Rafael approached, he raised his bayoneted musket as if to defend himself, but after a moment, he lowered
it again and leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, too tired to fight. Rafael left him alone and moved on. Now was not the time for fighting, he
felt. Now was the time to get to safety.
"Ayuda por favor!" The voice was a woman. Rafael turned and saw her beckoning to him. She was beautiful, despite the soot and dirt that marred her
face and garments. She held a small child, a boy, to her with one arm as she pointed to a building with the other. "Senor, please. He is old and trapped.
Please help."
Rafael was exhausted. He was bloody. He was scared. He had dropped his musket some streets back, and only held the Captain's saber, mostly out of some
reflexive duty to report his death back to General Diaz's staff. He had no wish to jump into a burning building after some woman's foolish old father
who hadn't the sense to flee from a burning building. He turned to say so to the woman, but his gaze was trapped by the wide dark eyes of the child. Eyes
that seemed to silence all arguments and protests that he had summoned forth. Idly, a small corner of his mind noticed that the boy had a bloody bandage
wrapped around his chest, and that his hands and feet were covered in blood as well.
Wrenching his gaze free of the boy's, he said to the woman, "The smoke will kill us both, senora, if I do not have something to protect me."
Wordlessly, she pulled the scarf covering her dark hair from her head and handed it to him. It was a fine piece of cloth, well made and dark green in color. A
rain barrel stood nearby, miraculously intact. Rafael soaked the cloth and wrapped it around his face. For a moment, he thought he could smell frankincense on
the cloth, but then a cloud of smoke blew past him and it was gone.
With a final look at the woman, and more so the child, Rafael went up to the building. The roof and one of the walls was on fire, and smoke leaked from around
the door. Before he could lose his nerve, he shouldered the door open and charged in.
It was dark; it was hot; it was smoky. Rafael could hardly see, let alone tell where the old man was. He didn't know how he found the supine figure, maybe
it was a faint cough or maybe the a familiar shadow. He also didn't know how he got back out of the house, only that when he became aware of his
surroundings, he and the old man were back at the rain barrel, burned but alive.
"G-gracias, senor," said the old man.
"Don't thank me," said Rafael. "Thank your daughter and grandson."
"Senor," said the old man, "I have no daughter."
"Then who is--?" Rafael turned and pointed at where the woman and her child had been standing, No one was there, and the building they had stood next
to was ablaze and almost collapsed. Rafael fingered the scarf around his neck for a moment, confused, but shook his head. "Come along, old man," he
said. "The French are here, and we need to get to safety."
The full identity of the first man to wear La Mascara Verde - the Green Mask - is not known, only that he was a soldier in
Porfirio Diaz's army during the Franco-Mexican War and that he obtained the mask during the Battle of Oaxaca. El Hombre en la Mascara Verde was seen in
several conflicts during the war, occasionally turning the tide, but more often arriving in time to save innocents caught up in the fighting. He was, by all
accounts, a normal soldier, attributing his luck and fighting skill to the Virgin Mary, who he claimed had given him the green scarf that he wore around his
neck and as a mask to protect him from smoke. His final fate is unknown, although there are mentions of him in the annals of several now-defunct Mexican
churches from the period. Later wearers of La Mascara Verde cite him as the first of their line, although none of them claim to be related to him, and refer to
him as Numero Uno.
Ebony the Black Dragon
http://ebony14.livejournal.com
"Good night, and may the Good Lord take a Viking to you."
Rafael ran, trying to find a way through the winding streets of the city. The French forces were advancing, and General Diaz's men had been routed, Rafael
with them. The streets were full of people fleeing, with many of them rushing to get their loved ones and their valuables out ahead of the fires set by the
Emperor's artillery. The Captain had ordered the men to fall back as a squad, but a musket ball had struck him down, and they had run.
Now Rafael found himself lost among the burning buildings. The smoke and heat gave everything a strange, dreamlike quality. The sounds of combat filtered
through the smoke and rushing people as if from far away. Rafael knew he was in danger, but he could not urge himself to rush. All of the panic had been burned
out of him, by the fire and by the fight.
Fallen soldiers littered the street, from both the Mexican and French sides. He saw a French sergeant leaning against the side of a building, covered in blood.
The man looked exhausted to the point of collapse. As Rafael approached, he raised his bayoneted musket as if to defend himself, but after a moment, he lowered
it again and leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, too tired to fight. Rafael left him alone and moved on. Now was not the time for fighting, he
felt. Now was the time to get to safety.
"Ayuda por favor!" The voice was a woman. Rafael turned and saw her beckoning to him. She was beautiful, despite the soot and dirt that marred her
face and garments. She held a small child, a boy, to her with one arm as she pointed to a building with the other. "Senor, please. He is old and trapped.
Please help."
Rafael was exhausted. He was bloody. He was scared. He had dropped his musket some streets back, and only held the Captain's saber, mostly out of some
reflexive duty to report his death back to General Diaz's staff. He had no wish to jump into a burning building after some woman's foolish old father
who hadn't the sense to flee from a burning building. He turned to say so to the woman, but his gaze was trapped by the wide dark eyes of the child. Eyes
that seemed to silence all arguments and protests that he had summoned forth. Idly, a small corner of his mind noticed that the boy had a bloody bandage
wrapped around his chest, and that his hands and feet were covered in blood as well.
Wrenching his gaze free of the boy's, he said to the woman, "The smoke will kill us both, senora, if I do not have something to protect me."
Wordlessly, she pulled the scarf covering her dark hair from her head and handed it to him. It was a fine piece of cloth, well made and dark green in color. A
rain barrel stood nearby, miraculously intact. Rafael soaked the cloth and wrapped it around his face. For a moment, he thought he could smell frankincense on
the cloth, but then a cloud of smoke blew past him and it was gone.
With a final look at the woman, and more so the child, Rafael went up to the building. The roof and one of the walls was on fire, and smoke leaked from around
the door. Before he could lose his nerve, he shouldered the door open and charged in.
It was dark; it was hot; it was smoky. Rafael could hardly see, let alone tell where the old man was. He didn't know how he found the supine figure, maybe
it was a faint cough or maybe the a familiar shadow. He also didn't know how he got back out of the house, only that when he became aware of his
surroundings, he and the old man were back at the rain barrel, burned but alive.
"G-gracias, senor," said the old man.
"Don't thank me," said Rafael. "Thank your daughter and grandson."
"Senor," said the old man, "I have no daughter."
"Then who is--?" Rafael turned and pointed at where the woman and her child had been standing, No one was there, and the building they had stood next
to was ablaze and almost collapsed. Rafael fingered the scarf around his neck for a moment, confused, but shook his head. "Come along, old man," he
said. "The French are here, and we need to get to safety."
The full identity of the first man to wear La Mascara Verde - the Green Mask - is not known, only that he was a soldier in
Porfirio Diaz's army during the Franco-Mexican War and that he obtained the mask during the Battle of Oaxaca. El Hombre en la Mascara Verde was seen in
several conflicts during the war, occasionally turning the tide, but more often arriving in time to save innocents caught up in the fighting. He was, by all
accounts, a normal soldier, attributing his luck and fighting skill to the Virgin Mary, who he claimed had given him the green scarf that he wore around his
neck and as a mask to protect him from smoke. His final fate is unknown, although there are mentions of him in the annals of several now-defunct Mexican
churches from the period. Later wearers of La Mascara Verde cite him as the first of their line, although none of them claim to be related to him, and refer to
him as Numero Uno.
Ebony the Black Dragon
http://ebony14.livejournal.com
"Good night, and may the Good Lord take a Viking to you."