Jiao Dao

(Sorry if this is a bit big)
Name: Jiao Dao
Gender: Female
Alignment: Villain
Team: Solo Villain
Level: Street
Location: Reach City

Background:

“Get up,” Jiao’s discombobulated ears heard faintly, and a moment later, more forcefully, “Get up!”

She heard the rap of a cane on the ground. Her eyes opened, and she could see she was not in the bed she’d gone to sleep in last night. Underneath her was a cold tile floor, and to all sides of her were men with masks, and one in front of her, the one with the cane.

The masks were traditional-style Chinese masks of dragons, meant to be fierce and portray strength, bravery, and a fiery soul, but all Jiao had ever seen when she looked into the eyes of dragons was a comical expression.

She rose slowly, steadily to her feet, her eyes becoming accustomed from the darkness of sleep to the bright white light of this room.

“Where am I?” she asked evenly, trying as hard as she could to observe her surroundings, but she was too short to see much above the men around her.

“That does not matter,” the man with the cane said. She thought she recognized the voice vaguely; perhaps one of her father’s men?

“What matters is that your father plans to have you murdered. Staged, of course, but you will die if you don’t listen to me.”

Jiao felt around for her knife, but it had been taken from her-- predictably, but still better to know than not.

“If you make an aggressive move towards me or any of these men, you will be killed, and your father will have his work cut out for him.” The voice was low and had a sense of urgency, as if he were genuinely warning her.

“Maybe if you reveal your identity to me, I won’t feel the need to tell my father of this when I return,” Jiao replied.

“Tell me something, Jiao. What did you misunderstand when I said your father has lethal intentions for you?”

“I misunderstood nothing. This incredulity is due to mistrust, which I may be able to set aside if I can see your face. I find your masks distasteful and unthreatening,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“If it will make you listen to me… So be it.” With these words, the man with the cane nodded and each of the men took their masks off with him in unison.

Jiao was surprised to find she recognized each and every one of the men around her as her father’s men. The man now twirling his cane between his fingers was her father’s second-in-command, the General. All of the leading men in her father’s syndicate are known by titles rather than names for the sake of secrecy and ease of protection, of legacy as well as life.

“You are still young, and intelligent, and your father is envious. He would’ve made an attempt on your life tonight. You outwit and overrule him in his own court each day…” he trailed off. “At what point are his actions surprising?”

“I know my father is vicious… but vicious enough to kill family?” Jiao shook her head. “I don’t believe you. He holds the family name above almost everything else.”

“Evidently, still below his own lust for power. He wants not for you to succeed him, but your brother.”

Jin, Jiao thought distastefully. A pitiful excuse for a man. He’d be better off leading a street gang or simply disappearing.

“Not Jin. Xao.” The General said, as if in reply to her thoughts. He stopped after he said this and inclined his head as if waiting for her to ask a question.

“I don’t have a brother named Xao,” was Jiao’s only response.

“You didn’t know you did, but you do. His wit rivals yours and he’s been amassing outside Reach for some time. Your father made me swear on my honor never to tell you about him. I didn’t know he’d try to remove you.” He paused. “Not until two months ago. Plans have been in place to put you in power ever since.”

Now Jiao had only one question.

“Why?”

“Because you are the only one who can lead the Ki Triad to conquer Reach. Of your father’s possible successors, you are the most suitable candidate.”

Personality:

Jiao squinted into the dying sun as the van’s doors opened to reveal the sunset on the beach outside.

“Why are we here?” she asked slowly, glancing at the General.

“Your father’s here,” he said shortly.

“So could be a hundred others, and they could be my father’s men. The ones who want me dead?”

“None of them are. It’s just your father. He’s asked to speak with you.”

“And you indulged him?”

“It’s only him,” the General said with conviction.

“I can only assume you’ve vetted everyone here, and also have him at gunpoint?” Jiao intoned, incredulous.

“Not quite?”

“Soon such a system will be commonplace,” Jiao said decisively.

“As you say. But first, you must speak with your father. I suspect he’s here to apologize… and you are here to make sure he doesn’t leave.”

Jiao blinked. “You want me to kill him?”

“I’d just as well say eliminate the competition, but yes.”

“He’s my father,” she whispered. “He brought me life--”

“He was going to bring you death as of two months ago. Now you must return the favor. Successfully.”

“Is there not another way?”

“No. Kill him and be done. If you’re going to run the Triad, and you will, I won’t allow anyone else to, you need this to be finished. No loose ends.”

The General pulled a knife from the sleeve of his shirt and slipped it into the folds of Jiao’s dress. “Use this. Stab him, cut his throat, it doesn’t matter. Make sure he’s dead by the time you return to the van.”

Jiao clenched her jaw and tears threatened to fill her eyes, but in the end, she nodded and thumbed the hilt of the knife the General had given her.

She blinked tears away as she strode down the beach, turning a corner on the boardwalk and noticing her father sitting at a table at the end of the pier with a red and white beach umbrella planted firmly in the center. He wore his usual attire: a black suit with a yellow tie.

The heat was just beginning to dissipate, the sun surrendering control of the sky to the moon, who would gladly raise an indigo curtain from the east to the west.

She stepped confidently, cautiously, not gallivanting but not shuffling down the pier. He seemed to have noticed her as soon as she turned the corner, his brown eyes peeking above the sunglasses he wore. In front of him was a hot dog, half-eaten with an assortment of condiments littered atop it.

She stopped when she reached the table, took a last look at the sunset, and sat with her back to it, facing her father. A mere three feet separated them, Jiao Dao and Suhn Dao.

Her father spoke first. “It is good to see you again, little flower.” He nodded sagely and smiled comfortingly.

Despite his calm words, Jiao could sense the tension between them, as if at any moment either of them could snap and tear the other to ribbons. It was a moment before she spoke, curtly and quietly. “I wish I could say the same to you, father.”

He frowned genuinely, or what seemed to be genuinely, at her as he took a bite of his hot dog. “I want you to know I’ve reflected on my poor judgement and that an attempt on your life was a mistake. I was paranoid-- I’ve made such mistakes in the past. I should’ve known you’d never try to take control of the clan without my death beforehand. Perhaps not even then.” He paused and reached across the table to take her hand, a smear of mustard on the corner of his mouth.

Jiao looked sullenly at the table and her lengthening shadow. Soon she’d lose the advantage of the sun being in her father’s eyes when she killed him. She’d made up her mind on the way down the pier, after seeing her father’s lying face. A failed assassination could only be answered justly with a successful one. And soon, she would ensure it.

“Not even then,” she whispered. Then she looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed from her near encounter with tears. She couldn’t take it anymore. When she looked at him, all she could see were snippets of her deprived childhood-- taking runs to the ice cream shop and then to an abandoned warehouse, waiting in the car while she heard screams from inside. Buying a dog for her when she was nine, only to have him run it over in a high-speed chase. And finally, waking up on a freezing floor in a compound that showed her no real hospitality. She’d made up her mind.

“I can’t forgive you, father,” she said slowly, new tears emerging from her eyes as she grabbed the hand he was holding hers with to tug him closer and with her other hand, pulling the dagger from her dress. She slid the blade across his throat, and he bled onto his food. His eyes bulged and tendons in his neck stood out, his teeth gritting as rage overcame him. His mouth formed words that Jiao couldn’t make out, and she stepped back as he grabbed at her, falling onto the pier and flailing for a few moments before laying still. His final breath bubbled in the pool of his own blood around him, seeping through the cracks in the pier into the water below. He lay at the edge of the platform, and a nudge from Jiao sent his cadaver tumbling into the darkening depths beneath.

The General’s Dao and Dagger: Slashing Weapon, Rank 2 (4/14)

“It’s time,” the General quietly said. “The coup is nearing completion. Mere minutes separate us and victory.”

Jiao nodded solemnly. Since her father’s demise, the Ki Triad had all but fallen apart. Jin had taken control, but as she predicted the first night of her hiding, he was unfit to command. Xao was nowhere to be found, as far as she could perceive. If he’d heard the news, he was like to show up very soon. Jiao would be ready. She knew roughly what to expect from him.

She stood when the General nodded, handing her his dao, or broadsword, for her to use in the final ceremonies of taking command.

She entered the Ki complex, the dagger once more folded in her dress. Now, however, she gripped the hilt of the General’s dao. She looped the ribbon twice about her wrist and then tied it so if she struck too hard, it wouldn’t clatter to the ground. She entered her father’s old war room-- the pictures, newspaper clippings, and maps she’d grown accustomed to seeing had been replaced with takeout menus and pizza boxes, along with syringes full of what Jiao could only assume to be narcotics… or perhaps Serum.

She entered her father’s “throne room”; it was littered with pillows and chairs, but the seat the room was named for still stood at the end of the court, and three men knelt with burlap sacks over their heads and their hands tied behind their backs. All three were lean and lithe, and she could see black ponytails peeking from beneath the bags of all the men but one.

“Jin,” she sighed as she walked past, removing the bag from her brother’s head with the hand that didn’t hold her sword. His nose had been broken recently, she could see, and his once-fair features were marred with cuts and bruises, as well as the scar running across his face from his left ear to his lip.

His close-cropped black hair shone with sweat and his nearly black eyes were set with determination and defiance. His jaw was clenched and he was still breathing hard from the battle he’d just lost. “Jiao,” he spat. “Come to take what is mine away from me?”

“No, merely to succeed your unsuccessful reign. I see you’ve destroyed the Triad for me in the months Father’s been dead.” Jiao motioned with her sword to the two men to either side of Jin. “And who are these two?”

“My closest advisors,” Jin said pointedly. “The ones who said an attack in the middle of the day was suicide. Clearly, they meant for us.”

“This is hardly a suicide,” Jiao said, raising her arm and in a swift motion decapitating the man to Jin’s left. “More an execution, as you’re insurgents.”

Jin’s eyes were wide with horror and his jaw dropped. Blood had spattered his face during Jiao’s demonstration. “J-Jiao… how did this happen to you? When did you become so… cold?”

Jiao looked down at him disparagingly. “When you killed the Ki Triad, I was overcome with grief. I came out of it hardened.” In a quick sidestep and subsequent cut, Jin’s other advisor’s head hit the ground.

“Any last drivel you want to spit out before your end?” Jiao said in a steely tone.

Jin was sobbing now, his tears causing more pain as Jiao’s throat and chest tightened. A salty drop escaped her eye as she raised her arm, but when she looked back down at Jin, the only thing she saw was the little brother she’d taken care of.

Was destroying the Triad with horrible leadership worth a death penalty? Capital punishment for failure?

Her face turned into an expressionless mask as she lowered her sword and removed her dagger from the depths of her dress. She knelt in front of him and drew the dagger across his neck.

Yes, she decided. Death was apt.

Survival of the Craftiest: Tactician, Rank 1 (6/14)

At Jiao’s side was the General’s sword. She’d tried to return it to him after she killed Jin, but he pushed it back into her hands and replied, “Take it. A gift for the coronation of the empress.”

Now its red ribbon hung from the sash running across her waist. She now wore a tunic instead of her dress, substituting the latter with a red and white skirt, as well as leggings underneath, something she found a bit more fitting to her position than her simple, traditional attire. Parts of her night-black hair were dyed a deep red, something she’d thought of doing herself for a long time, but until the point of her father’s death, he wouldn’t have allowed it. She looked over the maps of Reach, tracing her realm of jurisdiction with her finger.

An explosion shook the room, the long, fluorescent lamp above the war room table swinging to and fro. She backed out of the room, frowning, into the throne room. This room, at least, was blast-proofed. She felt her pocket vibrate, and looked down, pulling her phone from her tights’ pocket. It was a text from the General.

Xao is here. Be prepared. You have numbers and homefield advantage. We’ve been waiting for him. Do not let him leave.

Jiao’s lip tightened and her teeth clenched.

“Take positions in front of and to the side of the throne. We’ll wait for Xao here. Don’t be afraid to fire warning shots, but we have to wait until the General gets here so we can dispatch him," she commanded to her men.

She sat down on the throne, legs crossed and her hand gripping the hilt of her dagger. Beside her in the seat lay a handgun, something she had never used, but nonetheless felt safer for.

The double doors at the end of the court swung open and a man strode confidently inside, flanked by armed guards rippling with tattoos and muscles.

“Hello, Jiao.” Xin’s very speech dripped with poison and malice. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Xao,” was Jiao’s only response, her gaze unwavering as she looked into his eyes, eyes that held the cruel intelligence of a psychopath.

His mouth twisted into a grin that was more a grimace or scowl. Only his eyes told the truth of its meaning, a playfully sadistic intent lingering in them. “I assume you’ve led the Triad to hold its own in my absence?”

“Only the last half-year. Father and Jin are both dead.” Jiao couldn’t quite read his expression, but she suspected he already knew.

She removed her phone from her pocket and held it discreetly in her lap, just out of Xao’s view. Without looking, she texted the General, Xao is in place. Be quiet.

“What are you doing there?” Xao asked, as if flustered. “I thought in this situation of any, you’d want to pay attention to me, rather than ignoring me.”

“I have a feeling that’s all you want. Attention. You don’t want the Triad.” Jiao’s words were concise, cold, and clear.

“No, actually. I prefer the clandestine, cloying embrace of something a bit more low-key than what I’ve done today, and you’re going to give it to me.” Xao removed a katana from the sheath at his hip and held it up to the light. “This is the sword I’m going to use to kill you for what you did to Father.” The steel glinted threateningly under the ceiling lights.

“Father was an imbecile. If you want to blame anyone for his death, blame him. I merely cut short an inevitable declining spiral that would have rendered the Triad incapacitated for years.”

“But you don’t deny that you are the one who cut it short?”

“I do not.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” With this, Xao motioned for his men to come forward. They brandished riot shields and semiautomatic weapons, and mowed down her guards in moments.

Jiao’s eyes widened.

Xao advanced on her, katana held low, nearly scraping the ground as he walked briskly forward. Jiao was backed into the furthest reaches of her throne, gripping the arms with white knuckles and frantic breathing.

Xao drew nearer, and he raised his katana for a sideways slash, but Jiao’s grin stopped him. He frowned. “What have you to smile about?”

Jiao nodded to someone behind Xao. He turned to find a sight that surprised him.

The General stood on a field of his accomplices’ corpses, sheathing his jian into a cane sheath with a grin. “Perhaps not so little as you might think.”

Xao was about to turn around when he felt something in his neck. A sharp pain, reaching the center of his chest from just above his shoulder. He turned and fell to his knees, facing Jiao. His blade clattered from his hand, and a kick from Jiao sent him tumbling down the stairs, blood gushing from his wound and spilling from his mouth. He gurgled his last and lay still.

“If you’ll retrieve my dagger, General,” Jiao half-asked, half-commanded, reclining in her throne.

“Anything, for the empress with the most effective coup in Triad history.”

The General: Ally, Rank 3 (12/14)

Jiao’s tired eyes had been glancing over file after file for days. She’d read her father’s file, Jin’s, Xao’s, even her own, and now, she poured over the text on the page of the General, the most loyal servant her father had known… for a time. His only insubordinate act had been saving Jiao. This, of course, led to her father’s demise. His determination to make completely sure the Triad had the best leader it could have was what set the General so high in the monarchy. It might also lead to future subordination, however. Jiao knew this. As soon as she was unfit, the General would do the same to her as he did her father. She was beginning to see, as she read his file, how many leaders he’d cycled through. He was old, she realized. Very old. Over one hundred, easily. There were pictures in here of him with her great-grandfather, all the way down the line of the Ki Dynasty.

“He’s on Serum,” she muttered. She’d always assumed the General was only a good fighter, but now she knew: he’d been in the business for a century. He was the best there was, and his only interest was his survival and the survival of the clan.

Now Jiao knew she had the best advisor she was like to receive.

“Looking at anything in particular?” the General asked from her left. There he stood in the doorway, his blond hair forming into two long sideburns that made her remember the tales of Sun Wukong from the stories she’d been read as a child, where the pictures depicted Sun Wukong as such.

Jiao looked over at him slowly. “Merely files.” She closed his and pushed them all into the drawer beneath the table of maps.

“You appear exhausted,” he said. It was when he mentioned he noticed this that Jiao knew how she’d keep him on her side, and the plan formed.

“Take me to bed.”

A Forward Thinker: Mind, Rank 2 (14/14)

When Jiao awoke the next afternoon, she was immediately surprised by the time. She’d been an early riser and a deft sleeper as long as her memory served. But now, it was 1:41 p.m., and she’d slept through revenue figures that morning. She could only hope the General had recorded them. He wasn’t in bed, so there weren’t many other places he could be.

She quickly dressed, showered, and ate in her room, walking down the hallway to the end and making a left down a staircase to get to the throne room. She made her way with a purposeful stride to the war room. She opened the door and was unsurprised to find a full council minus herself encircling the map table. She sat down quietly, noting the meeting’s silence. When she sat, they began to speak once more.

“How much did we accrue this week?” she asked the General.

“Over one hundred eighty-six thousand dollars.”

“Serum isn’t cheap,” Jiao stated with a nod. “Is this sustainable?”

“For several lifetimes.”

“Competition?”

“The Song in terms of Serum, the Pack in terms of territory, and a…” he glanced at the paper in his hand and then at the map, “John Krugman gang, subtracting from our potential manpower, but not the most immediate of threats. Any would be a dangerous adversary, and perhaps not a fight we could walk away from.” The General shrugged. “Until such a point as they become invasive, I recommend we don’t take active measures against them. However, we should be prepared to.” He took a pause. “To borrow from this country’s plethora of colloquialisms, ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’”

Jiao smirked. “Interesting take. Any dissidence among the rest of you?”

The rest of the table’s occupants shook their heads.

“Then let’s continue our operation as is, until some variable inevitably changes.”

“Yes, Empress Jiao!”