Molly Jones

Molly was once a faunas, even if it’s hard to tell nowadays at first glance. Adopted at the age of three by a kind, old-aged human couple, Molly looked up to them with eyes filled with hope. Despite the small claws on her hands and feet, the two of them had treated her fairly with little to no discourse. The man and woman ran a local fix-me-up, an occupation that Molly took after with passion. Learning the tools of the trade, she quickly joined their ranks to become an efficient group of three. This made her happy beyond belief, and the years after were simply the best in her life. It would have been perfect, if not for how easily anger spreads and inflames.

Somehow, unbeknownst to both her and her parents, this little faunus came to be the target of anger from a group of angry men who lived in their neighborhood. This incident happened a week after she celebrated her 10th birthday, a ruthless mob fueled by the vices of alcohol and ignorance. They targeted the parts of her that weren’t human, branded her with scars and attacked with baseball bats and all manner of other brutal instruments.

What saved her life was a police officer who decided to investigate all the ruckus this was making, a man who quickly called for backup and an ambulance. Apparently, the following weeks were met with a swift roundup of these attackers by the local law enforcement, but Molly found it hard to care. After all, the damage was already done. There were countless scars on her backs and both her arms had to be amputated, as well as the lower half of her right leg. One of her eyes also sustained great injuries, blind now to all but darkness.

After a few months in the hospital, news of the hate-crime died down, quickly forgotten by many. She was allowed to be discharged, and her parents quickly relocated their home to another area. They also presented her a gift – bionic parts for her lost limbs and eye, crafted and forged with love and care. The pain her parents had felt, the way they blamed themselves for what had happened, she had noticed it all over the course of her stay in the hospital. Hugging them tight, she tried to reassure them that it wasn’t their fault. She managed to softly mutter out not more than a few sentences before breaking down, sobbing and wailing.  

Four years after that, her father passed away. After another two, then her mother. The both of them left this world in their sleep, and she felt a part of herself break away each time. Their new house was at this point shabby and breaking down, an apt reflection of their financial hardships. Desperate for cash, she turned to a less savory market, deciding to make a name for herself as a back-alley technician, somebody who wouldn’t ask any questions as she fixed up your guns, equipment and cyborg parts. It wasn’t long before the market realized that her skills and technique were unparalleled, and with the coincidental disappearance of a few of her competitors, she worked day and night to pay off the debts of her parents.

The reason they owed money was due to a late-life gambling habit that swallowed her mother whole, but Molly felt no anger towards her mother’s actions. That addiction was brought on by circumstance and the environment they found themselves in, and what it was is just simply a tragedy. There’s hardly anything to be gained from harboring and directing negative feelings towards her mother – Molly understood after all, how much of a slippery slope life really could be.

Finally with her debts paid off, she broke free from the shackles of her past and decided to start things anew. To set off on a desolate road of redemption, so to speak, no matter how hard it'll be to change her selfish nature. Breaking off ties with that seedy market and any contacts she had made (angering more than a few as a result), she decided that the best way to begin was to have her sights set on becoming a huntress. By doing so, maybe she can make up for all those years she surrounded herself with evil. Perhaps this way, she can forgive herself for all the things she’s done. Even if it’s just a tiny bit of soul cleansing, maybe it’ll be just enough, just the right amount to push her over from the line of ‘evil’ to ‘good'.

After all, her parents did go gently into that good night with not but a single request - for her to live life as a ‘good girl’.  

Tossing and turning around in her sleep, the painful emotions showing on her face that night were contorted by all manner of nothing nice. All of a sudden, the past had sucked her right back in. She was back in that dim, decrepit alleyway. It was raining hard, and puddles of muddy water formed all over. Rats were scurrying all about, chased away only by the sound of vengeful stamping boots. She ran and ran, her short legs waltzing madly into the night. Her pursuers followed behind her every step, their mad hollering ceasing not even for one blissful second.

The bricks on this road were unevenly laid, and with the pace at which she was panting and running, a misstep was inevitable. She fell down to the ground, scraping her knees and hands against the rough concrete. Bits and pieces of dirt and filth bit into her wounds, but she couldn’t afford to sit and cry. The sounds of madmen were closing in! Fighting back stinging tears she scurried back up, pushing herself off the ground, but she managed only a pitiful few steps before a painful tug on the back of her collar stopped her dead in her tracks.

Her heart skipped a beat, and it was in that moment when she knew that her fate had just been sealed. That this was just the beginning of a long, long night.