Nemesis. That’s what they used to call me…Battle after battle, plot after plot; that’s all they ever knew me as. Little did they know that I wasn’t the true beast they hunted day after day, year after year. Little did they know how little they actually knew.
Ten years after the last war, two men began their rise to power; myself, and Micah…Micah Raiden. President Raiden. If that’s how they reward terrorism, far be it from me to question the integrity of politics. I never liked the whole ‘voting’ and ‘due process’ garbage anyway. Democracy is nothing but organized chaos. I am more like focused chaos.
The war began much like any other. One powerful organization wanted more power, and one ‘noble’ organization saw the chance to groom their public presence into something that appeared as the Saving Grace of mankind. Hundreds of thousands of innocents died for something they didn’t really understand. Like lambs to the slaughter, more and more enlist trying to stop Trystix and his corporation. More and more thinking they're saving the world from tyranny, while the true tyrants rise to power on the opposite side. Worse still, they die for nothing. Saving Grace indeed.
Trystix was not a man of action. He was a man of vision. At near four-hundred fifty pounds, he didn’t spend much time away from the top of Tryst Tower in Chicago. He tried his best to never rise from his favorite chair behind his desk; he’d just push a button and send his favorite crony or stooge to get the ball rolling for him. Trystix had a simple philosophy; “Why bother making two moves when one is enough?”
I wish I could say that I had nothing to do with the man. He was selfish, callous, vicious, and corrupt. Yet none of these would ever show in front of his daughter, Lena. He would do anything for the girl from the day she was born until the day she died. It must have been tragic watching the only shred of humanity drain from Trystix as the life of his precious twelve year old daughter withered away from the virus. It took a month, give or take for the end to come.
On top of everything else, Trystix was brilliant. He built his company from the ground up. He spent every dime he and anyone he knew would earn on that blasted Tower. He had it built before he made his first million, only to expand even larger upon his first billion. Trystix manipulated anyone he ever met, including myself. But you’d never know until it was too late to repair the damage. Thus, his marriage to my sister Olivia. Had I known his intentions, Trystix wouldn’t have been within a hundred miles of Liv. But we all have our problems, mine happened to be arson. He wouldn’t take money as payment; only a date with my twin would do. The man had a golden tongue; anything he wanted he would get. Unfortunately enough, Liv was a true innocent. She would have believed him if he said the sun wouldn’t rise tomorrow.
When the virus hit, it hit hard. No one knows where it started, only that it spread like wild fire. It burned through the population of Chicago like dry leaves. They call it Red Rose Fever, named for the crimson color the skin changes from the rise in blood temperature. Then, as the fever increases, the skin and musculature on the extremities wilts like a dead flower and begin to fall off. But by then, the end is very close. Once the wilting begins, no one lasts more than a day. I imagine it’s quite painful, not unlike leprosy of old. Trystix must have been distraught to have to watch his beloved daughter, my niece Lena, die of such a thing. Too bad he didn’t have the same pain when he had my sister killed for something she never did. For something I did.
Nemesis. I fought to stop Trystix, yet became a fugitive. My methods may have been questionable, but I don’t regret them. At least the innocents that died at my hand died for something. I am not a hero. I am not a victim. I will not be a victim. I am not a good person, nor do I intend to be. I am a villain; just not the villain you need be concerned with. I am Nemesis, and this is my story.