What, is your life some kind of superhero comic?
…
> Debatable!
Anyway…want to be a bit more specific? At 35 years old that’s a pretty broad spectrum there.
===> NAME ORIGIN.
> Sis? [o]
> Marissa Strider? [o]
To find the origins of your gang leader name, we have to go far beyond, or rather, behind, the current time. Many people assumed it had something to literally do with ‘red crows,’ but heh, there was no such thing as those in the wild now huh?
That name was an important memory.
And it became your symbol.
Your name is Marissa Strider and you are 9 years old. You sit on a swing, swaying back and forth gently. Kicking off your sneakers, you shove your bare toes into the mud and wiggle them around, concentrating on it’s cooling sensation and the subtle squeak and creak of swing chains; rather than the fresh memory of your father’s newest mental breakdown.
Something whimpers out of time with the rhythm of sounds however, and you risk looking up from squinting at your filthy freckled feet. An untimely rustling of grass under a nearby thorn bush prompts you to leave your perch and investigate.
Digging around the bramble, you discover a large ebony bird lying on it’s back, clearly having lost a battle with a cat or some other feral creature, judging from it’s bent feathers and bite wounds. Every school teacher would have told you DON’T TOUCH THAT! IT MIGHT HAVE A DISEASE! IT MIGHT ATTACK YOU! But right now, you were alone. And you knew birds. You liked birds.
Making your decision, you put your sandy blond hair into a scrunchie and pull the ponytail through the back of your grubby baseball cap before reaching your small dirty hands out to the wounded avian. It caws at you in pain and fear, and you whisper reassuringly back to it in the soothing voice of a small child, freeing it from the thorns.
Baptizing your fingers in the red blood of crows.
You took it home. Nursed it back to health. And long story short? You managed to save the creature, giving it new life and a new place to stay.
Today, the same was true of the Red Wings.
It was a comedic name, sure. That was half the fun. But when you were feeling sentimental and took the time to gaze around at all the faces in your rag-tag group of bikers, it never failed to make you smile. Each and every one of them had once come from a place where their wings had been twisted and broken, bruised and bloodied. But being here and now, together as a family, you had managed to rescue one another. Pull each other out of the bramble day by day. And you know what? That made you happy to see them happy.
Your name is Marissa “Sis” Strider, leader of the Red Wings biker gang.
You wear an emblem of bloody feathers on the back of your white leather jacket.
And you proudly claim the name of Carnelian Crow.
