Note: Double check pulse and heart monitoring devices; must make sure it is the truth.

"Today we are going to play a game," Doctor Chastity said. She's an attractive woman of about 35 years of age. Her black soft hair is done up in a bun on top of her head, some hair falls down framing her face making her appear older then she actually is. The ebony colored hair is a great contrast to the pale skin she supports with a fine bone structure, possibly from good family genes. She wears glasses she keeps halfway down her face instead of wearing them on the bridge of her nose. She is an attractive woman.

I gave her some white paint that she is allowed to use to paint half her face white - her trademark almost. She calls it her mask.

"What kind of game?" Typhoid asked. Tilting her head back - a sign of superiority complex. Look into further later.

"I show you a card with a shape, and you tell me what you see."

"Hope would love this game."

"Who?"

"No one."

"Now focus on the card. What do you see?"

"My mother."

The details of Typhoid's case are still vague.

Here we have the top agent of The TEN, a genius at her craft - mostly tracking down men who rape and abuse women and making them pay when they are beyond the law - who apparently wiped out Seattle's most powerful crime lord and his lieutenants. This is a man with political ties - a man the government wanted in power. She acted against orders.

Then upon her disciplinary meeting with The TEN directors...she killed everyone of them, sustaining fatal injuries from security guards...(whom she also killed)

Our people recovered her body before TEN operatives could locate it. At that time the medical instruments registered her as dead. But we were able to revive her and repair her injuries. Why did The TEN's best agent snap? What secrets does she have that make her a liability to them? The TEN have sent her former comrades in arms to silence her. We could probably reprogram her and put her in a different organization...probably. We are The JOSEPHINE Group. We monitor all the other government agencies. My job is to find out what happened.

"Tell me about your mother."

"I already did," she answered.

"But tell me that story again."

She titled her head back - definitely superiority complex. "My mother was only ten years old when she meet my father and uncle. I've watched it through her eyes often. Its rhythm beats inside me...like the wings of a bird. I follow the rhythm to the past. Its shadow sweeping through fields of gold...Kansas' countryside. Both my uncle and father developed deep emotional needs for my mother and deep emotional necessities to see her. Later when they grew up, my mother became an actress and joined a theater group, my father and uncle became soldiers. My father moved up quickly through the ranks while my uncle's behavior and attitude stagnated his career.

"My father always had an affinity for Eastern culture. When my mother re-entered my father and uncle's life with the theater group, whose job it was to entertain the soldiers, he asked them to perform ancient Hindu and Japanese plays. Most of the soldiers didn't appreciate them, the slowness of the plot, the lack of action and nudity. Some of them almost rioted, wanting to see...the women, but my father and the rest of the generals found them entertaining and so to keep the soldiers happy had the actors do a few modern plays like West Side Story only having the one scene where Rita Moreno's character goes alone into the ice cream parlor go a little further then in the actual script. My mother played Rita Moreno's character. They say we look alike but the resemblance runs deepest in the eyes.

"Though the soldiers got their way they still weren't happy with the mostly slow moving Eastern plays. Especially my uncle."

"Tell me about your uncle again."

"My father had a brother. Just like my father was a prodigy at strategy-zing my uncle was a prodigy at torture. Or so I am told. Some of his antics in the military become so horrid that even his friends recoiled in terror from him. My uncle eyed the actresses contemptuously. Some of the soldiers agree with him - the women should be used for more then just their acting. The name of the theater group, Broken English, or B.E., becomes a derogatory term used on the actors, especially the female ones.

"My uncle is jealous of the attention his brother gave to my mother and is also jealous of the attention she gave him back. Since they were kids my uncle looked up to his brother and his brother treated him like a little brother, taking care of him and watching him. Until my uncle's view changed towards my father. Seeing only the kindness my father gave as being patronized. He eventually began to grow and hate my father, with a hatred I can only assume is incomprehensible to a sane person.

"In one play she plays the ghost in a old Shakespearean play, but they lacked costumes so she dressed in a old flag that they were going to retire the next morning. My uncle's hatred fumed. His thoughts burned that she didn't deserve to wear the flag. So he turned his hatred from his brother to her as she become the target of his scorn. He goes to her room and rips the flag from her body, but my father enters and scorns the young soldier. This creates a permanent rift between brother and brother.

"Eventual the war ended as abruptly as it had started, and the soldiers left the warm moist jungles of the forest they had been fighting in. My father feels guilty for having the actors come to such a terrible place. A guilt he shared only with my mother and they feel more in love. The love between my mother and father furthered the rift between brother and brother, filling my uncle with disgust, which became more...vicious.

"He, my uncle, created a name for himself in his new home, Seattle, in the underground crime syndicate. Meanwhile over the years my mother and father fall deeper in love and set a wedding day. When my uncle heard news of the planned wedding he is outraged. He feels disgusted for himself and his brother a non-existent family honor. On the eve of the wedding my mother went to church to pray. So did my uncle. When my father finds her she is near death. Me manages to keep her alive in the finest hospitals. My mother rambles incoherently in French. She slips deeper and deeper into deaths grip. She is pregnant. My father had never consummated with my mother. She never become conscious enough to identify her attacker. But my father knew deep in his heart who it was. She dies in childbirth."

She switches pretenses while telling the story - living in the moment it happened? Repressed memory? Look into further. "That was you? The baby?"

"Yes."

"And your father's brother...that's your real father?"

"Very good."

"But how did you get your... 'scars'?"

"My uncle didn't know she was pregnant. My father felt responsible for the child. He saw my mother in my eyes. He raised her as his own. Years passed before my uncle learned of the child. He was enraged to the point of insanity. She is an abomination to him and his family. He carves on her and leaves her...as a message to my father."

Telling story rarely with I as the subject - dis-associated from the events. "What happened to the girl?"

"She died. Total flatline for nine minutes, each minute she spent in her mothers womb...and I saw my mother. I was reborn...in the fields of Kansas. I felt complete...with her. But she told me...I must return...as a ghost...like her own in the Shakespearean plays. And so I honor my mother.

"Miraculously the medics brought the girl back. But part of me felt like it did not belong in this world. Either part of me was left there with my mother on the other side. I don't know. But soon when the girl returned to the land of the living she was different, almost immediately. I...she had episodes. A voice lingered in the back of her head, telling her fairytales that were demented. Her body and attitude began to respond to the new minds that inhabited it. My father trained me in arms of combat trying to control the girl, to give her a sense of direction and purpose, but it was no use. I couldn't block out the old woman's voice. So I was hospitalized. She became a ghost. The rest I believe is history that you should have acquired, from the Kingpin."

( as seen in the TYPHOID mini - Daniel )

( Kingpin acquired info on Typhoid in Daredevil #254 - Daniel )

Is it possible that Mary takes the brunt of the Old Woman's voice so that Typhoid could have taken her mother's mission to avenge her? Then where does Bloody stand in all this? She could possibly be all the repressed emotions aimed at her uncle. This would make Mary the strongest personally, and most sacrificing. Giving up any means of a real life so that Typhoid and Bloody could do what they want. But Mary must come out at some point. The mask? Possibly. "You can't relate to the world without your mask."

"With it I am someone feared and adored. I've never felt accepted without it."

"You seem to think it can also block out the painful that it represents. A partially white face and fake smile are poor substitutes for the false purity you represent and the emotions you can't share."

"I've never made a friend without my mask. Until Hope."

"I thought you said she wasn't real."

"Just a trick to get me to talk. My only friend is invisible or in my head."

"Well some of your 'friends' are out to kill you. And they aren't imaginary." I turn on the TV and allow her to watch the video. It's an image of her former teammate Tiger saying: "We've found our missing sister. Bring her home." I turn off the TV set. "We intercepted that transmission from a microwave frequency. And we cracked your code. I'm the only friend you have left."

"I don't think you would call this friendship."

"All right then, the next card. What do you see?"

"A mask."

"Yours?"

"No. Next."

"What does the mask look like? Who's mask is it? What does it conceal?"

"I said I'm done with that card. Next one please."

"Alright. What is it?"

"That card is defective."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not symmetrical."

"Well so it isn't. Try it anyway."

"No. That's ridiculous."

"No. We can try it. What do you see?"

She hit the cards out of Dr. Chastity's hand watching the symmetry as they fall to the ground. She takes Typhoid's paint and wipes the remaining paint from her face, removing my mask. The guards come in and take me away, down the hall and into an empty room. Two of the three guards leave her alone with the one guard as he escorts her through the room into another one; this one equally as empty and bare. Painted all in white, like Typhoid's mask. Shutting the door behind him the guard pulls himself close to her, holding her hands, his chest pressed to her back. In Typhoid's ear he whispers; telling her that he can make it all better and that he will help her through the hard time of not being allowed in her painted room with her stuff. She just needs to help him in little ways. Putting his hand on her shoulder she drops her weight as he pulls her shirt.

Instinct takes over.

Typhoid spins and kicks him with her right foot to his head, and then her left to his head, only he blocks that and she instead crushes the tiny bones in his wrist. Typhoid's left arm knocks him to the ground as she moves on pure muscle memory. A jab to his head and a small cut is created over his eye. She has stunned him. He thought she was still drugged, but she's obviously not. Typhoid could have easily have manipulated him into helping her, but that would've been too easy. She needs to exercise and prepare. If it is true what the doctor said: that The TEN are coming for her, she have to be ready. In top physical condition.

The guard tries to stand and she knocks him back down. His wounds bleed profusely. He's yelling and trying to wipe the blood from his eyes. His fingers, covered in blood, leave beautiful designs in crimson on the white walls. She kicks him a couple of times, knocking him unconscious. Typhoid admires the blood on the wall and begins to paint again. This time not pictures but words. Mary would be proud of the talent she has developed.

Typhoid writes the final words that Hope left her with: "I will come from you. Be ready." She soon covers the walls with her, Hope's, words and finally stopping, kneeling on the ground, Hope's portrait is painted, the only one she gave her. ||**||

The doors burst open and the younger guard is finally coming in, with gun in hand. He must've thought that the sounds were her pleasure from the other guard's touch. In part he was right. She's not quite here, she can't fight him. Typhoid will have to seduce him. She waits for him to make the first move, the eliminate of surprise is lost. Then he makes a thoughtful expression and looks to the ceiling. Falling forward blood falls from his mouth. There's a pen in the back of his head. Standing over him is a woman, with a piece of paper. It reads: "Let's go."

Typhoid forgets that the room is bugged and she speaks. "Who are you?" But she already knows the answer.

In TYPHOID #2: TYPHOID, HOPE & JOSEPHINE Part 2 "(De)Constructing Typhoid/Hope" Typhoid and Hope seek refuge from The JOSEPHINE Group by hiding in the basement until Hope's friend arrives to help them. But the women and The JOSEPHINE Group aren't alone in the building as they've been infiltrated by The TEN!

Author's Comments

Hi. My name is Daniel Holmes and this is my first published fanfic ever. And I am pretty happy with the way it turned out. Trying to give Typhoid a past that was both complex and would give the reader sympathy for her as well as justify what she does, I think works pretty well. The hard part was working in how she became to be in a mental institute when she was a child. But I think by just having her say that the rest is history, in short, was a good way. Like I said this is my first fanfic, and I would love some feedback.
Thank you.
Daniel Holmes