This place... it wasn't her world. She knew that now. It could be an illusion, she supposed, but over time and as things grew more strange and intricate, more painful and exhausting... she couldn't doubt. Now, with whatever that black sludge was coursing through her veins, all she can think about is those snatches of memory remaining from her brush with Hell's Gate.
A girl drained of blood after an ambush had left her desperate to pay her obeisance, a businessman who had the misfortune to choose the roof she'd been operating from when he wanted a smoke, a politician and his retinue in Glasgow, the laboratory she'd reduced to rubble in San Paulo... Hundreds, thousands of them, corpses bloated, twisted, crushed, and all because of her. Why?]
Because-
[In this moment, she wishes desperately for the ignorance she'd once possessed. No powers, no memories, a slate wiped largely clean, possessed of practical knowledge, language, and no memory of where or how such skill had been acquired. Didn't know her own name, not the one she'd been born with at any rate- only remembered vague snatches. Havoc. Carmine. Heaven's Gate. The flash of light. The need to be on her toes. The inkling, pitfall feeling of having once done horrible things with no exact recollection.]
I don't want to kill anymore...
[Whimpered out in a near violent shake of her head, interrupted by the near hyperventilation she'd worked herself in to. As if in proof, the telltale neon lights suffused the outline of her body, limbs, pulsed behind her eyes before she killed it abruptly with another harsh clutch of her broken fingers, the others trembling where they clutch at this stranger's pant leg.]
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This place... it wasn't her world. She knew that now. It could be an illusion, she supposed, but over time and as things grew more strange and intricate, more painful and exhausting... she couldn't doubt. Now, with whatever that black sludge was coursing through her veins, all she can think about is those snatches of memory remaining from her brush with Hell's Gate.
A girl drained of blood after an ambush had left her desperate to pay her obeisance, a businessman who had the misfortune to choose the roof she'd been operating from when he wanted a smoke, a politician and his retinue in Glasgow, the laboratory she'd reduced to rubble in San Paulo... Hundreds, thousands of them, corpses bloated, twisted, crushed, and all because of her. Why?]
Because-
[In this moment, she wishes desperately for the ignorance she'd once possessed. No powers, no memories, a slate wiped largely clean, possessed of practical knowledge, language, and no memory of where or how such skill had been acquired. Didn't know her own name, not the one she'd been born with at any rate- only remembered vague snatches. Havoc. Carmine. Heaven's Gate. The flash of light. The need to be on her toes. The inkling, pitfall feeling of having once done horrible things with no exact recollection.]
I don't want to kill anymore...
[Whimpered out in a near violent shake of her head, interrupted by the near hyperventilation she'd worked herself in to. As if in proof, the telltale neon lights suffused the outline of her body, limbs, pulsed behind her eyes before she killed it abruptly with another harsh clutch of her broken fingers, the others trembling where they clutch at this stranger's pant leg.]