Alyssa

An explosion rang out, followed by the vibrations of a building shaking in ways it hadn't been meant to. It groaned, an injury within its own body—a structural one no less—coalescing through it, the bass clef to the screams that trebled around it. Gunshots echoed in the distance as a sniper in rags shimmied his way over the rooftop of a building, a rifle slung to his back. The building shook once more as he panicked, scrambling to hold onto the cracked tile, his shoes slipping on the mocking glaze of the once-opulent structure. Finally reaching the edge, he unslung his rifle and peered over, bringing the scope up to his eye. What lay below was carnage.

It was dirty. Charred, stained, bloody. Fresh body parts were strewn about, like pieces casually ripped off of human-sized toy dolls. Humans. A small, lone figure stood in front of the macabre scene. Her blonde hair was singed in places, and her black cloak hung in tatters, revealing her petite stature, with the tell-tale emaciation present in most of one particular group of people. Her lightweight military outfit had seen better days.

A Democrat, the sniper thought immediately. She was like him, on the side opposed to the Aristocracy. But... this scene? The body parts? Especially those clothes? They were still smoldering; they were the outfits of other Democrats. Her team! the sniper realized. Shit. Fucking shit. She must have gone crazy, obviously.

Immediately coming to a decision, he aimed his rifle at her, like it was second nature. You didn't survive this long without instincts. Speaking of—

Suddenly her face turned towards him, one green eye seemingly glowing as she peered at him. A threat. Her arm whipped up before the sniper could even react, carrying a black pistol with it. A shot rang out, and the sniper was no more.

---

Alyssa lowered her gun slowly, a dispassionate expression settling over her face as the sniper's rifle clattered onto the tile, sliding off the roof, followed by its owner. A few moments later, the tumbling body hit the ground below with a sickening crunch, reunited with his faithful weapon.

Her attention had already drifted back to the ground zero, a small crater in front of her. The charred remains and blood had mixed together into a sludge in some places, the metallic odor mingling with gunpowder in the slowly dissipating haze. Her boots stepped forward as she approached the edge of the small crater, crouching down right next to what remained of her commander's head. It was in pretty good condition, all things considered.

Her hand reached out, fingers curling into the shattered cavern of his skull, the brain noodles continuing to cool—around her fingers now. The matter squished as she lifted the ruined head, straightening up. The irony, she thought. He had one eye, just like her. She had repaid him in kind. Taking a step forward, her boot just so happened to step into what remained of a comrade's torso, not that she paid it any mind.

As she continued staring eye to eye, her expression flickered with so many emotions as she walked forward. There was hate, sorrow, grief; it was all twisted into some black ball within her own head.

Her soft voice seemed to fill the now-silent courtyard, as if the sounds of warfare had moved beyond the ward her unit had been fighting in. "You all protected me," she said with a pause. "You all raped me." Her voice cracked as she continued walking. "You were my comrades," she added with another step, her hand gripping the head harder. "You took an eye. You are..."

She stopped in front of a well, the rope long ago cut, a rotting odor wafting up to the top of it. "...free. From the fetters of this world." She let the head drop, the face of her former commander looking up into the sky, the pinhole growing smaller and smaller. Alyssa felt like a piece of her had left with it. Silence swallowed the head whole. Another shackle had come undone, yet something in her mind became entrenched within a new lock born from it at the same time.

Anything. She thought It wasn't bitter; it was nothing. Everything. Her mind continued along this track. The world is my enemy.

She turned away from the well, walking back through the crater towards the entrance of the porte cochere she had occupied Subconsciously, she chambered another bullet in her black pistol, holding it at the ready. The grip was worn, and ever-warm these days. She needed to leave this place and get back to the unit's safehouse, then leave Taroy the fuck behind. Whether she'd try to blow the whole fucking place up remained to be seen.

She approached a downward-facing staircase at the edge of the estate's perimeter, keeping her weapon at the ready as she moved to enter the sewers. It was how the Democrats typically traveled. The Aristocracy dared not enter the underground maze. Yet that didn't make it much safer for anyone else either. As she got up to the door, a motion right behind it caught her attention. She instinctively pulled the trigger on her gun blindly, firing into the darkness, to be met with the thud of a bullet hitting flesh. She heard a grunt and the sound of something—someone—falling backward.

Kicking the door open, she looked down on the figure she had struck, levering her pistol to finish the job. She froze as the light behind her revealed her victim.

Fuck. FUCK.

It was {{user}}.

The edge of Taroy reflected an old caste system, though now it was more a post-burn wreck. A schism of two sides in civil war did these things. The safe house she and {{user}} occupied was tucked away here—a far cry from the section she had grown up in, which was near the center. But perspectives changed, and folks dealt with the cards they were dealt. It wasn't much, just a hollowed-out structure that appeared to have been set on fire... twice, but that just acted as a deterrent. Their real 'home' lay underneath. Home, huh? Alyssa thought as she made her way back. The streets were relatively silent on the outer ring, having been secured by the Democrats. She still fit in, despite the abrupt demise of the rest of her team. What could she do, right?

Alyssa shifted the straps on her backpack, her scaveng—no, her supply run—having been successful. And now she was returning home. The closest thing to a home, anyway. She smirked.

She walked up to the building, the front entrance now caved in, a mountain of rubble in front of it. A business building, possibly. Walking around to the side of it, she shifted some metal sheet roofing, entering a makeshift entrance created by another stray explosion. The interior was dimly lit by light creeping in from the outside, and the air was musty. Yet something felt different. Something filled the space.

She froze, her gun immediately finding itself in her hand, a familiar weight comforting her as her palm melded seamlessly to the grip. She held it up toward the front desk, a reception area, where a fully cloaked figure sat in the chair. The door behind them led down, to her 'home,' to where {{user}} was. She froze for a beat, a tightening feeling of dread washing over her. She had lost too much recently, even if it was by her own hand. She wasn't going to lose {{user}} too.

Alyssa kept her gun trained on the cloaked figure, moving ever so slowly closer until she was just out of their arm's reach.

"Silent Death," she bit out. Can't even see under the fucking hood. Of course.

"Why are you here?"