[M][Earth] Of the People

[Victoria]

Love was a foreign word. An expressive word to place some symbolical meaning to the feeling of overwhelming nausea fluttering about in one's stomach. It was a feeling that could make toes curl, palms turn damp, and the world slow to an crawl. Their bubble couldn't be penetrated by invaders, government politics, or company standards. Lies had been threaded between the softest of words and emotions, a tangled web, but there was a true purpose that remained beneath it all. This purpose made Victoria's toes curl, and palms become damp. Her fingers uncoiled at her sides and the door shut. Another door was opening, a new world, a place to start and grow like never before.

What if...

The bedsheets felt different than before against her back, as if this new feeling made reality thick and pulsing, perfectly wound up. She hooked her leg against his calf as his body loomed over hers, the dimly lit room casting a radiant glow that was every bit romantic. Locked lips meshed together like a puzzle piece, perfectly placed. These lips made her heart skip, thumping as a drum within her ribcage. A breath hitched in her throat when they parted, only to reunite with fervent passion. Such a thing that could make the girl release a most exquisite of noises from within.

What if I could...do this...

Somehow, with Roy's strength, the girl was slid up along silken sheets to the headboard. A manly thing, a good thing, to tangle their bodies flush against the mattress. Slender digits lifted to become entangled within dark mahogany lochs. Her back arched against the covers of her hotel bed, cherry blossom hair a mess around her body. The blue of her dress inched up her creamy thigh, exposing flesh that had been sighted before, yet now appeared so much more sublime.

Victoria had never been close to anyone, not like this, except for Joal. Her old partner, the one that had cracked her open like an old dust covered book. All of her pages were worn by the years of abuse and terror that she had been subjected to. It had made her a scared little girl, and the only man she could find comfort with had been ripped from her arms. There were no letters, no notes in the wind, just silence. All she had was her job, her calling, and her leader. This...this was far from that. It was so far. She needed to feel alive, feel something within her electrified body. Jolts of feelings riddled her perfect body now, and the touch upon her bare thigh made her spine feel ever so tingly.

The tip of his tongue dipped into her mouth, past her lips, tasting her mouth. Wine had been consumed during the banquet. A sip here, and there, it barely made her mind buzz. Victoria could taste the sweet nectar on his tongue and openly kissed him with equal vigor. Her other hand trailed along his perfectly ironed dress shirt, gripping it with her dainty hand. It felt so good. This moment was wonderfully perfect, a time that she had long forgotten. Joal had only stirred these emotions, and now Roy was reawakening those sensations. His body aligned between her strong thighs, so much of him pressing upon her. It was all she could do not to tremble in the wake of what could come.

“R-Roy...” she whispered against his lips, her palm opening to press against the material of his shirt.

A warm hand trailed a heated path beneath the azure fabric, fingertips grazing against the edge of panties never having been seen.

I...I want this, but...

Victoria's hands moved to the sides of the politicians face, and her plush lips plucked and nibbled upon his. He was doing a number on her without even trying. The hunter instinctively tilted her hips to grind upwards. Much needed friction, groans mingled in the air, and a storm brewed. Downwards that flimsy lacy undergarment began to trail against smooth flesh, she wiggled, and she let loose the faintest of girlish whines.

“I...I'm a virgin.”

Roy Munin stared down at her, his hands against the blankets, a look she had seen once already. “You...don't want to?”

Victoria's hands smoothed down from his face to his shoulders. “I want to, I do,” a dark blush lit her cheeks, her eyes shyly lowered to gaze away, teeth sunken against her bottom lip. “I...I just want it to be special. The speech...”

“Yes, of course,” the soft frown began to transform into the kindest of smiles. It all made sense, now. Victoria was a young woman, and he wanted to treat her right. That's how it should be. A fairytale romance. Candlelight, a little wine, some soft music...whatever ran through his mind, it was anyone's guess. Victoria simply peeked up at his handsome visage with her rose-kissed cheeks and wavering eyes.

“I feel the same.”

“You do?”

“I...haven't felt like this, in here,” she touched her chest where the blue dress held snug to her bosom. “Tight, as if I could burst, it makes me happy, Roy,” her voice was a soft whisper.

“You love me?” an equal whisper, and his larger hand hovered away from the sheets to settle upon hers. Knees helped support his body between her lovely thighs, one hand supporting his upper weight against the mattress.

“Y-yes, I think so,” a small nod with her words. Victoria didn't know up from down, now, she hadn't ever uttered the word. Love wasn't for her. She had no one, nothing...except this. Yes, unlike being a butterfly in a jar, this was her choice. Roy wasn't forcing her, he was asking her. “I love you,” she said, staring up at him. It was the only way she could express how she felt. That was what those words were meant for.

--

Drip...drip...

“Victoria!”

Splat...drip...

“Victoria!”

Drip...

“VICTORIA!”

Tears glisten against eyelashes like long lost jewels. They slid loose with a torrent that could not be abated by triage, could not be dashed away, for they would never leave. This would never leave, this feeling, this heart wrenching - pulling her entire being, every fiber, out and into a blender – feeling. A loud noise lifted from her throat, a guttural primal noise that could have made soldiers piss themselves. The chair shot back powerfully off the stage once she stood, leaped, fists tight at her sides. His blood...it was everywhere, it was in her hair, on her face, under her feet. The blue of her dress was stained with him, stained purple.

A scream, if that's what it could be called. It left her in anguish, in pain, so much agony that she had never felt before. Victoria had been burned alive, sliced open, lost and broken limbs...but this, this, was the worst pain of all. This was a wound she would never be able to heal. It was a pain, an emotion, that she had never learned to prepare for in all her years as a hunter. A door had been closed, a new door had been opened, and then it was blown off the hinges and dashed from the cosmos.

Victoria was pissed.

“Why do you love me?” her legs straddled his lap as he sat against the headboard, hands resting upon strong shoulders. They had some time...

“Because...well, you believed me. You know? This just all started happening the moment you joined me on that box,” Roy licked his lips and settled his palms to her waist.

“Roy,” a pause, “this is a little cliché.”

The people ran, they fled like sheep. Electricity flew from her body, crackling outwards with her boiling emotions. A brilliant white aura flared to life, blazing pure white, ebbing and flowing with the sparks that seared from her pale flesh. Winds kicked up, chairs overturned from the abrupt force of her rising power. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to die. Roy was supposed to live, lead the world into a golden age. Roy was supposed to rise up, become mayor, and inspire the people towards truth, rise against the man. Roy was supposed to...be with Victoria. He was supposed to heal her wounds that could not be mended, make her feel alive.

The ground cracked beneath her feet. Civilians screamed, cried, fled the scene. Flicking eyes darted to the distance were tall buildings surrounded the memorial grounds. Three to the left, four to the right, and one directly in front. These were the ones...the enemies, her targets. The hunter found herself shaking, trembling, bloody and distraught. Kill them...she had to. There was nothing else, she had to, because she was a weapon.

“You make me smile...you make me feel like I'm a real girl, a person.”

“But you are,” a thumb grazed her bottom lip, a loving motion from the older man.

“You know what I mean, Roy. There's so much that I want to say, to tell you, but I can't...” she whispered and one of her hands leisurely lifted to his. She grasped his fingers and kissed the pad of his thumb.

“I understand, Victoria, we all have things...”

“You make me believe that I can be something else. I...want this, I want to tell you things that I never told anyone else. I could work for you, I could change...I could do this, no, I will,” Victoria's brows furrowed, and then her face softened. As Roy Munin slide his hand from her grasp to touch upon her cheek, she leaned forth, and their mouths reconnected in a saccharine meeting of their tongues.

Slender fingers trailed down the ruined dress, the flow of the hem, and up along her leg. There, nestled discretely upon a strap was the smallest of hand guns, but not just any gun. The cold silver was small and shaped in such a way that it couldn't have a barrel. Instead, fitted to the void within the device was a small vial that glowed with pure, intense energy. The black and red swirled like molten rock that flickered with an inner flame. She pulled it from her thigh, beneath the dress. Had Roy trailed his hand along this leg, rather than the other, she would have been found out...how close, how insignificant it all seemed, now that he was dead. Nothing mattered at all.

The end of the gun was pressed to her thigh, the trigger engaged, and all of the raw power was pressed into her body like a drug. It coursed through her, filled her veins, her essence, invoked the very depth of her soul. Within her core, the resting technology long-since unused, awoke with an influx of surging strength. Victoria's faceted eyes, as blue as the sky, opened wide with the sudden release. The height of her aura extended, a sudden push to welcome her strength. The transformation was only noticeable now by those who could read the power bursting from her center. Wisps of the white energy, entwined with pink, floated from her like mist and steam, most prominent from her back. What could only be the most faint of wings glittered like stardust with each flicker and tug of the released exhaust. For Roy, she would do this, even if it meant exposing herself. If only she could have told him the truth...

Speed like this had yet to be seen, not even the invader could have seen this during their attacks. Victoria was leaping high into the air with a push of her strength, cement cracking further beneath dainty – once harmless – feet. Hands and feet clung to the brick wall of the complex building, and she pushed from the exterior to find grip against the next building. The three, first. She pulled her body over the brim to find them pointing guns at her direction.

“Stay back!

“We'll shoot!”

“Do it!” she cried and ran from the edge. Her long hair flowing back with the wild flames of her aura. Arching bolts of lightning snapped at the first male, dressed in all black. A swat team, maybe, but Victoria didn't care. It was over, it was all over. She grabbed his face with her palm and his entire body flopped like a fish out of the water. Every reaching arm, like the hands of Kai himself, zapped and gripped the target, frying him from the inside out. Smoke curled into the air, a devils cigarette, death was thick to be smelt.

“Shoot me!” she roared, throwing the body to the side. “You fuckin' cowards!”

The next one, shot through the shoulder, through the head. Electricity flooded through the air from fake hand-guns, formed by fingers poised. His cries of anguish cut off whilst blood misted the sky like a dying rainbow. Her foot snapped out toward the advancing sharp-shooter, cracking him powerfully in the masked face and making him fly into the nearest rooftop garden. Leaping steps had the femme fatal pinned to the male, fist lifted, and then shot down.

“Let's have dinner tonight, you have a way with words...it will go well, so we should celebrate.”

Blood pooled the soil of the garden, her fist lifting, falling, pounding, retracting. Bones cracked, cartilage snapped, brain matter oozed out from the ripped face mask and the goggles were all but shattered and embedded in destroyed features. Droplets of blood sprang up from the carnage and onto her pretty face, gritted teeth, angry raging eyes, all but lost to insanity.

“You're probably right...and I wouldn't ask anyone else to join me for dinner, but you. In fact, I look forward to having many breakfasts, lunches, and dinners with you. I meant what I said...I'll take you away, I'll save you, if you let me.” Roy's hands began to thread through her long hair, words pressed to her lips.

The next targets, four, all beginning to flee the scene. She ran across the rooftop and took a leap across the gap. Tiles were crushed in the landing of her body, crouched, the hunter was ready to pounce. First was the one target, the one that had been alone here on this building facing the scene – the crime – for perfect accuracy. Yes, this was the one.

“You.”

Victoria's feet had become bare, shoes lost in the fray. She ran after the assassin, his body turned in sudden show of courage after what he had just witnessed. Bullets rang out. Those bullets...bullets that were brothers to the killers. The girl was pushed back half an inch, her shoulder inclined, blood splattering from the fresh wound that mingled with torn fabric. Crimson leaked down her dress, combining with Roy's, the only form of love they could ever have. A blood bath.

“Die.”

She continued, her movement hardly slowing, even as another bullet lodged itself into her abdomen just above her kidney. Once more, a shot filled the air, and it missed her by inches. She reached with a hand and fingers coiled against the fleeing, black clad male's wrist. A jerk had him forward, her hand snapping with the two motions, colliding with his falling body toward her. The pale appendage broke through with a blaze of energy, ripping cloth, flesh, bones, and there it was.

“Now.”

A force was exerted and from the pull of her hand, a blood curdling scream, murder had never been so sweet. Victoria's hand returned from the depth of her victim's chest cavity with her prize. Gore dripped and oozed from the body, from her hand, a gooey mess that ended with fingers wrapped around what could only be the humanoid's spine.

“That's what it means to be a spineless coward, you fucking piece of shit,” she swore, she cried, she kicked at his lifeless head again and again. With a drop she let the linked bones and tissue join its creator, and she was off again. Like a demon across the building, the last stop, those whom she would slaughter in her rampage.

Cement exploded in a flurry of smoke, her fingers lifted, bullets burning the air and cutting off their escape. They had a head start, they could see the bright aura, smell the blood in the air. Two of them were down the side, two remained. One hand shifted and a brilliant pink light swelled at the tip before exploding forth. The man screamed, it connected with his torso, making him shake and stare in perpetual awe. He wondered, was he saved? Was he immortal?

Blood, flesh, and gore flew out across the building and against the other target as the victim exploded brutally from inside out. Victoria didn't miss a beat, she ran at the survivor with feet padding in puddles of scarlet.

“We've only known each other for such a short time,” she said shyly, a timid look, she was so small in his lap. Her cheek settled to his chest, her nostrils smelling the rich scent of his cologne. It was like wood chips and rain.

“We have a long time ahead of us, don't you worry, I have a plan for everything. I wouldn't be so smart if I didn't.” A hand smoothed along her hair, this was a moment, a peaceful moment. The speech was due soon, too soon, but they...would have a long time. That's what he had said.

“Roy?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

A massive dome of electricity spread out across the rooftop. Her hair floated, her fingers against the last of the fiend's neck. Well, two had gotten away, fled the area in a nondescript vehicle. It burned, it infuriated her. She would hunt them down, she would-

“Fucking freak!”

A click.

Ping-ting!

The grenade exploded within the dome, and as it did, a second explosion of pure electric energy consumed the rooftop, crumbled the cement, and made smoke rise into the heavens. It all disappeared. The light, the power, it all began to fade. Winds sucked inward, dust and smoke lifting in various places on the surprisingly intact rooftop like fingers. Aside from a crumbling crater where the impact had taken place, it was all singed and burnt.

Covered in it, dress ripped and torn where a nasty burning wound left her lower torso a mess of blood, barely staying upon her slender body, the girl crawled over the edge of the building and fell toward the ground. She wasn't sure how many stories, or how much it hurt when she landed on the grass, but she was there. Eyes peered toward the sky. It was a beautiful day, the perfect day for a perfect speech.

Speech...all you ever did was talk. I didn't even get to hear it. Was it grand? Was it spectacular?

Tears dribbled down burnt skin, damaged hair limp, lost its shine, surrounding her body. Ribs were broken, a femur shattered, but...she had to.

Victoria limped, crawled, made her way back to the murder. Bare broken hands patted at the blood, all there...but he was gone. “Where is he?” she asked through her hot tears, voice as broken as her tattered dress and damaged bleeding body. “Where is he?” she looked at Sigfried, staring, always staring at her. The girl gripped his collar, that ridiculous red sweater was gone. A suit, but it wasn't like Roy's. This was just some kid. “Where is he?”

“They took...” he trailed off when Victoria let loose the most pathetic cry to leave her lips. This wasn't a warrior, a bounty hunter. This was a girl.

She fell to the bloody puddle where he had lain, and knelt, falling forward, brow to the crimson.

This was a real girl, a person.

Maybe Mr. Munin was right. He didn't know this girl at all, but he was right. She was real. Feelings so real, emotions so real, everything that made her a weapon washed away in the wake of reality. Victoria had been in love, curse the word, but it was true. In a matter of a month she had been living in a fantasy that Jeremy could never give. Victoria wept for that fantasy, and for herself. What's left?

“Victoria...”

Whoever it was, she didn't care. She let her tears mingle with the blood beneath her. This was a wound that would never, ever, heal.