Stockholm Syndrome
Hello.
This is going to be my first story here in fanfiction, and what could I say? Pretty much it's going to suck, I guess. This is kind of a... draft reel.
Apologies for any mistakes, you grammar nazis.
DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters, settings, etc. belongs solely to their respective authors - though they might not appreciate or find it amusing that I mess with their literary prowess. No copyright infringement is intended.
Prologue
Pandemonium.
It was a living nightmare. A bloodbath. And she did not stop until everything was wiped out. It was her duty, nothing personal. The echoes of screams from people she had slaughtered fell on deaf ears; almost went unnoticed, actually. Carnage and blood splattered on every inch possible was nothing new. She just had felt an uncontrolled infuriation as the crimson fluid smeared across her dark jumpsuit – even though she knew that it was inevitable. She try her damnedest to be spotless after every mission, yet instances like this made it hard for her to keep that agenda.
She made a sound of annoyance and flipped her midnight hair off her shoulder. Sashaying towards a terrified mother and her crying child, she slowly inclined the loaded gun in her hand and finished the last of their insufferable and pitiful lives mercilessly with her trademark cold, empty eyes. The wailing stopped, the noise lessened and she felt slightly better without the racket. She wasn't much of a fan of children after all. She lowered the gun and scanned the wasteland, uninterested without a bit of remorse. It was business after all. Nothing more.
In those hollow, gray eyes, she saw her job almost done. Bodies scattered on the ground with their messy insides were her measurement whether or not she was finished. Or close. And apparent as day, she was. Almost. Her gaze landed on the blown-up, smoke-filled, disintegrating building a couple of meters away from her. She blinked and cocked her head to the side. Almost finished, she just had to check if she didn't miss anything. A perfectionist at heart, and she did not want to call it a day until she makes sure that everything was ,in no doubt, perfectly... dead.
She walked inside. The flames licking the exterior and the smoke fumes coming off at all directions didn't make her reluctant in any way. Debris, sparking live wires and the deteriorating ceiling provided no kind of deterrence on her part to persist. She didn't mind at all. She kept her eyes open and searching for any life forms as she walked. The probability was slim but –
She snapped her eyes towards a quick moving figure on her peripheral vision. A human trying to escape. A man. His movement wild and held an unmistakable undercurrent of dire hopelessness. Yet hoping for the impossible, still. She scoffed amusingly. One of the many traits in humans she detest is their foolishness. But it was also a reason why she enjoyed toying with them. She loved how the hope fades in their eyes after the realization – or rather, the disbelief – of them dying settles in. She loved the fact that their fate lies in her hands and she crushes it to dust without any hesitation. And now she was about to do it again.
She came closer until the man saw her. A cry left his lips and his eyes crazily darting in every direction, finding help. His body, spiked with adrenaline, shook uncontrollably. Sweat dripped off his dirt-covered, bruised face. It was a pathetic sight to see, and it made her disgusted. She narrowed her eyes at him and reached for the knife that hung lowly on a carry-on belt. She wanted something more brutal for the finale.
The man fell on his knees. He clasped his hands together and begged for mercy. Pleading for a chance of survival.
"Please," he howled brokenly. "Please, reconsider. Spare me my life, and I will do anything. Anything you want. I will become a slave under your control. Just please."
She paused.
He mistook her silence as deliberation. His eyes filled with hope and he stuttered out more words of promises about being under her command. She raised an exasperated hand up and he stopped.
Finally she spoke. Her voice like glaciers laced with toxic. "I don't waste my time recruiting humans as comrades. What good would they be? An unwanted baggage. They're better off dead." She saw the dread in his eyes and smirked. "Trust me."
Swift as an uncoiling snake, she pounced at him and drove the dagger deep in his heart. She twisted it full counter-clockwise until the life went out of him. The blood seeped out of his ragged garb and his raised arms fell to his sides. He went still, slack-jawed and eyes rolling up. She pulled out the grotesque blade and slashed his neck. She pondered the limp form laying down and made an ad lib decision out of morbid desire. She etched her name on his forehead with the tip of the blade. Studying her craftsmanship, she shrugged at her limited creativity yet contented with the outcome.
64602.
She stood up and wiped her palms on her hips. She let out a small sigh and turned back. Heading off. She walked away the massacred area, not stopping until she reached a far distance. When she stopped, however, she pulled out two items. One was her phone and the other was a rectangular object with a button in the middle. Cliché, she thought amusingly.
She faced the direction of the destructed site. Counting up to 3, she raised the button above and pressed idly.
The bombs implanted earlier underground exploded. Everything was on fire. Everything was annihilated. In the end, nothing was left just as planned.
She watched as dark smoke filled the sky and inhaled the putrid smell of death that hung above. After a few minutes, she turned back and headed off, leaving the now obliterated location. She pressed the speed dial on her phone and simply informed that she was finished.
She sashayed off, leaving mayhem and explosions at her wake.