Heinkel Wolfe walked through the streets, hood covering her ruined face. She was eager to return home, and drink her troubles away. Life had become too much. Iscariot only needed her as a mere secretary, and she couldn't bear field work. Too many had been lost. The scars on her face barely reflected the scars in her soul. Her closest friend, her leader, and her 'father', all dead.
"Hey, you. Send Maxwell my regards!" someone shouted producing a pistol. A shot rang out, but a man leapt in front of her, taking the shot to the abdomen. He doubled over, probably dead. Without thinking, she ran, crying for help. No one came to her aide as the gunman pursued her. Soon, she was out of breath, and cornered. The man came over to her, holding a gun to her head.
"Are you ready to meet your God?" he asked. He began to mock her, and she wept. She barely noticed another man, shuffling over to the gunman, holding a bloody hand to his abdomen. He pulled his hand away, revealing a torn and bloodied shirt, but no wound. Grabbing the killer's shoulder, he spun him around, and brought a right hook to them man's jaw, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.
He approached Heinkel, helping her to her feet.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" he asked, and she nodded. The man looked at her tattered cheeks, and put his hands to them. The familiar sting made her eyes water.
"You are a beautiful woman. It's too bad that others can't see it. Better things are around the corner, just wait." he said, withdrawing his hands. Instead of the sting of touch to her cheeks, she felt the warmth of his fingers across smooth flesh. He walked away, but she was to busy feeling her cheeks to notice. She looked in the rear view mirror of a nearby car. The scars were gone, her face looking just as it had three years ago, before the Millenium's attack. She looked up, looking for the man, but couldn't find him.