Little girl, little girl
Why are you crying?
Inside your restless soul
Your heart is dying
Flute was curled up against a wall, her mascara running down her cheeks. Her sword was in its hilt on her belt, and her heart was in pieces. At least, that was what it looked like to any normal outsider. But this Toa in the dark alley was no normal teary person. She was broken again, thrust aside like a broken doll. Was it her fault that everyone who saw her died? She was lethal sometimes. But saying that everyone died was a little bit over the top. She associated herself with the worst criminals and the people who sheltered them. The housekeepers were paid with stolen riches, poisons, and a free assassination for anyone who annoyed them.
Little girl, little girl
Your soul is purging
Of love and razor blades
Your blood is surging
The Toa of Water opened her mouth to sing, her normally sweet voice hoarse with disuse. At the first note, her companions knew to come. They had been trained to expect pain if they didn't abide, and a meal if they did. She licked her lips and stood up, revealing her now scruffy clothes. Instead of a figure of beauty, she was now a mess. Although she tried to hide it under makeup, her face was grey and her eyes no longer as beautiful as they had been before. Her boots were covered with ash and chewing gum, and her jeans had a few burn holes and stains. Her belt was still in pristine condition, but now had to be kept tighter as she stopped eating as much to try and get a guy. She thought of him, and thought of death.
Runaway
From the river to the street
And find yourself with your face in the gutter
After attempting to stagger a couple of steps, she decided to get her favourite steed to carry her. He was a strong male, large and burly. He had high intelligence but was especially trained to act horse. A few notes at the end of her song, finally back to normal sounding, summoned him. Before too long, she had her favourite army.
An army of Visorak.
You're a stray for the Salvation Army
She smiled and seated herself on her Visorak. He was not her favourite - that honour went to Diamond, a female Visorak who had once mated with him. The offspring was a wonderful cross between intelligence, strength, and beauty. So often she had smiled at the battles of those children. They all died. However, their father was named because of his affiliation with Diamond. He was named after what he had so often spun. Webs.
There is no place like home
When you got no place to go
Webs led the horde of Boggerak into the city centre, illuminated by moonlight. It was an odd thing to see, but only the homeless were able to observe it, before they were killed. The mechanical spiders dragged their prey along with them as they followed their leader. About a half of her fellow vagrants were late suppers for her family. How wonderful!
In the wake all the way
No rhyme or reason
She got off Webs and steadied herself. She pulled her long sword out and tested it. After she was sure it was OK, Flute sashayed along the broad road, her loyal followers doing what they did best: following. Sometimes she swirled on her heels, creating an odd, beatless dance. The Visorak clicked their approval.
Your bloodshot eyes will show your heart of treason
Little girl, little girl
You dirty liar
You're just a junkie preaching to the choir
It wasn't too long until the house of the man who spurned her came into view. It was above the liquor shop where he worked. She used to come in here all the time. Now she smashed down the window and entered his shop, using her sword to recklessly knock down bottles.
Some people upstairs began talking. Damn, his wife and children! Flute recalled something like that being his excuse for not wanting to be with her.
She screamed urgently, attracting their attention. Someone thundered downstairs, and Flute hoped it was that worthless pile of Muaka dung. When the door swung open behind the counter, the Toa of Water saw that it was his wife. That gave her two choices. One: kill her and go upstairs and kill the whole family, which might raise the alarm, or two, send the woman back with the few subtleties Flute had remaining. Too bad her Mahiki was broken. She could've just sent a load of illusions at the wife.
Too late. Wifey ran away.
Runaway
From the river to the street
And find yourself with your face in the gutter
You're a stray for the Salvation Army
There is no place like home when you got no place to go
Flute decided to follow quickly, vaulting over the counter and running upstairs. The Visorak would probably go and find more meals, maybe mutate a few people. Diamond was following her mistress loyally. But she, Flute, finally had a purpose. Kill that stupid bloke.
He was cowering in the bathroom with his children and wife. How stupid. Just one kick could break down that wall. And it did.
Before too long, the wife and children were strung up in the living room, facing Flute, Diamond, and the one person she hated more than Mata Nui. They were being mutated into Hordika, where their feelings would be amplified before they perished. All four Matoran were dangling in their little cocoons, with the one Toa of Dirt, their miserable wart of a father.
The Toa of Earth moaned as he saw his family in so much pain, and slumped back in Flute's 'caring embrace'. She grinned at her warped entertainment and forced his head up.
"I know you," she grinned. "You won't faint, even when you see your wife's brains splattered on the floor. You broke my mask, didn't you? Well, consider this repayment."
As soon as the transformation was complete, Flute took her sword, grabbed a clump of the man's hair, and decapitated him cleanly and simply. Diamond helped rip out the Matoran children's throats, but Flute kept the final Ga-Matoran to herself.
"I hate you."
The traces of blood always follow you home
Like the mascara tears from your getaway
Flute laughed as the corpses were arranged into the shape of a Visorak, with the dirty shopkeeper's head between its claws. She smashed everything in the shop and left, but not before smearing a blood web on the wall outside the shop.
You're walking with blisters and running with shears
So unholy
Sister of grace
She could now walk unaided – her weird psychology somehow putting killing as normal and youthful. The blood on her jeans was the first of many that would soon appear. But then again, she figured that she could wash them.
Flute licked the sword clean and kicked her boots of. Maybe she could steal a boat and take it to her island home. Or maybe the one where she killed almost all the Matoran on. Maybe they rebuilt their civilisation. That would be nice. Then she could burn it all down again!
Runaway
From the river to the street
And find yourself with your face in the gutter
You're a stray for the Salvation Army
There is no place like home
Well, she was Flute. She could sing. She could kill.
Never leave me on a computer with my MP3. I've been meaning to write this, and 'lover who spurned her'? Yeah babeh!
Keep in mind that I am completely loopy.
Disclaimer: Bionicle belongs to Lego, ?Viva la Gloria? belongs to Green Day. Flute belongs to me, as well as Diamond and Webs and the weirdo family.