She's old enough to know about death.
Past old enough.
She is the commander of life and death.
Sometimes.
Her gun, the instrument of the deed, hangs limply from her fingers.
She looks despondently down the alleyway, her eyes clouded.
So this was how it felt.
Revenge.
It was not all that it was cracked up to be, was it?
Was it.
Blood seeps slowly from the wound in his chest.
Imagine that.
Sirens wail.
The gun drops from her fingers.
Slowly, methodically, it hits the ground.
Look up, girl.
Dead eyes meet the condemned.
Blood covers her.
It splatters across her face.
Down her side.
Under her fingernails.
Lucy Aiden Messer, you're under arrest.
She smiles.
