"So you did it anyways."
His shallow voice descended the mask, seeming to fill the snow covered streets with an invisible blackness.
His blue scarf billowed in the frigid wind. The expressionless visage peering down at me, indicating only resentment and disappointment. He was angry at me for something that wasn't particularly any fault of my own.
Dice was upset at me because there was no place in this world for humanity anymore. The State had given it up, The War had taken it, the People had lost it. He himself had exchanged flesh and bone for metal and prosthetic.
Who was I, a small woman from an even smaller place?
Who was I to go against a time honored system, one which brought this world safety, unity, and a modicum of peace?
To be transparent in a world that existed in the vague unknowing umbrella of vacuous promises and political agendas?
To have a normal human reaction, to maintain a infinitesimal measure of respect? To honor the death in actuality and not ceremony?
I was an aberration. I'd lost most of who I was long ago, but that measure that I held onto was simply too much for any of them to bear. I had remembered the days with my dad on the swing, the bright horizons orange glow touching my face as I elevated in the air.
I'd recalled those tidal pools that functioned as closed but effective ecosystems. The way the water rippled and coalesced in one area, telling stories of thousands of years in passing moments.
I'd seen the glint of instinct and the natural chaos of a world without the bleak emptiness that I'd soon pave. I'd recalled it. Washed in it. Bathed in it. Had a moment of clarity and confidence as opposed to robotic reaction.
I'd finally gone too far.
My talents as a killer and solider were useful. My creative mind and illustrated ideas, my dedication to my craft and my discipline were once valued. But a fully human soldier was no longer fashionable.
The Service had always been black and white. Yes and no. Give and have taken. Show up and work late. But now, things were changing. It wasn't left to your independent judgement to follow the rules. You would, you should, and you'd be intimidated into doing so. I didn't.
I wouldn't.
Moreso, I simply couldn't. That fabric that was sewn into me on those swingsets in the republic countryside was genetic. Inherent. Nascent. Natal, and perhaps over these years, merely laying dormant.
I was a Juventus. Not merely a Captain, a soldier, or a woman. The death and the bodies had mounted up, the blood had poured on my hands. I waded each waking day in a fountain of blood and tears, my coral tide now filled with only the rising of a corpse.
They were all on my hands, I couldn't merely comply with Dice.
I was still human.
"That I did."
I clutched my black jacket, the collar covering my mouth. The black material followed the bitter winds, and the snow picked up. I should have known he'd be here.
I wasn't equipped to fight, and I knew it. Perhaps I had a wish for death. Or, maybe I just didn't believe or fear my Leader appropriately. Maybe I figured that my actions would make some broad statement.
I'd be somebody again.
Silly emotion and thought really.
"I think we both know what happens now."
His voice offered nothing. He had emotions, but none of them resembled anything positive. He either went neutral and robotic, or dark, brooding and negative. I never wondered who Dice was before all this, but for a moment I did.
He drew his Katana out from the blackened sheath on his side. Both suns in the sky had long set, but the glint of our large, red moon was enough to cast an ominous glint on his sword.
The masterful steel instantly melted snow that impacted it. His pose turned that of aggression, emerging from behind the light post to show his full frame. The pure white body armor belied the man, or creature beneath.
He was darkness incarnate.
I didn't say another word, only nodding. He made his first step, accelerating through the snow, his movement's giving no hint of underestimation.
I was in heels, for god sake.
I stepped back and reached into my purse, drawing the hilt of my sword. The blade would ascend as soon as I flicked it forward, and with a flawless motion I removed it and dropped the purse.
I spread my legs in the accumulating snow, realizing instantly just how bad a decision it was to dress formally. I kicked off my heels to allow the freezing white precipitation to creep up my body.
Freezing.
Dice was upon me in seconds. I flicked the blade out just in time to meet the steel of his, and he pushed me backwards into the deep tundra with little effort. I was a highly experienced fighter, but the outline of his body indicated he was muscle upon muscle.
I was no slouch. I pressed back, able to gain a small bit of ground and force myself out of the parry, backing up significantly without slipping.
"You can't escape. Even if by some measure you kill me, Cecilia. Even if by some measure you live, Cecilia."
"We'll see."
Truthfully, the words didn't come out confidently. My chances were low, and even though our actual skill might be equal, he possessed several upper hands. I knew that even if I won, he was correct.
I'd have killed an agent of the State. My life would only get worse.
But what other choice did I have?
I rushed forward with steel drawn, cutting through the flurry with a forward slice. He held his stance and met me in the middle, and the clashing of steel in the empty streets rang out. No one responded, and if there was another person there, they didn't bat an eye.
Something like this was common. No one was out this late at night unless they wanted this sort of problem.
It had me thinking back to the courthouse, if maybe I'd only been able to get out before the suns went to sleep.
If only I'd worn flats instead of fucking heels!
Dice matched me blow for blow. Every overhead swipe I laid was only met with a skilled deflection. Our bodies arched and twisted, and each time our blades met I was only able to escape by a few seconds.
He was playing a game of attrition with me. He knew I couldn't last - not like this, not armored like he was. But a tenacious desire flooded through me, and shedding the obsidian colored jacket that coated me, as well as the dress coat beneath, I was left with only my black tie and light grey dress shirt.
In a moment of separation my tie and his scarf fluttered on the exact same wavelength. I wondered if we were in fact so different. If he had simply taken another path - was he found, and I lost?
He had to view it that way.
He seemed to ponder for a moment as well - though he didn't breathe nearly as hard when doing so. He wasn't human anymore.
And I wasn't sure if he was human ever.
I stepped forward with another slash, a primal yell escaping my mouth as I accelerated forward, intent on taking his life.
With a swift parry, our blades met, then deflected, and I lunged again, my quickness causing a cut deep into the hardened fabric of his mask.
A chunk fell into the tundra, the white covering sinking into the deep snow.
I breathed out hard, lowering my blade, begging for breath. I was sweating, freezing - my lungs felt like they were on fire. Movement restricted by my skirt and bare feet, freezing air stifling my insides.
Hypothermia was beginning without a doubt. My purple hair frizzed and flung over my face, my bun turning into a messy disaster. My hat had long been lost to the waves of snow, my shirt now tattered and peppered with mild cuts. Blood descended into the storm.
I looked up to see a face.
Or half of one. Beneath portion of the mask I cut, all that was there was fur. A yellow, feline eye. A docked ear.
"You're -"
Dice lowered his sword and stared at me.
"Wearyl."
Here I had thought that the city never held a Wearyl. These people had been lost, long ago, in the war. They never wished to serve the State, instead making their home in the Outlands, a place full of rabid and deformed beasts.
They'd long left the City. They were once an honorable people who served the Republic, but as things escalated, their honor was taken from them. Those who served what used to be a Republic were killed - and only the dark, carnal and feral remained.
They were a dishonored people now - one who bathed in the blood of demons. Their home in the outland was made of bone and sinew - marrow and dust. Even the Leader feared them.
And here one stood, his black fur and yellow eye staring into my fuchsia gaze.
How could the State ever convince one to serve them? I didn't ask.
The snow fell between us in the moment of clarity. Now was my chance to relent. To turn myself in. To drop my sword.
But to drop my sword was to become what he was already.
Dishonored.
"So you are."
My voice was now filled with a shallow, hoarse tone. Sweat froze on my body. Blood dried and patched.
He stepped forward, his feet rapidly moving through the snow. I stepped forward, my one agile gait now lumbering and wounded. Blood poured from where I'd cut his mask, a jagged scar forming on his blackened fur. He snarled, lunging towards me, striking high.
I struck high as well, but when our blades met, he pushed me off with a reserve of strength. I stumbled back and lost my footing on the ice, and his blade quickly lowered, the freezing steel knifing into my tender flesh.
Blood bubbled in my body and left my mouth. My blade dropped as his went clean through me. There was nothing chaotic about it - his sword moved with order and precision. Without conscience, like a machine.
The blade separated my body with such momentum that I could watch my legs get further and further away as I fell to a piece of barren asphalt, a half frozen puddle near my head.
A fountain of blood poured from my body as I gasped and heaved, feeling a numb, warm feeling circulate through my body. Blood pulsed out my mouth as I looked up to Dice, but his face was gone. Only the end of the other mask remained. Only the sound of a precise sword sheathin in the wind.
The streetlight flickered.
"It's over." he said calmly, his blue scarf disappearing into the night.
I could hear the crunch of his white boots over the snow, and fading words echoing back to me as my killer vanished into the empty, snowy streets.
"There could be no other end."