An eye for an eye but I don't need to see

They're dead.

What is left of the Infantry's face is unrecognizable at best - the skull caved in from her sheer force; but she isn't done.

Tifa raises her arm again to strike, stabbing the carcass with as much ferocity as she'd started. The cleaver now a metallic mass of blood gorging on the body as she sets it into the exposed neck again, hacking away at the artery. If she says something, it isn't anything human ears can pick up - but she is making a noise.

And it's screaming in my head, dragging it's nails down the walls of my skull and leaving a horrid taste in my mouth.

I touch my fingers to my lips, but I can't look away from the murder; the reds so vibrant and fluid as she attacks the cavity again.

Again and Again.

The woman - Scarlet - is still on the ground, likely unconscious from the hit she took from the door frame.

"Tifa," I try softly, my voice eaten away by the clatter of the cleaver to the floor, "We should go..."

She stands away from the body of what was the infantry man, her face turned away from the scene, and likewise, me. The length of her good arm is soaked in blood, the drape of her white shirt ruined in her assault. But she isn't done.

She begins to advance on the unconscious woman, taking her up by her neck. My hand instinctively goes to touch her elbow, but I never make physical contact.

"Stop!" I shout, frightening myself more than her with my volume and urgency.

I can still see the tension through her fingers, dark impressions forming along the blonde's neck as Scarlet begins to make a sound in her throat.

"Tifa!" I try again, finally moving the last few inches to touch my skin to hers.

And she's on fire.

Scarlet is instantly dropped to the ground and red eyes turn on me, burning like cigarettes. She's crazed, furious, and wild as we stare - the fatigue and weakness of before replaced by some adrenaline high she'd found upon the entrance of her captors.

Like a switch she had flared up, returning to that monster ShinRa had looped the entire morning. And as she stares into me, human flesh hidden in a coat of crimson, I think to consider that this is the first time I've met a terrorist.

"Please," I beg to the Terrorist as she approaches slowly, "They're dead."

All dead.

Thank you for reading, any feedback is appreciated.