"I used to cry."

            The sounds, at first, echoed throughout the desolate alleyway. The music that once boomed from the nightclub was cut short by a roaring explosion. At first, it was utter silence, as if the waves had spread without the sound. The music itself seemed to be cut off systematically – yet it was just a lapse in time. A slow motion reverie that most had of their life came in a flash before their swift death – their last memories being that of the smell of blood and the warm feel of it as it came to rain down on them. The screaming crowd ran while the smell of the beast coated the air they breathed and blocked the passageway of air to their lungs, while the buildings collapsed behind those who were faster. The great beast fell, with its blue fur matted with crimson, into the dilapidated building next to it and made no other move. There was fire, and explosions, before everything went deathly silent and so still… Not a single gunshot could be heard amongst the cool night's air.

            "It hurts…"

            "Why did you cry?"

            "I had so many reasons…"

            "Your father…"

            "Always laughed at me."

            The only remaining sound was the static – low, crackling, and desolate. A woman's pale, delicate hands, ripped the earphones from her ears before she yelled her anger into the static void.

            "There are more reasons to cry now."

            The darkness of the room was filled with silence, save for labored breathing. The humming of the many machines seemed to roar to life then – covering the sound that the woman made. The darkness of the furnished room was invaded and filled by the filtered light from the multiple computer screens, revealing the operator's now calm visage. The chair scraped the tile floor back and forth, back and forth, while the sound of keys being pressed with aerial speed quickly filled the room to cover the sounds of the machines.

            "I know. But I just can't cry… anymore."

            The true light filled the room in a matter of seconds, while the clock flashed 4:00 a.m. with a red glow into its competition. The woman with black hair still continued… Muttering something into the COM, muttering angered words to cover her worry. She despised crying; yet now she found herself fighting unshed tears. The other, smaller girl, began searching around the littered table, biting her bottom lip to stop herself from asking any questions that could further the other in her anger.

            "You've grown up, I'm proud."

            "Are you? You were never proud before."

            "Your father was proud for me."

            "My father was never there."

            "You just never noticed."

            "I hate him."

            "I know."