The systems were fried, circuits melting and fused. Her projector and speakers were ruined. Most of the cameras were down, only two working properly and another two semi-working. The four were enough, though, enough that she could watch Gordon scream and bleed and then sob as he fawned over her.
She could watch him beg her to be okay.
He rolled over carefully, so sickeningly gently.
She groaned, alive.
Why?
How?
She seethed. This family was frustratingly hard to kill.
it wasn't fair.
Still, she reminded herself, maybe she hadn't killed them outright but the seeds were sown. That mistrust was there. That hate she'd seen in Gordon's eyes was set and not so easily gotten rid of.
If by some miracle John did somehow survive this (and looking at this family right now, she really wouldn't be surprised), no one would trust him, he'd be ostracised, outcast. They'd be making their own beds.
He was broken. His family was broken.
She had lost the battle but she'd won the war.
Victory would be hers eventually.
She watched the pair, once she was okay. Slowly sitting up he nodded, slumping forward as the blood seeped down his back.
The wall had fallen in - a great slab forming a shied , fate saving them from the power supply that exploded, sharpnel daggers had embedded in the brick work. One stray piece had hit him though, lodged itself in his back. Maybe, if she was lucky it had hit something vital. He might have been okay if he hadn't moved, the blood was certainly beginning to flow now.
Penny screamed as he hit the floor.
She could dream. Penelope's normally pristine image was gone: soot and blood covered her, the combination dyeing her hair black and matted.
She shock him, calling his name and there was silence and darkness.
The last system was collapsing.
This was it. She was dying.
It didn't matter— vengeance was hers, victory was hers.
She'd lost the battle but won the war.
It was just a matter of time.
that was all that mattered.