FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Honor of The Family

By Michael Luvar Barnes

_ T _he thick lenses covering the mask's eye-holes fogged with every slow exhalation she took as she patrolled. It was fall, the air was crisp and the temperature was around the lower 50's. Her handwoven forest green cloak had tattered ends. It was a deliberate style decision on the part of the original owner since all her equipment was handed down to her.

She would never modify the outfit, could never modify it, even though the mask's respirator was not fitted properly against her mouth and nose. It defeated the purpose of a sealed oxygen filtration system, that added layer of protection gone due to stubborn rules regarding the clothing she wore. The modern warrior's arsenal, aside from their weapons and wits, could include anti-toxin and gas attack measures. Such a flaw in her gear could be an issue if she ever came under gas attack before she grew into it.

Yet if she improved on the equipment, even a little bit, so through were her parent's inspection of it, she would be punished immediately. The result would be her mother and father demanding she reverse the additions or alterations that did not make her more effective in combat in their eyes.

It was all about the honor of the family. A family that she came to hate with each passing mission. A family she looked nothing like. Every mirrored surface she passed while in her uniform minus the mask reminded her of the truth.

She was a Basic, and her parents were Alterhuman.

The mask did not fit because she was a plain ordinary looking human with a flatter face. Her parents were humanoid felines, though to his credit, her father did not accuse her mother of infidelity. This was because his daughter looked like his own mother in her youth before puberty and the radical feline leaning physical changes that came with the new hormones and urges.

As such the handed down Enforcer mask she wore would not fit her flatter face no matter how much she adjusted the straps. If she was bigger the mask might actually form a proper seal over her mouth. Even without a proper fit the many layered ceramics and composites protecting her identity and the electronics embedded within the mask performed just fine. She still always appeared to be a masked white tigress; at least that was what the shape and markings of her mask portrayed her as to others while she was on missions.

As she stood on guard duty observing training maneuvers her father insisted she go watch. Her breath clouded the bottom portion of her lenses. It hardly got in the way of her work being on the alert for danger. Her hearing was unimpeded and in reality enhanced by the mask along with various vision modes available to her by wearing it.

Ear pieces she had inserted into her ears were connected via wire to the microphones embedded in the triangular ears at the top of the mask. Acting as directional mics, they allowed her to listen in on any conversation anyone held at a distance from her.

Cradling the large frame of the P900 Microwave Pulse rifle she wielded. She watched as fellow Enforcers went through various hand-to-hand combat routines. She longed to be among them instead of just looking out for trouble. Though she knew her current job was important, she wanted more out of it.

The remaining training was finished by the time she felt ready to fall asleep. Nothing had happened, and she was thankful for it. The weapon she carried was only good for twenty shots before she had to swap power cells out for it.

The quick charge unit she had on her belt for her power cells took a minute to recharge each pack. She carried eight of the heavy units on her belt, each being kept in peak condition by the trickle charge coming from the quick charge system she wore.

She would have to check her equipment once back at base before going home. It was the rule, she knew it well, and she was certain she would not miss anything like she had the first few times she had inspected her equipment without her parents looking over her shoulder.

Her thoughts kept her so busy, that she failed to realize the training session was over and the larger Enforcers were wrapping up. Comments about her being a good lookout were not laced with sarcasm like previous times. She had proven her worth by outfighting every single other Enforcer there. Though, strangely enough, she had not bothered to tell her family about her achievements. She just wanted to do her job and go home, maybe even play with some friends online. It was the only way she was allowed to socialize due to how she was raised. Looking towards the transport that would take her home she allowed herself a small hidden smile. At least her boredom would soon be over.

***

The long ride back to her apartment on an Enforcer controlled level of Vale Tower was a quiet one. She had strapped in near the rear of the transport craft, the fourteen wheeled monstrosity was armored and equipped with more than enough weapons to fight a small war and win it.

The seat had molded to her body, the air-cushioned support for it kept her from feeling any bumps as she fought to keep herself from dozing. The bumps would have kept her more alert she suspected; but she prepared to slip into a meditative state where she was fully alert, but partly at rest.

She began to recite things to herself silently that her parents had always said to her as she began to slip into her trance. "You never know when you will need to be ready for combat. Rest is just as important as being prepared for a battle." her father would say.

The words of her mother entered into her mind next as she found herself enveloped within her resting trance. "Be vigilant, be focused, and stay alive."

Repeating the mantra as she meditated had given her more focus than she thought it would. When the time came leave the transport she would be well rested. Yet the portion of her mind that stayed fully alert kept telling her something was off. Something was troubling her deep within her consciousness and she found it mildly annoying. She was not home yet, and though within New Landon territory, attack could come from anywhere at anytime. Whatever it was warning her, it could wait until later, if something happened she would deal with it as it came.

Once her own parents had ambushed her, the silent attack came when she least expected it, right outside her own home's doorway. The two came from her left and her right, slipping in close and brandishing batons. In her fright she had successfully blocked her father's strike aimed at her kidney and stabbed her father in the bicep. Instead of being angry at her, he was angry at himself for not realizing she was much more capable than he had given her credit for.

Ice Cream was served with dinner that night, after she was made to treat her father's knife wound. First-aid had been apart of her lessons from the moment she could hold a weapon. The time to pay for the ice cream came out of her father's own personal accounts. He thought it was only fair considering it was his mistake; so his personal time was touched instead of the time shared by the family and replenished twice a month by Lady Eurynome herself for purchases of goods and services.

Time was something she had learned about during the earliest parts of her mandatory basic education. People were paid in it, and it was to be used for whatever someone wanted. Lady Eurynome provided some each month, as well as free clothing allotments and food from community kitchens. Anything outside the planned menus you needed time for. The same went for clothing modifications, which were popular, so there was plenty of work available for seamstresses if you had the talent.

Jobs were volunteer functions mostly though. You still got paid, in time, but you did not need to work. You could spend your entire life within your Tower and never have to worry about where your food, clothing, shelter or even fun would come from.

The job of the Enforcer was to be prepared to serve either Lady Eurynome or the Militia Clans. This was more of a privilege than a job, you had to be capable of acts that ordinary citizens found disturbing or unneeded in their own daily lives. To be an Enforcer was to serve. The little white tiger masked girl had no real idea why she was being forced into it. The work was long, boring, and she knew too many ways to kill someone compared to others her age. She felt it was wrong, and that she was still young enough to know that she could be doing something else. Maybe nothing at all.

But the honor of the family demanded she continue the meme, if only until her death or she finally broke the cycle. Whatever came first, she did not know, but at that moment she was roused from her trance by the transport stopping within the Level One hangar of her home Tower.

The vehicle had rumbled up the ramp without her being roused from her deep meditation. It was not sleep, but she chastised herself for not being more aware. Though the warning sensation at the back of her skull only grew stronger. Something was going to happen, and her instincts told her to be ready no matter what.

***

The uncharacteristic quiet of the area made her weary. Sure there was the under-population issue all Towers had for each level. A few hundred living in areas meant for thousands with hundreds of apartment units going untouched.

But the level was supposed to be secure, not quite as secure as the level her father had made her live in alone, having left his daughter in the family's ancestral home; deciding to go with his wife for more private time while she was left alone to focus on her studies.

She studied the sleek and seamless palm-sized rectangle she held in her left hand. The message on her palm computer known as a slate told her to meet them at a certain apartment. But the area felt wrong, even began to smell wrong. Ignoring her itchy nose and skin, the white tigress mask wearing Enforcer crept to the apartment zone where her parents were. The automated cars that zoomed by carried passengers to distant homes, likely in one of the corners of the massive building.

Her parent's location was within a block apartment unit. She had always hated block apartments. The long stretches of road with either a large space on one side to look at or nothing but storefront after storefront on the other mixed in with entrances to apartment units left one too open to attack.

Even so still there was no hum of life, nothing to seem like it was thriving, it was just too quiet for her liking. Even with the lack of a sizable populace, the place should still have something to give it life. It was in that moment that she realized she was about to be attacked.

Her senses were too keen to be taken by the clumsy attempt to grab her from behind. Her left hand had swung behind her in an upward underhand arch to grasp, crush, and twist the genitals of her attacker. She spun to her right, never releasing the man's testicles, twisting his scrotum as she moved before releasing it to finish her attack. In her right hand she tightly gripped a knife that was aimed to find itself jammed into the left side of her attacker's neck as she pounced on them. She literally cut off their scream of pain as he blade sliced through their neck. The near decapitation was brutal, fast, and most importantly done in less than three seconds.

With a twist and a wrench of the ebony blade from his neck bone, the blade having sawed partway into the vertebra behind his throat, he was done for. She quickly assessed the area around her before leaving the man to finish dying alone.

Sprinting into a position near the doorway to her parent's supposed location. She examined the door as she went over what she knew was true about the situation so far, within her heart she knew it was too late for anything but vengeance, but she still summed up what was the most likely scenario.

So far the fact was her first attacker had acted alone, but was not alone, her parents were likely dead or dying. They needed avenging, she needed closure before her young brain forced her to simply shut down and cry.

She wanted to just cry, so badly, she had never killed anyone before. Though she forced aside the feelings of regret, even the sickness in her stomach, through brute strength. She went over how the kills in the virtual training had played out just like that. Exactly like that. She had used the height difference to her advantage, enabling her to quickly disable and kill most brutally.

Even as she was inwardly panicking she was using her training. Using the routines placed into her through strict repetition to go over how she was going to enter the apartment. Her large rifle was at home in the weapons safe. She only took a small caliber pistol with her, and fifty extra rounds of explosive ammo.

The explosions would be small but enough to blow chunks out of unarmored foes bodies on impact. She was ready to go within seconds, having forced down the child and let the killer take hold; she proceeded into the hallway slowly after hitting the door open switch. The hydraulics slid the door apart soundlessly, once they started to part she was up and immediately through them once the gap was wide enough seconds later. Her dive ended with her rolling into a kneel and shooting as soon as she saw her targets littering the hallway and picked one.

The first to get his head blown apart was a guy smoking.

She hated smokers.

She drew her weapon with a flourish, the gun that appeared was large in her small hand, she steadied her aim with her right hand wrapped firmly around her wrist and prepared to snap off two quick shots. As she moved forward, pushing off the floor with her left foot, she used the firing action of the weapon to place the second shot a short distance above the first. Her first round had blown apart a portion of his neck, the skin stretching briefly like gum as she homed in on his head. Before his skull could hit the floor, she used his lit paper tube as a beacon; his head burst apart like a ripe melon as the charge in the bullet went off with a soft clap like the first. The concussive forces deployed less than a second apart scattered his brains, skull fragments, and more from ceiling to floor.

The gore was nothing special, she had seen simulated gore before, the splatter and destructive pattern made by her bullets was new to her though. That is what she had ever seen before, a real bloody shower brought by her hands, and she moved through it as she fired until her clip was empty.

Those with shielding devices did not count on the heat and flame getting through the invisible barriers they had around them. All her rounds found their marks, and soon she saw nothing but grown men and women laying in their own pools of gore before her. Some, the unlucky ones, lay holding bloodied faces and sides. One even dared to try and draw on her again so she shot him in the open mouth, his head popped apart like a balloon and she stilled a retch. The faintest of peeps leaving her throat. The little killer was in charge, and nothing was going to stop her from killing. There would be time to be ill later.

She reloaded and holstered her weapon back up her left sleeve with a flick of her wrist. It was attached firmly to a spring loaded device she had machined herself using plans she had found. She was thankful for the somewhat ill fitting clothing she wore. The clothing was kept in place and out of her way by straps and buckles she wore over it at strategic points. Even her cloak was tucked in a bit to allow for it to still be functional and not trip her up as she moved. She calmly walked among the living and finished them off with her blade, like a master artist she created thin lines of red across fur covered, scaled, and plain flesh colored throats.

A voice penetrated the silence. "You get the whore's daughter?"

The voice was coming from the location she had been given to meet her mother and father if the apartment unit number painted on the wall was correct. The doorway was jammed open, it was obvious it had been forced open, there were scorch marks on the opposite wall from beam weapons fire from within the apartment.

Whatever had happened her parents had fought back. No dead were seen in the hall before she had arrived. She could only assume they were hidden away after the earlier battle to make it easier to fight. Or they were wounded and in need of treatment. Considering the weapons used and who was doing the firing, she knew they were all likely dead.

The tiger kitten checked underneath her cloak, patting down her body's weaponry caches. She took stock of her on-hand weapons, and primed, then tossed a gas grenade after she took a deep breath. She advanced forward into the growing noxious cloud as the canister spit out its dark fog. She wished the fittings on the mask were better, but she was able to use the growing dark smoke cover to move towards her goal unimpeded.

Within the apartment the remaining members of the hit squad raised their weapons and readied themselves for a fight as smoke billowed past the room. All the apartments used negative air pressure systems to keep noxious chemicals and smells out of them. But in the swirling cloud that filled the hallway nothing could be seen.

Of the remaining members of the group some were Enforcer academy dropouts, unable to take the rigorous training regiments day in and day out. The early days, late evenings, the stuffing of ones face to recoup the loss of the ridiculous amount of calories you were made to burn as you were trained.

They thought it was bullshit that an eight-year-old was better than they were. They knew they had to be better by virtue of age, and collective freelance experience.

Under any other circumstances they would have been right. But there was a reason they were dropouts. They lacked the proper drive to become something akin to a weapon as opposed to a person.

She appeared suddenly holding a corpse's shield generator in her right hand as she fired again and again until empty. With no time to reload and the few dead, dying, and wounded still in her way she released the gun, it sliding back up her sleeve, and grasped a blade and drew it. As she tightened the grip on her weapon she went to work.

The first victim she slashed across his ankle after ducking a kick. The two idiots that came in at her from opposite sides next crashed into each other after she ducked their telegraphed move. She quickly finished off the ankle bleeder with a jab of her blade into his groin and thigh, the metal punching through his scrotum and into his muscular thigh. He grasped his crotch, blood gushing between his fingers. But the little tigress was not done yet, she used both hands to drag the knife through his flesh; parting muscle and flesh along the length of his femur towards his knee with a savage yank.

His screams died away as she pulled her bloodied hands free and hurled herself at the closest person that was not dazed, bloodied, or dying thanks to her. He was faster, a cheetah, the irony was lost on the child as she was batted away with a swift palm strike to the side of her head.

The mask took the shock of the blow well, the gel padding doing its job as the tiger kitten recovered midair, to land on her fists and boot tips. She hopped sideways to avoid his incoming boot, it streaked past her head as she swung her legs under herself as she avoided the attack. From her new position in a crouch she hurled her knife past the cheetah male's face. He started for her but did not get far. What he thought was just a knife was actually a blade with a shaped charge as well as two extra surprises in its grip that looked like her knife. She had switched weapons before he knew what was happening and hurled the duplicate at her foe.

She had flatted herself against the ground an instant after throwing the weapon. The explosion filled the room with more smoke as well as taking out the speedy feline before he could even blink. Gurgling rose from his throat as he lay covered with steaming acid covering his face and shoulders. His flesh melted away from his bones as the kitten ignored him to move around the room.

She struck fast and gutted the remaining living members of the gang before the smoke was blown out of the room to join the mass in the hall.

Standing in a crouch on the chest of one of the dead she looked around for her parents. The light of the room filtering through the mask she wore as she looked around. A soft voice made her look at what was left of her father.

"Knife point up, aimed right at the groin or underarm, just like I showed you." her father took in her work with nothing but pride. His child had come home in the middle of the torture session, the other adults having underestimated his eight-year-old daughter's abilities. Her size hid her great strength and capabilities as an Enforcer. It was why he had pressed for her to take up the mask his mother had used when she had openly served decades before his child's time.

No hiding for them, they were not assassins or killers, they were warriors and lived a warriors life and wanted everyone to know it. Not out of pride, but out of a sense of duty to the citizens that they not fear them for what they did in Lady Eurynome's name. Respect was to be earned, whatever so-called respect someone received from someone frightened of them was mere compliance. To get the people to respect you, you openly acted on their behalf.

Lady Eurynome was openly spoken out against by his family. She respected the opinions of all her citizens, it was why she monitored them so much; she was an obsessed dictator, and as a dictator she longed to shape many of the actions her citizens took though mostly for the betterment of all. But even with all the monitoring there were some things that could not be prevented.

His daughter wanted to tear off her mask, hug him, scream and cry. She wanted to go into a tantrum, he could see it in her eyes, her ordinary eyes locked behind clear steel layers and polymers. Still, she was young, not being born a feline meant nothing. She just looked ordinary on the outside; the corpses strewn about were a mute statement of her looks being very deceiving.

"Keep the mask on, your not safe yet." her father muttered as he tried to stay focused on his child's face. He was imagining her soft delicate features hidden by the decades old piece of equipment that had served others well just as it had served her that was fastened to her smaller body.

She watched the words came from a muzzle leaking blood. Her father was pinned to a wall by a machete with a neon green grip. His entrails hung from the massive tears to his abdomen done by claw and blade. Slowly she began to speak.

"The enemy is down, but where is mother?"

The man's eyes widened as he realized she had not figured out what was done to her mother. He kept the physical pain out of his expression well, but the twitches of his ears followed by the slight gritting of his teeth told her plenty.

She looked towards the bath and started towards it, tattered cloak caked in the blood of those that had helped in the despoiling and murder of her parents.

"Do not." She looked back at her father, the feline eyes spying him suddenly made him laugh bitterly. "This stress, this mess, it has started a special change in you."

She did feel stronger, but ignored it as being from adrenaline. She ignored her pounding heart as she took another step towards the bath.

"Child, yes, you are still a child, I do not want you to go in there. Let the idea of what is in there haunt you as you grow older. But I do not want you to see."

"Why." It was said in a disobedient tone, she would be defiant, she would see what evil others could bring upon all she loved for herself. "All these people are dead, by my hands," the girl looked at her hands and noticed they had sprouted fur on the backs of them. Claws were poking out from the tips of her fingers, her fingernails were falling off as strange aches spread through her body. Hunger, rage, frustration, sadness all welled up inside her as her body began to heat up. All the sensations of combat had overshadowed the startling changes her physical being were undergoing.

"I know, I saw some of your work live remember? If you must go, if you must see, at least wait until I am dead."

The girl looked at her father and realized the only thing keeping him alive was willpower and heavy doses of anti-coagulants from his combat implants. His time was short, and she wanted to cry now.

She drew back her hood and started to remove the mask; she ignored the disapproving glare of her daddy. She wanted to spend these final moments with him without any obstruction between him and her burning eyes.

"No tears." he said to his softly trembling child.

As the straps of the mask that was starting to fit better were loosened, her face was revealed to him slowly as she pulled it free. He saw firsthand that his daughters keen eyes had taken on a more feline shape. "Your eyes, they look ready for what is to come of this." he wheezed, his dry mouth starting to annoy him more than the fact that his gut was on fire from the pain.

"I don't want to be alone."

"I am right here."

"You know...alone after you are dead."

The feline paused before making his next words count as best he could. "You will be placed in a group home." he knew the plan was for her to be taken to a new Tower, a new arcology where she could finish growing up, as well as perfect her skills. She was good, even better than he was at that age, but she needed refinement.

"No one knows what you look like, as a rule, all Vale family children wear masks or otherwise obstruct clear views of their faces until they make the choice; to become an Enforcer, or go on with their lives however they see fit. You are the youngest to make it into the program within our family history since its founding. I think this is due to the horrible parenting decisions myself and your mother made; forcing you into it against your wishes because of the raw talent you had then and have now. But, if we had waited, you would be likely dead along with us. Still, I wonder if we stole your innocence before you even killed your first person today."

"No daddy...." the tears came unbidden, like a flood, she was still a little girl at heart and listening to her father say such things when he had been so strong before was the final crack in her emotional dam.

He shook his head as he watched his little killer cry, ignoring the warning that he had mere moments left of life from his cybernetics. "Who turns their child into a killer? People who have made a lot of enemies. I knew they would come for us at some point, they did in the past when I was younger, and before then as well. But I wanted the family home to not be assaulted, not again, dragging down others loyal to our family with us like before. So many dead before. So instead, we, your mother and I, made a plan.

"We came to this level and waited in an empty apartment." he smiled dryly then, as if he were proud of something. "Killed forty of them before they changed tactics on us and used a paranormal that could phase through walls."

"You showed me tactics on how to deal with a paranormal like that." his daughter stated while she continued to cry.

"And they worked, until they sent in another that caught us off guard and stunned us." he smirked ruefully. "Used the built up corpses to barricade ourselves in here better before then. Took them time to get the bodies out the way. But a human barricade does nothing against foes using acid as well as a second wall-phaser." his daughter turned towards the doorway of the small apartment unit and flung something into the still billowing smoke of the hallway pulled from underneath the cloak. A soft click announced its impact with the wall outside.

"Daddy, what now?"

"Now?" the feline felt death rapidly approaching. "You make your own choices."

She watched her father die then. Though formidable, his cybernetic implants could only do so much to preserve his life without a dedicated medical team already working on keeping him alive.

Slipping the mask over her face slowly, once more she became the killer. Ignoring the itching flesh covering her body, she activated the mask's advanced scanners and also slipped one of the earpieces into an ear that felt pointier, almost elvish, as her fingers passed over it. Scanning for radio signals, she found none she could use, broad-spectrum jamming was already in play, but she knew that. She was just going through the now numb practiced motions of crime scene investigation preliminaries.

The first of which was calling for aide when discovering a crime or actively in need of help. The only ones that needed help were dead, the invaders and the defenders.

Casting her mask's sensors over her father's body by looking at him. The computers immediately identified, via preliminary scan, the main cause of death.

Blood loss.

The lack of blood was what had did it she read as the HUD (Heads Up Display) showed her all her sensors could determine. She ignored the information on the corpses as she cast her gaze around her as she headed for the bath.

Pausing at the partly open doorway, she nudged it open with a boot, unlike the front door the inner bath door was an old hinged type that swung outwards. It was a modification made by her parents she was sure to enable a last stand situation with a door that could not be simply kicked in. She had her weapon already in hand and fully loaded. She did not even remember reloading it, likely she did it while listening to her father speak. She did faintly remember planting a sensor in the corridor to cover her as she waited for her dad to die so she could see her mother.

Her dead mother.

Stepping away from the door she realized someone was in the room, alive, having hidden from the massacre. They would pay, slowly and as painfully as possible. She would make them suffer for what they had done.

"Come out peacefully and I will not use your genitals as a means to torture you. But I will be making you suffer for what you have done." For a moment she thought they would refuse her considerably generous offer.

"Your daddy was a smart man,"

She knew that tone of voice. He was going to try something. But she wanted him to suffer.

"Really brilliant, and,"

Logic overruled rage and as soon as his hand appeared, covered in dark fur, he lost it to a shot from her gun. The bullet burned into the soft flesh of the wrist then severed it with pop as its explosive payload detonated. The scream of pain was cut short as she went in low, ducking under his arms, the one arm still in possession of a hand held a weapon. Not for long. she thought darkly. She was behind him before he knew it and neatly slid a quickly palmed blade into his back. She severed his spine at the base of it and twisted her blade as she yanked it free.

The coyote man was surprised the blade had cut through the armored vest easily as he lost sensation below the belt. The armor plate had done nothing to stop its progression due to its mono-filament edge. He tried to bring the gun around he held with his left hand, previously partly hidden by the doorway and his body, but a hot pain in his wrist made him drop it.

She watched his other hand drop to the ground along with his gun for only a second as she quickly aided his fall to the ground by smashing her left boot into his chest. His useless legs did nothing to stop him from sprawling on the bathroom floor. Straddling him she raked the blade horizontally across his ribs through his armor. It's tip slid through his vest and flesh straight up to his collarbone which she embedded it in. She applied a quick jab to his throat when he tried to raise his nubby arms to push her off.

"Who sent you?"

The coyote bared his teeth, his fangs glinting with a bit of blood from when he bit through his tongue in agony from being stabbed in the back. "Go fuck yourself!"

The girl left the first blade jammed into her interrogation subject and produced a slender needle with the flick of a wrist. She angled it then quickly jammed it into the man's left shoulder. She spun it between her fingertips slowly as she worked it in.

The coyote felt his arm go numb and watched in horror as the girl repeated the process with his right shoulder. His arms useless to him, she retrieved her knife and promptly gutted him. A fist to his jaw cut short his scream of pain; with nothing to keep them in, his guts were easily dragged out by the handful by his child tormentor.

"Who sent you?" she said as she held up a loop of intestine.

The coyote's blue eyes glared at the girl. His augmentations were keeping him alive, but he would soon enough be dead because she would see to it.

"Who sent you?" the question was repeated with even more venom in her voice as she cut through the loop of intestine and squeezed its contents out onto the coyote's chest.

The smell was horrible, like living death, but the coyote simply managed a grin in the face of his executioner. "Like I need to tell you who." the man bit down hard and suddenly fell back twitching against the floor.

The girl sat on the man watching him dance in his death throes. Bitter toxins coursed through his veins from a poison capsule he had hidden away in a tooth she thought. When he stilled she put a bullet in his open mouth to obliterate his brain and skull to make sure he was not faking it. If he was, he wasn't any longer thanks to her.

Looking over to the tub she saw it was filled with water and her mother was floating in it face down. She reached towards the woman only to draw back her gore covered fuzzy hand as she stood to leave. There was nothing for her left there except a hollow feeling that grew more and more as she walked out of the apartment.