Bloody Mary

Seeing the commotion in the rear view mirror Gen muttered something to herself before slipping out of the passenger and taking cover at the front of the vehicle. It took a moment for the small cloud of dust to clear from her vision but what was in front of her wasn't pleasant in any form as she peered out into the horizon. Too close for comfort were some mean looking rigs and even crueler men in appearance. But it was just the one that caught her eye in the worst way. Standing like a tank, muscled to high hell, nub of a hand, was The Prophet. The monster who'd taken everything years before. Her grip on the pistol became an incredible amount tighter. All this time of searching for him... he'd come right to her doorstep. The only difference was that she was no longer a fragile child and he no longer had his handy-dandy scythe.
The fireball lit in her stomach. Nobody else mattered at this moment.

"You son of a--," she stood to lunge forward in blazing fury but was suddenly pulled back by her jacket. Levi and Sybil had gotten out of the truck and were now dragging Gen to cover behind a long row of buildings close to each other. She almost let out a yelp of anger when her opportunity was disrupted but before she was out of sight, Gen swore the two made eye contact. Everything in her eyes was so vibrantly present it was difficult to ignore once noticed. Levi had a firm hold when he spun her around to face him. One look in her eyes and he knew it wasn't his daughter.

"Gen, we need to find shelter if things go south, I'm not risking losing either of you because we joined these guys. We need to get ahold of ourselves and wait this out."

"It's him. We gotta kill him, I need to rip him apart like he did to us back home." Her voice wavered and tears boiled against the whites of her eyes.

He paused. "Okay, I get that you want to pursue but that's not smart. They have too many and we don't have enough ammo. If the group survives then so will we. C'mon," with that he pulled her and his youngest by the wrist but Gen kept strong and resisted movement, repeating herself over and over more distressed every time.
The woman's chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath. He was just yards away from the rig, the reason for their suffering, the answer to her constant anguish, what would finally put her soul to rest. That close. And she missed it. God, to see his face again wasn't something she'd never really considered. He was still pretty fucking close to the pig he was five years ago but having to confront him face to face... a little more than overwhelming. The face of a murderer and so much worse, the eyes. She curled a few of her fingers around the turquoise cross hanging around her neck as attempted to breath a moment. She gathered immediate strength but the calming didn't work.

"This is our chance! When he's gone we can stop running."
She turned just in time to see a four person branch of Prophet's raiders creep around the corner and she lifted the gun, firing without thinking. Blood spattered out of the fresh hole in the prick's dirty neck as he hit the dirt. Aim for the head. Miss.
One of the remaining yelled and the others in his crew began firing at the trio; Levi pulled the girls behind him as he ran barely escaping the bullets. She heard the Troll's commotion nearby, one she was all too familiar with, but kept fighting off her urges.

She had a bloodlust and the blood needed to be his. God's rules didn't apply right now. There were no rules in the free-natured wastes. it was kill or be killed no matter what angle you took. Still, every night she prayed her demons away. Or tried.

It had to have been a few more minutes of running, hiding, and fending off any bandits or mutants drawn by sound that attacked. To be honest she'd lost track of time in her head. She effortlessly sliced across a bandit's stomach with her blade watching the guts pile out into the dirt like a piƱata full of goodies. Funny thing was, she barely even acknowledged it. Her brain was completely wrapped around him, wired to plot his death twenty-four hours a day. Fighting for that chance to prove she wasn't as weak as when she was a girl. Shit, you could even call her obsessed with seeing him keel over and suffer, beg for mercy like the pitiful swine he was. Mercy he'd never receive no matter what her people taught. They were the sheep and he was the shepherd.

Ugh, remove the sugar coating, idiot.

Her people were the cows and he was the butcher.

The world was a blur and she moved toward any target that seemed threatening enough to catch her gaze. No sound, no speaking. No thinking. Just slice, after slash, after stab into whatever flesh wondered into her path.
Every enemy was replaced with illusions of him, a devil in disguise. Back home they'd spoken of such a being but claimed the earth itself had morphed, placing everyone into this horrid environment to weed out the weakest. The earth wasn't the problem. This devil chose to hide in plain sight where he knew he'd be found. But a monster is a monster either way no matter how many times they flip the mirror. And every time The Prophet looked at himself, the reflection of a man now lost shatters. He probably didn't even feel anything no matter what he saw. Most think with their minds or their hearts. He thought with his dick.
And he thought a lot.

Luckily on their way back after thing quieted down and the yelling ceased, Sybil memorized the path they'd traveled and they returned to their truck the same way. Poor girl couldn't fight to save her life but some of these skills were pretty damn useful in retrospect. When they found bodies they looted as best they could and the three worked to skin the larger parts of the human-like animal creatures. On some of the warmer bodies Gen cut too deep and hit an artery or something, brain being a three hundred piece puzzle without the corners. Without the corners you can't get a frame, without a frame you can't have order. Eventually they'd arrived back at the truck and already the woman spotted the scumbag who threatened to knife her like a selfish coward. But she would've been prepared to do the same.
He'd eyed her for a moment but looked away with his hand on the same damn weapon he'd had the nerve to use on her. This day just really took a massive shit on life. She wanted to scream and bash someone's head in with her boot. A stern face. A quivering heart. An unsteady mind.

And that's when she realized it. Leaving the body like it did from the bandit's neck, blood had almost nearly coated her arms and chest like a fountain while harvesting as much material as possible. Some of it was old, some more recent. All she knew was that the jacket needed a bad wash. Or a new design completely. With the fur the family had brought from their exploration, it should work nicely. They'd only had time to scavenge three lynxmen. Of course they'd give some of it to the group since they did allow them to tag along for transport. It was mostly this Trevy fellow as she could smell the disapproval from the others like a pheromone. He was seemingly the only one with any belief in them and it wasn't good. She was making enemies already and that was too quick of a jump. If she was a target so was her family. In reality, everyone was a target.

Ash spoke up as soon as most of the group neared.
"Anymore fuckin' surprises? Everyone seems alive, including miss Bloody Mary over here." he nodded with a scoff toward Gen.

The jacket looked fine.

Her judgmental gaze met his while she slung one of the thick fur sheets over her damaged shoulder. How tempting it was to take him out in the flash of a bullet. Gen's free hand rested on the holster. A savage dog stood near one of the buildings growling at the gathered group.

Blood is a glorious color indeed.

What an honest and beautiful shade of red.

Blood was a good thing. It reminded her that everyone and everything was mortal.

Even The Prophet. Even herself.

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