Don't feel anything about the two lives I just ended, except maybe a faint sense of satisfaction at a fight well executed.
"Survive or be killed,"I murmur, already turning away."They chose wrong."
My hands flex at my sides—open, close, open, close—four times before I shove them back in my pockets.
The letter crinkles slightly against my palm, reminding me why I'm out here in the first place.
Right. Post office. Mission. Focus.
"Ro?" I whisper.
"Vital signs returning to normal. No additional threats detected within immediate vicinity. Bodies will be discovered within approximately?—"
"Don't care." I start walking again, my steps lighter now, almost bouncing. "They attacked me. That's on them."
"Legally correct under academy policy."
"See? I'm a model student."
"You're a statistical anomaly."
"Same thing."
The pre-dawn air feels different now—cleaner, crisper, like the violence purged something stale from my lungs. My body hums with residual adrenaline, that post-combat euphoria that makes everything feel sharp and bright andalive.
This is why I'm still here.
Not because I'm trapped—though I am.
Not because I have nowhere else to go—though I don't.
This place lets me be exactly what I am:a beautiful disaster wrapped in pink hair and ballet shoes, someone who can kill two people before breakfast and still make it to the post office on time.
It's honest.
It's brutal.
It's my sweet reality.
My humming starts unconsciously—that slowed reverb Summer Walker track still stuck in my head, the melody threading through my lips as I pick up my pace.
Oh, it's over... all the mess, over... all the stress, over...
The words take on new meaning after combat, after violence, after watching the light leave someone's eyes.
Everything ends.
Every fight.
Every life.
Every moment of peace before the next storm.
I spin once, just because I can, my arms extending in a perfecten couronneposition. The world blurs—buildings, streetlights, blood-stained concrete—into streaks of color and shadow.
When I stop, I'm grinning so wide my cheeks hurt.
"You know what, Ro?" I announce to the empty street. "I think today's going to be a good day."
