Alisa is tall for her age, slender and sprite. Easily recognizable to the locals by her close fitting trench coat and respo mask, she is one of the more curious denizens to have lived in city block 22 slash 4 b3a. This is because although small and seemingly harmless, she continues to stroll around the city alone and unabated while wearing an expensive item on her face.
Under the thick canopy of electrical wires and tarp, a meat vendor looks up from his slate to see Alisa gliding through the busy crowds. He recalls that it has been about an hour since he last heckled at her to buy some meat of questionable origin. Eager for a quick sale (and to get rid of the mystery meat) he raises himself up from his chair to call out to her.
"Hey! Girl! Want some me-"
The man halts half sentence, his eyes agape. Something was amiss he thought, the air around him chilled... his words would not come out and his body would not move. There was always the possibility of backlash when trying to attract customers, but in that split second he felt that faint possibility become a promise. He watched as the chem rain around Alisa slowed to a crawl.
She turns to look at him. Their eyes meet. She leaves.
The meat vendor stumbles a couple steps back and falls back into his chair. Dazed and confused he wipes the sweat off his face. He had worked the streets all his life and only once had someone made him feel that way. And that someone slaughtered half a platoon of guardsmen before they were put down.
"Witch", he mutters, wide eyed.
Suddenly a woman emerges from the room behind him. "Husband? What's wrong?"
The man turns to look at her "I...-". He stammers, unable to get the words out of his mouth.
The wife walks up to him. "I heard you call out to someone! But you stopped midway. Awfully unusual that. Did you see something strange?"
The vendor pauses, he takes a look around his surroundings and scratches his head. "...Yea, I was calling out to a woman... huh? or was it a man?"
The woman notices some of the meat they were selling has disappeared and that her husband was sitting empty handed.
"Ah. The pretty woman again eh? I oughta disown you one day you sleaze ball of a husband!!" shouts the woman as she stomps away and disappears back into the room.
The man sits upright, confused. "Oh yeah". He thinks himself. "I gotta stop giving free meat to that pretty woman. I ain't running a damned charity here!" Slinking back into his chair he contemplates and smiles to himself.
Alisa had robbed that place at least a dozen times now. She had made it a habit to imprint the memory of her mother into the minds of people she robs as a way to make them more accepting of losing their belongings. It in a way it was also her method of keeping the memory of her mother alive.
She looks down at her large bag of meat as she walks. A small chill runs down her back as a primeval voice creeps into her heart from a dark recesses in her mind.
More.
Steal More.
Use me.
It would be so simple.
You'll never have to go hungry again.
Your brother will be saved.
Your enemies dead.
Give it to me, your so-
Alisa stops, her free hand balls up into a trembling fist. She heaves deep breathes through her gas mask, she shuts her eyes. Her breathes get quicker and quicker until she collapses to the ground. Her eyes open wide as she starts hyperventilating, her masks goggles turn white with condensation.
Starving for fresh air, she rips her mask off her face and breathes in the cold polluted hive air for a minute before throwing up onto the ground. As she brings herself up she looks at the puke she had spat onto the ground. It's writhing with maggots.
Picking up her mask, she gazes at it as chem rain runs down her face. Life had thrown many hard ships at her, but none were more difficult than the abilities she was born with. A metaphysical storm rages within her and it threatens to consume flesh and soul at every nook and corner of sin she finds herself in. To use her abilities is to dance with death, to dance with death is to forfeit her soul, to forfeit her soul is to become death.
She knows that if she continues to use her powers like this then it's only a matter of time till the black ships come for her. Or worse.
The image of her brother flashes before her eyes. A pang of guilt runs through her, the echoes of a debt that can never be fully repaid haunt her.
She puts on her mask, filled with new resolve.
"Not today." she whispers.
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