Title: Memories
Author: PhantomsAngelS2
Rating: M for violence and death, and a few swear words.
Summary: Danielle has been inured to death for as long as she can remember. Until now.
Comments: Reviews are love, constructive criticism needed.

The rope stretched out tautly, then spun back, blade dancing in the air until the hilt landed in Danielle’s palm with a noisy slap. The man in front of her fell onto his knees and collapsed on the ground, prostrate before the woman . She grinned at the triumph, then appraised the damage of the room. Completely destroyed. Across the room lay three boys and their mother, slumped across their makeshift dining room table, and the grandmother on the couch, dead as the sky was blue. This was the last home of the village, now their job was done. The rebel village was eliminated. Their leader would be pleased.

Danielle looked down, and frowned in disgust when she saw the thick, crimson liquid seeping from the hole in the man’s chest and pooling into a warm, sticky puddle next to her boots. The bottom of her shoes was soaked with the stuff, and various splatters of the red were splattered all over her clothing. She sighed and looked at the dripping blade in her hand while wrapping up the long, white rope along the hilt. This was why she hated these weapons. They were sufficient, but so messy. She would have preferred a more clean method of eradicating the various hidden rebel towns around the continent, but unfortunately guns were rare since the Nuclear War of ’23, so only the few, extremely important people were permitted to have them. Maybe in a few years she’ll have advanced enough in fame to perhaps be rewarded with one. She was, after all, starting to get well known in her line of work. She had long been inured to killing, and anyone who could kill efficiently and emotionlessly was useful to the empire. It could not stand until everyone who stood in its way was destroyed, so that’s what she did as one of the top warriors in the continent, helping stop the enemies until the empire could flourish and live in peace.

The soft mewl of a child echoed behind her, and she spun around, furious that she didn’t hear the person behind until now. Getting caught off her guard, after all, was unacceptable, no matter what was on her mind. She would never go back to the daydreaming, unobservant girl she was years ago. The empire had no use for people like them, and it took a long time for her to be as quick with her senses as she was now. But to let a child surprise her like that…

The child was young, no more than a few years at the most, crawling out from behind the couch with dark, expressive eyes, and curly brown locks spilling over her forehead. She looked up at the hardened killer with confusion, wary enough to be suspicious of the stranger but naïve enough not to see the significance of the blood dripping from the weapon in her right hand. She spoke softly with the unrecognizable babble of the young, alarmed at the sight of her father flat on his face before her.

Stupid kid, she sneered in her thoughts, picking up that her mother must have hidden her in earnest before she came into the house, hoping that whoever came for the family wouldn’t notice the small toddler. If she stayed silent for a few more minutes, I could have missed her. Too bad for her. She raised her blade, intending to end the girl’s life quickly so she could head out and go with her team to the next job.

There really was no explainable reason why she stopped. It wasn’t like she felt pity for the child, she had slaughtered infants and children many times before. She had no use for chivalrous principles like sparing women and children, and it had been a long time since she had last felt emotion twinge at her chest.

But she stopped, all the same.

Like a fist to her face, she realized why she recognized the girl. It had been years, but those eyes were the splitting image of a girl she knew long before. Memories flooded her head against her will, and suddenly a pretty little six year old that she had blocked from her head long ago came back up.

“Sis, don’t!” she screamed, her voice a mere copy of the jubilant squeal that it once was.

An old voice spoke, and she was startled when she realized that the voice was hers, back when she was innocent to the pains of the world. “What’s wrong? It’s just a bug.”

“Don’t kill it,” dark, expressive eyes pleaded, welling up with tears. “It didn’t do anything to you. What if it has a family? Other bugs that love them? How would you feel if someone just came and killed me? Everyone has people that love them and will miss them, even the most annoying bugs.”

Shut up, Danielle hissed internally, shutting her eyes and doing her best to quell the bubbling emotions that she had locked inside her for too many years. Her sister had been dead for over seven years—she didn’t know what life was like now. The weak and compassionate didn’t survive in a world like this. This was anarchy, and if she didn’t stand by their leader to remove the people who opposed him, they would never be able to establish a government and stop the violence within the continent. Some people may have to be sacrificed for the cause, but in the end it would all be for the best.

But you can’t shut out a voice that comes from inside your heart, so her sister’s voice continued to echo inside her, no matter what she told herself.

“Everyone has people who love them, and if you kill them, their family will miss them…” the ghost continued to say.

“It’s not my fault,” she murmured incoherently, not entirely sure of what sins she was hiding from. “I do what I have to do. Sacrifices have to be made for the best of this world.

“It’s…it’s not my fault…”

Suddenly a shot rang out in the air, and the small child gave a small yelp before falling forward onto her boots, a clean wound right through the heart.

“What the hell’re you doing, Dan!” a voice barked out, and suddenly, the spell was gone. Her boss stomped forward, irritation etched into the lines on his forehead. “Why the fuck are ya looking like one of those emotional teens who have never seen death before?”

She spun around and gave him a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I think I’ve got some sort of stomach virus. I was feeling queasy after I ate, and while blood usually doesn’t bother me, the smell triggered some nausea, I think.”

He raised his eyebrows, but after a moment shrugged and accepted her excuse. “Sorry for doubting ya, but you did look a bit emotional for a bit, though I shouldn’t have fallen for it—ya do have quite the rep. Even if you are a girl,” he eyed her, then chuckled. “Ya certainly kill the stereotype that all women are emotional bitches that can’t get the job done.”

She forced a laugh out.

“Better get healed soon, we’ve got a lot more jobs to do,” he stated briskly. “And ya better not be pregnant. Now that’s the pain about women in this job.”

She choked another laugh out, and assured him that she wasn’t. After cleaning the blood-stained blade on a blanket, she started to head out when she hesitated. Turning around, she looked at the toddler one last time, the girl with the curly hair and wide eyes now permanently frozen in fear—dark eyes so much like the little six year old from so long ago.

Then she turned around and left the little girl, along with the ghosts and the condemning angel, shutting out that part of her heart for good.