Her Color

-PART THREE-

Cold flakes in that ash tray were how she treated the love she should have had for herself. Burnt it and left the ashes to become cold. Stacked like some site of mass murder,

no loving species could do this to one another,

These sticks of death can be representing for crude and selfish gains, wrinkled toxic stick had a slow creeping stench. Within moments its chemicals invaded everything, from a sickly yellow film over the skin to the air in lungs. The cigarette smoke had this entitlement, to be closer to you than some subway creep breathing in your face, touching as if random yet calculated. Could there be any lamer symbol of the era of addiction over true moral choice than the cigarette? Perhaps the coffee and cars even a book for the bizarre use of prime agricultural land and the gratuitous pollution. They are a hang-over of sorts, from an age where a person's right to get rich is placed more highly than the rights of the masses to health.

Inhaled the grey stench, the odor that foretold of tar-infested lungs and her future death-bed. There was something rotten in her eyes as she took each drag, as if she perversely lured on that morbid end to punish those who had caused her pain, she had been a drowning victim since,

it is true,

yet she cursed those who struggled beneath her feet in their own Davy-Jones-locker chains rather than striving for fresh air and sunshine.

Standing on the rooftop located at the middle of the town, where I can see the full view of everything. The town, was what a village becomes with no city planning and a great enthusiasm for architecture. Every building was different, every house has its own unique structures, vintage styles that borrows another era. It made the place as glorious as a beloved grandmother's quilt, ever patch unique and as eye catching as the one before. After weaving through the labyrinth of roads, the paths eventually converged and unveiled the piazza many known as the town's public square supermarket. Flocks of pigeons gathered everywhere, delighted numbers of people living in town as they huddled around the birds, and either fed them crumbs of bread, or took photographs. A sea of people, of all ages and ethnicities, filled the square. Rustic cabins dotted the grassy hills as trees stood up like spikes, zigzagging the border of brick roads and unpolished homes. Rivers streamed through deep valleys. Forest filled with different species of trees, plants or even wilds. The road is a monochrome patchwork, each one lined with a dark shiny border of tar. Despite of fixes there are still cracks and potholes. Some trees that were once fine saplings with soft spring foliage are now gnarled embitter trees growing tall without strength.

Criticizing whatever things, I can stare at. I almost consume a packed of cigarette just to ease my dramas. During the duration of my observation, my sight stared at a familiar person, which makes me automatically flash a smile, a sharp one.

And there he is.

My little rat.

As I observe more, he looks suspicious through its movements that gives me hint but I can say that he's way too professional than the others. Walking through a parking lot that seems pretty normal for the people around him, but not for me. I'm way too good at criticizing, he has a goddamn knife on his pocket, his structure was merely ready to attack once it triggers. The subject goes straight to a man wearing tattoos and riding on a black cheap 250cc chopper motor bicycle.

Seems there's a little dirty transaction over.

I flash an evil smile before going down from the rooftop. I immediately go straight to my red 400cc euro4 scrambler style motor bicycle and pulled the road going to the location of my sort-a prey. I've studied every act and tactic of this one, now that I have the opportunity to introduce myself intentionally, I will never let it go and I will not let anyone distract me from getting him unto my claws. I'm way too desperate to know him even more. As I arrived to the place, observing from behind they seem having a mini chitchats and drug dealing dirty activity.

"Ketamine" I whisper as I finally classify the drugs their handling through their sort-of mini negotiation.

Ketamine may also call cat Valium, but morons and assholes who are using this type of drug called it K, Special K or even vitamin K to avoid mislabeled from other medical drugs. This type of addictive substance may have administered through injected procedures, snorted or even smoke.

That's way too dangerous

Its acute effect can give someone, a feeling of being separate from one's body and environment having an impaired motor function. The scariest thing was, this type of narcotics may cause analgesia, impaired memory, delirium, respiratory depression and arrest or even worst such as death. People using it are usually facing health risks such as Anxiety, tremors, numbness, memory loss, and even nausea.

Chronic drug trade in town

After a pursuing negotiation, as the car engine sung to the lone town roads, relishing against the roaring winds that twirled in his long blond hair and whistled in his ears. With no time to waste, I drove my motorcycle off the road same path he was traveling on.

The complex that was so archaic above ground has given way to state of the art equipment below and the insistence for someone of my expertise is becoming more apparent. If I wasn't such an idealist I'd turn around right now, I can't think of a so-called justice high enough to make me want to find out what's behind all of this.

It was like running on a maze, he's way too tricky even in driving.

Stubborn bastard!

As my driving goes beyond my normal speed, the sweet cold breeze of east wind touches my skin and greets it concretely just the same, its giddy currents flow through woodland canopies, unaware of how its song soothes those who can hear. I have always thought of the wind as so free, chaotic even, yet it too has its path, even if there are infinite possible destinations. It is air with passion, a drive that powers onwards, every direction an option.

…

-FLASHBACK-

Silence keeps wailing and echoing inside the room. There's something wrong and I can sense it.

I can't take this anymore

I stood up and straightly goes to the rum cellar and get a bottle of rum and go straight to the balcony. Keep telling thyself about things.

The body will heal damage to the body. The mind will heal damage to the mind.

Yet mind and body are related.

The health of one promotes the health of the other, damage to one causes damage to the other.

Continuously drinking and pouring of rum is the only thing I do while lecturing myself as if I we're a teacher.

It is in the nature to self-heal, for soul is one of love and laughter. If the body hurts, mind will find hope, when the mind hurts, body will bring joy in movement. The hardest times of all are when neither are possible and must depend on others who will never give up on you. It is not that they won't give up to anyone, but they will leave you to die both emotionally and physically.

This is what life will be

What all lives will be,

Drinking in silence, as I walk out from the study, hoping that the answer lies at the bottom of the glass and then the bottom of the bottle and then the next bottle and the next.

"I didn't know you liked my rum that much?" he chuckles as if nothing happened

"ever since you planned to leave and pretend your own death" I chuckle sarcastically.

"I'm sorry" he utters full of emotion. His eyes used to be emotionless but now it seems a trajectory of pain and regret reflected through his eyes.

"yeah!... you're sorry" I burst out laughing out of pain and despair

"I'm sorry" I took a glance to his direction seeing him through my peripheral vision

His staring at me sincerely

And it's fucking painful seeing you like this

"how many sorry?... I… uhhh… I understand that this was important to you and I get that" I flash a weak smile; tears are like waterfalls that continuously flowing down through my cheeks.

"you don't owe me any apologies" drinking the glass of my alcoholic beverages serves to ease the pain and sadness that I've been feeling all throughout the conversation.

"stop being like this" he grabs the glass and throw it away. An echoing sound of a shattered glass makes me feel anxious. I stand out of shock and stare at his eyes. I can see a mirror reflecting thousands of emotions that is hidden behind his cold numb eyes as a defense.

"I'm sorry… please… you know me… that well... please" he said with tears starts to fall down from his fragile heart.

"yeas… I know you too well… we know you too well… to the point

that you have to left me and knight-lock" I said as I weep a loud cry that makes my heart to release more emotions.

"you're too obsessed with this one Knight-drain… You're way too possessive to this" I stated

This is the first time

"I'll break anything in order to figure out how it works—"

My hand cracks across his face, snapping it back with the force of my blow and causing his head to reel sickeningly.

I'm done with this crap!

With his fucking crap.

"I hurt you and I'm sorry, you're right! You can break anything in order to solve that shit… to solve your crap!... you've even choose to break me either Knight-lock…"

This pain

I could've handle it yet I couldn't

In that very moment, leaving him alone was the best way to avoid hurting him. I walk straight towards my room to change clothes and fix myself.

Have decide to wear a fitted black long sleeves and put on a leather Jacket has a communicate style and sexiness, pair with simple ripped skinny jeans. Adding with a Thigh-high boots a couple of inches, guaranteed to turn heads because even if they don't see me, they will hear me coming. Dark shaded sunglasses to instantly add a level of coolness to every nice outfit I choose to put on. Adding a level of mystery. After a few minutes of pampering I get the key of my big bike located at the drawer and walks towards the parking space where it was located.

I'm ready to hit the road again.

Luckily, I have one of those pictures that he handed to us, deciding to go straight to my hide out at the heart of this town.

Life is going to be hard for me,

so very hard.

The feat set me with this scenario,

My task

It is like asking for a miracle because it is the only way to win this war. have to will into a positive cycle towards a negative traumatic cycle. The world will be telling nothing, will see no love in eyes and no afraid,

How suspicious.

Punishing for something that you didn't started at all, will be without mercy. But if I succeed, not a beggar without a party invitation, an angel in chains that become more powerful than anyone can imagine. For this isn't the dark power that always needs to feed on others, this is the power of love an infinite, eternal one. The world will feel stacked against, yet all those who scorn, who stand in against way with blades of malice or indifference, are the ones who need to win most. Love does not stand on the mountain top to conquer, but to offer both hands to those below.

I didn't actually notice that I reach my hideout with some fantasy thoughts that makes me even more in pain.

Stupidity.

-END OF FLASHBACK-

…

Reaching the limits, I reach a dark abandoned building. Looking around and I saw his car stopped. I park a few block away from it to make sure my safety, walking towards the entrance while observing the surroundings.

Like a hideout for morons

This guy, doesn't have any taste

The tall grey building stood in the middle of the empty, abandoned street. I can sense the evil presence within it as it darkens up the road. Hearing the floors creek as if there's a spirits that roam and wonder the soulless, abandoned building. The air smelt as if it hadn't moved in years, festering like a stagnant pool of water. I shone my beam inside, the only movement being the dust my boots had dislodged. Aside from an errant shaft of daylight that burst through a crack in the boarded up window, it was the only light in the old warehouse.

The old doll factory in town

Once they made dolls here and packaged them for buyers overseas. The local gossips say that one day the so-called master lost his patience and gutted a girl with a stuffing hook. It shut down right after and has been abandoned ever since.

This place was awful.

As I follow the shadow of the man, I can't help but to hide myself.

It's not only the two of us.

"you should put that Williams down" the other guy utter

Is he talking about me?

I grasp out of despair. This guy knows a thing about me.

"but Supremo, I can't she's my—"

Supremo?

"then, you should because you must do it"

Clenching my fist makes me more uncomfortable. This space is so crowded. A shuttering sounds come behind my back.

Shit

Went through a vase that caused it to collapse and create a throbbing sound

"who's there?"

Shit!

I immediately crawl and go for a run outside the building. As I reach through the ground, running for my life.

A trembling sound that makes my senses sharpened with adrenaline, held my breath, straining to hear with every ounce of my concentration. Not quite silent. Cool air whispered through my ears. A bad water tank in the front yard sent out ambient pops in background. My skin can't have relaxed. My ears strained for more sounds, more clues as to where the gunshot had originated.

A damn gun

I'm not fucking aware of that.

I stopped from running when I heard that screaming sort of screeching sound coming from behind. I trembled and consciously look at myself whether it was hit by a gun or not. As I make sure that I don't have any bullet hole, I immediately turned around and look at him.

The cold metal made greyer the skin of his hand as if his blood ran from the gun.

"the little cat of Pendelton" I feel the tension, hearing the intensity in his tone. There's a great deal of emotion behind these words he is speaking.

I'm sure of that

"Bailey Peterson" I utter while having a sharp smile.

"Long time no see Bailey" seems like his blood run out through his face. Not believing that I actually not afraid of him

"may I ask you a wonderful question?" I said sweetly while walking behind him and returning in front, making circles to be exact.

"what is it Louise?" I greeted my teeth as I heard him calling me with that name

"are we even close to call me with that name?" I said intensely

Another chunk of metal but actually a functioning piece of technology, although an old one. It had been on its box for years as an opener of things, but now it was back to being used for its original purpose. Below the ebony handle is an eight-inch blade sharp enough to break skin on the lightest contact. Any pressure and it will be through the muscle and hitting white bone. That's not just academic posturing either, I know it by repeat experience. Any sign you are reluctant to use your weapon and it will be slitting your own throat next. As a policy I always know my exits and run fast if I can, but if the bugger wants a piece of me, my dagger will be in my hand faster than a dog bares its teeth. Mostly my reputation precedes me and I pass unhindered. I would rather lose a day's foraging than this knife, it takes life from my enemies but it gives it to me.

Pulling it from my pocket

How I missed holding my dagger.

"what did you know about Blade's murder? Either Pendelton's?" I ask him, while playing my dagger in front of his face. It makes him look nervous. Walking into a circle motion, calculating his movements

"you're a crazy bitch!" he shouted and dances around, cocky. He throws a few test punches while I react slowly, manipulating him and calculating his movements.

There was stillness on both sides. If hatred was visible the air would have been scarlet. Then suddenly movement, so much force in every blow. Peterson rained blows onto me as if he meant to smash me into the very earth and I did the same. Each didn't just want the other dead, wanted to smashed, obliterated, nothing left to bury.

As I see an open thread I slash my dagger towards his jaw line that cause him to stop from summoning more punches, grabbing the opportunity, slashing his face and give him a triple punch makes him be seated. It is like a sudden gush of pain jolted throughout Peterson's body. His stomach ached, his arms lost tension and his legs began to weaken.

"you will not get the better of me," he thought as he dropped to the ground. His tongue was soaked in the taste of blood. Wound and blood, with a leg in agony, he suddenly grabbed my foot and pulled to the ground but luckily I kicked him, out my so-called defense mechanism worked right on time to save myself from falling off the ground. His head was pounding in shock. He immediately stands up and brought a fist to my face, snapping my nose to bleed.

Wonder why he doesn't use his gun?

As I recover, though it hurts. I run towards him and serve him a couple of punches and kicked, the moment I calculated his defenses I automatically slashed my dagger through his face causing to fell the gun on the ground. I immediately go straight to where the gun falls and grab it putting on my pocket behind.

Now, he's unarmed.

He throws a short punch but pulls it back in and then does a spinning back kick that connects with my midsection that causes me to spit blood, and a reason for me to kneel down.

Fuck! That's fucking hard.

It hurts.

Recovering from the pain I continue to dance around him, throwing some skilled punches and kicks but Peterson swipes them away. Still no signs of attack until he reaches my shoulders and twist me to lock against his arms. Looks like a kidnapping scene from any other films. I tried to get my strength up but he continuously squeezing my neck that makes me even more weaker.

"get your filthy arms off me you… dickhead!" I angrily hissed as I struggle to unlocked them

"your head was a precious gift to my Supremo" he whispers through my ears

"and who the hell that Supremo?" he immediately gives his full strength to throttle.

I had no choice but to stab him from his abdomen. Screaming for pain is the only sound I can hear, seeing his blood flowing seems like giving me enough strength, I grab his hair to face me.

"Who's that bastard Supremo?" I repeat but instead he spits out his saliva in front of me and instead of answering my question he just simply gives me a weak strange smile before passing out.

"why'd he's interested with you?" I angrily hissed

Worthless scumbag!

...

In that very moment Lycko really lived in her anger, almost as cartoon characters do, so lost in that moment and the torment her brain was in. seeing it first in her eyes, then a tension of her muscles, an inability to think clearly soon followed. Suddenly her liberal opinions were gone, her ability for nuance and emotional generosity were gone too. Her fists would stay firmly by her sides, yet her words did more damage than they ever could. But agreeing a while back to use a bloody training technique when she got mad, one to remind her that anger is born of pain and sadness, that she needed to calm thyself, and know how to ignite her feelings of love and protectiveness in that moment of anger. Like the emotional volcano, convinced it was the fault of others, or circumstance, never wanted to be that way.

Staring at him seems she want to cut this guy's throat into four. She's very anxiously angry, her hand touching the dagger seems to be shaking because of her emotions.

…