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"An appreciator of the fine arts, aren't you?"
Millia shakes out of her slight stupor. Absorbed in her thoughts, she was absentmindedly staring at the statue placed in the middle of the quaint little park. A robust man that looked like he was in his fifties was standing next to her. His full, white beard was not too far removed from that of Santa Claus, which gave him a slightly silly, yet at the same time reassuring appearance.
"Granini. An immeasurably talented young sculptor born in this very town, he was destined for greatness. Caught a bad case of the TP, back when there still was no cure for it. In remembrance we put his finest work right at the center of our park. This is his legacy!"
"...mm." Millia was still a bit taken aback by the sudden interruption of her thought process and needed a few more moments to switch into socialization mode.
"You have an eye for art, miss?"
"...not really.
...it's a nice piece of work."
"Right?! Look at the realistic tenderness of the flesh, and how majestically the cloth drapes over it! Granini truly had an eye for details, and his hand was delightfully skillful. I'm glad even outsiders can appreciate his work!"
"...how do you know I'm an outsider?"
"I didn't, but you just told me! Hahaha!"
Millia couldn't help feeling slightly irked by the 'gotcha'. It's less the fact that she was close to blowing her cover as a regular, unassuming civilian and more that she couldn't believe she had gotten got by such a childish prank. She was ashamed of herself, close to. Who does this guy think he is? I could slice his jugular right here and now. I don't even care about this assignment. So what if my cover is blown? I'll make mincemeat of every witness in this park. I'll dye the water of this fountain so red that it'll take a century for it to wa
"Miss?"
"Oh! ...sorry. Sorry, I wasn't listening. I've been having a lot on my mind lately. It's been really stressful, and... And..."
The tears were already welling up. It's true, she was having a hard time.
The suicidal thoughts were relentless. Constantly assaulting her day and night. Prodding, probing at her soul. She had nobody to turn to. She had been so on edge that she was about to break down in front of a complete stranger. She didn't know what to do. Her voice was trembling. Her helplessness did nothing but make the situation worse. She felt so weak. Useless. Worthless. How pathetic can you get, you can't even hold your shit together in publ
"...used to say that life always has some tragedy up its sleeve ready to be thrown at you when you least expect it. And he was right! Hah! I would know. Worked hard all my life towards the betterment of this town, and I went through all nine layers of Hell to get some things done, like when the Illyrian government decides to cut funding for whatever it is they deem useless. But I digress! Listen here, missy. Pardon my language, but it's true that there's always some bullshit waiting for you, even when you're already hanging on for dear life. But that doesn't mean we are allowed to give up. You have to fight with all you've got, and make the best out of your current situation. I don't know what's gotten you so worked up, but I'm sure that you have the strength necessary to pull through, and I know there's people in your life that depend on you, and that care about you. You can't let them down. Got it?"
"I'm sorry, I..."
Fucking asshole... What would you know?
"I have to... Thankyouverymuch I..."
She stormed out of that very unpleasant situation.
Growing up in the Guild, she didn't exactly have much experience in socializing with people. Being approached by a complete stranger caught her off guard, and she was already in a very vulnerable position. She couldn't have expected herself to keep it together for much long at all.
She was sniffling, but not really crying.
Nobody depended on her. Nobody cared about her.
What would he know?
Her lover beats her. Her comrade in arms hates her guts. Everyone else is terrified of the Beast that resides in her hair. They cower in her presence.
Her grip on reality was worsening. She had fallen into a state of complacency with the state of things. She learned to sort of tune the reoccurring nasty thoughts out. Not so much learned, rather, they became so omnipresent she got used to them.
What was truly the most maddening thing of all was the utter normalcy of it. She never truly got used to murdering, but it definitely was easier now. She managed to shut the desire to scream her lungs out away as she went for the kill. And she had learned to save her mental breakdown for after she had made her escape.
She'd wake up in Zato's bed after another messy, restless night. Kill yourself. The cold water she'd splash on her face did little to wake her up. Kill yourself. She'd scrub her hands with soap furiously, almost as if they were still dirty with the blood she bathed in the night before. Kill yourself. The Guild's headquarters sure is pretty tall. Kill yourself. I should throw myself from the roof. I should kill myself. I should kill myself. The pain just doesn't stop. It never stops. Every day I think of the screams. Every day I think of the pain I cause. My existence has been consacrated to murder. I am Zato's perfect little killing machine. His precious darling. I can't do it. I can't do it anymore. I should slit my wrists right now. I ca
*bzzt bzzt*
Almost as if nothing at all had happened, her mind cleared itself of her painful reminiscing as she grabbed the magicom.
"Millia. How are things?"
"I have completed the perlustration of our escape route. Seems like there'll be no hitches in our getaway."
"I see. I'll be waiting for you at the hotel."
...
The refreshing summer breeze shaking the leaves of the trees surrounding her. The voices of the children playing nearby. Millia relished in these pleasant sounds of peace, a welcomed change from the usual voices torturing her.
As if nothing ever happened, she bathed in this little moment of quiet.
Maybe things are alright after all. Maybe I can keep this up.
Of course, she can't. But for the moment, it seemed believable enough.
...that man.
He didn't mean anything ill. He was just trying his best to cheer her up.
It was the most pleasant interaction she had with another human being in a long time. She hadn't felt such a genuine interest towards herself from someone else in so long. It felt almost nostalgic. Millia bit her lip gently, wishing she hadn't run away. That short conversation was sure to stick in her mind for a while. A reminder of times long gone.
She regained her composure. Now was not the time for reminiscing, self pity, or any sort of breakdown. Zato was waiting for her to discuss their assignment.
The night breeze gently caressed her legs, sending a shiver up her body. Her mind, though, was too laser focused on her objective to process the sensation. It's true she was on edge that morning, and that she almost broke down in public, but right now, her mind was completely clear. She was damn good at her job after all, no matter how distressingly unpleasant it felt to know that.
That's how she spent her days. Half the time she'd be in a sort of daze, completely unfettered by most things.
The other half, she'd be damning herself for still breathing. Wishing she could just stop.
But that's not what was on her mind in that moment. As the sentry turned around to resume his patrol route, she swiftly jumped on top of the roof of her target's mansion.
Her role was to eliminate a particularly influential politician. She didn't know exactly why. Zato mentioned in the briefing that his activities were too much of a pain in the neck for the P.W.A.B, or something like that. She didn't really care, though Venom would gnaw her head off if she voiced her disinterest. But not involving herself with the target's personal life helped keep herself detached. Made it hurt less.
Stalking around the halls, Millia headed towards the target's bedroom, making sure to stay clear of the guards. Facing the door that supposedly locked the target's room, she took a deep breath, then gently opened it.
Inside the room, aside from a desk and a library, was a bed, in which a man was sleeping. He seemed to have a relatively large build--
Millia promptly stopped herself from thinking further.
No. No no no. No no no no no
Charging forward, trying to clear her mind, she readied her hair, forming a sharp blade.
I just have to do it. It will only take a moment.
...
The blade was resting on his neck.
She just had to dig it in.
Why...?
...
"AAAAAIEEEEEEEE!!!!!!"
She couldn't bear it. She tried as hard as she could to push the thought out of her mind, but it was too late. The realization had already nestled inside her mind.
"W-wh... G-GUARDS!! HEL--"
A second scream, this time from a male voice, filled the night sky.
She stabbed and stabbed. The corpse was almost unrecognizable.
Guards barged in.
"FREEZE!"
Moving like a doll held together by strings, she turned around, her face covered in blood. Her gaze, though completely unfocused, was pointed at the men that had surrounded him.
...
Rushing into the house, Venom hurried towards the screams that were getting louder and louder.
"MILLIA!!"
On her knees, surrounded by a pile of corpses, Millia was staring at the ground, motionless.
"What's going on?! How could this happen?!
Millia! Answer me!!"