Chapter Text
I
He says he will kill her, but instead he stands in front of her and he trembles.
It disgusts her. There is a gun in his hands and he points it straight at her, but they both know that he will not do it.
He knew his fate the moment she stepped in the room, but he does not challenge it the way honorable men should. He does not fight. He cowers. He fears.
She steps out of the darkness and pushes down the shaking gun, wrapping her hand over his on the trigger.
"It is not I who will die tonight," she whispers, but unlike him, she does not tremble.
II
They call her واحد الذي هو كل, The One Who Is All.
Those who have seen her have said that she is a girl of no more than four and that The Hunter has had her since she was a baby. They say she can take down full-grown men in seconds, but cannot say a single word.
But then again, they say a lot of things.
Sometimes, when she hears them say them, Shiva thinks of another life with a man who held her by the hips and taught her to be free.
Sometimes, she thinks of training and of traveling and of how she used to hold back before he opened her eyes, and of all the things she paid to get rid of the debt she owed to him.
And sometimes, when she cannot find distractions, her stomach aches and she thinks about running her fingers over long-healed stretch marks just to check if they have reappeared.
But most times, it does not matter at all. Sandra Woo-San died long ago. And Shiva, Shiva does not owe anything to anyone.
III
In Brazil, a man claims to be the best martial artist in the world.
"You may have trained me first," he smiles cockily, and he beckons her close, "but I have spent every day learning since then. And now, the student surpasses the master. Bow down, Shiva, and I may spare your life."
"Spare my life?" she looks up at the man with a toothy grin, "I think you forget the promise I made to you."
She is a leopard, a tiger, a fox and he only ever knew how to be one of those. He strikes with swiftness and she counters with force.
She may have raised him up, but now it is time for him to fall.
He gasps for breath and she seethes, "I promised that I would destroy you when I saw you next."
Then, her hands are inside his neck. With a gurgle of blood he falls to the ground.
"You promised me a challenge," she spits at his lifeless body, "and I despise liars."
IV
"In some countries," Shiva says coldly, "it would be an honor to your whole family for three generations for you to be killed by me."
The boy laughs, "Not in this one, lady. Me, I like living just fine."
"One day," Shiva replies, "you will not feel the same. Your body will ache to be put down and you will waste away to nothing. If you do not die tonight, you will run forever. Would you prefer that?"
"I'll take my chances," he grits out.
She lets him run.
V
The anger is fresh under her skin, and it courses through her bloodstream.
She does not understand anything anymore. Not manipulation, lies or deceit. People say words, but she does not listen anymore.
One day, it will end, she knows. And that is the only thing she understands.
The anger will die down and she will lie on the floor, gasping for breath, but not mercy- never mercy.
She follows her stomach now, wherever the rage pulls her, and she does as she likes now.
She crushes windpipes and she creates warriors and she trains with the best of them. She takes pleasure in graceful movements and killing strokes and the way a warm fire on a cold night can warm one's bones. She travels to wherever it amuses her for it does not matter where her path takes her anymore: she will train to become unbeatable or she will die a worthy death.
So Shiva waits and she watches and she lets the anger build in her bones.
When the time is right, this will all end.
But for now, she is Lady Shiva and she destroys.
fin