Snippet #1694659

Vienna threw her head back and downed yet another shot. That was at least her tenth one that night. But then again, she had lost count, so who knew how many it really was.

"Hit me again, Roderigo," she said to the bartender as he walked by her.

"Don't you think you've had enough? You've had 13 already, and you still have to be able to walk to get home," he scolded her.

"Dammit, gimme *hiccup* another drink!"

He finally gave in and brought her another shot. It was water, but she was too drunk to care. She spent last night on a job eradicating a group of rogue mods from an abandoned school. What she didn't know beforehand was that they were all children. She hesitated at first (and paid for it with a cut on her right shoulder and a blow to the face, resulting in a black eye) but eventually fought back. She needed the money that she was promised.

Now she played the scene over and over again in her mind: the screams as she shot and slashed, the young blood that sprayed on her and everything else, the smell of burning flesh and metal as she set fire to the building... she shuddered and closed her eyes, trying to get the image out of her head. It seemed that her jobs were getting worse and worse, and alcohol was getting weaker and weaker. She wasn't able to numb the pain like she used to.

She hit her head a couple of times on the hard surface of the bar before letting it lay there, her long hair covering her face like a curtain to shield her from glances of the people around her. Then she took out her knife and started playing with it. Open, close, open again. Feel the cold metal blade and the worn metal handle. Then she moved on to her pistols. They were her dad's, and the only thing he left to her when he abandoned her.

"Stupid bastard. I never liked him anyways."

But her mother and brother, she loved them. They were her world as a child. Her mother would read to them as they lay down to sleep and her brother would jump around the room, still hyper from the coffee and cake they had every night. Her mother would scold him and threaten to never let him have the sweets again, but she never followed through. She spoiled them too much. Whenever the two died, one right after the other, Vienna was thrown into depression. She moped around the house and didn't even shed a tear as she watched her father drive away. It wasn't until he was already gone that she cried, but oh she cried. She was lonely and depressed and just wanted to be around someone.

So she took to drinking, and taught herself how to fight. She never really let anyone get to know her and kept her emotions bottled up when she had to be around people. But still, she hoped someone, anyone, would try to break down her defenses and get to know the real her. Maybe it would change her ways. Maybe, just maybe...