Snippet #1853552

"Thanks," the kid muttered, grabbing the ball from her before answering. "Well, I never take the same route twice, and I got lost. And I can't take the same route twice because someone is trying to..."

You know, I just realised there's someone behind me.

Izzie noted it was though she were merely take note of the time of day, just before a resounding crack announced the discharge of a bullet. Judging by the sheer volume of the shot, the gun being used to fire it was a sniper rifle of some kind. A sniper rifle? she couldn't help but mock. At this range? Really? What is this shit? And on that note, since when did the low-life thugs of Xibalba carry around fucking military-grade sniper rifles? And for another, since when did Izzie give a fuck? The scent had been there--she'd noticed it. And disregarded it. Sometimes that tendency could get to her--but then, what with the precedent the thugs around Xibalba set, she typically could disregard a scent without having to worry about suffering consequences for it. The worst the thugs could do to her didn't so much as amount to a light bruise or a scrape.

The bullet whizzed past Izzie, missing both her and the kid, attesting to the probability that whoever was not only firing a sniper rifle at point-blank range but missing as well with it was probably high off his ass on something, or straight up mentally retarded. Well, there goes my happy little evening out and about. The woman shook her head and stepped forward towards the crimson sedan, in which whatever wannabe sniper was stumbling trying to pull back the bolt action on the rifle (whose barrel was still shoved out the open window, go figure). Upon seeing a towering, well-built woman striding slowly towards the car as though with the intent of rebuking the sniper for nearly hurting someone. She saw a wide smirk pasted across his face as he opened his mouth to speak. "Bitch, what do you think y--"

"Normally I'd be all for violently decimating this car and everyone in it," Izzie cut across him irately, grabbing the rifle out of his hands roughly and proceeding to slowly bend the malleable metal of the gun's barrel until it was parallel with the rest of the rifle. "But right now, rather not make a scene and attract unneeded attention. Which is a pity, because murdering you brutally would be doing world a favour. And pretty damn fun for me." Instead, she merely shrugged, tossing aside the ruined sniper rifle. Then she bent down, hands hooking on to the bottom of the car next to each wheel, and with a mild effort turned the car right over onto its roof.

A stream of assorted shouted curses and panicked yells followed as the two dumbasses in the car struggled to get out of it. Izzie didn't know if they succeeded because she was already well on her way to turning around and walking away. Y'know, bend the sniper rifle in half casually, nonchalantly flip the car over on its roof, turn and walk away without even looking like a total badass. Didn't feel quite as nice as it would've if she'd picked the goddamn car up and hurtled it like a missile at...fuck if she knew, something. But predictably, that'd attract the attention of a bunch of other jackass thugs. Or maybe opposing gangs. Or maybe the police--limited though their presence was in this part of town, when last Izzie recalled, they noticed when someone threw a car in Xibalba. Well, at the very least, they'd noticed last time.

Funny how the police only manage to start doing their job when they see someone doing it for them, she mused darkly. It had been exactly the same way in the favelas when she'd been growing up--the same way the police simply let the gangs fester in the shanties much like they did here. And the second anyone started doing something about it, the police set to work hunting down 'a dangerous and hostile vigilante'. She scowled--it disgusted her. Always had. But it was going to change. Soon, it wasn't going to matter. Order's downfall would usher in a new era where things like this were no concern at all...

She merely sighed, and reached into the inner pockets of her jacket to retrieve the pack of cigarettes--cursing as she realised how light it had gotten. Opening it up revealed only three left. Scowl intensifying, she placed one in her lips, and struck a match, cupping it in her hand and bringing it to bear upon the end of the cigarette before waving the flame out and tossing the spent matchstick aside.

Soon it would change--yes. Did it really matter how the change was brought about if it was worth it in the end?

Worth it to everyone involved, and worth it to Izzie.