kill freysa :)
-🪿
Kill Fresya, you say… Don’t mind if I do. :3
This is ambiguous. Could be reader or another character. Could be a nobody killing her. I left it open...
Fresya had been planning to move her people out of the bunker they'd been in for a few days, scanning a map on her desk, when a lone figure strided into her makeshift office with thundering footsteps.
The person— who was wearing a long cloak with a hood— in front of her did not speak, did not move, did not even seem to breathe. They merely watched her but Fresya could not see their face. She couldn't see the shape of their mouth or the glint of hatred in their eyes.
Fresya sat quietly for a moment, waiting for the person to speak. They did not.
Finally, Fresya quietly asked, "Who are you?" She kept herself sat at her desk, wanting to see what would happen. If this person should not have been here, her people would have taken care of them— Fresya knew her people would never endanger her, they were incredibly loyal.
The figure on the opposite side of the desk didn't answer. The cloak they were wearing shifted slightly as they breathed in and out. It didn't do anything to tell Fresya who or what this person was though, but she noted the movement.
Fresya waited another minute for the person to answer and, luckily, her patience was rewarded. "You met an LAPD officer yesterday." The voice was quieter than Fresya had expected. It was measured… and she couldn't tell gender from it.
Fresya felt a sudden sense of foreboding.
No one outside of her people knew of the officer she had sent to kill Deckard. No one knew who he was. No one cared. Not even her.
She nodded at the cloaked person. "Yes," She spoke softly, "I did."
The cloak shifted across the person's chest as they took a deep breath. "What happened to him?" They asked her, almost sadly, and took another step into the room.
Fresya still couldn't see their face. It was shadowed by the hood. "He left. He was injured but he left on his own." She shook her head in sympathy, "He had a lot going on…"
The figure scoffed at her, "You didn't stop him, though, did you?" They took another step closer, and Fresya thought she saw something glint in the light at their side but couldn't get a good look at what it was before it faded from view.
Fresya sat upright fully, "He's his own person. No one forced him to leave or to stay."
"He was injured and not of sound mind." The person shot back furiously, "You used him, just like everyone else has."
Fresya felt her eye widened and then she pointed at the figure angrily, "How dare you! What we're doing is noble. He died for a cause!"
"How do you know he's dead?" The figure asked her. There was a line of tension in their shoulders she could see through the fabric of their cloak.
Fresya realized her mistake. "Well, I figured with his injury there was a possibility..." She paused and pursed her lips. "It's a pity, really, he would have been wonderful for the cause."
The figure lowered their head, and she caught a glimpse of their eyes. They looked cold, angry, "So you're at fault for this." They nodded to themself and raised their blaster up, centering it on her forehead. That had been the glint she had pointed earlier. "He was just a fucking pawn to you."
Fresya gripped the desk in front of her, frightened now of this stranger. "Don't do something you'll regret." She implored. "He wasn't forced to do anything!"
The person let out a sound akin to a growl and shouted, "Don't you fucking lie to me!" The person put their finger on the trigger, "He deserved better than this. Deserved better than being manipulated into dying."
Fresya sucked in a breath, realizing she was out of options. She was going to die. She was going to be killed for doing the right thing for her people. "I regret nothing," She whispered to the figure before closing her eye.
The person scoffed again, "Neither do I."
They pulled the trigger.
Fresya didn't die.
She opened her eye and looked down at her chest. Freysa saw a hole torn through the center of her chest.
She looked back up at the cloaked figure, watching them step closer to her. They ducked their head down to her level and pushed the hood back to show their face to her.
Fresya's eyes widened but couldn't form any words. She couldn't beg, couldn't shout for help, nothing.
She felt the life drain from her slowly as the person righted their posture, pulled the hood back up, and disappeared down the corridor.
Fresya watched them go until she couldn't see their cloak anymore.
She looked back down at the hole in her chest, watching as the blood poured out of the wound and seeped into her clothes.
Fresya's breathing came out haggard until eventually, suddenly, it pittered out to nothing.
She died in her chair as she'd been planning to move her revolution, her people.
Fresya died because she used someone innocent and dying as a martyr for her cause.
Fresya died because she pretended to be any better than the corporation she was fighting against.
Fresya, leader of the Replicant revolution, died because a lone figure wearing a cloak and wielding a blaster held a day old grudge against her.
