“You look vaguely familiar…”
“Do I?”
She grinned, razor sharp and blood red, her teeth like prison bars holding her words caged.
“How about this?” she asked as she pulled her shirt down enough to reveal the ragged scar where his katana had pierced her skin. It had only been the first mark he’d make on her. The first blood shed.
His eyes focused on the scar, widening as he realised who she was, but by then it was too late. She’d taken her gun and the kid was fast – lightning fast – but that split second of distracted, of memory had cost him. She aimed again, blocking the sword with her arm, more blood drawn.
She wouldn’t call herself a very vindictive person, but she couldn’t deny a certain satisfaction at pulling the trigger again, at watching him double over in pain.
“Oh, I know,” she says casually, kicking the katana away from him. “Wasn’t anything personal. This isn’t either, you know, I don’t hate you. I don’t give a single fucking shit about your life.”
She swung her hatchet, hard enough to knock him almost unconscious.
“How about we consider this Round 2?” she grinned and then, with a last swing, watched his eyes roll back as he finally passed out.