She could see her dolls pushing up to the camp of bandits.
They ransacked her home while she was out on vacation.Thrown back into reality by the cruelty of crushed doll spines and the faint smell of gunpowder. She had to reach into her secret reserve of weaponry from her old days as a Valkyrie.
Her rifle was made of Heavenly Tempered Steel. It burned in her hands as she was unfit to wield such a majestic thing, but desperate times called for equal measures.
She was atop of a mountain a worlds away in her dolls eyes, unaware that its witch was back with them. It was ironic.
She was their guardian angel.
A title she picked up again after discarding it like a hobby you would lose interest in after a failure.
She fished for a bullet out of her hip pouch and the entire mountain shone with the brilliance of an angel. Made from her and her old friend’s halos. It was not fit for such a wicked act.
She chambered it into her rifle and you could hear angels weep as the bolt lunged forward into the cartridge’s backside, making the rifle scream in hellish anger that shook the very mountain she was perched upon.
A bandit snuck up behind her dolls. The bandit dropped before the bastard could even raise a finger against her dolls.
She pulled the bolt back and the casing retreated from the rifle, another one plunged back into the Holy Weapon.
The dolls were outnumbered in numbers, strength, equipment, and knowledge. But they had an angel looking out for them.
Each and every single bandit began to rush them and in a single moment of their pathetic worthless lives, they were removed from this life smitten by an angel’s fury.
An angelic warrior motto. One that this witch threw away. She knew it was a lie angels told themselves. But at this moment, she didn’t care.
The bandits paid with their life and she wiped out the camp with the assistance of her dolls. She summoned herself to the campsite, her dolls surprised for a moment but realized that she would always protect them when they needed her most. “I’m sorry I’m late my little ones,”
The dolls cried, explaining the attack in vicious fashion. They gave chase and would protect the witch’s honor even if it meant their own lives. The witch embraced her three remaining dolls, but it was not forever. There was still one thing left to do.
She slung the rifle by its strap over her shoulder, gliding her way over to one last bandit.
He was terrified, pissing himself in fear as his throat went dry. He cracked before she even said a word.
“An-angel! Sent us! Ezekiel!” The bandit wasn’t useful anymore and the witch instructed her dolls to exact their revenge on the bandit. It wasn’t pretty as the dolls began to feast.
The witch grimaced internally. That was a name she didn’t think she would hear in many moons. Her previous boss. Her past has finally come to haunt her.
She disobeyed an order from their Goddess. She knew the actual plan they had for their followers, worshippers, and everyone else. It wasn’t salvation. It was a slaughter. She had other plans. She could treat the humans better. It would be a mercy to serve her this way.
And now angels were coming back to her door step to finish the job they couldn’t a millennia ago.
Her hand went reflexively to her pouch.
