Aria

[Catche Jagger]

A camera near the cave’s entrance caught sight of a girl in a striking, red peacoat as she emerged from the darkness, now carrying a gun that was almost as large as she was.

The weapon seemed to rest oddly with her, arms and hands moving all about, gripping different spots, changing position and center of mass, seeking a sweet spot where the weight of that instrument of death might finally be natural.

Coming to a stop, her eyes met with the camera lens. Staring it down, her brows furrowed and her face twisted into a scowl. From there she took a step back and carefully placed the machine gun down, before her attention once again turned to the camera.


((Betty Quinn continued from Percussion))

“You know, the thought of being rewarded by a gang of mass murderers was enough to make me feel sick. I almost didn’t come here.” Quinn began, brushing some stray hairs out of her face, attention fixed.

“It made me question what I needed to do. Whether I was really going to stop anything if monsters were rewarding me for it.

“But… the fact that I’m thinking that way means that I’m still thinking clearly. That’s the key.. As long as I a fair judge of people and situations, then killing people like Oakley serves a greater good.” A slow inhale through the nose, steady exhale through the mouth, and her scowl had faded to an expression of determined calm.

“So thanks for the weapon, and the food. Even if I have my own misgivings, I’m going to use them to keep doing what’s necessary. But I’m not doing it for you… it’s for them, even if they don’t understand.”

With that, Quinn turned back away from the camera and to the weapon and slowly worked to find the best positioning of her hands once again. Hoisting it up with a grunt, she gazed out at the mountain pass before her.

The only sound that passed for a while there was the whistling of icy winds which stung the girl’s face, but made little impact on the camera observing her quiet vigil.

“Who was that for?” She muttered, voice low as he gaze seemed to pass out beyond the mountain, out past even the bounds of the island.

“Nobody would really listen.”

“…”

“Just for me, then. Good.”

And then she was gone.

((Betty Quinn continued elsewhere…))