How could she have described them? These bastards of what she knew only as killers. They had killed her parents, both she could have cared less about, but yet--it was the warmth that they gave she had missed. The things she considered Killers, were hot on flesh, and ice cold when gone. Killers were yellows, orange, red and blue. Blue was the hottest of them all. Blue was the leader, the Killers King.
Killers were murderous, and almost impossible to contain. They had once been used to cook, and rebuild, to heat and to relive. But now, they had over-thrown their masters, they now ran rapid through the mountains. Killing off what had once been Humans.
She, the girl who had no name, had once won against the red Killer. She won, with scars of her battle. The red Killer had been the executioner of her family. She now planned revenge. It would have been what Vallery and Frank would have wanted. What they would have needed. Revenge. She had killed and tortured many Killers. They victim had become the Killer. Yet--being this killer, she had found herself with the fiery desire to kill more than needed to be killed. She once lost herself in such desires. Lost herself in the desires of murder. How could she have let such demonic feelings wash over herself in waves? She once thought she could have killed a family of Killers. But not just a family--a city, and far beyond that. A state--A country--A continent--The world! And worlds beyond hers! Such goals would have brought only disappointment, and perhaps the muder of herself.
"Killer, Killer, Muder and Blood, find me the way, so I may find them," it didn't rhyme, but it didn't have to. She didn't want it to rhyme. The damned Killers had to learn their lesson, so by finding them. They would know her name-- "She, Killer of Killers," Her name would rise above all the failures. "She, Killer of Killers," seemed realistic, a quite realistic desire. She often thought about such dreams at night. When she stared out at night.
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