[Author's note: I may update a bit slower, as I'm on school holidays now and am a bit jumbled up with my schedule.]

Watching, Amy’s eyes widened. The previously sleek shell segments were growing, spines and barbs forming on them. Vincent drew up, picking up Luciel’s body and turning around. Something tainted the angst and agony in his eyes. Rage. Virulent, blistering rage. He began to walk, his right eye half-covered by his shell. Brisk, purposeful strides. Amy began to follow after a few seconds, Ruby already having started doing so.

Ruby’s eyes were trained on Vincent, a keen knowingness, familiarity. She was drawing connections in her head. Connections between Vincent and herself. She almost felt the urge to smile. She knew what she was going to do. She did it herself, although not in the way that Vincent was capable of.  It was how she got to a death sentence.

He was going to kill the person or people he deemed responsible.

‘So obvious for someone so consumed by hatred…’ Ruby mused, scanning over Vincent’s armoured body. It had even gone from something simply cold and efficient to brutal and violent. There was no doubting that he was pissed off. ‘Hopefully that bitch gets it…’ She thought, imagining Dr. Samson. She had her own reasons for hating the woman. She rubbed her neck at the tingle the memories brought up.

Amy sped up to walk alongside Vincent. She stayed silent for a while, looking at the young woman in Vincent’s arms. “So you’re brother and sister?” She asked him, looking up at his face, even though his eyes were covered.

He nodded. “Not by blood. We grew up in the same orphanage.” He told her, his voice outwardly calm. Too calm. Like a rip. Calm on the surface, violent and unrelenting beneath. And the last thing someone would want to be sucked into. Except Amy, who figured that she might be able to calm him slightly on the inside.

“You’re an orphan?” She asked, getting a nod. She apprehensively placed a hand on his shoulder, mindful of any spines. “Me too.” She told him, not really wanting to go into it. “Were you close?”


“You want revenge, don’t you?” At her question, Vincent nodded again.

“I’ll help you on that one, if you’re taking down Samson,” Ruby offered, picking up a few magazines from the corpses of some guards they were walking past. “Never was fond of her, regardless of the fact she got me out of death row.”

The End

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