The last week had been especially hard for War. Half assed conflicts and dreams aside the Horseman had started falling victim to her own nature. What she was could only be contained for so long. War had tried the usual quick fixes, a small gang war, calling in a bomb threat, even going so far to provide the tools for an especially promising and troubled young man.
One thing fizzled right after the other and War in a state of desperate fury knew what she had to do.
No small fixes. No more bandages. She wanted war and she was going to get it by going after the one god who held the keys to the nation’s missile silos and security alike.
The knife made the itching in her palm worse. It was a poor substitute for the blade she would carry though it would serve, for now. Tracking Jamie’s movements across the garage she waited and once he was on the phone….
War’s movements were fluid and inhumanely fast. She struck from behind, steel flashing in her hand as she drove the knife into National Security’s side not once but twice. The smell of blood hit the air and for the first time in years War felt the tiniest bit content.