Captain Marcus Trenholm sneered, leering at Raven with eyes that barely hid the hunger on his body. His voice oozed arrogance. “So what if a few of my soldiers left? I’ve still got a dozen men here. That’s more than enough to enjoy you properly now that the zombies are gone.”
Raven exhaled slowly, her expression flattening into something cold and distant.
“No,” she said, voice soft but steady. “I don’t think so. In fact, you’re already a dead man. You just don't know it yet."
Marcus’s smile faltered.
Then, something warm and wet slid down his cheek.
He reached up to wipe it away with his hands, frowning, as his fingers came away, they were covered in blood.
'Blood'
Around him, his soldiers began to shift uncomfortably. Someone yelled. Another dropped his MX7 rifle to the ground. As a thin line of red blood fell from a nose. Another rubbed at his ears as they began to drip blood as well.
Then the panic set in fast. Men began collapsing, holding their faces, wiping at the blood falling from their eyes and mouths. The smell of iron rich blood began to bloom in the air.
Marcus stumbled, eyes wide. “What the hell did you do to us you bitch?"
Raven took a step forward, calm as a statue, her voice measured and precise. “I poisoned you. Quietly and cleanly the moment you walked within twenty feet of me."
Her gaze swept over the trembling, collapsing soldiers in front of her.
“You all wanted to control me, to rape me. You looked at me like a prize. Like a piece of meat.”
She tilted her head slightly, the curve of her mouth barely a fraction of a smile.
“Well here’s your prize!”
Marcus fell to his knees, gasping, blood flying out of his lips. He stared up at Raven in horror, his breath catching in his chest. The realization that he was played sank in slowly, but it hit him all the same: there was no escape anymore, not from this bitcn.
“I… I…”
His words choked off. His body convulsed, as his spine arched sharply before he collapsed onto the asphalt, unmoving.
Around him, the rest of his men followed suit, seizing up, spasming, then falling still as they bleedfrom a seven orifice's of their bodies.
Raven watched, arms crossed, her face unreadable. Then she exhaled, a quiet whisper barely audible to herself as she said.
“At least I didn’t have to kill them all. Maybe some of them have a conscience left. Maybe not. But good people don’t last long in the apocalypse. Being naive gets you killed faster than bullets ever could."
Raven walked forward, stepping over the scattered MX7 rifles and the blood-soaked bodies. Her boots didn’t slip as. She bent, collecting the spare magazines, ammo belts, grenades, and packs of these men. Each item vanished into her system space with a silent command of her mind.
XM7 rifles. Standard-issue gear. The kind of weapons others would beg for in the coming weeks. She had no use for them herself, but they’d trade well. Everything has a price, and she is always on the lookout for new equipment.
Once the field was stripped clean, Raven turned her gaze to the buildings around her.
Her drones circled high above, their quiet fans barely a whisper in the wind. They scanned every rooftop, every shadow, every potential blind spot. Watching and protecting her.
She smiled faintly.
“Who needs allies when you can build your own henchmen."
As a collection of circuits and code. Machines don't hesitate to kill or follow orders. They dont argue back with you. They never betray you only carry out orders.
Raven walked forwards, alone but never unguarded.
Her steps led her to a towering steel roller door, massive and industrial, like a freight train loading bay. The paint was chipped, the frame dented from decades of use, but it stood ahead as the last barrier between her and the depot’s ammunition.
Then Raven looked at her drones as she said to them.
"Time to feed the children!"
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