Written in the heat of the Moment

Slow breathing.

The man in front of her hadn’t noticed the predator skulking behind him yet. A crazed woman, a cold heart, the fire-inducing stare of death and the stiletto to perform a once-in-a-lifetime symphony of silence. It had been a long time since she had felt this thirst. The insatiable hunger that urged, no, demanded that the young acolyte spilled the blood of a man who had wronged her.

That was not just any purse he held in his hands. That was her purse the man had stolen, those were her belongings and not his and she was not about to let some washed up old army reject get away with stealing from her.

The dagger danced around in her hands as bystanders looked at her. Her grip tightened and her hand shook as each muscle in her body restrained her from outright stabbing a man out in the streets. Though her face may have been as blank as a piece of paper the fire within her called out for nothing but a prolonged exposure to the falsetto of a man in pain. She wanted suffering and pain, screams of terror. She wanted revenge.

The man led her down a rundown alley. The dust and grime of a planet-wide cityscape had never felt so appropriately final as when the man entered his home. Sena threw a few final looks over her shoulder in preparation. There was nobody around and she was free to let herself loose, to let her true self resurface again.

Dragging dagger the sides of the walls produced a scraping noise to amp herself up for what was to come. Had she not retained some of her sanity this would have been the part where she had hummed a tune. That didn’t mean the occasional chuckle would emanate around the cold steel corridor as she finally stepped up in front of the door to his home.

This was it, the final moments before the performance started. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to prepare herself. With the flick of a button the door re-opened only to expose the young acolyte to a mix of dust and smoke floating around the apartment. The lights from a nearby club lent it’s orange-yellow glow and helped bring the last few rays of light necessary to navigate the small room. The man seemed to have two interests, smoking and holovids as would be evident by the casing for the latest Holo-Twi’lek module. No doubt another piece of equipment that wasn’t truly his.

Light footsteps, near tip-toeing, carried her towards the man and his armchair. The smell of sweat was almost enough to overwhelm all senses but she prevailed with a swift reach around his head to cover his mouth. The man panicked yet his screams were muted by the rapid but delicate touch of a dagger’s hilt applying blunt force to the back of his head.

The man went limp. The contents of his glass spilled out on the floor as it exploded into a dozen tiny little pieces, a signal for Sena to begin prep-work before the big solo. Time was running out, she had to restrain the man before he did anything they would both regret. Like try to run away from his destiny, his indisputable fate.

A quick look around his apartment left her with four belts of different sizes and colors which she promptly used to strap the man to a chair conveniently located in front of the holoprojector displaying his most favorite cyber-twi’lek as the waiting game began. It was amusing to the young woman that the only thing of worth in his apartment was the very wallet she had reclaimed.

Eventually a small groan rang out through the apartment as the man slowly came to it. His eyes set upon the flickering lights that was the only girl who had ever loved him and even then she wasn’t real. While at first unaware of his state the man eventually panicked only to himself muted by the pair of socks that had been stuffed in his face.

She had already taken the liberty of going through his stuff, how fitting that the only thing worth a damn in this room was something that had already been Sena's to begin with.

“Sssshh...” The acolyte knelt down as she placed her index finger over the man’s lips. “You’ve been a very bad boy stealing from little girls, haven’t you Mister Trexdan?”

The man froze up as a chuckle briefly carried her attention towards floor. All the man seemed capable of doing was to rapidly shake his head in denial; much to Sena’s displeasure. Her eyes lit up with fire as the dagger in her hand quickly connected to the inside of his thighs.

“Liar!” Sena raised the wallet for the man to see as he nearly caused the chair to fall over, cringing in pain. “This is mine!” She opened the wallet to withdraw her ID. “This, is me!”

The man’s eyes moved at a speed of which Sena had never seen. At one point he was looking at her, the other he was staring at the card and all this within the matter of a second. Tears welled up and muffled apologies were uttered.

“Save it.” Her hand moved up to place itself firmly on his cheek in a slap. “Your whimpering does not move me, your pleas disinterest me.”

She took a step back to take a deep breath and let the pain seep in. It was her addiction; a need to feel others in misery or pain. A weekly hobby she indulged in with careful and well-planned precision, but today was a deviation. There was no plan and no care involved, there was just cold revenge and the satiating of a bloodlust carried forth by the thrill of the hunt.

Well the hunt had finished and it was all coming to an end. She turned around to give the prey one final lookover. A pathetic example of a human being that had already been broken with only so few words shared between the two of them. His head hung in defeat as she wiped the blood from her knife.

Her holocommunicator chimed up. Her master needed her. A chuckle parted Sena's lips as she looked at the communications device and the man. “That’s my boss.” She grinned. “She needs me and really hates it when I’m late.” Her eyes rolled as if she just made the most obvious statement.

His head began to shake again but it was quickly rectified with yet another slap. Once more his head bowed down in utter defeat. A prolonged exhale had her kneeling down in front of the man one last time as she gently poked the tip at the man’s chest.

“I’d lie if I said I was sorry for this, you know,” The man looked up at her in total fear. “And I’m sorry to cut the meeting short, love, but I really do have places to be. I’m sure you can understand.”

A gentle thrust, the widening of eyes and the crimson liquids running down her arm. The very essence of his being ran down the handle of her blade before slowly embracing the cracks between her fingers. The was the part she revelled in. This was the part where she thrived off of the excitement.

She slowly rose from the ground. A content smile spread on her lips as she washed most of the dying man’s blood off in the sink of his kitchen. The light switch next to the exit found itself in use one last time as she flicked the lights off in the apartment. All that was left at this point was a man’s last few dying moments as his life quite literally spilled out on the floor to the flickering lights of a hologram performing it’s routine dance.

He was just one of many, but definitely not the last.