| Scene Title | At The Time |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Sometimes, a person must act. |
| Date | July 12, 2019 |
The building is still falling apart. Restoration efforts haven't reached it yet and aren't likely to any time soon. It was a warehouse before the war, but now it houses an informal group home of sorts. All people displaced by the war who found their way back to a former workplace and banded together. In survival and in hate.
This particular group has been stuck in a feedback loop of blame on the SLC-Expressive community. Blame for the war. Blame for all the loss. Blame for the state the Safe Zone is in.
Blame was comforting.
Maybe not tonight.
Three gunshots rang out before anyone at the meeting realized what was going on. A figure shadowed by the night— far darker than New York has been in decades— methodically fires a bullet through each of their heads, splattering blood across bigotry-fueled graffiti and leaving the bodies where they fall.
They barely had time to scream.
Across the floor, painted in blood, the figure leaves a message.
NEVER AGAIN
Eventually, someone will find the scene, although there's no guarantee it'll be any time soon. Maybe once the smell drifts. Maybe sooner, if they have anyone to miss them.
Maybe.
One Hour Later
A change of clothes and a shower later, a woman sits on her couch with a glass of whiskey in hand. The shots still ring in her ears. The looks of fear on their faces are burned into her memory.
Strangely, it fills her with warm comfort, like a warm fire on a cold day. Like she's stumbled into a purpose. Maybe later she would feel differently, but…
…it seemed like a good idea at the time.