? 彡𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎 ࿔*:･ﾟ
━━ ❪ 𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗹 𝘅 𝘁𝘃𝗱 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 ❫
╭──╯
❛ but i got smarter, i got harder in the nick of
time, honey, i rose from the dead, i do it a...
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1956 , SIBERIA
"Snova."
Again.
The weight of the gun swapped hands, empty magazine clattering to the grated ground below and a new one swiftly entering the bottom of the pistol. The bullet entered the chamber and the gun was fired, the once stiff trigger now a simple and easy pull back, let loose, then pull again.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Nine shots that echoed in the dark room. The room was a long rectangle, with low ceilings and dim lighting, although there was a harsh spotlight on the target. The walls were made of thick stone, you couldn't hear anything threw them, no screams could be heard threw these walls. The ones on the cells could be heard though, they were deliberately made like that. The cell walls are thin enough for the nights to be filled with gut-wrenching screams.
Terror is instinctual in this place. Compliance is instinctual. Obedience. Silence. Strength. All of the aspects of a robot, not a human.
The screams that echo in the halls are the terror, from the two weapons that live in the deep darkness of the icy ground. The moments of weakness they have as they shoot up from their lump mattresses, a thin shine of sweat across the surface of their skin. No tears, just sweat. They couldn't shed tears anymore. Tears equals punishment. Weakness is a sin down here, it can result in a brutal punishment and neither weapon wants that. No one wants the punishments you get from tears, so it's better just not to cry.
Her dark, lifeless eyes blinked only once during the nine shots. Watching the paper be marked with a large hole from the bullets of her gun. It felt lighter without the nine bullets in the magazine, even lighter as it sat loosely in her scarred hands at her side.
An ice-cold finger dragged along her sharp jaw, tauntingly slow. The weapon kept her eyes on the dark hole where her eighteen bullets had made their imprint, the shell casings littered around her like snow. She blinked when the ice-cold finger was pulled over her plump lips, the sound of lips moving filtering threw her empty mind. It pulled down her bottom lip, trying to provoke a reaction; it didn't. The weapon swallowed lightly, the roll in her throat barely noticeable as the finger left her skin.
