When They Were Gone

Weapons

Another step, another day in the warzone. As the girl opened her eyes, cries of pain greeted her once more. Only battle. Only war. She was always amid it. She was always existing in the warzone.

A sigh. And a breath. She raised her arm, stretching out her body as she felt the aches and pains, strained muscles, used muscles, contorted muscles. Had she slept the wrong way? Why did her muscles pain her so - it made no sense. If she popped into existence in the warzone, it would make no sense for her physical form to hurt so... What was this?

She paused, eyes widening slightly. The war for miles... Only ever the war... Maybe there was only war. Maybe the only entity on this earth was war. Maybe the war was never-ending, or maybe she was caught in a loop of time, set repeating the same experience over and over again as the noise, the smells, the taste, the sight, the feel killed her slowly. Maybe she was dead. Maybe this was a place of punishment, set in an eternal spiral for her to wade through with each passing day...

Her cheeks lifted as a chuckle formed a laugh, formed a mess, formed a bent, gasping cackle. She straightened. That was impossible. Utterly impossible. She could not possibly be in a place of punishment, for she had done no wrong. How could one be punished if they were perfect? How could one do wrong if they were a god? So, how was it possible for her to be in a place of punishment?

But if not punishment, then what? The pain still wracked through her, her senses were still shot. Everything hurt. How could this be anything but punishment? Maybe the world had a twisted point of view, an agonising vendetta against her for something it believed she had done. Maybe the world didn't believe she was a god. Maybe it thought she deserved this punishment.

She didn't.

But how could she possibly show the world her might, her power, her unimaginable strength that triumphed over everything the world sought to be?

No, the world wouldn't dare stand against her. It was incomprehensible.

But maybe, just maybe, this placement of her in such a despicable landscape was not in fact punishment, but opportunity. An opportunity for her to experience the most despicable segments of the world, the most disrespectful, and destroy them. Obliterate them. Make the world a better place. 

Yes, that was it; she was a saviour. As a god, she was to become the saviour of this world and cleanse the stains from it.

Pounding, clangs, thuds... A mass of noise ricocheted through the air, enveloping the girl's ears in a girdle of sound. Feet padded across the ground and dirt spouted in piping bursts. Shouts, ringing cries, pain, surrounding and consuming her. 

And with that, her mind rid itself of any warm thoughts, instead once again resuming her self-serving persona. 

She groaned. Didn't she disappear the bombs and guns? Didn't she cleanse the world of the most wretched horrifying weapons? And they hadn't thanked her. No, those wretched sounds had, in fact, continued without falter. Still, everything remained - only now, instead of explosions of great magnitude, there were strange metal pointers and long, wooden jabby-things hitting together in a deafening cacophony. 

She scoffed. They looked so stupid with their metal hats, their robotic coats and their floppy undergarments. Humans really were quite strange... and stupid. Idiotic almost. Prancing around, attempting to keep themselves afloat amidst suits of brick and metal containers weighing them down. Of course, it would never work. Their frantic struggling would be for naught. They would sink. Certainly.

But those things they held? Those odd implements. They killed.

They killed her ears, her eyes, the ground, one another. They killed everything.