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     BLOOD STAINS HER FINGERTIPS, EACH NAIL PAINTED A DIFFERENT SHADE FROM SOMEBODY'S SKULL

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     BLOOD STAINS HER FINGERTIPS, EACH NAIL PAINTED A DIFFERENT SHADE FROM SOMEBODY'S SKULL. The wall that blocks them from infinity lies in front of her ━━ it's a warning, to all those who see themselves as gods, that downfall is always a misstep away. The corpses of deities and demons line its surface and Autumn Alita finds a strange sense of comradery in their lifeless gazes.

     Her hand reaches out to touch it before she can fully realize what she's doing and her palm comes to rest against the chest of a fallen god, one of many that dared to challenge the Source Wall and paid the ultimate price.

     Power thrums beneath her, ancient and eternal. Empires have risen and fallen, wars have been waged, peace has been destroyed and this power, this immortal thing, has stayed the same.

     All that life, all that power, and its held behind this flimsy wall, this pathetic attempt at defence. She thinks that, if she really wanted to, she could crack it open, let all that energy pour into the universe, ripping it apart without care.

     She doesn't want to, though, and she supposes that is where the issue lies. She doesn't want much of anything, anymore. She made a monster crumble at her feet, crushed his skull and felt the bones cave inwards with her very own hands and ever since then ━━

     Ever since then, the universe has felt hollow. The anger in her heart still burns, an ever-growing reminder to what she's lost, but it has no direction, no outlet. It boils her blood at every second, even after she took her revenge, even after she delivered justice for the lost souls of Coast City.

     She wants to scream. She wants to tear apart the cosmos, to destroy all those who tried to stand in her way, but the last vestige of the person she used to be, the person she wishes she was once more, clings onto her soul, stops her from being the very thing she's spent her life battling. She wants to be a monster, aches for it with every fibre of her being, but a voice, one that no longer belongs to her, always talks her down from it.

     And now, with no monsters to fight, with no monsters to become, there's nothing left for her. Autumn Alita once had the entire universe at her fingertips and all that remains, years later, is an empire of ash, a prison of her own making. 

     Her fingers dig into the chest of a fallen god, into the Source Wall itself, and for the second time in her life, she begs. She wants it to take her; she wants to become another misguided soul, another warning for all that will come after her. It would be easier than this, than this pain, than this nothingness that has filled her chest, and that is the reason why her wish will never be granted.

     The Source Wall is a punishment, a threat, a never-ending hell. It is not a reprieve from the monsters of one's own mind.

     It is not an escape for Autumn. She has torn the heavens apart, has decimated armies; she does not deserve an escape. Living, living is the punishment for her sins ━━ living with them, with the blood soaking her bones, with the ghosts that will haunt her for eternity.

Fall From Grace ◦ Dick GraysonWhere stories live. Discover now