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THIS IS NOT A HAPPY STORY, BUT IT COULD BE, AND PERHAPS THAT IS THE GREATEST TRAGEDY OF ALL. In another world, in a softer universe, Autumn Alita could be free from her shackles, the chains of guilt crumbling to dust, the weight of living falling on another's shoulders. In another tale, another world of words, she could forget her sordid past and move on with her life, the regrets of her past finally falling away.
But in this one, the comforting feeling of Hal's hand dissipates and Autumn's eyes open to another world. One of fire, one she knows all too well. She was, after all, the one to burn it to the ground.
Autumn steps through the ashes of Okaara. She came here once for control, for a chance to be the one in charge of her powers. That need, that want, drove her far past the point of reason and when she didn't get it, when she realized the people here were just as helpless as her, she ripped the planet apart.
There's another illusion of Sinestro ahead, draped in yellow, but she doesn't give him a second glance. Trigon's logic does, she supposes, make sense ━━ because who else would she kill? Who else would she destroy the entire cosmos to kill? He allowed her to believe that he cared about her, allowed her to care about him in return, and he obliterated it all in the end. Spite and arrogance, insanity tinged with hatred, all drove him to become the one thing she fears above anything else, the one thing that will always haunt her nightmares.
The years may pass her by, but the wounds of her past will only ever grow larger. A small nick becomes a gaping gash, a single cut developing into a million, all coming together to push her further and further off the edge. And this, this first betrayal, this first look at unadulterated evil... it hurts more than most. It broke her, once upon a time.
She refuses to allow it to break her again.
With a flick of her wrist, the illusion of him is gone and she is left alone among the smouldering wreck of what was once a vibrant planet. There had been life here, flora and fauna, people roaming its forests, and she had destroyed it all.
She can't particularly bring herself to care.
(It's a lie, she knows, another in a long, long line. She doesn't care when she keeps her gaze fixed resolutely ahead, when she refuses to look at the faces of the dead, when she forces her eyes to look past the truth. She would care, if she looked down. She could care so very much, if she saw Kory Ander's blood-stained skin, that trembling rise and fall of her chest, so close to flickering out of existence.
She would care and she would shatter).
Reality warps into the figure of a man ━━ of Trigon, still wearing his human facade, still not yet at his full power. He has yet to break into this reality, yet to truly reach his full potential and to Autumn, that means he is still so easy to destroy.
