She falls down, her golden blonde flowing outwards, as if she was in a darkened ocean sinking to the bottom. Glass shards and mirrors fall around her, they showed moments in her life from her own memory, some of which she would rather forget than remember. She opens her eyes, seeing what followed her. Looking to her right, she saw herself but at a younger stage of her life.
No scars were there, her caucasian skin was soft and pure, no imperfections were visible at all. She looked like a beautiful snowflake in her white dress, but it was that of a maids outfit. Why?
Falling deeper, she looks to her left, a man standing over her when she was even younger than before. Maybe 8 years old? The man looked furious as he had a whip in his left hand and a glass of whiskey in his right hand. The little girl was on her knees crying as she held her face. There was no sounds, but the old girl remembers exactly what happened on that day.
Wanting to not remember that specific day, she looks up to see the most spectacular - but most dreadful, day of her life. Her 6th Birthday, the day where it all took place. Chatham, Kent region, 7th of may in 1765. A new enemy had arrived to fight against England, and attacked their homeland.
Her eyes were dull, almost lifeless, then the mirror flipped over to show that she was in surgery, doctors humming away at working on her distorted and bloodied body, her legs slowly came up and over the mirrors way so she looked above her head and saw a broken clock tower.
Thinking, but sinking. Metaphors can blend into words without comprehension, symbolism can lose all face in the dark. A Siren Bomber, which strangely resembles that of the American B-26B " Marauder " from the Second World War, a twin engined aircraft. It looked sleeker and more powerful than its original model.
Its Right wing was completely gone, its left wing torn in half. The Tail section was shot up with the left horizontal stabiliser gone, the vertical stabiliser and right horizontal stabiliser had multiple holes in it, chunks taken out like they're lumps of meat being eaten.
"Who.. are you?"
A voice called out. It was from nowhere it seemed.
She looked around, with her eyes but could not see anyone. She concludes it was her fracturing consciousness. The words were more of a Statement than a question, a rhetorical question meant to make the mind ponder on what has happened rather than have a logical answer.
Meant to tease the mind, if one will. She moved her head to her right, only to see another memory of the past. It was at the Island of Ushant, her first experience with her newly acquainted family. She was sent there to fight, so she went. Her first experience in bloodshed and amongst other things.
"Why.."
She mumbles to herself, it was no one in particular, as she knew no one was actually around.
"Life must always end in tragedy, that is the Will of the Gods"
The voice spoke again, answering her question vaguely.
She widens her eyes from their original resting position, looking around, it didn't appear that anyone was around. Again. She drags a long sigh as she falls deeper into the seemingly endless void showing only debris, until her back gently hits a hard surface. Turning around, she saw what it was and reminisced, the memories she has and the friends she made along the way.
It was an old warship, one famous for its actions against the French and Spanish Armada's during the Napoleonic Wars in the Mediterranean and North Atlantic, as well as in the Revolutionary wars in America indirectly through the efforts of blockading French and Spanish Aid.
The very last of its kind, from an era long lost to history.
The First-Rate Class, Ship of the line.
Her Majesty's Ship
VICTORY
It was completely wrecked, broken masts, shredded sails waving around, massive holes in its hull as half of the fore deck was non-existent by this point. Cannons onboard the decks were blown inwards, rigging waving like sand in the ocean. The officers quarters looked like plastic shielding opened with 12-Gauge bird-shot, obliterated by whatever it was that hit it. By some miracle, the helm was left intact enough for the wheel to still function.
The woman pushed herself up slowly, seeing as gravity was low here she didn't see it as necessary to become floating debris with the cannons and splinters. Placing her feet as much as she could on the deck, she moved her head around to see the damage done.
Feeling a throbbing pain in her left-side of the head, she moved to hold that side but her arm stings in pain. Her whole body starts to sting in pain as she wobbles on her feet, attempting to keep herself upright. Her body stung in annoying pain, as it soon subsided to be replaced with the sounds of wailing screams of familiar voices, she tried to locate the screams yet it came fruitless as in each direction she turned the frequency changed again.
They were screams of terror, pain, and agony. And she knew who those wailing voices belonged to, she knew all too well. And who was screaming.
Hearing a giggling sound, she looked left and right but didn't see a sight until she looked up. Upon the main mast in the cross trees stood a shadow, it jumped down and grabbed a rope flailing around, pulling down the top mast with it as they landed on the top deck perfectly while the top mast slammed down into the rear of the vessel and caved in what was left of the officers quarters.
"Hello, Miss Flagship."
The person spoke as if they were anonymous, they came forward and showed themselves in the light.
What they wore particularly upset the woman, the figure was a female herself as her figure was alluring. She was thin with a narrow frame but her figure was perfect, her build was well-toned and had the perfect bust size. Her clothing was that of a Queen's but not of traditional monarchy. The victim knew who this person was.
"You..!"
She spoke, her words laced with venom and disgust.
"Fufu. Missed Me That Much?"
She asked, this irritated the woman who she spoke to. Both knew each other on a rather personal level, but to what extent?
The sudden pain came back to the woman as she clutched her head, holding back the scream of agony that desperately wanted to be released. The other looked on with glee and happiness by the way of her smile, seemingly bringing happiness to the woman's pain and suffering.
In contrast, she was actually worried since the woman In front of her didn't actually do anything that caused her to walk the path of the demised, she knew what her story was and fought for her while she was submerged in the greed of humans.
"Why didn't you save us?"
"What did I do wrong!?"
"Was she a bad maid?"
"Why can't I be a part of the family?!"
"Noo! Don't lock me away!"
"Please -hic- I promise not to be a burden again!!"
"Miss, I think your methods of punishment are too harsh."
"She's just a child!"
"Look at what you've caused!"
"This is uncalled for!" "no.."
"Ah Hundred and Fifty Lashings for this one. Five Hundred for HER!!"
"You ask me that? Do not worry, Your Imperial Majesty. The disobedient girl Will, Know. Pain. By the very Definition." "No!"
"You're a Disgrace to OUR Family!!"
"SHE Can not even Compete with our Sewage Water!"
"SHUT UP!!!"
The woman released a few tear drops, which trickled down her face and landed on the wooden deck. She curses the voices that had invaded her mind. As the voices slowly turn to echo, and the pain subsides, she brings her arms down slowly. Looking up at the woman in front.
"Queen of the Void... What is it that you want from a Dying Vessel?"
She asked the woman, words filled with irritation and annoyance. Yet her body language told the Void Queen that she was worried of what thy may ask her. The Void Queen chuckled at her state.
"The Damage you've caused is one that must be reconciled with. Therefore, you must go through the trails of the sand rivers of time once more-"
The Void Queen spoke, making a puzzle to what she was implying, weaving a riddle into her words that a junior philosopher would struggle to understand. Only to be cut off by the women in front of her.
"Do you mind sparing the long and continuous monologue and slice your way to the chase for me, Miss American?"
She asks, the Void Walker being slightly shocked before becoming irritated and annoyed.
The Void Queen didn't particularly enjoy being called 'Miss American', it implied that she belonged to the Continental America. More specifically, the Northern Section. She huffs and puffs out heavily before speaking.
"Fine.." her voice was reluctant and annoyed.
"You will go and relive your past to re-evaluation your current life." She states, her point made clear.
The woman looked down, she brought her hands up into her view range as she opened and closed them. Suddenly she got more voices but they shouted into her ears with her covering them, the Void Queen heard them as well and felt pity towards the old girl.
The windows on the back shattered, rope lines fell with a sail and cannons split into sections. Metal and gunpowder floating around them as the Void Queen hid her pity behind a wicked smile. The woman releases her hands from her head and looks at the queen in front of her.
"Fine. If it is what I must do.. then so be it.."
"I do not see why I must relive my past, my own country hates me to my rotten core."
She explained, the woman referencing what happened in her recent lifetime.
The Void Queen chuckled slowly but lowly, which sent a shiver up and down the woman's spine. A sinister intention.
"You will be surprised by how many actually care for you..."
"...Farewell, good luck in your past. Miss Conway~"
With that being said in a sadistic, charismatic but also sinister way, the Void Queen walked up to the woman and kicked her off the deck by spinning around and landing straight into her chest.
The woman curled in pain, flying up and over the starboard side while the Void Queen walked quickly over to the remaining railing, it burned beyond repair and would need replacement if the vessel wasn't doomed to be scrapped. The woman looked at the Void Queen before she spoke.
"Goodbye, Victoria. Medina. Conway~" She spoke.
"DAMN YOU, IOWA!! ROT IN HELL!!" Victoria shouted at her, her body falling below the copper hull.
"I Am Already There! V I C T O R Y!"
She yelled at her, her legs completely straight and spread apart in the "A" stance. Her arms wide open, emphasising that the devoid space they were in, was her hell. She had a sadistic and sinister smug smile, her teeth together as her eyes glowed in the darkness. The poison in her voice echoed through the woman's very existence like it was meaningless.
The Woman named 'Victory' tried to scream, only for nothing to come out.
"Well played, Iowa. You fucker."
She closes her eyes, awaiting her torment of the past, gripping to the hope of being taken to a more recent time...
...Only to get the middle finger
And sent to her incarnation to the World.