How could I not? I don’t like how I look since that battle; I can’t even transform resulting in my crossed over appearance. Max returns. He places a black cloth on the table and I gaze at it unsure of what exactly I am looking at it. He unravels it and I gasp in surprise before exclaiming, “No way!” “I thought you might need these after the last battle, since, I saw the result. Sadly, I can’t do anything about It.” he states in reference to my appearance. Max is an inventor not a miracle worker but I give him an appreciative gaze and place a hand over his. “It’s perfect, thank you.” He blushes and I giggle. He doesn’t seem to notice and I remove my hand and walk over to where the weapons lay. What else is there to look for, to do when it is all over? Everything that gave you the bit of strength to fight that gave you the courage to stand before an army of twisted men knowing that you’ll be nothing more than another victim? What do I do? I kill. Without hesitation, I however, only kill those I know are among the twisted and free.
