Unnecessary

She brought down her fist angrily, pounding incessantly into the face below her. She ignored the cuts appearing in her own knuckles with every swift action. She could have used her sword, her feet, one of the two guns strapped to her thighs; but nothing seemed as pleasing as the crunch of her fists against skin, blood, bone, mucus, and tears.

The woman had, a few moments ago, gone silent, face demolished beyond recognition, clothes torn and bloodied, bone fragments sticking out at odd angles. Whomever found the crime scene would, without a doubt, spend a few moments emptying their stomachs.

She remained on top of the corpse for a few minutes, looking, but unseeing, straddling the dead secretary onto the cold, fluid smeared floor. She was wearing a badge, Rosen Moore, she snorted, well at least she hadn't damaged the access badge. She rose messily from the corpse, taking the badge and stepping directly on her as she walked toward the locked black door.

She swiped the badge, watched the sensor turn green and slipped past the laboratory door. They had seen her coming on the cameras, they would have called security, she was going to have to kill more than necessary, and tonight, that was exactly what she wanted.

Violet took in a shallow breath, her anger was misdirected this evening and despite her better (only slightly) brain cells urging her to reconsider, it was going to end horribly.

She walked past a hallway lined with doors and up several flights of stairs, noting once more the marking stones all around, no magic allowed here. Whatever damages she incurred would have to heal after her departure. A thump from upstairs, muffled shouts, she had heard them running, they had most likely barricaded themselves upstairs, in the conference room, as if that would stop her.

Black Rook Laboratories was a prestigious and worldwide acknowledged company. Top scientist from all over the world competed for the opportunity to work at the one and only location. It's owner, who was unknown and incessantly wealthy, provided the scientists here the opportunity to work with state-of-the-art scientific equipment, not found elsewhere.

They were one of the leading figures in cancer research, autoimmune diseases, and infectious diseases studies. They were revered and acknowledged in all regions of the world, and they were undeniably rotten to the core.

They funded and processed mass bio-weaponry, nuclear weapons, illegal altered substances, and the genetic altering of the human body. They were the company responsible for producing the line of injections in her thighs, capable of boosting the raw ability of any enhanced human. Well, if you could survive it, and in the thirty-three years they had been making it, there had only been one survivor -although that was omitted, since they could it find her-.

She reached the top of the stairs, listening intently to the thrumming of feet coming up behind her. Security had arrived, Violet turned a corner and lazily sunk to the floor. She took one of the altered PMR -30's, custom made to hold even more rounds, with an all black silencer and opened fire as the first group reached the landing.

For all her training with a sword, she was even deadlier with a gun. There were no wasted movements: blood, brain matter, and skin erupted in the space around them.

The second group shouted out orders forcing them to halt, they opened fire from half-way up the stair and Violet chuckled humorlessly. "You know those can't hit me right? Try coming up here, let's have a good time."

"What do you want? Why are you here."

"I'm here to kill every single scientist and pharmacologist here. If you leave, I won't kill you. Maybe."

"Stupid sick bitch, we're coming." What valiant security.

A loud flash, several bangs, and the hissing of smoke grenades filling the hallways. Violet rose to attention, was she supposed to flee?

It was clear by their uniforms and well practiced movements that she was dealing with professionals. Unfortunately, Violet was in a vile mood. The second squad opened fire using the smoke as cover, Violet walked easily through the smoke letting most of the bullets hit her.

The captain's commands turned frantic as she neared, he was clearly rattled by her unfazed attitude in the wake of so many attackers (and bullet holes) Deciding she had played enough Violet unholstered both weapons and charged in earnest.

They were not her primary targets, so one bullet each would suffice. In two minutes every member of all three squads lay in a puddle of their own blood, each and every one of them a dead center headshot.

She continued her prance across the plain sterilized building listening to the panicked muffled whimpers escaping from underneath a large wooden door. Violet paused at the shadow of an adjacent door, the whispers there were different. A dry moan, a painful cough; sudden obvious realization crashed into her, there were test subjects here.

A crawl up her skin, a flashback to a sterile table, straps on all of her extremities, the way the injections were being drilled into her. Forcing her to heal her own ruptured veins, cells, and skin lining. Violet's eyes hallowed eerily as she remembered the pain. Nothing could have ever prepared her.

The guns reappeared in their holsters and Murasame appeared. Violet changed, any sliver of rational departed, she appeared calmer than ever, yet by the dark oppressing aura emanating from both her and Murasame it was clear, she was losing control. Her eyes were pits of rage and despair, darker and more terrifying than ever before.

Ignoring the pained whimpers she turned and broke the lock to the door hiding the cowardly scientist. They were hiding behind chairs, tables, boards, and upon her entry all eyes turned to her. Violet stabbed Murasame into the floor, grabbed a table and used it to blockade the exit. She picked up her sword and faced them.

The muffled whimpers turned Into outright screams of panic. It was a pathetic sight, but it mattered not, Violet cut through flesh swiftly, but cruelly. Unlike the guards, this was personal. There were no outright kills, in its place were vicious well planned cuts that would allow them time to suffer as they bled out.

She broke bones, cut off flesh, kicked smaller extremities across the room… Most of them were pleading for their lives, insisting that they would change, yet she could not hear them, in place of their screams lay her own, lay the hundreds of other screams of those they had tortured for money.

Once finished she moved the table and slowly walked to the other door, it was reinforced, and access locked. Pulling the secretary's badge out of her pocket once more, Violet swiped it only to frown when the door beeped red. Annoyed Violet turned back the carcass room, "which one of you nearly dead morons is the head researcher here?"

Ignoring the cries, she squelched around the bloodied room until she found her. "Genevieve Elkind, I'll be borrowing your badge." The tore it from her corpse and exited once more.

The light blinked green and Violet was transported back to hell. There was a disgusting stench permeating through the air, no form of disinfectant or sterilizer could hide the foul order of the decaying bodies.

Twelve test subjects, all in varying stages of neglect, erosion, and torture. They were injecting micro-doses, intent on correcting whatever was making it impossible for survivors to occur.

"Ki..ll… kill.. Me. Kill.. me plze.." The teenager turned painful eyes to Violet, his face was covered in sores and it was obvious he wouldn't last but a few more days.

Violet swallowed thickly, the pained whispered asking for release soon became a mantra from all in the room and for once, Violet was affected. With shaky hands she approached the first one. She met his gaze head one, sorrow matching pain, he seemed to comprehend. "Wrong.. is. you… survivor…"

She nodded, then plunged Murasame into his heart feeling his gaze of relief burn into her soul. She repeated her actions eleven times. The shaking in her hands was worsening and after taking several vials she destroyed the rest, crashing them into the walls and floors.

A heart splitting pain ruptured her sense of self, and once more surrounded by corpses who had experienced a glimpse of her life, Violet reached her breaking point. She sunk onto the floor and began to cry. For the first time in six years she cried in earnest, allowing herself to wallow in the pain, the torture, the injustice, and the brutality of it all.

Ten minutes later, she turned it off: wiped her face, her nose, and got back up. She upended beakers and cabinets, spraying anything she could find labeled as "highly flammable" throughout the entire facility.

Leaving the marking stones untouched she lit the place on fire and disappeared into the shadows.

Violet made a pit stop at one of her hideouts, she had been reckless and would have to pull the bullet casings out. Set up with a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a knife, a bottle of vodka, and some forceps Violet got to work.

One hour, five showers, and three-quarters of the bottle of vodka later found Violet laying with only a towel on the floor of the pristine apartment. She was humming a soft melody, eyes closed, body relaxed. A facade really, for the slight tremble in her fingers betrayed her almost as much as the strangled sighs that would often escape.

Out of all the team members in the car, only Shou had turned to her when Mika had announced Kieren's engagement.

Surprise must have betrayed her features, for her had looked at her with a flash of concern. Immediately she looked away, and within a few seconds the phone in her pocket had begun its dance.

Unwilling to hear, or even give time to whatever excuse she was sure to be presented with, Violet had turned off the phone and re-pocketed it.

They had arrived back at the school, Violet intent on tuning out the rumors and incessant gossip about the marriage proposal, had disappeared into her dorm, ignoring Shou's calls of concern. She had flung the cellphone into the trash, changed, and left.

Hours later, she was here, drunk, confused, wounded, and unfortunately in love.

Another sigh, this one perpetually more consternated. They bullets they had used were altered, made to suppress, they were taking forever to heal. Another long swing of the bottle, "urgh… I can sleep two hours… then return to the dorm.." she was speaking to no one in particular, and for once, the silence was deafening.