My OP Minion System in the Apocalypse

(Chloe\'s past)

I wandered around the park, underneath the bold lavender-purple sky. The streetlights were only semi-functional, so most of the light was provided by nearby buildings. The surroundings were filled with plentiful shadows, yet the shape of the landscape was still clear as day.

Why do some people have so much more sensitivity for violence?

Laying strewn up against the wall was a relatively-young delinquent. A gentle stream of blood was flowing from his nostrils. His dirtied-cloth-like clothing was lathered with dirt and grass—it was mostly my doing. It wasn\'t like I was purposely picking a fight though, he attacked me first; it was simply self-defence. People like that only listened to violence, so that was how I decided to communicate with him.

\'—yer… a monster.\'

Maybe I was.

Night was swiftly incoming, most would probably retreat back to their homes, but I found the night-time atmosphere pleasant. The glimmering moonlight reflected off the water, the dark shaded trees and the silence in the air were all delectable. It was a good time to sit back and relax—well, I guess I never really tried that hard at anything in the first place. I walked closer to the bank of the large clear pond beside the park, it was quite well-kept, quite the contrast to the playground equipment; it was like its own separate environment.

As my feet travelled along the softer, squishier dirt, I listened out for a particular sound. It was a sound I was familiar with around these places. The tender noise filled my ears until—he was back. Persistence was a notion that was widely praised in this modern era, yet sometimes, it might just be better to give up.

I had purposely left his injuries minor, in the hopes that this incident wouldn\'t get escalated. Well, he left me no choice now. It was always those who were all too eager to get in a fight that were the easiest to defeat. His movements were slow, like molasses, or maybe like a snail? It didn\'t really matter that much; it was easy enough to move my body out of the way of his punches. In return, I clenched my fist and hit him in the face with a little more power than last time.

There was a slight cracking sensation before, once again, with a splatter of mud, he was on the ground. The deep red liquid coming out of his nose had just about covered half of his face. He looked like a vampire who had just had lunch, except all of the blood was his own. A little bit of it also stained the front of my fist—I decided to wipe it off with the sleeve of my shirt which was not very pleasant, but there wasn\'t much else I could\'ve done. His consciousness seemed to be slowly fading away—it was quite the pitiful scene, especially for someone who was so vigorously trying to attack me just moments prior. He didn\'t even try to get out one last quip before passing out.

I\'m not a good person.

Well, I wouldn\'t exactly say I\'m a terrible person either. I don\'t exactly go around picking fights with people over little accidents, but then again, can I really say that I\'m any better than those people? It\'s more that I lack the interest to do so than any actual good-will. I fight with no regard for the other person when conflict does arise. A good person would find some way to settle it peacefully, right? Oh well, I wouldn\'t know.

I had just about had enough of the park. The sky was nearing black, like a monster finally closing its jaws. The moon peaked its head from behind the dark fog of clouds, sitting all alone in the sky. I made my way towards the road, a scarce stream of cars went by, illuminating the metallic playground equipment for a brief moment.

It was about time I left.

In the middle of the dark road, there stood the silhouette of a young girl. She seemed to show no regard for her surroundings, simply staring into the distance—she reminded me of a cat. Her long dark hair flowed as the gentle breeze brushed against it—swaying in the wind. It was an unusual sight but there was no reason for me to interfere with what she was doing. For a brief moment, our eyes met, for some reason, she seemed to be intrigued.

Unexpectedly, she started walking toward me.

\'You\'re one of us, aren\'t you?\'

She was looking up at me with her dark scarlet eyes, now less than an arm\'s length away. My senses were covered by a pure yet intense perfume. She seemed to be wearing a uniform from one of the nearby schools.

\'What do you mean?\' I replied.

Without hesitation, she grabbed my shoulder.

\'You have one, don\'t you?\' She insisted.

She violently pulled up my sleeve, exposing my arm. Her hand gripped onto my arm, holding it still. I could have resisted, but I knew what she was looking for—and she wouldn\'t be able to find it. She stared at the shoulder, now that my sleeve had been completely pulled up.

\'What…\'

\'What\'s up?\' I asked.

She appeared to be quite shocked at the revelation.

\'Sorry, never mind\'

After seeing an absence of something on my arm, she quickly lost interest, however, I could tell she was still somewhat suspicious of me.

Eventually, she turned around, her black hair swaying in the wind.

It\'s fine, my life was dictated by hate anyways.

William, I wonder, can you change me?

I never really wanted to be like this.

You\'re a terrible person.

But I\'m also a terrible person.

Maybe, if we stay by each other for long enough, both of us could change?

​ ***

My arms were slowly warming up as I stuck them just centimetres away from the fire.

"Chloe, I\'m sorry, for ditching you..."

It\'s fine.

I can\'t exactly say I\'ve always had the nicest intentions either, William.