[WP] You have the power to make fake things real. Toy guns are dangerous weapons in your hands, and stuffed animals become talkative best friends. Today you visit the statue of liberty for the first time.
*****
What were the people on the ground thinking? How were they feeling now? Were they experiencing the rumored feeling of your life flashing before your eyes while you were on the verge of death? I wondered what that feeling felt like, and if it was possible to achieve it. Was there any adrenaline-filled way to simulate and induce death that would still guarantee my safety? I couldn't take the risk, so I just used the binoculars to watch them down there and the statue stepped through the city.
I avoided stepping on buildings and skyscrapers because that would surely kill the people in them, and falling debris would kill more people on the ground, But my twisted sense of moral compass allowed me to just step on the streets without a thought for the people scurrying around like mice. I kept my eyes on the road, watching the statue step, sometimes crushing several cars and small buildings as it moved.
It dawned on me that I was indeed a twisted sadist, maintaining my stance on walking on the roads because I could see the people running in futility before getting killed.
"This is difficult to watch," the woman said, looking down through her own binoculars at what was happening all the way on the ground. "You're past being a menace to society, you're just a monster now. I can't believe what I'm seeing."
I laughed. "And yet you requested the binoculars yourself, and you can't keep your eyes off the scene. I have a feeling we're more alike than you are willing to admit, " I said, pausing to let her know I wanted to know her name.
"And what are you doing with my name? Besides, I don't even know yours. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," she said, folding her arms and staring at me. Everything about her amused me. She had a bold, daring way of thinking that I just could not get over. She was perfectly aware of the power difference between us, and she seemed not to care about it.
"You do realize you're not really in a position to be negotiating with me, don't you? The offer is still on the table, and that's why the Samurai warriors are still up and active. In case I decided to have a little bloodbath here, you'll make for a good victim."
She visibly shuddered when she looked at them, but then she shook it off. "I like the fact that you're a nutjob but don't overdo it. For whatever reason, which we'll visit later, you're not killing me. You could have done that since, but you didn't, so we can get over the whole talk of you killing me. Since I'm stuck with you until this all somehow comes apart and you're killed or captured, let us have a mature discussion, hmm?"
"Ezra Jackson."
"Ezra?" She asked with an eyebrow raised.
"I come from a line of very religious people. Fortunately for me, unfortunately for them, I am nothing like that. I am very opinionated, and I don't think a book or a creed or a religion that forces me to repress my needs and wishes for the sake of others is something I believe in or agree with."
She laughed. "Stephanie Simmons. Ex-Stripper currently having the craziest day of my life. I'm torn between enjoying the scenes - sadly, being repulsed by what I'm seeing, and wishing I never retired."
I gave her a cursory glance from head to toe and nodded. I didn't pay much attention before, mainly because I was concentrating on the carnage I was leaving than her body, but she was really fit and had a great shape. She said she was a stripper - and had probably made enough money to leave or not developed the greed that mad one rot in that line of work - and it showed.
"But then, Stephanie, what made you like what you were seeing? Unlike me, you don't sound or seem to be a twisted person, so what is it?"
"Is any of that stuff written on the forehead? I think not. You may not see it, or I may just be good at hiding it, but I've been through a lot. Being a stripper requires a lot of acting, pretending to like what you're doing, and all that. Deep down, I detested the disgusting men who came there, behaving like dogs in front of me. Now that I look at it, I was hypocritical joining the supply of the disgusting act that drew the disgusting men closer. Soon, it extended to men in general, and I was online on social media, bashing men any time I could, thinking I could find solidarity amongst my fellow women."
She paused, breathing heavily. Even though I didn't care about emotions, it was obvious it was a touchy subject that still made her angry to date.
"I was wrong. Even though the women all claimed o be in solidarity with strippers and prostitutes and people in my former line of work, they were not. They held us in contempt, and when we crossed paths and an altercation ensued, they wouldn't hold back, degrading us based on what we did for a living. So it's general hate for humanity, and for myself, for not having enough courage to end my life. I just made enough money and left the game, content with just living out my life until the money finishes or until I found a job that wouldn't search or care about my past. Sad, isn't it?" She asked, looking at me.
I laughed. "A match made in heaven."
*****
TO BE CONTINUED.
