Resurgence

[Ditzie]

Backstory

To someone passing the woman on the bench, she would appear a vacant and motionless statue. Her gaze fixed upon the wrap in her hands, apparently focusing her complete concentration upon a single sliver of ****ed bronto meat, smeared with a bitter and ****y dressing. Her red hair stirred in the autumn breeze, strands flapping against a freckeled cheek. Her eyes were directed toward the makings of her lunch, but the wrap was lost to her. Only a blur as her mind spun randomly from thought to thought. Scenes played across the panoramic view-screen of imagination. She witnessed visions of her falling daughter, tiny fingers reaching out for purchase. The angelic face never betraying the belief that her mother would keep her safe. Guarding that look of security until the darkness swallowed her, followed seconds later with an all-too finalizing thud. She witnessed a scene of chaos in which her hate-filled, albeit headless mother rippled with energies preventing reclamation. She witnesses herself firing a shot at Janella "Nevver" McCallager, intending to permanently kill the woman. She witnessed herself taking over the operations of Devil's Advocate, building a stable Headquarters, working and planning constantly against the unknown race which attacked without warning, negotiating, or to her knowlege, provocation. She witnessed her marriage drifting apart, ending and finally maturing into a deep friendship and continued business partnership. She witnessed the empty apartment where she might find time to catch a half-hour of sleep at a time, when sleep would perchance grace her with its presense.

"Yous gonna eat dat?"

The atox cast a shadow over her tiny form as it approached the park bench where Hattie "Ditzie" McCallagher sat. She looked briefly up at it, and without word, handed over her lunch to the lumbering giant.

"Tanks Ma'am," it grunted after taking a bite of the wrap. Bits of lettuce fell as it chewed and spoke.

Hattie tried to smile pleasantly, but to anyone who wasn't completely absorbed in devouring a Bronto Wrap, she would have looked incredibly sad. "You're welcome," she replied as she stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her dark overcoat. The atrox popped the last morsel into his mouth, and as an afterthought asked for money, sending flecks of tortilla, synthetic lettuce and meat flying.

Looking down at her coat, she noted that most of that last bite was now on her. "How about this," she breathed. "I'll send you my dry-cleaning bill." The atrox shrugged and wandered off to pander somewhere else. Hattie stared at it and envisioned it trapped in a collapsed mine shaft, slowly suffocating.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she trying to clear the scenes that consumed her when she wasn't focused upon her work. As she stood in front of a park bench in the Rome Red District Park, collecting herself, a calm, masculine voice spoke through the private channel of her communication device. "How have you been?"

With those strong, confidant words her heart leapt into her throat, and a flood of memories assaulted her. For the first time in weeks her smile wasn't forced, or reflecting her utter exhaustion. And so she began her small-talk with an old friend, restraining herself from dwelling upon the hopes of what the future might bring.