#toxicmoofin

A laborious attempt at opening creased lids was quickly subdued by the sunlight filtering through her moth eaten curtains (’curtains’ being a loose term for the old bed sheets she’d draped across the windows to act as such) proceeding to roll onto her side with a loud groan to shield herself from the glaring attack. Smothering a pillow over her head for extra protection, Revy had every God given intention of resuming her post-booze up sleep, if not for a sudden light tapping at her door just moments later.

“Hhnnnnngghrrr!!!!!!” Another groan split open from dehydrated, chapped lips as she took a glimpse at the clock on her bedside table. 11:03 am, that was practically the crack of dawn! What kind of mindless savage bothered the good people of this Earth during these wee hours of the morning! She would have been happy to ignore the intrusion until it went away...but it didn’t. The airy, ditty rapping away on her door frame just went on and on and on and ON until no choice was left but to uncoil from her alcohol and sweat stained sheets and impart murder onto whoever was on the other side. 

Not bothering to dress herself more than the last night’s underwear still clung to her form, a single one of her beloved pistols was fished out of her holsters and off Revy went on the short (but filthy) trek from her bedroom to the doorway of her shoddy apartment. Mostly emptied bottles of rum spilled out and soaked into the greyish, worn carpet, and cartons upon cartons of half eaten take away food were kicked out of the way or trampled on until finally, the door was in sight. 

Cocking the trigger of her weapon, Revy flung the door open and pointed the barrel square between the eyes of that asshole awaiting on the other end. However, upon seen a familiar mop of dark curls hidden beneath the world’s ugliest hat, her ire simmered down, if only an iota, she’s feeling merciful--but not by much.

“Oh it’s you.”

          If there was a notable trait, a redeemable quality that excused all the negative drawbacks of having an overwhelming amount of brashness, it was the insouciant manner that problems were handled. Remaining levelheaded under pressure was what allowed for great leadership, what made it possible to find a solution to any issue faced while managing to prevent unnecessary lose from being suffered. It was what had rightfully earned the veteran solider a reputable rank, yet the method he’d selected for handling the conundrum at hand did not befit the countless achievements under his belt.

          Drinking himself stupid was hardly praiseworthy, after all.

          Body was unceremoniously thrown down into an empty booth, the selected bar graciously bereft of other midday customers that would’ve undoubtedly questioned the golden gauntlet adorning the length of his right arm. Sinking into the back of the furniture, arms resting upon the length and eyelids closed wearily, an unrestrained groan escaped before a packet of cigarettes was drawn from the depths of a pocket. It was once one of the sticks was balanced between lips that a sheepish expression overrode the tiredness that’d been openly displayed, the barkeep that’d surely witnessed it acknowledged at long last.

Emptiness faded. Something that she never thought of experiencing again returned: anxiety. Madoka glanced around frantically, looking for the source of her distress. She noticed her surroundings had changed. Beneath her she saw bare feet crush green with every step. Up above her, a cloud-spat orange sky in place of the nothingness she used to gaze up at. Before her, however.

That can't possibly be..!

Before her stood a beast--a nightmare. It could only be! Just an image. This tall, repulsive thing was just an image. None of this should have been possible. None of it is happening. Yet these reassuring thoughts did not grant Madoka the ability to move. She stood frozen, watching as it lifted its clawed hand and swiped, waking her with a start.

Weak arms pulled herself up, stiff legs struggled to help her stand. The sensation of the wind blowing, the wrinkled clothes on her skin, were all too strong of feelings, too earl. She sat, bewildered for a few moments but the moment Madoka realized that she had returned, just as she wished to many times before had startled her. She certainly hadn't done this to herself.

So why..?

Madoka took a step forward and almost immediately fell down. Although she remembered how to walk, the lack of actually doing so hindered her. On shaky legs, she struggled slightly to make it beside the road where she couldn't help but tear up. Here was an exact replica of what she wanted to protect, tainted by the appearance of a girl who shouldn't be there. The thought of already failing at prolonging this protection disheartened her. Even more so that lost and alone, she hadn't a clue where to begin to make amends.  Too happy, it seemed she was, to have grown stronger of the years. She was too confident in her own power that now seemed like none at all. Yet she didn't let her tears fall and instead, slowly walked towards the busier streets of the city.