"The child who is not embraced by the villagewill burn it down to feel its warmth"

i.

Death isn't as bad as people project it to be. After she was done with these immoral rat-like criminals, they'd be begging for death as their last wish. But she'd never give it to them. Knowing that when it came down to murder, that was one objective that never crossed her line.

The city was a living Black Plague. Every night, death was around the corner.

For a pitiful fool, a merciful saint, and for a sympathetic worm. Most cases, you'd be mugged or beaten.  Some vile results as assault also carry out. All these cases caused the city to both grow more dangerous, and even more desensitized to the idea of living a perfect humane life. 

Stores, such as the Liquor Booth, The Downtown Bars, City Clubs, Booming arcades, Hometown buffets, and some provocative clubs, have made their business by staying up at the latest of hours. Even when life was dangerous in the Hell's Kitchen. . The sounds of buzzing neon, cars softly driving back and forth, cheering and fighting, and even the sounds of the alleyways always having some kind of trash can tip over, brought the city to life.

Further down the city's connecting streets laid a forest. A rumor has been said that, once you enter the forst, you wont ever come out. . .

The night felt ominous, the wind forcefully pushing against the windows of many residence's homes. Yet none could compare to what was hidden deep into the forest.

. . . . .

The sounds of thuds and cracks filled the atmosphere. Steady breathing, followed by more sharp and swift moves. Punching against solid material was prominent and the sounds of dripping followed right after.

Her knuckles were busted, bruised with cuts and covered in wrapping material. The entire cloth soaked with both dark dried blood, and new fresh coated liquid. Her punches, swift and steady at the punching bag in front of her.

After a few more bone crushing punches. She moved back to get a drink of her water. . Her fists, clenched by her sides, as blood drips down her knuckles and onto the floor. Her bag soon picked up and placed onto her shoulder. Heading to the door, she placed her busted hand onto the handle.

Her hand guided its way to a switch, and a bright red button. Flipping the switch and turning on the button, both lights and a thud could be heard correlating.

"If I hear one more thing on the news about you or your kind causing trouble in my town.

I'll make sure I leave with more that  busted knuckles. ."

Turning her head to the side, she took a good glimpse at her punching bag — the man wheezed at the gag, breathing heavily through his badly broken nose, his eyes barley open from the amount of swelling already arriving to his skull, arms tied uncomfortable tight, and both legs broken. . The drug lord from an infamous cartel pissed his pants as he nodded viciously, begging for his life.

The last thing he saw was a smirk on her features before the lights went out again.

. . . . .

The city was a living Black Plague. Every night, death was around the corner.

Sometimes, its closer than the corner. 

—:——:—
Note: Hello there people, I am Zo. The creator of this book. It is a pleasure to see you on here, reading my book. In this chapter, we get to see the beginning of our little hero? Villain? I wanted to write a story where you, the audience, gets to decide rather or not she's the villain of the hero.

Please bare with me, I can get very clumsy and my writing style isn't the best. I take criticism delightfully! So please, inform me if I do make a mistake, that's the only way I can learn.

Ending this note off, I'd like to let you all know that I will definitely disappoint many of you with the amount of cliffhangers I'm leaving in here owu.

Zo, why would you do such a thing?!

Good question, I don't know. Or at least I wouldn't want to tell you uwu.