The crowd screams. The assassin hold aloft the head of the decapitated man who'd been speaking a moment before. Her white shirt was bloodstained, a red cross blazon across it.
People panicked. Cameras moved wildly.
Bodyguards ran at her position at the podium. And then men in suits. And then police. Gunfire.
Slice. Thrust.
Bullets deflected off her skin. Her skin glittered like diamonds. One man loses an arm. Another, a policewoman, is bisected.
Her dark eyes ignore all of them. She takes the head and tosses it into the air- it found purchase upon a power pole, and dangled like a grotesque reminder of the scene unfolding.
They flee from her, in her red cross shirt and her bloodstained jeans. Her glasses were broken. Tears streamed down her face.
"I remember."
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