[ This is her life now, or rather, her afterlife: saving random people. Root has no question what the Machine would want her to do here, and learning that the Machine took her voice after her death only makes her devotion that much tighter. And there's a strange stability and confidence to her actions now, to her moral position, that just wasn't present when she first started doing this a few years ago. It's become more than habit-- it's become who she is.
She doesn't need the Machine's voice in her ear to act as her interface anymore.
Today that looks like smashing a store window from the inside to protect a young woman being pursued by a rabid flame-breathing dog. Root stands on the wrecked store display in her sleek black boots and coat and looks down the sights of her shotgun, plants her feet and braces the stock against her shoulder, then fires.
The shotgun is modern and tactical, semi-automatic, one of her favorites. She'd lifted it from a police officer back home and requested to have it back here, just in time for this occasion. There's a gratifying splatter of gore, but she doesn't wait; she hops down through the broken glass neatly to her feet on the sidewalk and fires again from almost point-blank range at the second head even as the first is reeling.
Root watches closely as it stumbles and crumples to the ground, making sure it's dead before turning to Koharu. ]
Whoops. Hope you don't mind getting messy!
[ She's probably covered in blood and tissue now. Root has a healthy splatter covering her as well, but that's part of the reason she's wearing head-to-toe black. ]
one!
She doesn't need the Machine's voice in her ear to act as her interface anymore.
Today that looks like smashing a store window from the inside to protect a young woman being pursued by a rabid flame-breathing dog. Root stands on the wrecked store display in her sleek black boots and coat and looks down the sights of her shotgun, plants her feet and braces the stock against her shoulder, then fires.
The shotgun is modern and tactical, semi-automatic, one of her favorites. She'd lifted it from a police officer back home and requested to have it back here, just in time for this occasion. There's a gratifying splatter of gore, but she doesn't wait; she hops down through the broken glass neatly to her feet on the sidewalk and fires again from almost point-blank range at the second head even as the first is reeling.
Root watches closely as it stumbles and crumples to the ground, making sure it's dead before turning to Koharu. ]
Whoops. Hope you don't mind getting messy!
[ She's probably covered in blood and tissue now. Root has a healthy splatter covering her as well, but that's part of the reason she's wearing head-to-toe black. ]