Chaos was fun.

She didn’t have to figure out who were the lawmakers, who were the criminals. When people panicked and ran, it was all the more fun to see how they scrambled.

The scene was brilliant, in her book. Some Molotov cocktails tossed into some poor sap’s barn, and now an entire village was scrambling. The orange glow of the flames were almost beautiful; but she was more distracted by the thought of how many bodies this would lead to.

The part of her who might’ve felt remorse at this scene had died long ago.

Eventually, her amusement at the scene died down, and she turned to her only companion. Why did she keep them around again? Maybe because they were somewhat amusing.

“You got the marshmallows? I’m craving s’mores,” she said- like the massive fire at her back was nothing more than a simple bonfire, and not the utter destruction of entire livelihoods.