MY CRUEL PROTECTOR
I made the snow look like blood.
And then, I let Nevan loose.
It wasn't a fight. It was an erasure. Through the bridge, I felt every strike he made. I felt the satisfying crunch of bone, the hiss of hydraulic fluid leaking from severed suits, and the terrified final thoughts of men who realized too late that they weren't fighting humans. Nevan moved like a phantom, his speed enhanced by the child’s processing power, his lethality sharpened by my own divine sight.
When it was over, the clearing was silent. Twelve bodies lay in the snow, their violet-tinted blood steaming in the cold air.