Ara threw the rest of the bread crumbs to the ducks, watching the animals peck at them. Walking off, she discarded the bag onto the floor, they didn't care about littering these days. Ever since the war the ecosystem's health always came last, women first, and so piles of trash were apparent in certain areas. Every once in a while cleaners would come and sweep up the trash into a junk field where they were melted down for other uses.
A girl with electric blue hair was walking to her. Ara recognized her immediately, she was one of the original soldiers. It was Electra.
She had assassinated ten of the thirty-four men killed and so was very valuable in the women's camp, making her wanted in the men's.
Everything about her was sharp and scary, even her rich chocolate brown eyes were chilling to look at.
Ara completely avoided eye contact as Electra drew near, letting herself be pulled over to a wall. The solid wall was thumped onto her back as the other girl shoved her against it. The contact forced the breath out of her lungs and Ara was too stunned to do anything; she couldn't do anything.
"Meeting tonight, at the Museum" she snarled. Was this what she wanted to tell? Fucking hell what a way to deliver a message.
"But you don't deserve to come!" Oh dear. How did she find out?
"Not after that mistake of sleeping during your shift, costing us our protection and with any luck our lives!" Ara swallowed.
"It was a mistake" she stuttered,
"I will come." Electra spat at her shoe. A look of hatred clear on her face.
"Don't bother!" And with that the assassin that once used to be a florist stalked off, wiping her hands on her jeans.

The eyes of thousands of men were looking at Jack. Some angry, others scared.
It was silent in the room, completely deathly. Silence, like noise, is deafening and scary and sometimes maddening. This hall of noiseless sound was driving him insane slowly.
Why weren't they doing anything? Something!
The nothing continued.
Finally a man, around his thirties or so, with anger in his eyes, flashed his middle finger up at him.
"Fuck yeh!" he shouted. The man was Scottish.
"Have yeh forgotten wha' the ladies have done?!" Slowly he was pushing through the crowd, getting to the front. He pointed his index finger up at Jack.
"They murdered us! Assassinated us! Butchered us!"
"David! Hold your ground!" the Colonel ordered down at him.
David turned and faced away from the men on the balcony and to the men listening.
"34 men killed! 34 good men! Their lives taken away from us by those bitches!" He turned back to Jack, his eyes really firing up.
"And yeh're saying yeh want peace with 'em? After four years of fightin' 'em? Traitor!"
Shouts from the others raised. Shouts of "Traitor!" and "Coward!" flinging at him.
What have I done?
Men were mounting the steps towards him, faces hungry for revenge. He had to get out. NOW!
Turning on his heel, Jack sprinted away from the balcony, heading for an exit, any exit.