The map in front of me has three missions, a distribution mission, a collection mission, and a destruction mission. Three places, three things.

“Hope…” A young red haired girl looks at me with wide, scared eyes.

“Yes Anna?” I have to make sure the op goes off properly. It’s the first op I planned.

“The… the soldiers, they’ve increased the soldiers near the docks.”

“What?” My voice screeches even in my ears, and Anna cowers back against a wall.

“I’m sorry Anna. I didn’t mean to scare you.” I look over at Lizzie, who let me plan this op. “Can you watch over this? I will go fix the issue at the docks so that we can pass out more supplies to the populace.”

Lizzie nods, “Are you up to it? You complained about needing breaks, and then you demand to go out.”

“I’m up to it. This is a simple kill the guards mission.” It is easier to kill without Nathan making me feel guilt for my power.

I pull my headscarf over my now white hair hiding it from view. Of course, the posters for my capture show a woman with black hair and brown eyes, not white hair and almost white irises. I am but a pale shadow of the girl who was Lily.

The streets are familiar to me now, and I find my way through them with ease. The sun is shining today, but the gray buildings soak it in. I will bring the gold light back to this city. I will free the people from the oppression of being poor.

No one bothers me. No one wants to face the wrath of a religious woman’s family. Few people where the robes of this religion, Islam, as Lizzie has told me it is called. They fear the ostracism that such robes bring, but we hide in the refuge of them.

A shuttle shades me for a second as it flies overhead before disappearing behind one of the tall towers. A small boy cries as he falls off a hover board. A woman sings as she does laundry, her voice sings of a son going to war and never returning. This war she speaks of, I am not quite certain what it is, but listening in does not help me. Is it like our own fight against a city filled with corruption? But why would one send their son off to war when the fight is here? I search the memories stored in my memory banks, but nothing seems to explain war very well. I shake off the strange fog this song carries and continue toward the docks.

The people part for me like the wind parts to pass around the tall buildings of this city. Some gives me looks of hatred, and others just ignore me. The disguise works well for my purposes.

I can see the docks ahead, ten guards, and fifteen workers loading a shuttle. It would be a hard fight by myself, but I would win. I could do nothing but win. To do otherwise would be to doubt the powers that I control. I cloak myself with the hands, and walk up to the first guard, touching him and yanking out his most recent memories.

He stands there, staring at the distant world, trying to figure out how he ended up where he is now, and I feel like the mirth in my stomach, but restrain myself from laughing, I do have a mission after all, and he might come to his senses and fight me even in this state.

If he does, then I will kill him. I move through the guards, like a ghostly spirit stealing their orders, and then I move through the workers, who are clearly confused as one by one they forget what they are doing.

The man who I first touch regains enough will to start firing in direction of each dock worker who stops working and looks confused. He wildly fires around, some of his shots even taking out people for me. Liquid drips down my cheek, and I wipe at it, the red of my blood staining my hand, this will not do. I pull of my head scarf and let down my white hair. I do not want my disguise to be compromised, and I will have to give up my invisibility to shield myself from the shots.

Of course, I’ve also been longing to show off the demon I have become, to make these people quake in their boots.

I release the screen of my hands and turn it into a wall. The man fires wildly at me, but my hands grab each bullet in the air. I let my mirth ring out as all the fighters turn toward me. Do they think that they can take down me, a ghost?

I let my mirth ring out, and I reach out, stopping the heart of the first man. The second begins to fire, as does the third. I reach out and stop another heart from beating, and then a third. The men catch on, and then some of them break and begin to run, one falls to his knees and begins to pray.

“Pray to your gods, for I am the lady death, and I have come to bring retribution to this city for its opulence.” I can’t help taunting them. I really can’t.

Behind me the dock workers have dropped to their knees. None offer resistance. I cloak myself, and take their memories of this encounter. Only the ones who fled will remember me, and what a strange tale they will tell.

I step into the shuttle, which the dock workers have so nicely packed for me, and go to the front where the auto control systems are. I enter the intersection of the drop site into the shuttle’s navigation system and press the go button.

The shuttle lifts off the ground, and takes off following some path known only to it going toward our destination. It lurches forward and I cutch at one of the handles on the wall. It is so strange to ride in one of these flying monstrosities.

While the shuttle is moving I braid back up my hair and wind it into a bun finishing by wrapping the headscarf around my head.

The shuttle comes to an abrupt stop, throwing me forward. The door opens, and I can see Jack and Anna outside waiting to take supplies.

Jack walks in and right past me without even saying hello. Anna walks up to me. “Thanks for grabbing the supplies. I heard that you are the one who salvaged the mission.”

I nod, unsure of how to respond to her thanks.

Should I help with the crates? They seem to know what they are doing though, and I would only get in the way.

They each move two crates, and then stand outside the shuttle. Anna waves at me. “We’re all good here.”

I go back to the front, and type in the coordinates of the marketplace where we will leave the extra supplies.

As soon as the shuttle makes it to the destination, I jump out and slip way as the crowd swarms in to grab food and supplies from the shuttle.

I turn to walk away, but I notice you staring at the shuttle. What is wrong. Are guards coming or something? You turn back toward me, and I realize you are conflicted. I bet you want to hate what I did to get the supplies, but you can’t because just like me, you see all of these people so happy to get this food and other supplies.