|The victims of war|
You walk into a very large restaurant with high ceilings that leave the rafters exposed. Fluorescent lamps hang from the ceiling, adding light to the place and tables. Windows adorn the sides of the place, looking out onto the chaos that is Twisted. On some of the walls are paintings, photographs, and some holograms of different B-movies, and a number of people who tend to visit the UR as they're singing karaoke. The hardwood bar rests at the back of the place, it's surface polished and shiny and all together spotless (most of the time). Behind the bar are various beverages that are served and a giant mirror. There seems to be an inordinate amount of different drinks. A large stage rests in one of the corners of the restaurant, with an amazing sound system and a few microphones strung about it. Multiple round wood tables are in the room, and a swing door leads into the kitchen. Another door leads to the dance club, and another to the gym. And of course, there's an exit to the outside. A large fireplace rests in one of the walls, with a beautiful stone chimney that flows up and out. A long spiral staircase rests near the entrance to the kitchen, leading to a second floor balcony that overlooks the UR itself. The lights up there are a bit dimmer than those down below.
Silence fills the inside of the normally-raucous Usual Restraunt. Outside, explosions, shouts, screams, groans, and other dins of combat can be heard in unending quantities. In the streets outside the windows, horrid undead things with sharp weapons of varying kinds tear and shred each other with reckless abandon, along with anything else they can find, turning the streets of Twisted into a meat grinder for the unwary or unable. Off in the distance, the Council duals with Alessa and the other freelance heroes of Twisted. Another explosion rocks the empty room.....
Or IS it empty? Even the prinnies seem to be staying in the safety of wherever they call home. However, a single lone figure lies on the floor, behind the bar, terrified out of her mind at the events she can see less than one hundred feet away out a single wooden door. Whatever Cale has in place upon the Usual, it appears to be enough to keep these creatures out. Otherwise, the poor woman would be truely doomed.
Kyoko is in a fetal position, with her back agains the URs bar. Held in her arms tightly is a sheathed katana one of the patrons had given her earlier as a last resort. Fresh blood seeps down her gloved right arm from a deep cut near her shoulder. When the initial shakes had occured, she had dared to peer out the door to see what was going on. Taken by suprise, one of the things, a strange woman clad in dirty white clothes, with a scarred pattern for a face, had attacked her. Her sword gave her enough range to actually defeat it, but now that the initial adrenaline has worn off, and fear has set in, so too has the intense pain of the injury. Flashbacks to a time long ago, when injuries had crippled the very same limb, flood her mind, among other events, amplifying her terror. All she can do is lie there, clutching the weapon as if to let go would mean to fall to her death. Shaking. Wondering why she had to be brought here. Why she has to be so useless. Why she has to be so weak and afraid all the time.
The sounds are the worst of it. When the brain hears something, but cant identify it, imagination takes over. The workings of ones mind mixed with ones own fears is always greater than the actual truth. However, scared beyond reason, Kyoko can only stay where she is. Hidden. Bleeding. Terrified. Vulnerable, despite being armed, being a woman in her fourties. Her mind takes in the sounds of the horror outside, and serves only to further reinforce her paralysis.
Meanwhile, all over Twisted, the same situation repeats itself for other innocents and noncombatants. Men, women, and children huddle in terror. Some are lucky, and ride out the battle. Sadly, others are not so lucky, are found, and have any number of violent deaths invoked upon them by Alessas forces. So it is for those trapped in the middle of such conflicts. So it always has been, across countless other worlds and dimensions. Wherever and whenever such battles occur.
Whatever pretty words those in power use, it is these individuals, above all else, who are always forgotten.....