“Afghanistan sure is hot.”, The Figure now thinks to themselves as they move to remove their sword from the body it’s embedded in. They’ve been here for what seems like ay, time droning on and on as they sughter every oppo in their way, the goal of culling the Taliban’s numbers fresh in their mind. The Figure is surprised by the sword not budging, but then uses more of their strength. The sound of the sword scraping across bone is slight, yet signifit, their enhanced hearing pig up the sound with ease.
They grimace from the sound slightly as they proceed to wipe the blood off the sword using the clothes of the retly deceased person ying down in front of them. They look around at the vilge structures surrounding them, a damaged yet stable building standing out to them.
“Maybe some rest will do good for my mind after three straight hours of fighting.”, the thought es as the sus down on them. A burning, sharp feeling suddenly registers, as they realize that a knife is embedded in their side, the pain now prese also now disregarded. The Figure simply takes out the on with a grimace, and their injury stops bleeding as it knits back together in a quick fashion. “I’m getting careless”, the thought es as they feel embarrassed by an amateur mistake they haven't made in a year. Their androgynous visage moves to the building as they start to sheath their sword in its scabbard. A sound from behind them is picked up by their hearing, and they turn to the source of the noise, one of the batants they fought very retly. “Seems I left one, shame. He could’ve lived if he stayed quiet.”, They think as they start the process of uhing their swain.
The act is deliberately slow and well practiced, to cause at least a modicum of fear from those they fa battle. It is unnecessary, as the man is too engrossed in the pain he is currently feeling from being a victim of dismemberment. He looks at The Figure approag, a fsh of fear appearing on his facial features, befiving way to ahen finally hate. “Alh will bring ruin to you, Witch!”, The Man speaks in pashto, as he clutches the stump where his right arm used to be. The Figure feels annoyed as they realize the man implied he was a woman, and simply ceases their target’s life with a crag stab through the skull, the human ium standing no ce against his enharength driving the sword past the stro part of the human head.
They huff in annoyance as he repeats the process of ing their sword and sheathing it again, then turns around to walk towards the building. They open the door carefully, assuming a high ce of the building being booby-trapped. They walk in after judging the entryway to be safe, then close the door behind them, waiting for a threat that never es. After a minute passes, they walk to the couch to rest as he hears a floorboard creak to their left. They hastily uhe their sword at inhuman speed and turn around to aim it behind them. What they see is a little girl with her face covered, no taller than four feet and six inches, just underh their bde’s tip.
“What the hell?”, The Figure says, as the girl just stares at the outstretched sword aimed at her with horror.
