[Fiction] Let Her Cry

[Anna 'Quanta' Alameda]

Her leg was hurting tonight. She suspected that it came from the vicious kick a surprisingly spry old man had given her as they fought over a cardboard box. With much less in the way of feeding requirements than she, the homeless people of Madrid were proving to be tougher than her in the long run, and all of her powers only worked on novas. It appeared that eruption really hadn't done her any favours.

Anna Alameda was quite a sight to behold these days. Almost skeletally thin from a lack of food, her only possessions were the jeans, t-shirt and jacket on her back, as stronger homeless people and refugees relieved her of everything else. Her leg rendered her almost helpless during the nights, and whatever friendliness she held towards her fellow indigents was swiftly vanishing in the face of the abuses that they heaped on her, none of which she cared to think too closely about.

No doubt her statement on the OpNet about novas no longer being human had not earned her any friends amongst the nova community. But it was the truth. Baseline humanity shoved her inhumanity in her face on a daily basis and she was getting sick of it. She wanted to get out of Madrid, out of Spain, and go somewhere far away from her 'homeland'. She wasn't welcome here anymore. Not since she'd changed.

She was angry. How could there be a God when Ibiza happened and her nova life wasn't the life of glory and wealth that everyone said it was supposed to be? Team Tomorrow were a pack of idiots and whomever owned that light-weapon that had caused significant damage deserved to burn in a non-existent Hell forever.

Bitter, in pain and full of anger, Exile rolled over and put her face to the wall to hide her tears. Let her cry - it wasn't as if anyone cared that she existed, nova or baseline.