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Niffty crouches low as she darts across the battlefield. Her single eye tracks the movement around her, the fluttering of wings, the sheen of angelic spears, the streaks of gold and red that splatter across the ground. She giggles to herself, a dark glee fluttering inside her chest. The screams of the dying are music to her ears.
The largest of the Heaven-sent fights above her, the baddest boy taunting and shifting as he weaves through the air in chase. The big one falls from the sky, the ground cratering where he lands. The bad boy lands atop him, fists flying with fury as red horns sprout from his forehead, maniacal grin spread across his lips. Golden flecks dot the ground.
The big one heaves himself from the crater, Charlie telling the bad boy to heel. His mask is shattered, broken in pieces on the dirt. He sways in place, cuts and bruises marking his skin. An ugly snarl cuts his face.
He spits his monologue, biting with venom. He shouts of gratefulness lacking, the unworthiness of the souls before him. Much like her husband. She killed him, the first in a long line of bodies, human and creature alike.
She darts forward quickly, her feet carrying her silently across the terrain, over black-eyed sinners and masked, winged things. She closes the distance, needle in hand. He's still talking, unaware she's even there. She doesn't care, excitement brimming in her small body.
She leaps—this is the moment she lives for. The way her needle sings through the air. The moment her prey realizes she's cornered it. The blip of time before metal meets flesh.
Her body is alight as her needle sinks into his body, in the center of the divot between the bases of his wings. He gasps sharply, air leaving his lungs in one ragged gasp. He pitches forward, her body falling with him. Her knees dig into his back as his face meets the ground.
She lifts her needle. And she brings it down. Again and again and again. Her world is painted in glittering gold.
And Niffty smiles.