She smelled of cordite and freshly spilled blood.
An imperfect angel drenched in the smoke - black color of death.
Her hair carried the scent of spent shells and burning vengeance.
Her visage a frozen scream of broken bone and torn flesh.
Salvation with twin guns. A hellion of heavenly fire, tattooed upon a cross of violent sins.
The reaper. The Balancer. The Ghost of the Seventh Soul. Santa Paula.
Pray. Repent. Relent. Die...slow and wet, in the dark soul of her cold embrace. "Vengeance is mine" sayeth the Lord..."and this is My instrument of retribution."