• "You did what you had to do back there. Don't blame yourself." The young woman said at length, after the deed had finished almost an hour before. The man to whom she spoke, a man who called himself an enigma, was watching the empty street still, and did not move to face her. "I know. And I do not blame myself." He said simply in his quiet, stern voice the way he always said everything. "Well, good, I just--"
    "Thought that when a man kills another man, that he should feel sorrow?" There was an awkward silence.
    "Well," The woman, Kaitlyn said again at length, quietly now and suddenly afraid to speak, "Yes. Most feel horrible when they kill somebody. It's a big deal." It was then that the man turned, "It is only as big a deal as society deems it to be. That man I killed back there knew what he was doing; what was at stake. The battlefield is not a place for people with names, homes, and families to go back to. It is not a place for men, women, or children. It is not a place for god-faring creatures, for fears, for caring, for people like you or anyone that you know. It is a place for monsters, for creatures without hearts--every kill you make you're killing another heartless, nameless, monster. It is for demons, for beasts. It is for those of us without names, without homes and families and children and wives to go to, so that we may create--for ourselves--names. So that we may build--for ourselves, again--homes, and so that we may find families that we find we care about, where we once could not. That man knew what he was, knew what was at stake, and that is why I do not feel the least bit sad about killing him, or any other man, woman, or child that seeks to face me on the grounds of combat."
    "That's horrible!" Kaitlyn said but felt bad instantly for saying it, and then, afraid again that he may grow angry. "It is indeed horrible, as you say. But it is true, and truer yet in my case. So please, young girl, spare me your ethics; that is another thing you will not find out here."
    They stood in the house for many moments in silence before he turned again quickly to the window at the sound of a car pulling up to the driveway with it's breaks squealing loudly.
    The man who called himself an enigma didn't turn, simply shut the blinds of the house and stepped back, grabbing hold of something in his coat pocket; a gun. "Sit in the basement with your eyes closed and your hands over your ears, and do not say a word until the victor comes to free you. If it is them, they will not harm you either, for they will know you are innocent. Now go."
    Kaitlyn stood watching the outline of the man for the briefest of moments, before the sound of the doors on the car slamming jolted her into motion, and within the next moment she was gone.