Whenever Fate and Justice come to blows Fate emerges victorious, as it sadly must. Only when they can barter truce for the shortest of times do the honourable stand a chance. We remember those bright moments forever, few as they are.
After falling out again Justice implored Fate to let the savior live. The pleas fell on deaf ears during the crucial moments.
She’d dedicated her life to saving others. She sought to cure the ills of the species, not with words or feeble gestures but vaccines.
That day she only needed money to eat, the fuel for her body and mind to continue its work. She was almost spared by Fate, leaving as the gunman entered but one pulled her back and threw her to the ground. As she fell a shot was fired into the air. She stood between them and others, trying to reason with them but only agitating the nervous men. She was the sacrifice, the proof (as the men saw it) of their conviction.
Justice wept as her mind was scattered in fragments that as one might have saved so many. Her blood and brains spread outward like a fountain, painting a crimson circle onto the wall behind.
When the virus came she was not there to save her kind. They never thought to read her notes which would have given them a chance.
Justice cursed Fate for its cruelty and departed, leaving Fate to its sadistic whims.
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