A sigh escaped an amethyst-eyed girl with short black hair who stood among the remains of an abandoned building. Puddles of blood of unusual hues and not of the usual crimson pooled beneath her feet. Some distance away, the sounds of gunfire and cries of battle, of agony and pain - if one could call them that, as they were more like screams and shouts - could be heard. Trisha Evans sheathed her blade into the scabbard on her back as she stared at the corpses she had just disposed of with disinterest. "Serves you right, you bastards," She muttered under her breath as she took to the rooftops once more. It never seemed to end. It had been a few years the organization who called themselves The Imperialists took over - or rather, massacred the royal family -and became the new rulers of the world. Each year, detrimental new laws were established. And each time, people got more and more desperate. So much that violence was the norm everywhere as everyone sought survival for themselves. Suddenly, something - or rather, someone - caught her eye.