(AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN…) A MEETING OF INSANITY II

For a few seconds neither of them spoke, and the quiet stretched just long enough for Taylor to regard the woman more closely. The large, opaque goggles were certainly a bold choice, but paired up with the metal mask with a gas-mask filter and a braided cord of black, yellow, and green wires over her shoulders, it was obvious she was a cape of some kind. They were the only ones that could wear something as ridiculous as that and still come off as menacing. 

Then, the woman straightened from the streetlight with an easy sort of confidence, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve as though this were a casual meeting rather than something looking increasingly intentional. And when she spoke, her voice carried clearly across the sidewalk, loud enough that anyone nearby could hear it without difficulty.

“My name,” she said with a small, pleased smile, “is Bakuda.”

She continued talking, revealing she was the new leader of the ABB and, as she put it with no hint of modesty, a bomb tinker.

At first Taylor simply stared at her, thrown off balance by how casually the woman had said it. The name registered quickly, because it had been everywhere lately, attached to every explosion shown on the news and speculation about the new leadership inside the ABB. But hearing it spoken so casually in the middle of the street felt strange in a way that her mind struggled to process.

Why would she say something like that so openly, uncaring about who might be close enough to hear it? Wasn't she being unnecessarily reckless? There were still people around them after all, pedestrians moving along the sidewalks, a couple standing near the entrance to a nearby store, and someone farther down the block speaking into a phone.

As if Bakuda could read her thoughts, her smile widened further, and something about that expression made Taylor look more carefully at the people around them. 

It took only a few seconds for everything to make sense. 

Everyone within sight was Asian.

That detail alone might not have meant anything on another day or in another part of the city, but here, combined with the expressions she had overlooked at first glance, it made the truth impossible to ignore. 

The people around them were not simply passing by or minding their business, even if that was how they presented themselves. Some of them were visibly terrified, their eyes wide and unfocused and faces pale as though they had already accepted something awful was about to happen. Others were crying openly, sobs slipping out despite their attempts to keep control. One woman clutched the sleeve of the person next to her with shaking hands, while a man farther down the sidewalk had his head bowed as if he could not bring himself to look at anything around him.

Fear hung in the air so thickly that Taylor could almost feel it pressing against her skin.

And suddenly the memory of the bus came back with clarity, the image of another terrified woman whose panic had been dismissed until it was far too late.

Understanding followed quickly after that.

She had not stumbled into an ordinary street at all.

She had walked into a killing field.

The thought made her stomach drop.

Bakuda had not chosen this location at random, and the people around them were part of whatever she had planned, just like the woman on the bus had been.

And it was obvious she had no intention of letting Taylor leave here alive.

But why?

The question formed immediately, pressing against the panic that was beginning to creep into her chest. Part of her wondered if Bakuda had recognized her from the news coverage after the bus incident. Was this retaliation for what had happened there, a way to undo the relief and gratitude that had followed by turning her survival into something crueler. Or had she simply been unlucky enough to cross paths with the wrong person at the wrong time?

Unfortunately, the question would remain unanswered as Bakuda lifted one hand and made a small, almost careless gesture, the movement so casual that for a moment it seemed meaningless.

Yet, the effect was immediate.

Everyone around them turned toward Taylor.

The shift was so sudden that it took her a second to understand what she was seeing. Their faces were still wet with tears, their expressions twisted with fear and desperation, yet their bodies moved forward as though pulled by something stronger than either emotion. Arms lifted, stretching out toward her as they started running towards her.

Her heart lurched as instinct finally took over and she tried to run. 

For a moment she believed she might actually make it. Her heart pounded as she forced her way past one person and then another, her breath coming out faster with every step. The street that had seemed merely sparse before now felt crowded from every direction, people closing in around her faster than she could find a clear path.

It made escape seem futile. Every direction she turned brought her face to face with someone rushing toward her, their hands brushing against her sleeve or reaching out in a frantic attempt to grab hold of her backpack strap.

She twisted and tried again, ducking past one set of outstretched arms only to collide with another who caught her arm with both hands, crying openly while still pulling her closer. The sound of voices rose around her as more bodies pressed closer, a cacophonic mix of sobbing, shouting, and panicked breaths that made it difficult to tell who was saying what anymore.

Her screaming, pleading voice was added to the mix, but try as she might, there were simply too many of them.

Within seconds, she was swallowed by the crowd.

The first of many explosions came almost immediately after that, screams erupting with renewed force in every direction, blending with her own, until the detonation drowned out everything else.