Ultra-Violent

Mackenzie was a very angry girl.  Too angry.  Too a lot of things, actually.  Too fat, too awkward.  Teased unmercifully.  She spent her days eating and her nights crying.  No one spoke to her at school, all of her friends were on the internet.  Then the change happened.

That night started as most nights did, with Makenzie crying.  She knew she wasn't invited to the party... but... well... everyone was invited.  She'd taken her time with her clothing.  Not too slutty, but maybe slutty enough.  She'd bothered with makeup.  She'd even curled her hair.  If that wasn't enough, she'd stolen two bottles of her parents scotch (they'd never miss them, the bottles were mostly for show.)

It wasn't.  Somewhere around one-thirty she arrived to the party, around one-thirty-two she was called out for not belonging there.  At around one-thirty-five the bottles were removed from her backpack.  At around one-forty the door closed behind her.  Sobbing, she pounded on the door.

"At least give me back my liquor you fuckers," she shouted.  They turned up the radio to drown her out, though the laughter did that quite nicely.  She collapsed sobbing, back to the door.  Nothing kept her company but the sound of the radio, and the police sirens.

And the screaming.

Something was happening inside the house.  Mackenzie was thrown violently to the side as the door burst open, teenagers moving as fast as they could.  Not scared, exactly.  But fleeing the scene of something they didn't want to be associated with.  Or someone had narced.  Mackenzie crept back inside; police response times in this city weren't exactly bad, but Omaha was a very large city distance wise.  She had a few minutes.

"Dude, this is-"

"I know, right?"

Two of the alpha males had kitchen knives.  They were taking swipes at each other, ducking and dodging out of the way.  A few teens filmed with cell phone cameras, a few watched with excitement.  Most looked shocked.  One of the alphas pounced on the other one and knocked him down.  He jammed the kitchen knife into his shoulder.  Boys were so stupid when they were drunk.  The radio blared music mixed with strange warbling static.  Most of the teens left... the ones who weren't cheering.  The party was too intense.  Something was very wrong.

"You know, I've always had a crush on you," Mackenzie heard a sinister voice whisper from behind her, close enough that she could feel hot breath on her ear.  A boys arms wrapped around her waist.  "I couldn't ever do anything about it because-" The voice was silenced as Mackenzie jerked her head back violently.  There was a gush of hot warmth in her new curls as his nose broke.  She broke the grip on her waist and brought her heel down hard on a tennis shoe.  There was a scream of pain.

"You broke my nose, bitch!" The voice growled.  She turned to see Troy Doocy.  He was from her school.  One of the jock douche bags who regularly threw things at her table at lunch.

"Fuck your nose.  I want my bottles."  Mackenzie said.  At first she was posturing, but then she really felt angry.  Hurting him had felt... good.  No, not the hurting.  The hitting back.  Troy advanced on her and kicked him in the balls as hard as she could.  He went down.

"Holy shit, I think he's dead," one of the teens with a cellphone camera said.

"No, I just kicked him in the balls," Makenzie said.

"No, him," he said, aiming the camera towards the two alphas.  The one on the bottom wasn't moving.  The other pulled the knife out of his shoulder and stood.

"You want your bottles, you gotta fight for them." The boy said.  His expression was manic.  The knife dripped tiny pearls of blood onto the kitchen floor.  Mackenzie stayed fairly calm.  Surprisingly calm actually. She picked up a decorative bronze statue of a nude woman from the end table; wrapping her arms around the woman's waist turned the square base into a nasty club.

"Dude, just give me my bottles back.  I'm not fucking around."

"Kill that bitch!" Troy said from the ground.   She kicked backwards and caught him in the forehead with a heel.  The alpha licked the blood off the knife, and advanced on her.  He never saw the other alpha coming.

He came up with a scream and a spray of blood from his wound, tackling his prey.  They went through the stereo and onto the carpet, mercifully ending the strange sounds coming from it.  Raking fingers found his eyes, then fists were half punching, half clawing the boy.  The boy on the ground fought back, jabbing the knife repeatedly into his attacker.  The blows did nothing.  Then the biting started.  The boy screamed.  Then everyone was screaming.  Something was very wrong.  Mackenzie squeezed the nude statue's torso tightly.



Ten minutes later, a small, awkward girl emerged from the house holding a bloody fireplace poker.  Her makeup was in tact; save for the running mascara from crying and a bit too much rouge from the bloodstains on her face.  She closed the door carefully behind her.  Her skirt was torn, blouse askew.  Her careful curls were caked with blood.  She was no longer carrying the statue; it had gotten stuck in Troy's head.

The party-goers were returning now.  Some bloody and wounded but still walking, some insane.  Some running from the first two.  Everyone who ever called her "Big Mac," or spit at her in the hallways.  The boys who pretended to like her just to get her to sleep with them.  The girls who would break into her locker and throw her clothes into the toilet during gym class.  They were all coming towards her.  Mackenzie smiled and gripped the fireplace poker.  She was a very angry girl.  She went to work.  She killed every single one.



Mac squatted down between two abandoned cars, watching the boy run through the scope of her rifle.  She recognized him.  His name was Zach, but everyone called him Ophie.  She wasn't sure why.  Behind him, a half dozen lunatics chased him, carrying what looked to be bokken.  They were wearing Kendo armor sans the helmets, and their faces were covered in tattoos. She exhaled and squeezed the trigger, and the first lunatic's skull exploded.  Everyone froze in their tracks.

Two more shots struck another lunatic in the chest and he fell.  There was a long pause, then the remaining four fled.  Zach stood in place, not knowing quite what to do.

Mackenzie stood.  The gawky, chubby girl was gone.  Running and killing had toned her body.  Scars gave her character.  Her now closely cropped hair had been dyed with kool-aid to a bright green.  A few additional months of puberty had done the rest.  She was a bombshell.  She rested the rifle on her shoulder and took a moment to pose.  She'd earned it with blood.  She was still an angry girl.