As much as she hated admitting it, Desty Nova might have been one of the few that really understood her. “Why do you fight?” Was a question she’s been asked time and time again. The answer is complicated. Much of the time she isn’t given a choice. Then again, she could quit, stop trying, give up. Quitting would solve nothing, however. Her own questions would remain unanswered. Her internal musings. That’s why the question of why she fights is so difficult to answer.
“Because that’s when I feel alive,” she’s said before. It’s true, but it isn’t the whole of it. In a fight is when she stops asking: Who she is and Why she is. Questions that plague her mind…Ha, mind. An absurd notion. What’s a mind? What are memories? Why do certain thoughts pop up when they do? Laying in bed, eating breakfast, watching a cloud, and suddenly a long forgotten idea springs forth.
All that goes away when she fights. No questions. No fragments of memory sprouting in the curious soil of her head. No concerns for safety. Nothing else matters in the midst of battle.
The eternal present. No past. No future. Only Now.
She moved in a blur. Dodging behind a concrete wall moments before the strafing mini-gun fire cut across her shadow. The steel of the massive damascus blade caught light. The sentry-bot, seeing the flash, adjusted its aim. In the half second the bot took to recalibrate she was already moving. Reacting. No need to process. A blur dashed towards the bot. Trying to track her, the bot again adjusted its aim, and again…again and again. Always be stuck a moment behind. The bot needed to calculate to act.
All she needed do was Be. In moments like these she felt most alive. When her questions started to find answers. Who and Why? The fury of battle: the answer to both.