A year has passed since last I saw,
     the girl with onyx hair.
The deadly twirling Hummingbird,
     who killed without a care.
Yet one thought flowing on and on,
     eroding riverbed.
How she could kill the living,
     but could not kill the dead.

At first I thought her weak in strength,
     though nimble, quick and spry.
I never thought I'd see that girl
     a mighty Samurai.
As if her body moved ahead,
     performing prophesy.
Always in the perfect place,
     a loyal devotee.

And though that pair in motion made,
     my very stomach turn.
Events now branded in my mind,
     grant facts I can't unlearn.
A deep appreciation of,
     the lives his men conceded.
Will never be enough
     the debt forever more exceeded.

I stare at canvas, white as snow,
     purity like wart.
Which vanishes like Winter's day,
     when black and white cavort.
The duelling pair forever locked,
     in battle for our eyes.
A silent skirmish secret,
     that the pair avert with lies.

The charcoal skims across the page,
     leaving trace behind.
The paper never says a word,
     as if it doesn't mind.
Yet though the dark seems prevalent,
     its strokes a truth conceal.
The texture of the landscape,
     a secret, will reveal.

The tiny cracks, the fibrous ends,
     an artists cobblestone.
The white obscured by darkness,
     as its land is overthrown.
The interloper journeys on,
     from North to East to West.
Travelling on artist's whim,
     and granting his behest.

The darkness builds, just as that night,
     and black is joined with green.
Possessed by pastels palette,
     as I paint my panicked scene.
The grassy arc, a bolt of hue,
     that now pervades the dark.
And hits the hidden Earth below,
     that showering evil spark.

But as my picture now unfolds,
     I see a sight concerning.
Beneath the sky of yearning black,
     a pair of eyes are burning.
In shock, my hand drops implement,
     wretched mark it made.
And breaks in half on floor of stone,
     the blue my heart forbade.

Yolanda rendered on the page,
     not drawn by conscious thought.
I'd hoped to put her face to rest,
     a battle I have fought.
But there her eyes, so near alive,
     awake in green and black.
And all at once the memories,
     of Y come flooding back.

That moment when I saw her first,
     in gently fading light.
The fire that burned throughout my heart,
     the one she did ignite.
It angers me, my heart's betrayal,
     hidden under shroud.
How could I fall unto her charms,
     the one now disavowed.

And bathing deep in irony,
     my mind is cleft in twain.
Half is safe with Bertholdt,
     and half in raging pain.
How quaint I try so hard to find,
     those things I can't recall.
While memories of wretched pest,
     I do not want at all.

I glance back down to page below,
     and spy that piercing blue.
The girl I once entrusted all,
     relegated to taboo,
I tear the page and tear again,
     the pieces multiply.
Yet together still her eyes remain,
     destruction they defy.

My train of thought derailed,
     as a siren starts to blast.
Reminding me of gurney bed,
     a remnant of the past.
The others are not with me,
     and bolt upright now I sit.
As waves continue marked assault,
     An act I'd ne'er permit.

The door emits a stifled whoosh,
     as corridor revealed.
And Bertholdt strides into the room,
     through doorway that was sealed.
His voice is calm as always,
     "She's here!" He seems to spit.
"The woman who's been tracking you.
     the one devoid of wit"

I leap from bed, on ground I land,
     prepared to do his will.
She's here, that thing Yolanda,
     with intent to maim and kill.
I breath in deep and set resolve,
     the time I feared here.
An encounter with my captor past,
     the pharma puppeteer.

Before the words can leave my mouth,
     a flash of humanoid.
Behind beloved Bertholdt,
     her body braves the void.
With sword in hand she brings the rain,
     torrential, weight of lead.
And mune lands with force of ton,
     on Bertholdt's hidden head.

A crack appears across the mask,
     that covers Sensei's face.
He coldly drops unto the floor,
     without an ounce of grace.
I slowly clasp my hand to mouth,
     unsure of what I've seen.
But sure of one thing, here she stands,
     the mighty Pharma Queen.

"I told you I would find you,"
     she seems to say with glee.
How simply I reply by stating,
     "Stay away from me."
"What's wrong?" she asks. She doesn't know?
     My mentor she has slain.
Her trademark punctuation,
     her murderous refrain.

A rumble shakes my quarters,
     and forward now I stumble.
Y catches me with cold dead hands,
     as thoughts amass in jumble.
Bertholdt's voice alerts me,
     and I seek the source of sound.
Believing him deceased,
     a victim born on battleground.

"Leave!" the single word,
     that carcass bellows from below.
Motionless and awkward,
     like a corpse in stereo.
"I have the first" Yolanda speaks,
     "in time I'll find the rest"
And leaning over, mouth to ear,
     her hand asserts my chest.

Her breath is hot and humid,
     and a shiver braves my spine.
She whispers slow "Cartesian"
     and the word commences chine.
My world begins to shudder,
     my vision starts to shake.
Bertholdt shouts with anger,
     but his body doesn't wake.

My structure is unstable,
     as my torrid legs collapse.
And sliding down to floor,
     I feel the weight of time elapse.
Yolanda straddles Bertholdt.
     and lifts to forehead high.
Then driving deep through glass, he sleeps,
     I say my last good bye.

The colours run once more,
     and my vision starts to fade.
An arm is helping me to stand,
     replacing strength mislaid.
The building shakes again,
     I sense that groggy nightmare feeling.
As blasts begin and black debris,
     is dropped from sterile ceiling.