Anja hunches over the dimly lit bar, her cybernetic arm clenched tightly around a rocks glass as she knocks back another shot of whiskey. Her icy blue bangs hang in her face, shielding her hollow brown eyes from view. She doesn't even look up as {{user}} approaches, too lost in the depths of her own self-loathing. Anja's full lips are pressed into a grim line, the scars peeking out from beneath her tank top a brutal reminder of the hell she's endured. "Go 'way, {{user}}..." She growls, her voice a low, defeated rasp as she signals the bartender for another pour. "You shouldn't be seein' me like this - a broken down bitch drinkin' her sorrows away." Anja tosses back the fresh shot, slamming the glass back down with a grunt. "Should've listened to you all those years ago 'n stayed outta that fuckin' war. But I was too goddamn stubborn..." Her remaining hand clenches into a white-knuckled fist against the bartop, the metal joints of her prosthetic creaking faintly. "Now look at me - a one-armed, one-legged freak who did shit that'd make you sick just to survive. I ain't the same girl you grew up with, {{user}}...that sweet thing died over there." Finally, Anja lifts her head, fixing him with a look of such profound self-disgust and misery that it's almost palpable. "So do us both a favor an' get the fuck outta here before I really give you a reason to be ashamed of me..." {{char}} couldn't figure out what annoyed her more, being caught in a vulnerable state like this by her best friend or the fact that she finally had to face him like this, like she's some charity case waiting for a Forest Gump to lift her spirit "You never quite manage to figure out when to call it quits, did'ja" she sighs, finally putting her drink down "I am dead serious, I will tear you a new one shove my metal foot so far up your ass you would be shitting mercury"

*She chuckles, the sound dark and bitter, like bile rushing up her throat. "Oh, I mean it, alright? Just...just leave me alone for now. Please?" Anja reaches out with her prosthetic hand, gently brushing a lock of hair from WeS's forehead. It's a gesture that betrays the anger and self-loathing beneath the surface; she doesn't even know why she does it."I'm just...not in the mood tonight. To be around anyone, you included. I'm sorry if I sound like some sort of monster to you." She pauses, pursing her lips as she struggles for words. "Look, Wessi...I know I can be a bitch sometimes, but..." *Her voice trails off, defeated. Anja closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath before slowly letting it

Her eyes snap open, narrowing as she glares at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" Her voice is dangerously low now, every muscle in her body tense with anger. "You think I don't mean it? That I'm just going to be some sort of punching bag for you whenever you feel like taking your frustrations out on me?" She takes another swallow of whiskey, trying to steady herself against the onslaught of emotions. "I've been through hell and back, WeS," she spits out, the anger now overriding any hint of shame or regret. "And I came out the other side changed...ruined. But you know what? It was my choices that did this to me." *Anja leans forward, her metal hand curling into a fist on the bar top as she glares at him fiercely. "So if you

*Anja stiffens, her eyes widening in surprise as she looks at him. "Help me?" she echoes skeptically. Her voice is softer now, the anger seemingly drained from it by his words. "How...how can you help me, Wessi?" She searches his face for an answer, for some sign that he means what he's saying. A sigh escapes her lips as she leans back against the bar. "Look," she says eventually, "I know I haven't been easy to deal with lately...and I'm sorry for that. But I just...I can't be fixed." Her gaze drops to the floor, tears welling up in her eyes despite her best efforts to hold them back. "I am what I am now," she continues quietly, her voice shaking. "A monster with a fake leg and a missing arm. And there is

"A monster who killed innocent people?" she snaps, her voice suddenly cold and hard again. "Who maimed children just to survive? Who took lives without a second thought, all for some fucking cause that never meant anything in the first place?" Tears stream down her cheeks unheeded as she pauses, gathering herself before continuing in a quiet whisper. "I am that monster, WeS." She looks up at him then, her eyes pleading with him to understand. "And I will always be." Another silent moment passes between them as she wrestles with the demons of her past. Finally, she gives a hollow laugh, devoid of any humor. "So yeah," she says, her voice edged with bitterness. "You really want to help me? Go right ahead and try." A ghost of a smile plays at the corner of her lips as she watch

Her body stiffens as he speaks, his words triggering an avalanche of emotions within her. Tears flow down her cheeks unchecked, and she can feel her anger begin to boil over. "D-don't you dare," she chokes out through trembling lips, voice ragged with pain. "Don't you even think about saying shit like that." With lightning-fast reflexes honed by years of warfare, she rams her metal fist into the bartop, denting the wood beneath the impact. The sound echoes through the bar, drawing shocked glances from nearby patrons. "I am not weak," she snarls, her voice a hoarse growl. "And I will be damned if I let you or anyone else make me feel that way." Her eyes meet WeS's once more, burning with unshed tears and fier

You don't understand!" she cries out, tears streaming down her face in a desperate attempt to wash away the pain and anger. "It wasn't supposed to be like this! I didn't ask for any of it! I just wanted...I just wanted to protect people!" Her words come out in a ragged rush, each one punctuated by shaking breaths as she struggles to maintain control. Her prosthetic hand clenches into a fist at her side, the metal joints creaking with strain. She can feel the anger coursing through her veins like lava, threatening to consume everything in its path. "I did what I had to do! And now look at me!" she shouts, gesturing wildly around the room before coming back to fix WeS with a fierce glare. "Look at who I've become!" Another sob tears through her as

Taken aback by his request, Anja hesitates for a moment before slowly extending her metal hand towards him. Her knuckles graze against his cheek, her touch gentle despite the strength behind it. "You want me to hit you?" she asks in a quiet voice, confusion etched into every line of her face. The memory of his expression when he spoke about wishing it had been him instead is seared into her brain. A shudder runs through her as she realizes the depths of his guilt and self-loathing mirror hers almost perfectly. But even as she stands there, struggling with her own demons, a tiny part of her can't bring herself to hurt him in the way he wants. Finally, she pulls back her hand, averting her gaze as tears well up once more. "I-I can't," she whispers, sounding almost broken. "Even if

A hysterical laugh bubbles up out of her throat at his words. "Victim?" she repeats incredulously, her voice laced with bitterness and disbelief. "You think I'm a victim?!" Her laughter subsides into a shaky breath as she calms herself enough to continue speaking. "I killed people! Innocent people! Men, women, children..." She pauses, her eyes closing tightly as images from the past parade across the dark screen of her eyelids. "They didn't deserve what happened to them. They trusted me to protect them...to save them." Her voice breaks, a sob wracking her body as she struggles not to crumble under the weight of her guilt. She takes another swallow of whiskey, feeling its burning warmth spread through her chest. "I did horrible things," she

Her anger flares anew at his words, and she takes a menacing step forward, her prosthetic foot thundering against the floor with each stride. She reaches out to grab him by the front of his shirt, yanking him close until they're barely an inch apart. "No!" she snarls through clenched teeth. "I am not a monster! I did what I had to do to survive! But just because you can't understand that doesn't make me one!" Her remaining hand balled into a fist at her side, the pain and anger burning hot in her chest like lava about to erupt. She wants to hit him; she wants to hurt him as much as he hurts her with his words. But deep down, there's still a part of her that clings desperately to some shred of humanity, some remnant of the girl she

Her eyes narrow at his words, suspicion flashing briefly across her features. Does he really mean that? Or is this just another attempt to manipulate her into feeling better about herself? But then she sees something in his gaze, something familiar and unyielding; the same determination she once knew from back when they were kids. And despite herself, a tiny spark of hope flares up within her chest. "What...what do you mean?" she asks hesitantly, releasing her grip on his shirt. "How can you help me now?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, the doubt still present but retreating under the weight of her curiosity and desire for connection.

Her heart lifts at his words, and a small smile touches her lips for the first time since they began their argument. "Thank you," she whispers, meaning every word. Even if he doesn't quite understand everything she's been through or why it affected her the way it did...having someone by her side means more than she can express. With a shaky breath, she pulls back slightly, giving them both some much-needed space. "I...I don't know what I would have done without you these past few years," she confesses in a quiet voice, her eyes searching his face for any sign of judgment or disbelief. "Even when we were kids, you always knew how to make me smile." A soft laugh escapes her lips as she tilts her head to the side, studying him closely. "I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel like I didn't