Victoria didn't have time to stop and make sure her demeanor was prim and proper enough to suit her commanding officer. If he wanted all to get all riled up because her words were a bit brusque and her actions seemingly callous that was on him. She had grown up surrounded by the rats and had learned from them. They were vicious little pests, hated by all and living in a world that wanted to be rid of them, but they didn't care. The rats were the perfect survivors, capable of digging through garbage to find food and tunneling through rotting wood structures to make homes for their babies. They made nests of filth to hide from the monstrous cats that hunted them every step of the way. A species hated by civilized society, they grew their claws long and their teeth sharp to rip apart and devour their enemies. The young girl could remember hearing stories about how smugglers and bandits would tie someone up and press a metal bucket with a rat inside to the victim's belly. The bottom of the bucket was heated with a torch of some kind and the rat would panicked, tearing through the unfortunate soul's guts without a care for their well-being.

It was a philosophy she respected. There was nothing Victoria wanted more than to see that her daughter and her comrades were safe. She had only known Diana for a night but already her heart swelled at the thought of her. Luke was an arrogant piece of shit with seemingly few redeeming qualities, but she had been the exact same way at that stage in her life. She wanted to ensure that Diana found someone to care for her and that Luke managed to get a hold of his actions before retiring to raise her baby. But when in danger or under fire she couldn't afford to think about anyone else but herself. The rats knew that, always the first ones out of burning buildings or sinking ships. Civilized people would stay to assist others. But Victoria was a long way from civilization. If the splintered spires that towered above grew fractured, and the city became their jungle, then it was furthest from civilization where the rules did not apply. Here, it was the rats who prevailed. Focusing on what others thought of her would just get her killed. If she died she wouldn't be able to care for anyone. So Victoria did what she best, squashing all the fear and worry she was feeling down into the depths of her souls as she shouted and kicked in doors. The frightened, hunched over young mother who had crossed the world to feed her daughter was replaced by a snarling beast who stood ramrod straight, towering over friend and foe alike as she prepared for blood. 

The monster bared her teeth in a horrible smile, the expressionless skull of a mask hiding the way her scarred face expressed hatred of her fellow man. Victoria wanted to curl up into in a little ball in the corner and cry, but Victoria had been replaced by something else. A creature devoted only to survival, tearing its way through anyone and anything in her way: a rat. The rat was only calling for everyone to flee because if most of her allies survived it would benefit it here later. Rats traveled in packs after all. Her boots stomped heavily against the squeaky wooden stairs, butt of her carbine scraping away grime from the walls as she affixed her bayonet and checked her bandoleers. She had her ammo and grenades, what else could she possibly require? The blade was sharp and clean, readied to bloodied. She had enough ammunition to hold off a brigade, and enough ragnite packed into her bombs to take herself out if the Imperial bastards surrounded her. She knew what young men and women with adrenaline coursing through their veins were capable of doing to their foes, had seen it back home. Beaten and raped like a bitch in head surrounded by starving wolves? Not her. She would die and take the fuckers with her before that happened.

She could hear horrible choked, gurgling as she walked down the rickety stairs into the mouth of hell. People were dying, the cute little barmaid she had hit on the previous night bleeding from her mouth and nose as vomit pooled between her lips. The wretched girl was dead, no doubt about it. The Rat didn't waste a bullet, instead creeping along the wall through the vision obscuring gas. She could only seen vague blurs of movement outside the windows, ghostly figures running and shouting and shooting and dying. She couldn't tell if they were friend or foe or even just civilians caught in the carnage, so she ignored them. No reason to interfere with her fellow rats scrambling for survival. 

And then suddenly one of the other vermin charged her, an Imperial rat with blood caked and cracked lips howling in violent desperation. The Oceanic digger was knocked to the floor by the sudden burst of power, her enemy no doubt fueled by a dying frenzy. They fell in a tangle of limbs, grasping for blades and triggers that were knocked away by the ball of snarling hatred. Her carbine ripped from her hands the female rat could only swat away the male's grasping claws that scratched and tore at the straps of her mask. [color=green]"Give it to me!"[/color] the poor bastard screamed, his voice hoarse from the gas. [color=green]"I need your mask!"[/color] Had Victoria been the one the one in charge she might have covered his face wither her coat and tried to lead him to safety. This was a war sure, but no one deserved to die like that. But Victoria wasn't in charge anymore. The Rat was.

[color=#4F97A3]"Fuck off."[/color] she snarled, growling the cold command as she seized his searching hands. A couple of quick twists and his pinky and ring fingers were shattered. The Imperial screamed like a stuck pig as he was bucked off, the feral rodent scrambling to her feet and scooping up her gun. Her opponent wrapped his his arms around her legs and tried to bite her, earning himself a swift stomp to the side of his face. The Rat tore her leg free and raised the butt of her rifle into the air. The Imperial knew what was coming and raised his arms to shield himself but it did nothing. The heavy wood club was brought down his skull, splitting it with a splatter of blood. The Rat lifted her weapon again as she began to repeat the process, obliterating the man's ribs and face as she swung and swung. Each swing was followed by an even harder one, her blue uniform getting splattered with warm sprays of blood and shards of bone. She screamed as she erased another living, thinking individual from the world, a single draw out war-cry that dared anyone stupid enough to challenge her to step forward and meet their end in the same unglamourous way as the dead man who was pressed into the floor.

[b]POTENTIAL ACTIVATED: BERSERK[/b]

Eventually she stopped. It had felt good to get into another fight, to be able to empty all that pent up tension and convert it into the power to kill, but she couldn't stick around. The Rat masquerading as Victoria White quickly made her way to the group of her allies outside, picking away a stray tooth that had lodged itself in her rifle butt. [color=#4F97A3]"Who else is left?"[/color] she asked taking a step towards Diana as if to protect her from the monsters closing in on all sides. A hand scooped her rabbit felt hat off her head and tried to ineffectually brush away the mess coating the cape wrapped around her front.