she didn't like shoes.
or maybe she did but she'd grown up without them to the point where she often forgot them. avoiding things that would cut open her feet was an art refined to subconscious level. headphones on, she wandered the darker sections of the city, comfortable and relaxed. less aware than she should be, but her quasi-corporate life had made her soft, something she'd only started to really understand.
she was not afraid of the dark
Harvesters. that was fear
but she was not enhanced enough for their attention. so when they rose like diseased shades behind her, she just tried to keep track of them, without obviously keeping track of them. it was never a good idea to be obvious, even when you were. they were obvious, but when you're an apex predator, you could be obvious.
she was a minnow in this fish tank
and when a steely hand closed over her arm, headphones bursting into agonizing static, she could only stare at her bare feet as their dark robes swallowed her...