27. fireworks

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There's something terrifying about him, about the burning to him. About the way he fights, all screaming and rounded edges.

The sky burns too — with fireworks — and his sunshine disappears into flame.

She doesn't need to ask him why — ask him anything — but he tries to explain anyway, like he's going to fool her. She's not that foolish. She can't be that foolish.

They join up with Pubic Safety soon enough, as she beats a hasty retreat. He's an assassin: cool and clinical; he reaches there before her even as she stumbles through the streets in terror.

She should have guessed with the way his warmth was tempered with intent, even back then. Even at the school.

A wave of anger overwhelms her. She hates being weak, being underestimated.

Her chest aches as she lies collapsed in the rubble, as her chainsaws retract. She gazes fixedly at the unconscious body of the Shark Fiend as she bites into her arm and feels the blood heal her.

Up on her feet, then. Her knees shake. Her legs don't quite feel like legs.

But there are plenty, plenty of bodies to drink from. She has a betrayer to kill.

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