“No!” cried Melissa C., shoving her away. “How is this possible? I...At Clark's, they wrote my name down! They said they wouldn't sell this dress to anybody else! They said this was m-m-m-mine!” She looked close to tears.

Finding a way around that had been a simple matter, of course. All they had to do was break into Clark's after closing time, look through their database, and then steal the dress they found was sold to Melissa C. Once Lindsey had this dress, she gifted the strapless, mermaid one she'd originally picked out to Chase.

“Haha, hey, look at that! Melissa C.'s wearing the same dress as Lindsey! Doesn't she look cute?” asked Caitlin, delivering a rehearsed line. “She must be a big fan of hers to copy her like that! I had no idea!”

“No! I'm not! This is my dress! It was mine first!” shouted Melissa C., horrified.

“It'd take a lot of courage to show up in that, especially since Lindsey's wearing it so much better,” recited Lawrence.

Melissa C. glared at Lindsey, took a moment to size her up, then moved on to Lawrence. “She is not, you dorky little bitch! I'm wearing it better! I look classy and dignified! She's never looked classy and dignified in her life!”

Lindsey ignored this insult and put a hand to her heart, as though deeply moved. “Wow, Melissa C. I'm really flattered that you like my style so much you'd want to imitate it. From a junior to a senior, I really look up to you and respect you, so I take that as quite a compliment. For the record, I think you're wearing it just as good as me. It doesn't matter if I'm the original one. The point is, you look wonderful.”

“Alright, that's it,” said Melissa C., turning her gun on her. “You are so dead.”

This was the cue for Lindsey to scream and run away. Melissa C. took pursuit, all thoughts of Chase and Lawrence forgotten, completely blinded by the rage she felt at seeing another girl wearing the same dress. She was still at least partly human, after all.

The console beeped, and a light on it turned green. “Looks like we're ready!” said Lawrence. A few keystrokes later, his finger aimed for the enter key. “Here goes nothing!”

These words ended up being more prophetic than intended. As his finger dove hungrily to the Enter key like a bird of prey, a sledgehammer stole his kill. The machine was destroyed with one massive strike.

“Aaah!” shouted Lawrence, jumping back as he was pelted with glass shards and fractured plastic. Caitlin froze in horror. Holding the sledgehammer was Agent Stevens.

“I hope you kids didn't really think it'd be that easy,” he scolded.

“A-A-Agent Stevens! What are you doing here?!” yelped Lawrence.

Stevens laughed. He tossed aside the weathered sledgehammer he'd salvaged from the overturned truck. “Tonight is critical, Lawrence. Critical for Melissa C., but more importantly, critical for me. There's no way I'd just kick back at home without being present to ensure everything went smoothly.”

He raised his voice at the cyborg. “Oh, Melissa?” She looked at him from across the across the parking lot. She had chased Lindsey up a light post and had been debating what would be the bloodiest way to get her down. “Don't let them distract you. Your prey here is Chase, remember?”

Melissa C. did remember. Slightly embarrassed, she scanned the parking lot for her adversary. With the crowd almost completely thinned out, a quick glance was all that was necessary. Chase was a couple feet away, helping an unconscious Torey out of the driver's seat.

With a loud 'thoom,' Melissa C. lobbed another bomb at them. Chase threw Torey to the ground and herself on top of him, shielding him from a blast which reduced what was left of the limo to scrap metal.

The area was clouded with smoke. Knowing her enemy was coming, even if she couldn't see her, Chase wearily rose to her feet and picked up her chainsaw. Melissa C. cut through the shroud with her axe, and the fight continued.

Caitlin put her hands on her head in panic. “Oh no, oh no! The plan's ruined! What can we do?!”

“You've already done more than enough,” said Stevens. “I'm curious, how did Lawrence escape, anyway? Was it you and your little friends?”

“N-n-n-no.”

Stevens narrowed his eyes at her, then shrugged, unholstered his gun, and pointed it at the boy. “No matter.”

“H-h-h-holy crap!” Caitlin cried, at the sight of the firearm.

Stevens continued, “I'm sorry, Lawrence, but you're too much of a liability to keep around. You know too much, and you've proven to me that you are not interested in using that knowledge to the ends I desire. I won't feel secure with this plan as long as you're still around to throw the occasionally literal wrench into things.”

Lawrence was shocked. “W-wait! Hold on, you can't! Y-y-you still need me! You can't shut down Melissa C. without me! She's not going to just go to into captivity quietly, you know!”

“I'll cross that bridge when I come to it,” the fed replied.

Caitlin stepped forward. “No, you won't!” she countered. She was not sure where this courage was coming from. But seeing him pointing a gun at a high schooler, knowing his plans for Melissa C., and of course, thinking of what he did to her mom...suddenly, she had no room in her heart for fear or doubt. All she could feel towards him was anger. “I won't let you!”

Agent Stevens smirked. “Well! Look at you. You're Caitlin Boyd, aren't you? Trying to be tough like mommy?” He shook his head, gun not moving. “Unfortunately, I'm calling your bluff. You don't have the guts to—” She punched him in the nose.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The man faltered. He took a step back and lowered his gun, his free hand flying to his nose. “Ow! Jeez, what the hell?”

Caitlin rounded on the boy. “Go on, Lawrence! Run, get out of here! He doesn't want me—”

Her voice was choked off by an arm wrapping around her neck. Stevens had recovered fast, and wrangled her in a headlock. Caitlin's eyes widened in fear and her hands flew to his arm. Moving it was impossible. “On the contrary,” he said, putting the gun to her head. She tried to voice a scream, but her throat was completely walled off. “I think I'll just kill both of you now. Dumb move, kid. Dumb move.”

But any cockiness he felt disappeared when he heard a click behind him. “That's enough,” said Lara.

He could sense the gun without having to see it or even having to feel it pressing against his skull. Though it was a few feet away, its coldness, its hardness, were nearly tactile, and when the policewoman spoke, her voice had the same properties. “Get your hands off my daughter, Agent Stevens.”

…

The axe sliced a vertical gash through the night, another wound to an evening that had already been mutilated beyond recognition. With the crook of the chainsaw's handle, Chase caught it. Chase shoved Melissa C. away and slashed the chainsaw low. With a buzzing shower of sparks and blood, she severed Melissa C.'s right leg, just above the knee.

The limb plopped to the cement, oozing blood, and the rest of Melissa C. followed it, unable to keep her balance. She landed on her stomach, and a mild sense of concern came over her. The leg would grow back, but she didn't heal these things instantly. She wouldn't be able to stand and fight for another couple of minutes, and that would give Chase ample time to damage her further.

Once she had time to think about this, she felt angry. This was supposed to be easy. She was a high-tech fighting machine, a walking arsenal. And yet this backwoods redneck was still able to get the better of her? No. Not happening.

“I'm done screwing around with you,” she told Chase. “I'm done letting you think you have a chance. It's time for you to die.”

She sat up, grabbed Chase around the legs, and activated her jetpack. With a sear of heat and a flash of light, the two girls rocketed into the air, Chase's stomach lurching as she was once again dragged into the deadly sky.

Alicia, who had been helping to evacuate the drive-in, spotted a light rising against the black sky. Neck craning, she gasped and pointed. “Look!”

Maxine did not feel like looking at anything. She was still trying to come to terms with the fact that she had seen a cyborg and a chainsaw-wielding cheerleader come smashing into her familiar workplace. Alicia, of course, wasn't surprised at all, and did her best to calmly and rationally explain the situation, but having things explained to her by a cheerleader sort of rubbed her the wrong way, hampering Maxine's capacity for understanding and replacing it with obstinate defensiveness.

“What is it now?” she snapped, looking at the light.

“That's Chase!” cried Alicia.

Maxine watched the light rise higher and higher. “I knew that.”

“I already told you, but just as a reminder, Melissa C. can fly. She's the one who Chase is fighting,” explained Alicia. “That's her, and she's carrying Chase!”

“I would have figured that out without you,” Maxine stubbornly replied.

Alicia turned to Maxine. “She's probably going to drop her! We have to do something!” Something came to her. “I've got a plan! Come on, let's go!”

Maxine raised her hands in front of her. “W-wait, wait. We? I don't know if I want to get involved in a fight between those two! I mean, there's not a lot I'm afraid of, but that one girl had a grenade launcher in her arm!”

“Look, Maxine, I know you're not a fan of Chase. I know she's a cheerleader and she went on a date with Torey, who you're madly in love with—”

“Um, no. No. Where the hell did that come from?” asked Maxine.

“...But she's my friend! Please, help me save her!”

Maxine saw the pleading look in the girl's eyes, and felt the same sense of earnestness that she'd gotten from her speech earlier. She frowned and looked away. “Why do you need my help, anyway?”

Alicia told her the plan. Maxine was struck aghast. “Y-you can't be serious! I can't do that. I'd get fired!”

The clock was ticking. Alicia clasped her hands together imploringly. “Your boss will understand! Please, Maxine? Please?”

Maxine looked up again at the tiny speck of light, rising higher and higher among the stars. No matter how she tried to work around it, there was really only one answer she could give. “Fine, fine. If you're gonna cry about it.”

Meanwhile, Melissa C. slowed her ascent. “I think this is probably high enough.”

Chase looked down. She could see the entire drive-in, and could still make out people scrambling around below, although they were too far away for her to parse their identities. She was not holding a weapon, and she did not have a backpack to draw one from. “High for what?”

“High enough that when I drop you, there's no way you'll possibly survive,” answered Melissa C. “Like I said, I'm done playing with my food. It was fun, and you put up a good fight, but now it's time for me to go in for the kill. I don't expect you'll be begging me for your life, but if you feel like it, don't hold back. I think I'd really enjoy hearing that.”

She paused to give Chase the opportunity. Chase did not take it. “Mhmm. Not going to give me an inch, all the way to the bitter end, are you?” asked Melissa C. She turned Chase upside down, holding her by her ankle. The girl nearly cried out in terror, but did not. “I find your strength of will infuriating. What am I doing wrong? Maybe I should start ripping your limbs off, one by one...”

This thought did not make Melissa C. happy. Instead, it made her angrier. “But you didn't have to do that to me, Chase! When you had me in that cabin, you didn't have to rip MY limbs off to break me! You didn't even have to touch me! Are you really that much stronger than me? Am I that mentally weak?”

Chase finally answered. “Not weak, Mel C. Just pure. Chase see much fight and kill. To face Mel C., brain is used to tough foe. Mel C. brain not used to pain and fear. So it hurt worse when pain and fear come.”

Melissa C.'s silence was uncertain. Chase continued. “Me not more strong. You just more good. Too good for kill.”

For some reason, Melissa C. felt a pain in her chest at those last words, a great sense of loss. She was good? This person, her enemy, thought she was good? Pure and good? There was no way that was true, not anymore.

But before she turned into...whatever she was, was she pure? Before any of this happened, was she good? And if she were...could she be that again?

Then, a familiar sickness reclaimed her thoughts. Her heart chilled and her eyes darkened. “Fuck you, bitch. Good or bad, strong or weak, I don't care. The better of the two of us will be decided by who lives longer. In the end, that's all that matters. And as you're about to find out, it's going to be me. Goodbye.”

She let go. And Chase began to fall.