She smelled like a storm on a summer afternoon. Even with the blood in my mouth— even with the jagged things that used to be ribs tearing me up inside— even with the world so far below the both of us… I couldn’t miss the smell.

It was beautiful.

It made me long for a home I’d never known.

“You insignificant flea,” she spat at me, and even now, close as we were— mere inches between us— I couldn’t look at her face. Something to do with her powers, Ophelia had said. More bullshit with energy fields, I don’t fucking know. But every time I tried to meet her eyes, just so that I could… I don’t know, at least glare defiantly at her while she killed my battered, broken ass— I found my gaze pushed away from her.

I knew the tight purple bodysuit, textured like riveted steel. I knew the severe dark gloves, and the long, tattered black trench coat. The silver lightning bolts across her chest.

But no. Even as she ended me, I wouldn’t know her face.

“You little shit-stain. You meddling, brain-dead, busted-up little toy.”

The rage from her would burn us both.

I tried to speak. Against the wind, against the pain.

“I’m not…”

I swallowed. Something went with it. A tooth? Part of my tongue?

I tried again.

“I’m… not gonna… let you… win…”

But she was shaking her head.

“There’s no hope for them, or for you,” she said. “And I don’t care how many times I have to kill you to make you understand that.”

I had no idea what that meant. More super villain bullshit, probably.

In any case. She dropped me, then.

Only for a moment. But I felt my heart just about explode. I tried to hold the terror at bay, but you can only be so brave when you’re being held hostage up in God’s own personal nosebleed section.

She snatched my wrist as I fell, stopping me short. My arm wrenched, hard. I’m not proud of the sound that came out of me then. But I didn’t stand a chance by now. She’d left gentle behind several internal injuries ago.

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I tried, once more, to summon the sword with my free hand, but it was no use. I was fucking spent.

Ebony Raid flew us higher still, and the lights from the city below became memories.

I wasn’t even sure how I was still conscious as the air continued to thin. Was she about to hurl me into space? Was that it? Jesus Christ, I used to have nightmares about that shit when I was a little kid.

I made the mistake of trying to tell Dad about them, once.

I won’t beg, I promised myself, as she dangled me out by my wrist. No matter what, I will not fucking beg.

“Did you think that… what, because you kicked the shit outta Breaker, that meant you could step to me? Take what’s mine? I don’t fucking think so.”

She spun in the air, taking me with her. Once— twice— three times, always climbing higher with each of our loops. Dragging me through heaven, like a rage-fueled cat with a mouse, skewered on the end of its claws, refusing to acknowledge its own doom.

“This time,” she said, “you’re going to fucking stay dead. You’re never coming back. This is mine. All of it. You can’t have it, do you understand me?”

“Not really,” I gasped out, feeling more pieces shift inside of me as I spoke.

Don’t think she heard me, really. Or at least she really didn’t give a damn.

The lightning raced from her, surging straight into me. Through me. I was all-too familiar with its touch by now… after the last twenty-five minutes of humiliation, of… agony.

I was so badly hurt that I smelled my own burning flesh and hair, long before I felt any fresh sort of pain. Felt my blood boiling, felt my cells frying inside of me. Everything went dark as pitch, and I think my eyes might’ve been gone. Or at least so fucked up that it was a distinction without a difference.

How was I even conscious for all this shit? What sort of psychopath made up the rules for this world? This was fucked.

“Make yourself useful,” Ebony Raid said. “Won’t you fucking die for me?”

And with that, she let me go.

I tumbled through the air. I couldn’t see anything still. I could only feel the air rushing past.

Jesus fuck, this was it. Game fucking over. It was fun while it lasted, I guess. Just… really didn’t think this was how my second chance was going to turn out.

I don’t even think I necessarily expected to survive, in the end. That would’ve been a fucking miracle. But I thought I’d hold out at least more than just a few days. I mean, fuck me, man… what was even the point of the armor? The sword? The powers?

I’d thought I knew what I was supposed to do, soon as I got here.

I thought that for once in my miserable life, I’d be able to do what I knew was right.

Instead, here I fucking was… blind, broken, just waiting to hit the ground and become a dark-clad mistake on the surface of a strange place.

I told that kid… Riley… that I’d come see her drawing when it was done.

I told Zack that it was gonna be okay. We only just met, but man, I really liked that dude.

Sorry, Zack. Didn’t mean to lie to you.

Ophelia would be doing all sorts of disapproving glaring, once they scraped up enough of me to give her the news. She’d never understand what the fuck was really going on, would she? But I wonder if, underneath that cold exterior… would she miss me?

No. Of course not.

Nobody would.

They’d miss someone who wasn’t me. Not really.

For once in my life, I tried to step up. Tried to play the hero. Like I’d always wanted to.

And then… well.

All I got for my trouble was a few short-lived hopes and a long way d—