Pandemonium.

It was as if everything was happening in slow motion for Kassandra. Screaming, swimming, panic. She looked at it, what she’d caused, and still felt that raw, open wound inside her screaming for attention. Everyone always expected her to be a monster. So who was she to say differently?

Distantly, she saw a figure approaching. She turned, and Victor’s fist went past her face easily, bubbles flying. It was clear he couldn’t see or hear right. 

Unfortunately for him, she [i]could[/i].

She grabbed his wrist, hard. Then she shoved him in the chest, and as she did, she let her out-of-control illusions wash over him. The distortion around her lessened. But not for Victor. 

With a blank stare, she simply activated his sense of touch.

[i]All[/i] of it.

It would be mild at first, but soon would become overwhelming. Crippling.

[b]Pain.[/b]

If he wanted to treat her as a threat (and why wouldn’t he) then she would respond in kind.

That’s what monsters did, didn’t they?

Why had she even bothered to pretend to be a hero in the first place?

This was all she'd ever be seen as.