The pavilion erupted. In sixteen years—hell, in her whole life—Besca had never heard so much noise from so few people. They cheered louder than the Helburkans’ dirge, louder, it felt, than the roar of [i]Ablaze[/i]’s cannon. It was hard to tell how much of it was her own, but Besca was absolutely certain her throat would be raw tomorrow. In her ear, she heard Dahlia squeal and burst into sobs of joy, and god if it wasn’t the second time in too-fucking-soon that she didn’t have to fight back her own tears. 

It was over. It was over, Quinn had won. She’d beaten an animal like Roaki Tormont, and in [i]stunning[/i] time. 

She’d survived. 

She’d—

“[i][color=ffe63d]Disconnect! [b]Disconnect[/b]! Or I take the arm too![/color][/i]”

She hadn’t—

“[color=gray]Quinn![/color]” Besca shouted. She hadn’t noticed how the people around her had fallen almost instantly silent as they all saw what was happening. Saw that it wasn’t over. “[color=gray]Quinn you have to—that’s not how it works. You have to…[/color]”

“[color=black]KILL.[/color]” This was not a word between breathes, a ripple at the bottom of her mind. This was a voice in Quinn’s ears, as real as the screams it overshadowed. “[color=black]KILL HER. YOU WON. KILL HER.[/color]”

Beneath her, [i]Blotklau[/i] thrashed and low, warbling groans dribbled from its mouth. Roaki’s screams wavered between pure, hellborne rage and broken, agonized sobbing. The hand of her ruined arm clutched impotently at the earth, unable to do anything more than drag ditches into dirt and stone. She arched against the foot on her back, trying to turn herself over, but Quinn had her pinned at the elbow by her cannon. White hot fire and burning exhaust seared the flesh where it touched, digging deep, closer and closer to bone each moment. 

“[color=ec008c][i]I—I’ll…[/i][/color]” neural static fuzzed Roaki’s words, but they were choked nearly beyond intelligibility anyway. “[color=ec008c][i]No! N-no! Wuh…ghah…won’t…not…[/i][/color]”

The harder Quinn pushed, the harder [i]Blotklau[/i] pushed back. The popping, the sizzling of ichor, hollow snapping of great bones and the [i]tearing[/i] of colossal tendons. Roaki’s enraged pain took on a panicked edge as the inevitable grew closer, and faster than even Quinn could realize. 

“[color=ec008c]I’ll…[i]kill[/i]…you![/color]”

A final shriek overtook the awful sound of Roaki’s arm ripping apart at the elbow, raw, furious, as [i]Blotklau[/i] torqued around, propped up on the shattered bones of her other arm, and lunged at [i]Ablaze[/i]’s face, razor maw gaping and ready to clamp shut on her neck. But even with the element of surprise it wasn’t enough. She barely made it as high as her chest, snapping uselessly at nothing. 

The air in Roaki’s lungs wore out. [i]Blotklau[/i] shuddered, her head twitched, and then she fell back limp on to the dirt. The red lights of her eyes dimmed. Over the comms there was a soft, pitiful wail, and the sound of someone tumbling out of their chair. Then quiet. 

“[color=black]FINISH. IT.[/color]” 

A shiver passed through Quinn’s body. Not her Savior, but [i]hers[/i]. For the briefest of moments she was two beings, and that shroud that had wrapped her, protected her from the pain, now constricted her. It was almost like she was back in those early dreams, a passenger in her own body, only the driver couldn’t quite move it. She could feel [i]Ablaze[/i] twitching, see herself repositioning the cannon over [i]Blotklau[/i]’s head. She could still do it. It wouldn’t be hard, we could do it together. We can. We can [color=black]kill[/color] her Quinn, it’s what she deserves. [color=black]We hate her[/color], don’t we? [color=black]Helburke [i]dog[/i]. Monster. [i]Taker[/i]. She deserves it.[/color]

[color=black]PULL. THE. TRIGGER. NOW.[/color]