Clementine sat in the back of the van, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she clutched her injured arm, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins like wildfire. The dull ache in her shoulder was drowned out by the rush of chaos and the roar of the engine as they sped away from the scene of the altercation. Her eyes darted around the interior of the van, taking in the blur of motion as Noa navigated the crowded streets with practised ease.

But amidst the chaos, there was a nagging sense of unease gnawing at Clementine's insides, a whisper of doubt that lingered in the recesses of her mind. She couldn't shake the image of the woman whose hands she had burned, the smell of burning flesh and the sound of her agonized screams echoing in her ears like a haunting refrain.

For years, Clementine had grappled with the weight of her plasma powers, the flickers of flame dancing along her fingertips serving as a stark reminder of the danger lurking within her. But never before had she unleashed such a force of her abilities with such ferocity, the searing heat of her plasma engulfing her enemy's hands in a blaze of incandescent fury.

[I]"How you doin', Tangerine? You still think it's a good idea to live my lifestyle?"[/i].

There was no reaction from Clementine, her eyes, focusing on a singular point in front of her, nostrils rapidly expanding and contracting to match with her breathing.

The realization of what she had done hit Clementine like a ton of bricks, sending a shiver of revulsion coursing down her spine. She had always known that her powers were dangerous, but the extent of their destructive potential had never been made so painfully clear until now. The fact that she had been able to inflict such horrific injuries in a matter of seconds was a sobering reminder of the darkness that lay within her.

As the van rumbled on, Clementine's thoughts swirled with a maelstrom of confusion and fear. She had never wanted to hurt anyone, let alone maim them in such a gruesome manner. The guilt weighed heavily on her conscience, a heavy burden that threatened to crush her beneath its weight.

And yet, amidst the turmoil of her emotions, there was a spark of something else—a flicker of defiance that refused to be extinguished. Despite the horror of what she had done, there was a small part of Clementine that felt a twisted sense of satisfaction, a primal thrill at the display of power she had unleashed. And honestly? She wasn't sure if she was more afraid of the potential or that primal thrill she felt.

Clementine hadn't even noticed tears slowly slithering down her cheeks as her mind had trouble warping around with what she had done to that woman who grabbed her. The red-haired girl hadn't even noticed much of the sleeves of her oversized coat had burned much of the lower part off, giving them a ruined look.