As she fell to her death, Chase was surprised to realize she did not have a lot on her mind. Was Melissa C. going to swoop down and catch her again? Was she still just toying with her? It didn't sound or look that way. Chase knew she should have been scared as the cold air whistled around her. She was facing death, after all. But she'd been sparring with this moment her entire life. Facing death, fighting it, flirting with it, was something she'd had to do from a very young age just to survive. She had already come to terms with her own mortality years ago, there was nothing that could rush through her brain now to give her any kind of new revelations. This was going to happen eventually. And if it came at the hands of a worthy foe...she couldn't have any regrets about that.

After she acknowledged this, though, thoughts did come to her. Although putting her fearlessness that way made it sound sort of heroic, wasn't it also abnormal to feel nothing in this scenario? Inhuman? Were Alicia, Caitlin, Lindsey...or even Melissa C. in this situation, surely they would be terrified. This calm, clear acceptance was not something to be celebrated. It was a sign that there was something missing within Chase. For the first time, she felt a negative feeling towards Melissa C., and that feeling was envy. She envied the opportunity Melissa C. had been given, to enjoy an upbringing that afforded her happiness and security, to embrace a sense of unity with her squadmates, to work together with her fellow man and woman rather than fearing or hunting them. Over the past few weeks, Chase had gotten a taste of what these regular girls all had been born into. It was a beautiful thing, to have a safe, normal life. She hoped that when this was all over (and it would be very shortly) Melissa C. could find hers again.

But it did not end there. Rather than hit hard concrete, she was gently caught by a surface that was soft and pliant, similar to a giant trampoline, but more clothlike, almost like canvas.

“Got her!” announced Alicia, sounding relieved. The nail-biting fear they might misjudge the girl's fall had been so intense and overwhelming that the redhead could not immediately do a one-eighty to happiness, so relief would do for the time being.

Chase sat up, hardly believing she was still alive. She was sitting in a large, white rectangle, which Alicia, Maxine, and some other people they'd recruited who hadn't yet evacuated, were holding by its edges. It wasn't until she climbed off and looked at the entire rectangle that she realized what it was: the projection screen.

“I am so gonna get fired for this. So gonna get fired,” bemoaned Maxine.

Alicia dropped her corner of the screen and rushed over to Chase. They hugged. “Chase! I'm so glad that worked!”

“Me too! Thank for catch!” replied Chase, hugging her back.

Alicia separated from her, but kept her hands on Chase's upper arms, as if trying to squeeze the importance of what she was about to say into her. “Listen Chase, we don't have a lot of time. I figured out what you can do to win Melissa C. over! You've told her a million times that you're on her side and you want to help her, but what you have to do now is show her! Demonstrate your good will by saving her from her real enemy!”

Chase saw what she was driving at. As Melissa C. came in for a nearby landing, Chase assured Alicia that this tip was taken well to heart, then turned to face her adversary.

“You have good friends,” said Melissa C., as her feet touched the ground. Her jetpack collapsed into her back once again. “A lot of people willing to put their necks on the line to help you. It's a deadly weapon. I had them too, once. Before you took them.”

“Them you friends, too,” Chase replied. “Leash and Cait and Lin love Mel C. much and want her back on squad.”

They found themselves in front of the concession stand. It threw harsh light, and equally harsh shadows, onto Melissa C.'s face. She gave a bitter laugh. “They're not my friends. By helping you, they turned their backs on me. Everyone did.” Chase expected her to deploy a weapon, but she did not. She wanted Chase, and Alicia, to hear this without distraction. “I don't have a friend in this world. The only person I have left in my corner is Agent Stevens, and he's more like a...a coach. I'd hardly call him a friend.”

“I hard to call him friend too,” agreed Chase. She looked over at him, and recalled Lara and Lawrence's explanation of his plans with a frown. “That man jerk. When you kill me, he give Mel C. to boss feds so they have gun girl tech.”

Melissa C. laughed. “What? You actually expect me to believe that? Chase, honestly. This kind of desperation move is beneath you.”

Determined, Chase continued. “Him not want help Mel C. Just want kill me and help self. Him not care if you go to lab and get un made piece by piece. Him want that, he get praise and more pay from boss.”

The cyborg seemed to at least give it some thought, before she countered. “Why would I ever believe that? It's your word against his, and I wouldn't call you reliable.”

“It's true, Melissa C.,” Alicia piped up. “But you don't have to believe me, either. Ask him yourself.”

They called out to Lara, and she escorted Stevens over to them with his hands over his head and the barrel of a gun in the small of his back. Caitlin and Lawrence came with her, and Lindsey caught up as well.

“Go ahead,” ordered Caitlin. “Tell her your big plans for her.”

Stevens scoffed. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he answered with a smirk.

Lara grabbed one of his wrists, and twisted his arm behind his back. He shrank to one side and yelped. “Tell her. Now.”

“Alright, alright!” he shouted. He looked at his experiment with one eye, the other squeezed shut in pain. “Fine, it's true, alright?”

Melissa C. looked shocked. “What's true?”

He was slow in answering, so Lara twisted his arm further. “Aaah! I was going to hand you over to the government after you killed Chase! I admit it!”

Lara eased up. Melissa C. stood in silence, eyes wide, as these words echoed in her head. Slowly, her face twisted from an expression of shock to one of pain. “You...you asshole,” she said, wounded by understanding. “I trusted you.”

“See, Melissa C.?” asked Caitlin. “All along, he was just using you. He was manipulating you.” She gestured at the chaotic scene around them, the screen, the panicking youths, the smoldering vehicles, the tools strewn around their feet. “This isn't what you want. This is what he wants. He just made you think this is what you want.”

Melissa C. clutched her head again and let out a guttural cry of pain and frustration. “No...no! This is what I want! I want Chase dead!”

Alicia drew close to her and put a hand on her trembling shoulder. “Melissa C., I've been cheerleading with you ever since I was a freshman. You might not believe it, but I know you very well. The real you.” Melissa C. looked at her. “I know that after what you went through, you wouldn't want more violence. All you'd want is your life back. You'd want your mom and dad, you'd want the comfort of your friends. You'd want to put everything behind you. That's how you felt at first, right?”

Melissa C. tried to remember, but it was so hard. “No. I wanted to kill Chase.”

“No, you didn't. I was there,” volunteered Lawrence. “You just wanted to go home. Stevens had to talk you into it. Once he got the ball rolling it was all downhill, and you fell right into it. He got you going on that slippery slope.”

“You not a kill,” added Chase. “I know you not.”

Melissa C.'s eyes flashed, and she swatted the back of her hand against Chase's face. The girl fell to the ground, hard.

“Shut up! Everybody shut up and let me think!” she screamed, her hands returning to her head. “Especially you, Chase! God, why won't you just die?! Why won't you just die and give me peace?! I want this to be over! I want it over I want it to be over I want it over!”

The blow to Chase's jaw and cheekbone was the kind that was hurting more the longer it had to settle in. She'd be sore there for a week or more. But she knew she had no right to take offense to it. She answered the hysterical girl calmly and evenly. “If thought die would help, then Chase would die. Chase do bad thing to good cheer. Turned good cheer into bad thing. Chase care most for cheer, hate much what she did, would give all to end Mel C.'s pain. But die not help. Mel C. want kill, because hunt take mind off pain of what Mel C. lost. But when Chase die, Mel C.'s friends still gone, and so is hunt. All left is hurt.”

Melissa C. took this all in. One of her hands left her head and slowly stuttered into an axe. It looked almost like it was acting on its own, or that Melissa C.'s mind was giving it mixed, fractured messages. Her eyes and facial muscles twitched as well.

When she spoke, her voice was scarred and shackled with barbed wire. Tears of an engineered saline solution trickled down her artificial cheeks. “I don't want to be like this, I don't want to be a killer...but you don't understand, Chase. I'll never be able to forget. I'll never be able to rest until I do this. If you really want to help me, take away what you did. Make it so it never happened! Make me forget! If you can't do that, then shut up!”

Then, she let out a scream of pure pain, so sharp that everyone around nearly felt it too. She fell to her knees and clutched her head as though she wanted to rip it open. She leaned forward so her forehead was practically kissing the concrete. A second scream came forth, this time disintegrating after a couple seconds, into a wash of shrill static feedback.

“M-Melissa C.!” cried Lindsey. She looked at Lawrence. “What's happening to her?!”

“She's losing control! W-we should probably get out of here!” the boy replied, struggling to make himself heard over the horrible, grinding discharge.

“We're not going anywhere!” announced Alicia.

The captain looked like she wanted to rush to her squadmate's side, so Caitlin took her hand. “Don't, Alicia! You might make it worse!”

“But—”

“This is between her and Chase now! Chase has to be the one to help her!”

And then, the noise stopped. Melissa C. sat frozen on the ground for a moment, then slowly rose to her feet.

Her face was dead. Had it lacked the smirking confidence Chase had gotten used to seeing her with, that would have been one thing, but instead it was completely lifeless and still, like a doll's face, or a marble sculpture's.

She walked towards Chase, but her steps were stiff and heavy, with none of her trained cheerleading grace. Her gait had the jankiness and clumsiness of a marionette's. She raised the axe.

“But you don't understand, Chase. But you don't understand, Chase. But you don't understand, Chase,” she said in an empty monotone that sounded like a speak-and-spell after its dog died. “Stand, Chase. Stand, Chase. Stand stand stand stand stand.” She swung the axe at an aghast Chase, who barely recovered her wits in time to dodge. “Really want to help me. Really want to help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me.”

Chase dodged a few more swings, but while she did, she was thinking about what Melissa C. had said. She wanted Chase to take away what had happened. She wanted to forget.

Chase stumbled over something. The chainsaw. She looked around and saw the other tools from the truck scattered at her feet.

Inspiration struck. She snatched up the chainsaw and woke it with one yank of the starter. She deflected Melissa C.'s axe with it, once, then twice. Then, putting all her strength into one mighty overhead swing, she brought the saw right down on the girl's skull.

Blood and sparks flew as Chase carved into her head, teeth fighting metal and winning. Though the onlookers screamed, Melissa C. did not. As the saw dug into her without mercy or hesitation, all she did was look straight ahead at Chase, with dead, soulless eyes.

“Help me,” she said, swinging the axe again. This time, she found her mark. Chase cried out in pain as the weapon dug into her good arm, forcing her to let go of the chainsaw and get out of Melissa C.'s range.

Melissa C. calmly reached up and yanked the chainsaw free with a growl. A huge fissure had opened in her head. Blood pumped out of it as if Chase had struck oil, oozing down her porcelain face. Bathing in gore was her exposed brain. “Help me. Help me.”

She swung, and swung again. Chase dodged, a bit slowly. That hit had seriously thrown off her rhythm. The wound was deep, and she was losing a lot of blood from it. With all the injuries she was picking up, there were going to be a lot of guys talking to her at school the next day.

Already, Melissa C.'s wound was healing. Running out of time, Chase looked around for something else.

At her feet, she spotted something. A tool. A wicked one, an effective one. One that would work.

But could she? Could she really use it? The ruthless convenience of its placement seemed almost like she had no other option. It would work, but it would be...unpleasant. For Melissa C. to experience, and for everyone else to see.

The gash was only about an inch long now. In seconds, it would close completely. No time to hesitate! Just do it!

Chase picked up the welding torch, and jammed the end of it into Melissa C.'s gash, just as bones and skin knitted together around the nozzle.

Distantly, the cyborg looked up at it. The torch was now embedded in her skull. She tugged on it with her free hand, and found she could not dislodge it. “Help me.”

Chase grabbed the torch's handle. Her finger tightened on the trigger. “I am.”

She squeezed.

Six thousand degrees of flame were fired directly into Melissa C.'s brain. She screamed that horrible white noise again and threw herself to the ground. Her eyes rolled back and her body danced with violent spasms, arms and legs thrashing, back arching and twisting. Her body was like a severed high-voltage power cable, whipping and dancing with frenetic, aimless energy. Grey matter was messily liquefied, and along with it, her thoughts, consciousness, identity, emotions, memories and basic functions.

It didn't take long for it to be over. Her body briefly slowed its convulsions, then released one more violent thrash, head rolling from shoulder to shoulder, her entire torso yawning up from the concrete as though her mind was making one last desperate grab for life. And then, finally, she fell limp. Her jaw hung open, flecks of foam staining the sides of her mouth. Arms and legs splayed in random directions. Her eyes were open, staring up at the stars, but there was no sign of life behind them. Chase let go of the trigger. It was over.

“J-jesus, Chase!” cried Lindsey.

“Is she dead?” asked Caitlin, in horror.

Alicia pulled her hand free of Caitlin's and fell at Melissa C.'s side. The body was still twitching slightly as she tried to sit it up, but found it too heavy to lift. “I thought you were going to save her! Oh, Melissa C. Poor Melissa C...”

“She not dead,” said Chase. “Just wait.”

So they waited. Indeed, after a couple minutes, Melissa C. stirred to life. “Wha? What?” She gingerly sat up and looked around, the torch still jutting out of her forehead. “Where am I?”

“Melissa C.!” cheered Alicia, hugging her.

“I-I don't get it! What happened?” asked Caitlin, overwhelmed.

Lawrence rubbed his chin. “Her nanobots must have rebuilt her brain. Of course, there's no rebuilding memories...but I'm guessing that's what Chase was hoping for. Good thinking.”

Melissa C. looked around at them, confused. “Where am I? Who are you people? What's this thing sticking out of my head?”

“Then...she has a clean slate! Everything she went through with Chase is gone!” understood Alicia.

“And everything else,” added Caitlin with uncertainty.

Lindsey smiled and put a hand on Melissa C.'s shoulder. “That's okay! It won't take us long to get her up to speed! Hi there! I'm Lindsey! That's Caitlin, that's Chase, and that's Alicia!”

Melissa C. repeated these names, pointing at each of them in turn. Chase was reminded of the morning she'd woken up in Alicia's room, the first day of her new life. The brunette's face tightened in concentration. “And...who am I?”

“Well, you're Melissa C.!” said Alicia. “You're eighteen, you live here in Sunnycrest with your mom and dad. You go to Sunnycrest High...and we're your best friends! We're all cheerleaders, and you're a cheerleader!”

“Whoa, I am? Nice!” she said, clearly of the opinion that she'd gotten a lucky draw.

While everyone else was celebrating, Agent Stevens was roiling with anger. His plan was falling apart before his eyes. He had to do something.

Lara's eyes were on Melissa C. He rammed an elbow into her stomach and wrangled in her gun, aiming it wildly at Chase. He wasn't going to get away with what he did next, but at least he could take her down with him. “Die, you bitch!”

But before he could pull the trigger, a sound gave them all pause. A low, steady rumble, like rolling thunder. They looked around at the dark, now empty lot, keeping their ears attuned. As the sound grew louder, they realized it was a torrent of stamping hooves. This understanding immediately preceded Victoria's raucous arrival as she chased a stampede of cattle through the Sandman's front gates.

“Gah!” shouted Stevens, as he and the rest of the group were swarmed with panicking bovines. He dropped the gun in his surprise.

“Gh-ghosts! Whole fleet of ghosts!” exclaimed Chase, weaving between the confused animals and pulling her friends to safety.

“Haha, take that! That's what I think of your stupid dance, freaks!” shouted Victoria, cattle prod in hand. She looked around. “Whoa, what happened here?”

Stevens was on the ground, looking through the thunder of hooves and legs for any sign of the dropped gun. Spotting it, he crawled towards it, closed his hand around it, and stood up.

When he rose above the sea of animals, he saw something he did not expect to see.

With every ounce of strength remaining in her ailing arms, Chase had hoisted up a bull, with two large, sharp-looking horns. She was pointing it right at him.

“Eat ghost, asshole.”

She threw the bull like a javelin. It hit him horns-first, stabbing him in the chest and stomach, pinning him against the wall of the concession stand. He had time to croak some venomous last words, but they were accompanied by a vomiting of blood, and to his enemies, they only sounded like gurgles and hacks. The life left his bulging eyes, and he slumped forward over the bull, dead.