The next few minutes were hazy and hard to follow, but Natalie never actually lost consciousness. When they cut into the side of her cheek with a knife, marking a spiraling trail up towards her ear, she could feel it. She felt every moment of it, but she could barely do more than cry in pain and try to crawl away.

Her arms and legs didn't respond to her desperate pleas to move. They were trapped, held down by unseen force. Natalie felt like she'd been reduced to just a quivering voice inside her own skull. She could feel them doing something else to the scar, something to preserve it from the snatches of conversation she caught. She groaned and tried to get away, but they held her down easily.

What about magic? suggested a quiet voice, sifting up to the surface of her brain. Use your magic.

Natalie reached for it, boiling away somewhere in the core of her body. Even if her limbs couldn't do anything, so long as she could still speak she could bring forth that power. She murmured a spell, anything she could do to try and force them away.

A tiny zap was all she managed. Door-guy felt a quick shock as his hand touched her face. He recoiled, but he was back a moment later as if nothing had happened, stopping the flow of blood down her cheek.

The pain and the exhaustion and the haziness were too much. Natalie's eyes slid closed. She couldn't do anything else. Her body refused to respond, and she couldn't muster up the connection to magic she'd relied upon for so long. She was trapped.

Time passed and they seemed to leave her alone. Natalie opened her eyes, trying to figure out where she was. From the light and the color of the walls, she assumed they'd moved her onto one of the mattresses. Door-guy was sitting nearby, and once he noticed she was moving, he hurried to her side.

"Don't move around so much. You got bandages."

Natalie reached up to touch them, and groaned involuntarily at the sharp pain. She recoiled. Door-guy looked uncomfortable.

"Why?" she asked, trying not to cough. She knew a cough would only make her feel so much worse.

"...told you why," he said, looking away.

"I just wanted to go home."

"Couldn't risk you tellin' no one."

Natalie's senses were returning. Door-guy handed her some more of the bread from earlier, which she nibbled her way through. She didn't think for a second that he was a friend though. He was the reason she'd been blindsided.

He's first. You know what to do.

"I could've won," she murmured.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." Natalie's strength was already coming back, but she felt impatient. She felt strange. Weirdly calm, in spite of the pain and the hunger. She started wolfing down the bread heedless of how she felt. She needed energy, and food was energy… in a way. More importantly, she remembered she still had a gemstone in her pocket, in addition to the emerald on the pendant around her neck. They hadn't bothered to take it from her.

She picked up the pendant with one hand, holding onto it tight and feeling out for the energy inside. It had enough. More than enough.

"That's real pretty." He leaned away and grabbed her jacket, handing it over to her. "Sorry."

She shook her head. He winced, but the bandages didn't move. They were strong enough. Natalie pulled the jacket on, warding herself away from the night chill. "I can go now, right?"

"Yeah, but if you want to stay 'til that scabs over, I gotchu. They ain't gonna bust you so hard now that they know you can't go snitch."

Couldn't anyone just go spy on you if they make their own mark, then? This doesn't make sense. None of this place makes any sense. I hate it. Still, Natalie wasn't about to say that out loud. If she pointed out the flawed logic, they might change their mind about letting her go.

"If I go back out the door, what way should I go?"

"Walk the coast and follow that back all the way to downtown. You're tryin' to get back to Tacoma, right?"

She shrugged. South in general was good enough.

"We own the coast, so no one's gonna fuck with you down there." He handed her a glass of water, which she downed gratefully. He hesitated. "So… They're gonna ask you if you want to work for us. Actual enforcement shit."

She didn't respond, biting into another piece of bread with a blank expression.

"Look, it's way better than trickin', and that's where most girls like you end up. I think you could be a warrior. You seem like you could handle it, and no one expects a kid to pull the shit you can pull." He was trying to sound nice. "I mean, blazin' ain't bad work. You get paid, you get girls—or guys, or both, if that's your deal," he added quickly. "Wait, you ain't even old enough to get that, are you? I'm an idiot. You'll love it someday though. Shit, you even get some of the product if you use. So long as you can keep it clean on a run, you do whatever the fuck you want. You get to be a king."

"Queen," she murmured.

"Queen, sure, whatever the fuck you want. British fuckers got a queen right?"

She nodded. She got to her feet, finding it much easier than she expected. The pain on the side of her face didn't subside, but she didn't really want it to. It was a constant reminder for her, keeping her awake. Alert.

Angry.

You're in control now. They don't know it yet, but you do. Do it.

Natalie walked to the door of the room, Door-guy right behind her. She emerged back into the main floor. The fire had barely dipped at all, so very little time had passed. The group was still seated around the fire, though they looked up as she walked forward to the edge of the circle.

Tattoo-face was back on his couch with his companion. His expression was still just as casual and blank as before. "Little bitch tell you what's on offer?"

She nodded. For some reason, she didn't really feel afraid of them anymore. Maybe it was because she'd decided not to hold back, or maybe it was because they'd already shown what they were willing to do. Either way, all the ambiguity was gone. In its place was the beginning of a cascade, like a drum solo that was slowly building up to a fierce crescendo. Natalie had listened to her father play so many of those solos. One day, she'd manage to play along with him. She'd been learning the piano just for that reason.

She'd probably never get the chance now.

"Your call, girl. I don't want a fighter who ain't gonn' show when the time comes. No one can be forced into this shit. Butchu ain't gonna get another offer anywhere else. That mark's permanent. You one of us whether you wanna be or not."

Natalie glanced around. They were all still seated. None of them were prepared. Stutter had lost his gun. The boss still had his, tucked into the apron he still hadn't taken off, but his hand wasn't anywhere near it. Weasel-face was watching her resentfully, and Tattoo-face's companion wasn't paying any attention at all.

"Do you want me to fight?" Natalie asked carefully, feigning being slow from her injuries. She just needed a few more seconds. Just to make sure. Memories of Rachel floated through her mind, shouting at her to defend herself in a street full of fear and rage.

I didn't want to do this. They made me. I didn't have a choice.

"Shit, how hard did you fuckin' hit her?" Tattoo-face asked Door-guy.

They were going to kill you. These guys are going to kill you. If you want to live, you have to fight back.

"It wasn't that hard!"

I don't want to die.

"I'm okay," Natalie said. "I'm thirteen though."

"What?"

You have to kill.

"I'm not eleven years old. I'm thirteen."

Tattoo-face looked confused, as did the rest of them. It didn't matter anymore though. Natalie had more than enough time to finish what she'd started.

She dropped down to one knee. She'd gathered up energy for minutes, everything she could muster, along with the energy in the gemstone she'd pulled out of her jacket pocket. The stone wasn't the right kind for the spell she was about to use, but it was still energy. It disintegrated into dust between her fingers.

She flung out her palm, fingers pointing forward, and shouted the last part in the spell. It tore at her lungs and throat as it came out, leaving her mouth raw, louder than she'd ever shouted before. Her entire body felt it leave in a rush of blood and energy.

A massive lightning blast crackled out, arcing around the room like a snake. It snapped out at the first thing it could latch onto—the metal gun in the boss' apron. The gun was utterly disintegrated. The lightning kept going, rolling through him and arcing around to the next guy.

It leapt around the circle. The boss was flung backward over his chair, skidding across the concrete. Weasel-face took the brunt of the next jump, and collapsed as though he were a puppet with its strings cut. Tattoo-guy's companion was next in line, and fared no better. The couch began to smoke as the lightning arced across it, catching fire an instant later.

Tattoo-guy fell to the ground twitching. Stutter collapsed too, finally, as the lightning burned through the rest of the energy Natalie had given it.

It was enough.

She twisted around, with another quick spell on her lips, and shoved Door-guy away before he could do anything. He flew backward, ten feet head-over-heels, and landed on the mattress in the room they'd just left.

Panting, Natalie started for the heavy steel door in the wall. A bullet slammed out with another earsplitting pop from the gun, embedding into the wall only a few feet in front of her.

"Hey bitch. I ain't done with you."

Tattoo-face was still awake. How? She'd put so much into that lightning blast. It felt just like the ones she'd done back in Rallsburg. Were there just too many people in the way this time? Or was it more than that? Did she have a better energy source back then? Something else to make her lightning so strong?

She didn't have time to figure it out. Tattoo-face must have grabbed the other gun, which hadn't gotten annihilated by the lightning. She slowly turned around to face him, and found herself facing a loaded gun once again. He growled through gritted teeth.

"Don't move, don't say a word. Whatever the fuck you just did, you're gonna tell me how."

How can I do that if I can't say a word? Natalie wondered, but she didn't dare move regardless. No matter how shaky his aim might be, it was still close enough that she didn't want to risk it. She was staring down the barrel of the pistol, and it was one of the most terrifying things she'd ever seen. Even more than the golems, or the mob of angry men in Rallsburg.

This was a real gun, something that could kill her in an instant if his finger twitched just slightly. Her dad had taught her about guns, and instilled a healthy fear. A gun didn't feel anything. It didn't know anything. It just killed.

"Check 'em," he shouted at Door-guy, who was finally recovering from the punch Natalie had thrown. He limped around the circle, checking for a pulse on each of them.

"Dead. Every fuckin' one."

"All of 'em?" Tattoo-face asked, surprised. Natalie was too. She was pretty sure Stutter had still been alive. Apparently not. And soon I won't be either. It's over.

"All of 'em. Straight dead or choked dead, I dunno shit. I'm not a doctor. But none of 'em got a pulse."

Don't give up. Fight.

Tattoo-face whistled slightly. "Damn."

Natalie didn't know what to say, so she said nothing at all. She just kept watching the gun barrel, too afraid to let it out of her gaze. I'm going to die here. He's going to kill me. I tried everything I could and none of it worked. I had to hurt people again and it was for nothing.

I'm going to die.

Tattoo-face shook his head slightly. "You're a cold-ass brat, ain't you? Kill four guys and not a fuckin' word."

"I just wanted to go home. I didn't want to hurt anyone," Natalie said, feeling despair flowing through her brain like an empty wave. "You guys wouldn't let me."

"How'd you do it?"

"I—"

Natalie didn't have to answer. Out of nowhere, a gray-robed figure appeared behind Tattoo-face, standing on a chair.

A knife flashed straight to his throat, slicing him wide open. As he fell, the gun flew from his hand on its own and landed in the figure's palm. In an instant, before Natalie could react, the figure twisted around and fired two clean shots into Door-guy's chest.

They both collapsed. The gunshots rang in her ears. Natalie slowly lifted her eyes, after looking away from the sudden gunshots, and there—finally—stood Cinza. Brown-haired and with a streak of blood on her hand, but still… she'd come for Natalie.

A moment later, Cinza's legs buckled. She nearly fell off the chair, only barely catching herself.

Natalie ran to her, putting out the slowly growing fire on the couch as she did, before it started to spread to the whole building. Cinza dropped the gun to the ground, panting heavily.

"Hello," she gasped in her echoing voice. "I'm… sorry… I took so long."