Avery turns around, facing toward Flynt. He motions with his hand toward the vacant, quiet hall behind them. Avery half-smiles at him, striding past him, and setting foot into the hall, looking back toward Flynt.

“It’s almost over.”

Avery paces toward the stairs from which she came, stepping over the bodies of fallen men spread throughout the hall, a path of destruction. Lamps and vases lie shattered over the top of several men. A man lies on the floor, strangled by a live wire dangling from the ceiling as if it were an anaconda. Avery glances around, for once bearing a melancholy expression on her face. She continues toward the narrow stairway.

“I didn’t know you could do all this.”

Flynt creeps around the hall all the same. As he passes over one man, he snatches a pen from out of his pocket.

Avery lets out a half-hearted chuckle as she scuttles down the steps. She tears around the corner at the bottom of the staircase, avoiding the bodies littering the halls: one lie crushed against a wall, while another lie burnt overtop the stove. A man crawls over the short pile gathered upon the base of the manor, pulling his way toward the back of the house, the man Avery encountered at the top of the stairs. He jitters as Flynt and Avery make their way past him. They walk through an undisturbed, fanciful kitchen before stepping outside through the back door. In the distance, the sizable plot of land upon which the house rests eases back into a colony of skyscrapers. Among them, one stands far greater than the rest, so well kept it has an aura of perfection to it.

“Do you ever get this feeling like we’re in the wrong? Like… maybe all this awful shit is for nothing?”

“Not anymore.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter what happens now, in a good way.”

“How the fuck is that a good thing?”

“I tried something new, and it didn’t really work. At least, not in the way I meant.”

They tread further through the well kept plot surrounding the manor, approaching the edge where the lawn meets concrete. A subtle grin spots Avery’s face before fading away as they set foot back into the greater city. Avery charges down the city block, toward that most well kept building, around which pedestrians veer away. As the two storm down the sidewalk, the dense populace, once overpopulating the streets, avoids them. The white noise of the city drowns itself out under the rising pressure as Avery makes her way toward the tower. Her strides grow faster as she sinks in patience, and she grinds to a halt just in front of the building. The sky grows darker. The bustle of citizens roaming the metropolitan streets is all but gone around the building. Avery turns around for a moment, looking toward Flynt, standing still not far behind her. She looks back. On a bench, just by the front doors of the complex, Muriel sits, kicking her feet back and forth.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Fuck you.”

“That wasn’t very nice.”

Avery’s expression remains blank.

“Well, I just wanted to warn you guys real quick. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Avery glances around, while Flynt maintains his unbroken gaze toward Muriel. The sky falls into a darker and darker abyss.

“That’s half of what I’m talking about. I guess Jack’s about to show up.”

“Jack?!”

Muriel smiles.

“I really am rooting for you guys. I’d never betray my loyalties, but that doesn’t mean I want to see you fail.”

Avery adjusts the collar of her shirt. The air develops an insurmountable pressure on it. Avery darts her head back toward the bench. Muriel is gone. Squinting, Avery scuttles toward the door, throwing it open, waiting for Flynt to run through, and slamming it shut behind them. Avery turns around, face to face with a fanciful lobby, decorated on all sides with ornate symbols of wealth, a neat tiled floor, and a chandelier at the forefront of the room. Across that very room, a beaked woman stands, staring toward Avery. Braellyn steps forward, her brow furrowed. Unlike before, her jaw has fallen back into place, and she carries herself less like a rabid animal. Braellyn stops and stares at the two, not saying a word. Avery puts on a smirk.

“Hey… Braellyn. We’re off to kill Deagon’s boss. So, it would be nice if you’d come with us.”

Braellyn creeps toward Avery with a blank expression on her face, stopping just before her, her beak contacting Avery’s shoulder. Flynt turns around, makes his way toward the side of the lobby, and takes a seat in one of the many chairs, staring at the two of them. In an instant, Braellyn raises her arm to the side, swiping it across her, flinging Avery through a nearby collection of chairs. Avery lies on her back, on the ground for a moment. A thin stream of blood seeps out of her ear. As she stands up, Braellyn sprints toward her, her beak agape and the blood vessels in her eyes popping out.

“You!”

Avery hops up onto her feet, weaving backwards as Braellyn swipes at her. She swipes again, and again, picking up speed. In doing so, Avery weaves about rhythmically. After a short while, Avery backs up against a wall. Braellyn stops before her, the intensity on her face growing. She stuffs her hand into her pocket and tears out a switchblade. In that same motion, she jams it into Avery’s stomach. Avery stands still against the wall. A thin stream of blood descends the length of the blade, surrounded by greater stains and bullet holes littering Avery’s torso. They stand still for a while. Braellyn takes a step back, keeping her hand on the knife. Her expression fades back into apathy. Avery chuckles.

“So… Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah, pretty sure