I meant the movie.

Her shoulders slid back and she stood straighter. Even Deadpool had been impressed with the film incarnation of Negasonic. Preening only inwardly, she disparaged, “You’ve seen everything. How could you not know what to do with one teenage girl?”

Fucking superhero on steroids. I’d never seen anything like you.

The inward preen turned into a radioactive flare, lighting up her face. Sometimes she missed those days; how she used to feel when she woke up, like life was electric and she was electric and each day was just another awesome fecking run at riding all the glorious, rainbow-colored currents on the kaleidoscopic electric-life-slide. “Not even in all your…how many years did you say it was?” she fished.

Thought letting Jayne keep the sword would keep you off the streets.

“It didn’t.” Nothing would have. She’d have gone swaggering out into the streets naked and completely defenseless just to prove herself free. Anything less than absolute freedom had offended her as deeply as the cage she often felt she’d never escaped. The price of her exit strategy had been too high. Exit strategies usually were. “So, how old are you again?” she pressed.

The alternative was insisting you move into Chester’s.

“You tried that. On multiple occasions. You’d have had to keep me chained up forever. I’d have snuck out at every opportunity and torched Chester’s the second your back was turned.” And no doubt planted explosives beforehand to make sure it turned into a spectacular fireworks display. “I defined myself by defying you.”

Didn’t know you’d figured that out.

“I figured a lot of stuff out. I just don’t waste everyone’s time droning on and on about it like some people.”

We’ll help you rebuild the abbey.

She stiffened. She’d been enjoying their banter. She wasn’t now. “I didn’t ask for your help. I don’t need it.”

Regardless, we’ll do it. You need to be running it.

Some part of her backed away, withdrew from him, and she bade it good riddance. She’d been an octopus with tentacles outstretched, now she was a shark. Tentacles could be hacked off. No one messed with sharks. “You don’t know a damn thing about what I need.”

He spoke staccato fast and fiercely: I’ve always known what you need. Someone to rage at who’s strong enough to take all the pain and fury you have to dish out until you’ve burned it out of your system and nothing is left but a pile of ashes from which the Phoenix rises. Kid, woman, whatever the hell you are—I want to see you rise. Even if you have to hate me.

She kicked up into the slipstream and swung her sword as fast as she could, with flawless precision and all her strength. When his head separated from his body and bounced away, crashing into the wall from the force of her blow, she doubled over, puking.

Finally she straightened, wiped her mouth with her hand, and backed away, eyes closed.

It was done. It was the right thing to do, the smart thing. And doing it at that precise moment without warning had prevented unnecessary suffering. Sometimes waiting for a bad thing to happen could be just as unpleasant as the bad thing happening.

It had, also, conferred the added boon of shutting him the fuck up.

It felt like shit.

I want to see you rise.

She shook the echo of his words out of her head, backed into the frame of the door and leaned against it, waiting to stop feeling so sick. After fiddling a moment with the door handle and finding no simple push-button lock, she pulled out the cellphone Ryodan programmed, not about to use magic she’d learned Silverside to spell the door shut. Spelling anything that belonged to Jericho Barrons wasn’t something she was in a hurry to do. Knowing him, it had some subtle magic etched into it already and anything she tried would backfire or morph into something else. However, she couldn’t just leave Ryodan’s decapitated corpse behind a mere closed door for someone to stumble on. She might not know all his secrets but she’d protect the ones she did.

She sent Barrons a text. Or tried to. Her hands were trembling. She inhaled deep, held it, exhaled slow. Steady fingers danced over the keypad.

RYODAN ASKED ME TO KILL HIM SO HE COULD HEAL FASTER. SECURE YOUR STUDY.

Her screen flashed with a reply almost instantly.

All caps make it look like you’re shouting at me. Don’t. It pisses me off.

Scowling, she pulled a protein bar from her pocket and ate it in two bites. She couldn’t afford to vomit energy. Everything pissed Barrons off. He lived on the razor’s edge of eternal irritation. No doubt because he had to put up with mere mortals who thought too much when a good massacre would not only be more effective but much more fun. Leave it to Barrons to respond to such an abnormal text with a critique of her texting etiquette. She’d texted, like never before in her life. A text reached a single person. Her Dani Daily had reached the entire city.

Her fingers flew over the letters again. She omitted the puke factor. Damned if she was sticking around to clean it up. She had no clue how to turn off the caps lock. She had no clue how she’d turned it on, and mastering social etiquette didn’t compute.

HE’S DEAD AND IT’S MESSY. SECURE IT.

He replied instantly:

I’M BUSY. YOU SECURE IT. OR DON’T. IT WON’T MATTER FOR LONG ANYWAY. I HAVE THE STONES AND CHRISTIAN. GET YOUR ASS TO CHESTER’S.

She snorted as she stepped from the room and closed the door. He was right.

It did feel like being shouted at.