i slam the E1.L Mk 4 home into my datarifle as i catch my breath against the doorjamb. the dust of cracked plaster snows gently in the lull of combat-- they don't know i'm here yet. not me. i was the backup. i was the plan B. if they could have known they wouldn't have been there. but that's the game, right? give 'em the mushroom treatment. feed them shit and keep 'em in the dark. i take one final puff on the fishtail before flicking it out, loading the header on my datarifle, and begin slicing the pie. dinner's over. it's time for dessert.
people out here writing amazing little flash fics about this, meanwhile my brain just immediately went:
LOOOOOONG LOOOOOOONG NAAAAAAAND
