N-now we're getting so smashed, knocking over trash cans.

Dollface wasn't sure how she'd escaped. It was so fast she couldn't remember. But she did know she was jumping down from the bathroom window, knocking over a trash can in the hurried process. She grappled with the alleyway clown, managing to throw it off of her and into a heap against a stained brick wall covered in graffiti, including one that proclaimed 'Carton Smells Like Feet'.

The pile of parts writhed and creaked, before letting out a staticked howl. Dollface stood against the wall, chest heaving as a red-eyed boar roared, tusks tearing between joints.

"Down Bertrum." she growled between clenched metal teeth. She felt no fear, no remorse, just seething anger.

A window shattered above her, raining crystal shards of glass over the ugly asphalt.

Everybody breakin' bottles, it's a filthy hot mess.

Dollface ripped the boar to his feet with borrowed strength. He squealed and shifted into an overweight butler in an overcoat.

"Make sure there's no witnesses." She growled at him, and he nodded.

"Yesssssssss misssstresssssss."

Dollface dropped him and the boar-man scuttled on all fours with unhuman legs.

There's a place downtown, where the freaks all come around.

Dollface dodged the flailing arms of a blue cat and grabbed from Bertrum's hooves the can of alcohol, loud insectoid buzzing droning in her ears.

She pulled out a Jack Daniels' and groped around for a cork.

"Fuck!" she shouted, metal crashing and clanging increasing with the screams. She fumbled around the cap and untwisted it, fingers tangling.

She dumped half the bottle out and fumbled around for something to quickly knot.

The incessant buzzing in her ears stopped, leaving only screams of angered titanium alloys.

A slim hand grabbed her empty one.

Dollface felt her fingers curl and wrap around cotton knots, the hellfire hot hand over hers.

She shoved one into the opening of the bottle and patted herself down for matches.

"Dammit!" Dollface screeched, then stopped her oncoming round of profanities even Grampa would've turned red at, to watch a flame dance on a slender brown finger, with a long, plum-black nail. Dollface shook the bottle and dipped it in the puddle by her feet, then put the bottle to the finger.

The small lick exploded in a burst of light.

Dollface got ready to throw the bottle through the window packed with arms, then stopped herself, feeling the bottle heating up.

Was this...

...Hesitation...

...?