"So I bet you're wondering," said Yolanda, sitting splay legged like a cowpoke in the middle of the room and animatedly gesturing. She was the only living being - though Hollis leaned against the far wall and watched, while Dorchester sat across from Yolanda and Ryatt hid in the corner, all were reft of ambulation by the sucking aura of Yolanda's expressivity. Hollis barely retained the energy to gnaw her tongue.

"I bet you're wondering what all happened."

"I am," said Dorchester.

"Look. I was planning to take the guy's car. Didn't work, miscalculation, I admit it. When he took us into the trees he killed the engine good. And sure, he radioed, so backup was coming. Well, I wasn't pissed enough to die, so I hid. A few times I thought I was caught but nope, I worked through their little net, and I got out. But you guys had the car, and I didn't, so that left me kind of fucked, right?"

She waited for an answer. None came.

"Wrong! Bet you thought I just fixed it, Hollis. But I was thinking what if we got separated. Shit, a tracking enchantment isn't complex, I make 'em whenever. Then all you have to do is follow." She snapped her fingers meaninglessly. "I had to jack a ride, which I did, but I got there and guess what, you guys were gone. Then the USMF showed up and wow was this getting depressing."

Yolanda paused to gasp for no reason, clearly she enjoyed the spectacle, she came in grinning and hadn't stopped, she gesticulated at almost every moment to the stony world. You'd have to pass directly by her to escape.

"Again, I'm fucked! Totally screwed! No way out! They want blood and if they find me I'm dead. And I start thinking, what the hell, why not shoot for the moon? What I do is I tail them. Miles and miles, they're moving to a secure location. And I wait until they stop moving, hang out until night. And I go in and get the minivan."

"You go in," said Dorchester.

"I go in. Buncha stupid fuckers. You know these people can't even fight, I whacked their asses. The way I drove out of there they couldn't track me no way. And then all night, all the way here-" She beamed. "But you're wondering, how did I find you? If you didn't have the minivan, right. I can't believe it fucking worked out this way guys, just wait. Because otherwise I had no clue, you were gone gone. But think. Hollis."

Hollis stared.

"Come to it yourself."

Hollis came to it. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Ex-actly. Genius shit right! Bet you thought I didn't have it in me." She settled back in her chair, satisfied.

Doom doom bonged the air. Hollis felt the irrevocable destruction of hope starting in this room and working outwards. Wait for the question you know is coming.

Dorchester said, "Okay. Why are you here."

Yolanda took a few seconds to respond. She shrugged. "Texas."

"Are you inept? We left you behind on the road."

"An accident."

Dorchester leaned forward. "It wasn't."

Yolanda looked at her and then looked at Hollis. She laughed. "Fuck you, Dorchester. You always needed a sense of humor." She teetered slightly on the chair. "Are you telling me the Charleston Three is gonna be the Charleston Two? No way."

"That's how it is."

Yolanda pushed a hand into her hair. "Hollis," she said. "Help me here."

"I, uh," Hollis stammered. She stepped along the edge of the room to break line of sight. Yolanda's eyes followed. The thick refrigerator that came with the room gurgled obtusely.

Dorchester stood up. "Leave now. I'll keep my word today, if you try to follow us I will kill you."

When Yolanda stopped smiling she became greyly bureaucratic. She stood and straightened, topping out inches above Dorchester. Her jaw worked. She stepped out, jerked spasmodically, and slammed the door.

Thick strings released. Hollis swayed. She laughed dismally into her arm, looking at Ryatt and Dorchester in wonder. Dorchester had accumulated wrinkles and Ryatt still looked terrified but the faces were almost a comfort. Hollis brushed past Dorchester and slumped into the nearest chair, supporting her head in her hands.

A presence loomed. "She had something to track," said Dorchester.

So. Hollis shivered and dug out the decoy gem, presenting it in bent submission. "I'm sorry-"

Dorchester grabbed the gem, extended it to arm's length, and squeezed. Crunch-pop. Shards dribbled on the floor. "Is there anything else?"

Hollis shook her head.

"I don't trust her to have left, and her sloppiness may have attracted the USMF. If we have to escape again are we ready?"

That was the precise thing Hollis was not ready for. But she nodded.

"Good," said Dorchester, "Then we will leave." She went to the door and put her hand on the knob and the entire entryway burst into cherry red and became its constituent parts flying across the room.

Hollis spun right out of her chair, a splinter whacked into her shoulder and she toppled onto the floor scrabbling in grime as past the shriek of her buffeted ears raised popopop automatic fire. Dust jellified her eyes, needlepoints prodded every inch of skin. She clutched the chair until the bullets stopped and began to crawl, slapping her Gem to quickly transform, scraping until she unearthed a stiff cloth form (a horrifying burlap texture, Ryatt!) which she dragged over the choppy rubble until she found daylight. The gunfire started again, shifting position and angle. A man's voice bawled some nameless terror sound. Yolanda paced in the parking lot waving a machine gun like a nerf toy, shooting everywhere.

Hollis released Ryatt and skidded down the stairs. She toppled forward on the final few steps, hit the ground, and leapt up waving her hands, "Stop, what are you doing, stop!"

Yolanda swept the upper section of the motel, windows crashed. Hollis had no idea what to do next, so she just kept gesticulating and made cowardly circulations that finally generated a full retreat. Yolanda, noticing, stopped shooting long enough to give her a wink and a thumbs up.

"Oh shit oh shit," Hollis repeated. She peered for Dorchester but the girl could not be found. Hiding? Left in the apartment? Could Hollis have missed the scattered limbs?

I'll take care of her.

You're fine oh jesus. Listen do you know where she is, I'll help just tell me how. I'll do anything. Dorchester?

Awful snapping shots tore the void of no response. In the dips of paused gunfire and temporarily muffled screams you could hear the rasp of Yolanda's boots shifting amongst the cars.

Maintain distance. If Bedlowe has turned traitor you are the only one left. We will go together.

Hollis did not blink. Why? It meant nothing. Focus on the important details.

I will handle Bedlowe. You may watch.

Finally Hollis happened to look to the roof, and the figure there, the flapping robes, Dorchester never more regal, her hat a crown and her scroll raised for oration. Yolanda hefted her gun but instantly a whip-crack sonic snap somehow congealed the air to sludge. She faltered against the side of a car, discharging bullets into the pavement. The gun jumped out of her hands without weight, oozing in moon gravity even as Yolanda doubled over at normal speed.

"Let My Judgement Pass," Dorchester boomed, "Unadorned, and UNCONTESTED."

A spear of pure light two car lengths long split from the air itself. It hovered above Dorchester's raised scroll for a moment, humming in the sky, so vivid Hollis could barely look. Nothing moved for so long that Hollis began to worry she'd missed the critical point. Then the scroll pulsed, CRACK. The spear cut the distance in a half second or less and when it reached its destination at the point of collapsing Yolanda it erupted into a roar and a pulse of chalky retina-burning brightness. Hollis cringed, overtaken, but it fell back, the howling gale faltered, and the light died.

She opened her eyes. In the place where Yolanda had been was a perfect semisphere crater and a smattering of blood, so dry that it immediately began to flake off in tiny confetti bits that cartwheeled in the breeze. The neighboring cars fell, missing halves.

Dorchester hopped down from the roof. Hollis whispered her name.

"Yes." She shook herself. "It was not supposed to be so powerful."

Hollis stood there like an asshole. "Cubes," she finally said.

"Yes."

They went to the sedan, Dorchester slowly doddering, Hollis looking back to confirm her progress. "Ryatt," she called, and Ryatt gravitated like a timid dog.

Dorchester fell back and waited expectantly while Hollis dug around after the box, somehow tucked under the deeper reaches of the seat. She fished it out and rose from the car. Dorchester stood watching, craggy with harsh angles. She was brushing the hair out of her eyes, putting herself back together. Behind her was Yolanda.

"Uuh," said Hollis.

Yolanda with a gaping hole in her abdomen where the organs heaped and fell, almost circular like she'd had a hole punch taken to her. She grinned with tar teeth. Hollis jerked, "Uuh," she couldn't even make a different sound. Dorchester stared like what's wrong with this girl, what's her deal, as Yolanda moved smoothly forward and poked a silver blade through her chest.

She crumpled. Hollis ran around the car to find her contorted, choking in vomitous spasms, already awash with blood. Hollis still held the box and could do nothing with her hands.

Yolanda leaned down, uninhibited by her injury. She pawed over seizing Dorchester and plucked it out, an eggshell Gem Hollis had only seen a few times in her life, in vulnerable moments. Yolanda rubbed her thumb on it thoughtfully. She nosed Dorchester's head with the tip of her boot and mouthed words.

Hollis finally choked something out. "Nono Yolanda wait-"

Yolanda clenched. The fingers pressed down over seconds, the surface buckled, the silver filigree bent, Dorchester made an ungodly shriek, a drowned thing falling limp as the Gem warped and with a thin snap finally lost form. Yolanda inverted her hand and the mangled metal skeleton tinged on the ground. Dorchester stilled, her costume evaporated. Her t-shirt soaked with blood instantly.

Yolanda turned to Hollis.

Hollis said nothing.

Yolanda sighed. "I forgive you." She walked past Hollis, took the box from her willing hands, and whipped it into the parking lot in a shower of cubes. "Come on. We have places to be."

Hollis lost sight of her like a mirage. Alone with Dorchester. The face flamed purple. Foam in the corners of a pit mouth. She wasn't moving, but was that, maybe, a little hiss…

"Hollis, come on! I brought the minivan over special!"

Hollis moved stump-legged. Ryatt at the bottom of the stairs, Ryatt with the slate-eyed vacancy. It wouldn't be right to say anything, Hollis just grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards Yolanda's voice. The screaming man finally became clear, bawling STOP IT again and again. Others emerged from doorways, a plain woman holding a vivisected arm, a baseball cap guy with large hands stumbling around on the upper section. Hollis and Ryatt drifted by a man in a black t-shirt depicting a large t-bone steak. He reached out to Hollis for deliverance - but his fingers only grazed her, and he resumed his limbo drift as she went on. The minivan appeared, looking exactly as destroyed as yesterday. Ryatt slipped into the backseat. Hollis sat beside Yolanda, who was driving. Yolanda motored around and passed the body, over which supplicants mulled. Look at her face!

They left. Outside the gas station men crowded, raising their phones. Wind roared in the windows. The sun screamed.

Don't construe it as shock. Hollis was not shocked. She was full of clarity. The only thing that had changed was her priority set, maybe her motive. The past and future were a whole lot of meaninglessness. Why exist outside the moment? She was in a car moving, that mattered, what else?

They entered deep woods again. The hole in Yolanda was beginning to reconstitute, the guts creeping in, the skin puckering and closing. How are you not dead, said Hollis.

I think it's God.

Okay.

Maybe not God directly. But it was possible to do such a thing because God arranged for a, an apparatus. While I was on the way I thought a lot and I guess it's real and on our side. You're right I shouldn't be alive but I am and that's divine confirmation, your usual logic falling apart. Pliability, that's the takeaway.

The road breezed. They were nowhere.

Don't think about it too hard.

Sure. Why bother? It was impossible to arrive at a conclusion when nothing ever made sense.

Just, do you ever feel like you're crazy? Or everything is. Well my theory is that our world is malleable. That's what we are right, we think shit up and our emotion is going to counter entropy or whatever. Like demigods or some shit. And that represents to me, nothing is definite. Think about all the Magical Girls right now, coming together, and tell me there's no effect.

If Yolanda kept talking Hollis was going to die. You killed Dorchester.

Hell yeah! Yolanda did a fist pump. And I knew I could too. She should have stepped off when she had the chance. No disrespect. But her or me. Game hasn't changed that much.

Are we still being hunted? Has that changed?

Probably not but you're the one who can check.

Hollis didn't want to check.

They won't last anyway. We just need to slip them now and watch this stack of cards fall apart. We'll slide right out and they won't have a fucking clue, we'll be outlaws.

That's unlikely, chirped the voice, the annoying one. In the rearview mirror next to the Ryatt heap was Kyubey, sitting. Everyone here together. The outlaw phenomenon can hardly exist in a paradigm such as this. You'll inevitably be captured.

Hollis stared ahead. Nice warning Kyubey.

It was a calculated decision. My hope was that Miss Bedlowe and Miss Malecki would effectively eliminate each other, freeing you to act in a much less damaging fashion. Had it not been for certain events beyond the realm of expectation, I'm sure that you would currently be in a very favorable situation.

Hey Hollis, grinned Yolanda, what do you think that means. He doesn't fucking know. Can he even do shit anymore?

Kyubey hopped up between the seats like a housecat. It's true that your survival, Miss Bedlowe, intrigues me - however, many such oddities have occurred before. The nature of Magical Girls lies in miraculous occurrences, as you know.

But too many miracles and what do you get?

This is strange, Miss Bedlowe. Your interest should lie in mere survival.

Yolanda shrugged. I'm surviving. More importantly, what are you hiding? It's not a good look, Kyubey. Haven't we caught on by now?

He sighed. It's always a shame to see a girl beyond rationality. Does this illustrate the danger of your situation, Miss Ames? How can you trust that she won't decide to eliminate you as well, when she's so erratic?

Not the same, said Yolanda, but a heartless rodent wouldn't get that.

My concerns are borne out by experience. How many people have you killed today? I believe it was five. He nuzzled Hollis' noodle arm. Miss Ames, you know you can't rely on her. Am I wrong in concluding that you don't agree with the elimination of Miss Malecki? By most human standards this would trigger either avoidance or revenge. Do you truly want neither?

Hollis grabbed for his little ear-thing and he wrangled out of her grip instantly. I just want to live. Step off huh?

The rat jumped to the backseat. But your life is in danger. Why were you able to recognize this when the risk was comparatively low, but now you deny it? You're sure to die by Miss Bedlowe or other means on your current course, but escape is not impossible. The very plan we discussed may still be on the table.

Hollis laughed. She reclined in her seat.

Do you not want to know about the plan, Miss Bedlowe?

Could you be any more transparent? Bitch Hollis is with me for life, you think your trifling shit can erode that you're wrong, we're together, a piece of this girl is in my motherfucking soul. Sow discontent with the rookies asshole, we know you.

Hollis was letting it occur and it still wouldn't happen. If only they'd all realized before, that it just didn't fucking matter.

Very well, said Kyubey, I can see I'm getting nowhere. You should do as you have, Miss Ames, and survive. I will do my best to aid you from my end should you choose to accept my help. I hope that both of you somehow come to your senses - the damage you've done so far is devastating, yet you may still avert total catastrophe if you cooperate. He vanished.

Yolanda immediately tapped Hollis on the shoulder. Nearest city?

Hollis checked. Statesboro. It's fifty miles. Why?

We'll probably lay low. I want to let the heat die down you know.

Fuck it. Hollis set the destination.

She did actually check the news. More articles. Shot up motel, dead suspect. Eyewitness interview of a woman Hollis never saw. The fugitives' vehicle had been lost. Keep an eye out for a RED HONDA, a RED HONDA.

A video with clips. Hollis watched it a one-armed girl holding an assault rifle, standing near the familiar minivan, looking inconceivably tired. Then the President said something at his fancy podium.

What do we think of Ryatt?

They were still miles out and the road was abrading Hollis. She sprawled in the seat like some structureless, withdrawing junkie. Pain, pain, it was Yolanda's gimmick after all, paralysis and severe waves of agony, about the closest a Magical Girl could dig to their human roots, sheer bodily distress, there's a death.

But the question confounded. Because it didn't matter? Due to the insignificance of the specimen. But it felt important to answer honestly…

She's okay.

She's a burden honestly. Look at her. She's asleep. Do you really plan to take her to Texas? I bet she'd shrivel up.

She can learn. She learns.

She dies more like. Maybe I kill her out of frustration? Seriously, fuck this girl, she should get with the program. Yeah it sucks, not your ticket to fucking snooze on us.

Why even try? Let her talk shit, she couldn't be stopped.

I vote we drop her. Hey, Ryatt! Hollis would have winced if she had muscles. Wake up motherfucker we're talking about you!

Ryatt shifted with tectonic slowness. Raw eyes gouged the cave of her own body.

You vote we drop you by the road, let you free? You could just walk away. Go to the USMF and sign on, what about it? You'd probably be a fucking legend. How about it?

I don't care.

Why don't you care, butted in Hollis. We talked about this.

I just don't. It's a trick right? I won't participate.

Shit, chuckled Yolanda. Fungus girl acting the part. Sedentary ass.

Ryatt. What the hell. You're being offered freedom, isn't that what you want? Respect your fucking self.

Ryatt was silent.

Shit, said Hollis, I vote drop her. Stop.

Yolanda glanced briefly. Why.

You're right, she's not up for it, she'll wither like a goddamn plant, it's happening right now. I don't want her dragging down this clusterfuck.

Well isn't that better?

What?

Yolanda shook her head. I change my vote. Let's keep her.

Hollis itched inside her fucking skull. Okay Ryatt? Ryatt you fucking vote, you join this shitty shit. Vote to fucking escape. Moment of choice, you'll never get another chance.

Ryatt said nothing. Hollis gave up. She made the executive decision to give up. She tapped her foot.

Fifteen miles.

They arrived. More suburbs! Did smaller cities like Statesboro also have these? Kind of a cosmic constant manifesting around every population center, serving no less crucial a goal than as a gateway system, a coded transition zone, um, an enforced delineation?

Yolanda, getting in the mood, said she wanted a burger. Hollis felt no need to respond.

We've earned it, and it's even tactically useful because we need energy, let up on the Gems, you know? We'll both feel a lot better.

So let's go.

Well I'm asking where. This is our victory meal remember.

They passed a burned out car - the suburbs were degrading after all. Let's just go wherever. I don't even want anything.

Don't be a sadsack. Fine, I'll pick.

The wraiths multiplied, babbling in crowds among the houses. Statesboro was actually an unknown, feasibly it wasn't even habitable. Some cities just got eaten. And why try to reclaim, when they were still picking up the pieces in big names like Boston and Baltimore? For once it actually seemed possible that one might simply disappear into a false frontier - and they hadn't even left Georgia yet.

All fake though, because within minutes they entered another axis of the city and the wraiths evaporated and were replaced by nice cars and prosperity. Legions of flimsy lawn signs appeared on the shoulder: LOCAL MAGICAL GIRLS, U.S. MAGICAL FORCE. And what was this phantom, plastered on a passing bumper, USMF UNITE.

A ffffucking sticker? Magical Girls unite, jesus. In what world.

They pulled into the drive-through of a random fast food joint and sat behind another car, a white pickup ordering at the monolith speaker. You want? said Yolanda.

Hollis looked in the rearview mirror. Already someone was pulling up behind, a pasty goblin behind the windshield. Nothing. Nothing ever.

The truck rolled forward, they came up to the speaker. I'm ordering the biggest thing here unless you give me something.

Fuck you. Hollis thumped her skull on the headrest. Small fries.

Yolanda leaned out the window. The speaker was silent but the beings inside had to make first contact. The moonface in the car behind leaned out of his side window and slipped back inside when he saw Hollis staring. Woah! Is that?

"May I take your order," crackled the speaker.

"Yeah that's uh, two double cheeseburgers and two large fries. And two large cokes."

The speaker dispensed a price. The guy in the pickup truck, all the way up at the checkout window, was squinting in his side mirror, and didn't stop as they rolled up. Fuck are you trying to do, said Hollis.

Like I said, you're obviously in a bad way, it's for your own good. Get some money how about.

Hollis dug out a wallet and flicked a twenty at Yolanda. Surveilled on both ends. The wider area was way too open also, you could see from almost any direction. Yolanda wasn't even out of costume…

As they finally came up to the checkout window the cashier angled his phone in sweaty hands. Yolanda slid the twenty through the window and he dropped it, grabbing the money when she withdrew.

No more. They all knew. Hollis couldn't stand it. The moon in the car behind them staring, shit on that. She cracked her door and began to step out, "Get back in the car, fucker!"

He retreated, shamed, but other cars piled up behind now rolled down their windows, squinting at the noise.

"You think I don't notice you assholes," called Hollis, becoming shrill, her face flaming. One of the doors popped open a hair and she screamed "No no no! Fuck you close that door right now, I swear to god! You already fucking know you don't want to do this!"

The door closed and everybody stared through their windshields. Hollis fell back into her seat. Yolanda patted her on the shoulder. The guy opened the window and stuck out a paper bag. As Yolanda took it he mumbled, "The ones on TV."

"Yuh," said Yolanda.

"Well you should just know I'm on your side and all. I bet you had good reasons."

"Goddam, thank you very much. See Hollis, we're heroes."

Hollis held the bag, it rattled in her lap as they pulled into moderate traffic. Yolanda waved at the cashier, who shyly leaned out his window to check their passage.

Maybe Yolanda was fortunate enough to look at it that way. Her right. But this was firmly enemy territory, with or without the USMF crap. Fat ogling fuckers everywhere, evaluating, scheming! Sure, fine. Watch the fuckers. That's how you trounce them, you figure out what they're doing before they do it. Eyefuck them until they lose their cool, make them guess a little bit, that's the ticket. Just enough to produce some time, time to figure it all down, tease out the source…

Tail, said Yolanda.

Hollis' cool shattered. What? Where?

Two cars back. Unmarked but lookit the light thing at the top of the windshield. And I think that's another one a little bit ahead.

Shit. Shit!

That's okay. It'll work out.

You, you brought us here!

Look, they're watching. Yolanda steered with one hand, reclining. They won't want to do shit now because it would look bad and uncool. We just need to make sure they can't go after us without collateral. Well, I've got an idea. It'll give us leverage, it'll keep us safe. I know how these fuckers work now, you feel? Okay, bear with me.

Letting the silence hang. Whatever was coming was bad, why otherwise?

Walmart.

Hollis' soul twinged. You're saying.

We're going to Walmart. And we're gonna hold some folks, and we'll negotiate.

What an utter thought. Hollis struggled to wrap her mind around it. That's us cornered.

Like we can't talk them into a deal. In exchange for blah blah blah you can leave the city limits.

That doesn't even work in movies, Yolanda. So you don't have a plan. We're just screwed.

Tsk tsk. She said it like Tisk Tisk. Hollis of little faith. How about we think on it then. That's our backup plan. We'll see what else we can come up with.

Hollis shook it away. She thought she saw more hangers on, she picked out surveillance points. And people staring, but not acting, maybe not even aware that in seconds the peace could crumble. Undercover cars acting like it was normal. Hidden actors, specialists. Drifting toward deeper vessels…

She dug out one of the burgers and gnawed on it as a distraction, and as it settled stonelike into her stomach she kept checking. Checking everything, checking the road, and the cops, and herself. She said to Ryatt, with no preamble or goal in mind, Hey get ready.

What, said Ryatt.

Hollis fumbled. I just, we've got a situation, it might get bad soon. So be ready.

Ryatt didn't respond.

When all else failed she had no choice but to check her phone, and it told her, the closest Walmart within the limits of Statesboro was miles away, across the main breadth of the city. It was rated three and a half stars and usually pretty populated by this hour. In the time it would take to get there they could easily be intercepted - but they could just as easily make it.

The fantasy was so ridiculous and stupid. She never intended to commit to anything like it. Hollis brought up a map as though knowing the roads and streets might offer a solution. She racked her mind, never a real strategist but the odds were clear enough. They were probably trying for containment, meaning that the moment the minivan left the danger zone, i.e. Statesboro, the hammer came down. Even Hollis could think no further than hostage taking. When she realized her attempt at a solution had degenerated to scoping out more convenient locations she dropped the phone in disgust.

They couldn't do this shit. It was fucking insane. It wouldn't work at all anyway.

What would we even do in there, she scoffed. How would we keep them from just running out the other doors?

These people are sheep, they do what you tell them. They just need to think they can't escape you dig? We trick them essentially. That's why we'd bring in some of the guns we've got here, as a show. People know how to act with guns.

Hah? Fantastic, great wisdom! They just know! Well, Yolanda was out of her gourd, she'd totally lost it. They wouldn't even be allowed to get there if the USMF had the slightest fucking inkling of urgency and competence. Any alternative was better, there had to be an alternative!

They entered a traffic jam. Progress slowed to a crawl. Hollis counted the hot minutes, compressing under thickening air, swatting at flies that buzzed freely through the windows. Wandering eyes everywhere in their shiny bumper-to-bumper vehicles. Would you believe that the tiny city of Statesboro Georgia could support so many inquisitive minds? It seemed insane. Where did it all come from? Nobody actually lived here. Hollis hesitated to think - engineered? No, wouldn't make any fucking sense, the whole point was to get them away from people…

Get down to it and she couldn't relax. The burger settled ill on her stomach, her surroundings mocked her. The Walmart thing was just barely setting in. The kind of thing crazy motherfuckers did. Wikipedia iconic, historically pertinent. If the line existed it stood here, at the moment of premeditation. Never even would have been a fucking problem before, there were good lean rules, pretty easy to follow: kill another Magical Girl, Kyubey sent a terminatrix, you had one or two enemies and if you survived maybe he left you alone. Sometimes real people died - the cost of the game. You bore it on your chest. Handled fucking everything. No, let's not do that. Let's bring in the USMF - also made of murderers and felons, by the way - to figure it out on their own terms. And oh shit, how about the general population, too. Let them sweep their eyes over this, write fucking articles. That is a fantastic idea.

Bastards, assclowns. What right did a single motherfucker among them have to judge. When she'd always been dealing with her cards alone, no unnatural aspirations, just survival. Come and tell her she made the wrong choice. What choice?

Yolanda, she said, are we getting out of here ever?

If this fucking traffic clears up haha. Yolanda winked quickly. Seriously we're good. Even if we don't do like I said. Miracles remember?

Hollis was just waiting to say her next line. I don't want this to be all there is.

Well it's pretty fun you have to admit.

No. Don't you understand? This is worse than DuPage. Is there anything at all that gives it a point? Shit, how to communicate this. Look, it's like we're trapped here forever. And we've always gotta fight. It's just variations on misery. And I'm like, why bother anymore.

Yolanda shrugged. We're Magical Girls.

Yup.

Let me tell you something, said Yolanda.

No, you're right. Magical Girls, got it, I'm good.

No listen. Yolanda slapped the steering wheel. I'm your friend, Hollis, so take this for what it is. Easy as hell really.

Hollis watched her. The traffic opened up, they moved.

You just give up. If you think about it too much you go all sour, so you don't do that. You glide where it takes you, feel? Think like it's you getting pulled along on strings, drifting on down, here it comes, but no worries! That's just where you're meant to be.

Certainly seems to have done a lot for you.

Yolanda grinned. Happy as hell.

She was probably right.

Listen, I'll tell you another thing. You wanna know my wish? I promise it's related.

Once this had even been an object of curiosity. Ground down before they left Charleston.

Okay, here goes. It was these two boys. They hounded my ass, whatever. Threatening me. You wouldn't believe who I was back then, I just took it for the longest time. Never been treated like that. I'm thinking, I do wish these motherfuckers weren't a problem anymore. And Kyubey comes along, and I say, damn, I guess I'd really like to see them suffer! Get a little bit of begging in there? I had lots of fantasies. And I was satisfied for a while after I did it, but it wore off, and then it got creepy. Did I do the right thing? Does anyone know?

No surprises here. All wishes were dumb, and of course an inveterate psychopath would have a gruesome one too, having a brand to maintain. As expected, despite her best attempts at eloquence, Yolanda could do nothing but spout bullshit. Turn it off, turn it off.

My point, said Yolanda, is that this was with me for a while. Shit, I was worrying back in Charleston. All of it got fucked up. And then that bitch Schuman said what she did, hell. But I started fighting, and I realized, fuck it. It's fine. It's justified. I couldn't do it there but when I took that Gem, that girl who tried to kill you, it was a chance to confirm, and shit, man. Since then I've never felt better.

That sure is fucking crazy, said Hollis.

Crazy is bullshit anyway. Crazy is what they call us. I bet they call you crazy. But they haven't killed anybody, so.

Hah, yeah. A more schizophrenic, psychopathic story there never was, and the lesson, what Hollis thought was the lesson, was so fucking common. Just give up, huh? Pathetic - but it was true that Yolanda didn't seem to need her mind all that much...

In an act of cosmic validation, the front of Yolanda's head exploded out the back of her head. She sighed telepathically. Damn.

The crack came an instant later and it was this, not the blood and brains, that gave Hollis her senses and got her to duck. Something impacted her seat right around where her throat would have been, th-wap. Another bullet pocked Yolanda in the chest area, who continued to woozily steer. It was happening, holy shit right before her eyes, no preamble or anything?

Something thumped hard on the roof. I'll need you to handle that, said Yolanda.

What the fuck? How! Her thing was dinky pistols, no point really, none at all…

But as a thing, a purple thing, a spectral hand! appeared at the top of the windshield she produced just such a pistol and let fly. Bullets hit, did nothing. Surprise! Another hand appeared, another. Hollis leaned forward, pressing the barrel closer, there had to be soft spots, the, the knuckle, the wrist?

Just in time for a hand to grab her wrist, wrench away the gun, and yank. She flew out of her seat with a cartilaginous pop, halfway out the windshield instantly, air blasting her face, fuuuuuck!

More hands grabbed her other arm, her hair, her robes. Finally they lifted her totally out, dangling her off the side. Fucking HELP ME she howled at Yolanda, who was still relatively unmolested.

You're good!

Hollis convulsed with fury. The hands held her a moment longer, and let go.

As she hit the road she rolled. The momentum sunk into shattering various bones, slowing her. She got hold of herself, stumbled upright, and started running.

Hollis knew herself as a relatively bad runner, Magical Girl or no, but only in the purposeless state her life usually enmeshed with. Now, enervated with crushing rage and an immediate object, the balance shifted: her feet flew, didn't even touch the ground, she glided on a film of compressed air. Sirens fell short behind her, and meanwhile the minivan swooped near, with it the BITCH on the roof, some Vishnu looking ass with bright colors and feathers, smooth sculpted arms sprouting off her back like wings. She glanced as Hollis stuffed her hand in her bag and drew out a massive revolver, the crippling costs of which affected her none as she unloaded with precise aim.

The girl cringed, a dome of palms aligned to deflect the fire, but they jerked when bullets hit. Hollis, emboldened, made the final push, leapt, sheer levitation for two seconds, hit the back of the minivan, snagged an aerodynamic fin, and held close. The buildings were whipping by, the cops' flashing lights slipped behind pitifully.

She clambered onto the roof using the antenna as leverage. Hands girl was trying to slip back through the windshield. Nuh-uh. Hollis fired and again the shield came up. She couldn't get through at any angle, when she ran out of bullets the girl resumed, apparently not even intending to deal with her.

Hollis spat. Another gun, the hands reassembled. Immediately Hollis lurched across the roof and plowed into the shield, the hands withstood mostly but the barest opening formed so Hollis could stuff the barrel in and get a shot at the meat. A strangled curse, one of the arms batted the side of her head hard. Hollis stumbled back drooling.

Finally the girl faced her, bleeding at the shoulder. She pointed an actual hand. You! Surrender!

Fuck you! She charged again, shooting, barging through like a fucking TRAIN.

Actually one of the hands snapped wide and backhanded her across the roof. She cringed, blasting as she could, but the hands deflected all. Her nose stuffed and began to dribble.

This isn't working, said Hands. If you give up we can guarantee you a fair chance!

Hollis bounced on her feet like a boxer. Her nose was pouring actually, sluicing all down the front of her robes. Something was broken in her face so her eye set weird. That was okay. It was just there to prove she didn't shit gold. Hollis knew that, and she knew what to do. Motherfucker can't guarantee me shit. She juked left, she juked right. Horrible on a tiny roof but her feet kept themselves.

The hands girl watched warily. An agreement, how about that?

L-like a contract?

Call it what you want a thing you sign legally.

Hollis bounced with vigor. If ever I knew that one day a Magical Girl would be talking to me about a CONTRACT-

She signaled left but juked right and down, crashed into the roof, fired from below. Smooth as hell except her target saw all of it and just blocked the shots. Now that Hollis was close, the girl went ahead and lashed out again. But Hollis blocked it with her arm! Which the hand grabbed.

Fuck no no no. Hollis pulled fruitlessly, no escape she already knew this … but oh shit, she still had her gun! She pressed the barrel against her wrist. When she fired the bones shattered and the flesh tore and with a whirl and a twist she ripped through the remaining connective material, dancing back, perfect operation.

Jesus fucking. Hands girl flicked the wreckage away. What's your problem? You think I'm gonna eat you, Ames?

Hollis spat vividly. I think you'll get your revenge if you can, and bitch, I don't think I'm willing to give you the chance.

Don't be so goddamn short sighted. You're putting yourself in danger. I don't even know how you're still moving, your Gem can't be in good shape if you're tearing off limbs. Back down and we can work something out.

Fuck this line. I know what side you're on.

Magical Girls.

Shut the hell up.

The girl stomped pitifully. Okay fine! We want you caught! Big fucking whoop, is it worth dying?

You're the ones trying to fucking kill-

The shock rattled through her chest. Blood like slime in the veins, instantly depressurized. Crrrack from an alien distance. Oh. The hands girl dropped into a linebacker sprint. Ooh.

With contact Hollis bounced in a further snapping of ribs. She lost the pistol. She sailed, she flailed. See the minivan recede again. The air thinly rushing. Really, just…

NO. Hollis twisted in the last instant, her feet hit the ground, her knees bent. She bounded. No intended direction except forward, forward she went, here came the minivan roaring back, and the wall of hands stood solemnly ready to intercept. But it became clear that Hollis did not have her terminus at that space. She was headed for right below, the tiny window in the hatchback, no real chance of hitting but let us just twist-

She slid halfway through. The edges caught her waist. No fucking way she was losing this chance, she strained, scrabbled, still some glass in the frame slicing and snagging, but, but! She lurched, her waist popped through, at the very last second a hand snagged her foot but came away only with the boot as she tumbled in.

She gesticulated. SHOWS YOU BITCH.

Fingers probed the window. Shit, fuck. Cardboard and useless pistols and ammunition, but what happened to all the big shit? She tossed flotsam every which way, it bounced off the walls and returned to the pile to be hurled more violently. Yolanda where are the rifles!

Backseat.

Always something between Hollis and what she needed, feet pounding on the roof, oh fucking christ. She squirmed over the seats and Ryatt, scrabbled for orientation, found a barrel and seized the attached rifle and aimed badly with her one hand at the fingers now creeping back into the windshield. She let off a burst and the gun went totally wild, spattering up across the roof. A few of the bullets made holes, the rest whanged around inside the car, one whacked off her forehead like a golfball, ah shit she swung wide, would have hit Yolanda except the magazine ended. But the hands slipped away. Thump on the roof. Fingers snagged the empty back doorframe and released. Nothing else.

Cool, said Yolanda.

Hollis clambered over Ryatt. She peeked out the door hole, looking up. A body crouched on the roof. It stood up partway, woozily paused, and slipped backwards onto the road.

She fell back on Ryatt and crawled between the front seats and carefully deposited herself next to Yolanda. The road howled at 150 MPH. No cars at all in the rearview mirror, or ahead. Bullet pocked Yolanda looked over, head oddly bulging. Good fight, she said.

That missing hand that didn't feel like it was coming back so soon. The heart, the ribs. The bloody nose. Look in the rearview, can you see her? Is it really over? Swallow the blood, there may be more work…

Unless you have any ideas. I think it's time.

See?

It soon became apparent that the cops had realized their actual destination. Cruisers slid onto the road, desperately lurching to intercept the minivan, failing each time. At one point a helicopter buzzed at a distance, pumped a series of useless bullets into the side of the minivan, and split off into the greying sky.

They don't have a fucking clue, said Yolanda. Can't do shit.

Hollis' energy took them there. Who else's? Here was how she was useful - augmentation, magnification, concession. Nobody could do anything without her, without fantastic magical GPS. Legions of fools couldn't cope, they had to have an easy solution, and so she survived, and the only qualm she could possibly have about it was that she ended up carrying out their idiot designs. So no qualm. All she was really doing was getting sucked in along the prevailing current, no sin in that, it happened to everyone. The perennial right of the people: sit back, relax, come up with a cool take to tell God when it's all over.

No straight shot to Walmart so they were slower, swerving turns, near misses. Theoretically, they could still be intercepted. Did Statesboro PD have anything in store to avert catastrophe? A barricade perhaps? Yes! Fences, spike strips, hardware! And the fences battered into the sky, and the spike strips whirled behind like snakes. No ideas. Real people just didn't get it, they couldn't do fluidity, it really had to be a Magical Girl. Where were the Magical Girls? On their way, presumably. Too late.

Your destination has arrived, chimed the GPS.

Yolanda swerved. They skipped the side of the road tore through grass careened into a parking lot, down herringbone rows, cops clarifying at the entrances, this their remaining move, to secure the thing under threat rather than eliminate an immortal danger, except the danger was already here. They quailed when they saw. The final stretch the parked cars zipped by, looming tan shell, jump the curb and-

They burst through in a shower of concrete, soared, clipping register areas and spiraling debris and skidding finally into the shelves, multicolored goods bouncing through the windshield. Yolanda backed up viciously and right ahead was a human mass, barely organized by more grey officers, pressing outside.

The minivan roared into the parting crowd, Yolanda swerved just so, it slammed lengthwise into the doors and blocked them, cops danced and pulled out guns they didn't raise. Others chattered and congealed. Where to exit now?

Yolanda slouched out of her seat and leaning over Ryatt snatched a rifle. When she brought it up a sigh rolled in the multitude, and the people with guns, not all cops, did now point them. Shouting, goddamn noise. Yolanda cleared her throat ghoulishly.

All this expectation. It grows so big and what choice do you have? Hollis stepped around the minivan, dragging her own rifle. She stood beside Yolanda.

"On the ground, guys. In five."

One two three four-