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by NonAnalogue

NonAnalogue “Look, kid, there’s just something you need to accept.” His name was Monday, and he had a knife. He also had a second knife, but that was less surprising once you got past the first one. “There’s no such thing as heroes.”

Pascale balled her fists. “That’s a-”

“Ah ah ah, I wasn’t finished.” Monday tossed one of the knives up into the air and watched as it spun lazily. The sun glinted off the blade and right into Pascale’s eyes. “All there is, is people who are strong enough to change things. They get stuff done, and everyone else gets left on the roadside.” The knife landed with its hilt in his hand, as neatly as if he had reeled it in on a line.

“Oh, an’ is this where ya tell me all about how you’re some kinda change-maker?” Pascale said.

Monday smiled. It was oddly warm - it didn’t seem natural on his face. “Why bother? I think my actions say it all.” He spread his arms wide. “Which one of you is going to stop me, anyway? That shrinking violet bookworm behind you? Or maybe the princess there is suddenly going to find the nerve?”

“I will not tolerate being spoken to in such a manner!” Dizzy unfolded her fan, the metal cold against her skin. She glanced to Kalina, then to Pascale. “Scholar? Smith? Let us detain this man.”
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