“The only real critic for your interpretation would be a gun made of meat.”

Jack smiled. “We’re our own critics. It’s a fact when you’re an artist or a… very violent, long-term performance artist. We put the effort in, even if the one member of the audience isn’t in a place to tell the world.”

“Mm!” Bonesaw made a sound. She held up a finger, while she finished chewing. “Mm. Sorry. You know, I’ve only done that sort of thing once, making someone into something like a gun.”

Was it a mistake to give her ideas?

“I like that you thought of that,” Bonesaw said. “You came up with something I haven’t done much. Creative!”

“The theater matters,” Ashley said. “Sometimes it’s all we have.”

“No,” Jack said. “Oh no, I don’t agree at all. We are so, so much more than that. You realize that once you’ve seen a good number of people lose next to everything, theater included. There’s something else that boils to the surface, once you’ve applied enough pressure.”

“Do you have an audience?” Bonesaw asked.

It was so hard to track all of this, the back and forth, the dialogue, and the subject-matter changes.

She focused on her end-goal. To get Jack to let own his guard. To blast him and then either get away or get Bonesaw too.

“I had one. Small. But I’m not as active as I once was.”

“If you joined us, the entire civilized world would pay attention to you,” Jack said.

She thought about agreeing. The end-goal remained the focus. Get close, destroy him.

But even in this scenario… she couldn’t.

“I don’t join. I don’t serve under anyone. I’m the one who leads, or I walk alone.”

“If you joined with the intention of taking my position as leader, you wouldn’t be the first, fifth, or even tenth,” Jack said.

Ashley shook her head. “No.”

“A lot of people tell me no,” Jack said. “It’s usually repeated over and over again, followed by a death rattle.”

Bonesaw snorted. She was eating yet another of Ashley’s eclairs.

Ashley consoled herself by focusing on how Bonesaw could die.

The thought crossed her mind. If she did this—if she found a way to get this kill, she would be celebrated. Wasn’t there a cash payout for anyone who killed these people? No questions asked?

“No,” Ashley said. “If you want your performance…”

“Performance art. The message.”

“Give me an order,” she said. “A task. I’ll do it, or I’ll try to do it. In exchange, you leave me alone. I don’t join, you get your murder and mayhem. I could be your distraction.”

“Hi, Siberian!” Bonesaw said.