Floating in the tank, she remembered things that hadn’t occurred in the one hour this version of herself had been awake.

Then the fluid began to heat up.

Chaos, incoherence, death and destruction.

There were other things.

The horizon glowed gold. Jack’s end of the world was coming to pass.

She had surrendered when Riley had. The surrender was because a switch had been flicked, but that was the external control. Internally, even though every memory in her head was an unpleasant one, she was relieved. She was glad to stop.

The relief had been short lived.

She had died in Blasto’s lab. A hero she didn’t even know had cut her in half.

She had metaphorically died when her core identity had been taken from her. Her hands, her voice. The theater had been all she’d had and she’d lost that.

She had died in Bonesaw’s lab. Over and over again, she had died. Many times, she had been boiled alive. Her head had been cut open, the brain poked at while she was awake.

Seven times, she had died, since leaving the lab.

Now she reached out, and bladed fingers closed around bladed fingers. They watched the world end.

She turned to her companion.

☽

She saw her expression, her hair long, pupils absent in eyes surrounded by heavy and roughly applied decoration. It was startling to see, and her water bottle slipped from stiff fingers.

“What did you do to your hair?” the other Ashley asked.

“I felt the need for a change,” Ashley responded.

Her counterpart reached up.

“Hands down,” the Patrol guard said.

“It’s fine,” Ashley said. “She won’t hurt me.”

Bladed fingers settled on either side of her face, enough pressure applied that a strong wind might have been enough to push the threshold and see blood drawn.

It was reassuring to see the only other person left in existence that understood, that she couldn’t hurt with her power, should a freak accident happen. It was terrifying.

Her other self had the long hair, had wanted to keep the bladed fingers. The girl wore a long black dress and Ashley wore clothes that, while predominantly black, were more fit for the tribunal.

Riley had given them both the same options. Ashley didn’t know what had led to her other self responding a fraction before she did. Little decisions and situations cascaded. They’d been together at first. Her other self had carried on with their old ways.

She had a voice, the claw-hands gave her the ability to master her power, with no misfires. She’d lost control all the same.

Ashley had seen the video where her other self had been arrested. Every road led to death or ruin, it seemed. She’d known she needed to find another way.

She’d made a decision, then. Finally, finally, she had put herself at the mercy of others. That had led to the diagnosis.