Chapter 24

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by Phoebe

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by Phoebe

At the barrel bottom
of the warehouse,
the waft of whiskey
carries on the air,
and torches
in sconces of iron
flicker from the walls,
casting deep shadows
on the musky floor.

Buttercup and I
eye one another warily,
then stand on our hinds
with our finger-gloves on,
and despite
my ballooning fear,
I'm proud of how well
we're working together.

If we know how
to work as a team,
why do we bicker so much?


Girl, did you
just shush me?

When Buttercup tries
to shush me
a second time,
wind tights
through her teeth
and a high-pitched whistle
echoes through
the surrounding corridors.

You seriously whistled?

It was an accident—

She's cut short
by footsteps
rushing towards us

then the shadows
give way to a row
of heavily armored lizardmen,
formed in a strategic line
as a well-trained squadron,
neon purple
laser-guns in their arms.

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