“Bitch,” I pulled on the bar, eliciting more struggling from Bitch, “Just tried to fuck me over in the fight with Dragon. Shoved me into the foam.”
Assuming the others believe Skitter, it’s not too far-fetched that Bitch could get kicked off the team for this. I kinda doubt that’s going to happen, though.
Bitch made a muffled noise, then jabbed me in the side, where I’d been grazed by Miss Militia’s shotgun. It hurt, and in the interest of keeping her from doing it again, I shifted my position so I could force Bitch onto her back against the ground, her head pinned down by my baton.
Ouch.
She could still hit me and jab me, but my shins could take a lot more abuse than her jaw could. I belatedly realized I’d taken my eyes off Bentley, but he didn’t maul me. When I looked up, I saw Tattletale had a grip on his chains.
Nice work, Tattle! Good to know there’s some support to be found.
“You’re a coward, Rachel,” I spoke, “You just did the very same thing you hate me for almost doing. You stabbed me in the back. You fucked over your own teammate.”
…ah, yes, the hypocrisy of it all is so concrete you can taste it, and then spit it out because hypocrisy doesn’t taste very good.
She mumbled something around the bar. The look in her eyes made me seriously worry she would kill me when I let her go.
Solution: Stay like this forever.
What do you mean that’s not a solution?
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