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The girl who dreams on the back of a giant space turtle.
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"Tsk. And you say I'm the dumb one."

After Astrid's sudden display of aggression, Penelope's tear ducts had run dry and her distraught mood had been replaced by one of pure contempt. Astrid was just trying to use any means she could to justify the decision she made a long time ago solely out of fear. No matter how little logical sense it made.

"You think I haven't already done things with my life, and you think I don't want to be back home myself?" Penelope grabbed her hair with her left hand to keep herself calm. "I already have over 1200 followers on Tumblr because of how many people like the art I draw and the games I make, I've already done a lot in these sixteen short years I've been on Earth." Penelope looked down at the gun clutched in Astrid's hand, contemplating. "...And I'd like nothing more to be back home right now, drawing, coding, messaging friends, cuddling with Sam... but I'm not, and I know that being able to go back to any of that is nothing but a fantasy. It will never be the same, no matter how hard I would try to make it go back to the way it was."

Penelope shook her head, the flashlight barely illuminating her movements. "I'm not going to compromise my morals for a chance of having a shell of a life." Penelope turned her back to Astrid briefly, throwing her arms up in a pseudo shrug. "But I guess you really have no morals to speak of, huh?" She turned back towards Astrid and clutched her hair again, her tone growing somber. "You have to face reality that a good person doesn't hurt other people for their own gain, a good person doesn't negotiate the deaths of a hundred other people just to save their own skin. No matter how afraid they are."

Penelope closed her eyes for a moment, considering what she was going to do, what she was going to say. This was now or never. "But if you don't care about being a good person? If you don't care about the other people you'll hurt just because you're afraid and you want to show the world that it can't stop you? Then fine, go ahead, kill everyone you want. But... I don't think you have the guts. I know Astrid Tate, and Astrid Tate deep down doesn't want to do this. And if I'm wrong? If you really do want to do this?"

Penelope leaned forward and grabbed the barrel of Astrid's gun, trigger still clutched in her hand, and pointed it at her own stomach. "If you really want to do this, I want my blood directly on your hands." She gulped, mentally steeling herself. It was hard to suppress her instinctual fear, no matter how sure she was that Astrid wasn't going to pull the trigger. There was always that gnawing doubt that she was wrong, that she had made a huge mistake. "If you're going to win, and everyone else is going to die for you, you deserve nothing less than to know that every single death, including mine, is all on you. Not the terrorists. Not the other killers. Just you."

Penelope's breathing was heavy and fast as she attempted to stare stone faced at Astrid. There was no going back now. It was time for Astrid to choose.

"Well, Ms. Winner, you want to win?" Penelope asked, as her voice trembled slightly. "Then do it. Prove to me and yourself once and for all you're really winner material."

"Do. It."
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