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The feral fear Liz had felt was fading. She was still in pain, still soaked with cold sweat, but her temples were pounding a little less, and her thoughts were coming organized now.

And Kimberly had a score to settle with her.


The shiny toy made sense. The not being a player made sense. But Liz--and here her head ached, she should have drinken more water--couldn't grok the score. Something--probably one of the people she had killed with the cameras. And here her thoughts were coming confused again...

Don't think about that.

Well. Kimberly had all the power in this relationship anyway. Liz hoped she liked it. She could sort of dully understand what might make Kimberly so gleeful to have her trapped under the gun--Liz had been a reluctant sub in sex enough times to taste when someone else had that power. So now Kimberly could do what she wanted to her, and more than likely, Liz would figure out this cockamamie 'score' she wanted to settle.

Time to start asking questions. Scrape your hand forward, find the pad and the pen.


Deliberately melodramatic. Might throw Kimberly off.

And it was a good thing to know.

Alice Boucher was a liar.
Liz Polanski played with fire.

And who the hell is Radio Asuka?
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Blackout · The Tunnels