As the dust settles, Hericane flies over the twitching bodies of her beaten foes and lands on the nearest stripper stage. "You'd never guess I used to want to be a veterinarian, would you?" She dusts off her flared white gloves, which are stained with blood that no amount of dusting off will ever remove.
"How 'bout we get what we came for." I wave the muzzle of the .45 at Sick Little Monkey, who's still out cold at my feet.
Hericane hops off the stage, grabs the chimp by her shoulders, and lifts her like she's a pillow. "Hey, banana breath." She shakes the monkey hard, trying to wake her. "Rise and swing."
Reaching out with my power, I give Sick Little Monkey a gentle nudge, just enough to break her sleep. It does the trick. Her eyes flutter open, and she smacks her lips softly,
