Still, even if she is inhumanly fast, faster than any magical girl has a right to be, she is still far too slow.

After all... you have all the time in the world.

The world instantly becomes cast in dull hues of gray and the Betrayer stops in her tracks, completely paralyzed, just like everything else. The manic, crimson pinned eyes do not blink, her hair does not wave in the air, her mechanical arms stop in their raising motion, her chest does not heave, and her armored feet do not tear at the ground.

She is frozen.

Nothing can move here.

This time is only yours.

Well, yours and that of the abomination in the pink dress.

She stands there, smiling, without saying anything.

You shake your head and snarl out a curse at her beneath your breath.

“You liar. I thought you said I had a 99.9% chance of losing. Repeating, even.”

She shrugs and her smile widens slightly, bloodstained teeth peeking cheekily between her lips.

“Homura-chan, you wound me! I could never lie to you! That was if you fought her on your own, of course! But Mr. Shield is helping you right now, see? So your chances have gone up! I’d say you have a chance of -”

You snort scornfully at that and she stops in mid-sentence, blinking her midnight eyes inquisitively, almost as if she were genuinely confused at your displeasure.

Great. Just great. And you thought you only had to worry about half-truths around Kyubey.

A strained shriek of metal from your wildly clicking shield brings your focus back to where it should be.

On Kharn.

On your former partner.

On your friend.

On The Betrayer.

“She’s really trying to kill me, isn’t she?”

The black eyed monstrosity does not reply, but you get the impression that her smile has become even wider at that question.

“I... I don’t want to die. Not here. Not yet.”

“Then you know what you have to do, don’t you, Homura-chan?”

You don’t deign that with a reply as you pull a gun from the space behind your shield. High caliber. The sort of which leaves nothing but unidentifiable gore behind.

Not that it would even make a difference at this point.

You can’t miss. Not here. Not now.

You raise your arms and level the gun.

Legs.

BANGBANGBANG!

"An obvious choice, Homura-chan."

Wrists.

BANGBANGBANG!

"Can't really hold that huge ugly thing with no hands, I guess."

Shoulders.

BANGBANGBANG!

"Not taking any chances, huh?"

Chest.

BANGBANGBANG!

"Is that jealousy I'm sensing?"

“Fuck off, Pinky,” you snap irritably as you inspect the suspended bullets with a keen eye and determine that, yes, none of them are going to miss.

“I’ll see you soon, Homura-chan!”

With a pained click, the shield snaps back to its regular position and time continues its endless march once more. This change is immediately followed by a pained scream of anger rising above the chain-axe’s call and an explosion of blood that manages to completely douse you as a newly minted cripple crashes noisily at your feet.

It’s so anticlimactic that it’s sad.

It’s... pathetic, really.

She didn’t deserve this.

But it was her, or you, and you made your choice with a clear mind.

A heavy heart, yes, but a clear mind.

You... you really are fucked up. Tarnishing everything, leaving nothing behind but tears and misery. And now, your latest victim lies at your feet, gasping in pain, her breath catching and gurgling in her throat.

You look down at her with pity as she snatches up her weapon in her teeth and somehow manages to launch herself at your one last time, completely derailing your self-loathing thoughts.

Click.

Fuck.

Everything.

“Welcome back, Homura-chan!”

You spew out a string of obscenities in her direction as you reach behind your shield once more and pull out... a golf club.

“Oh, Homura-chan, that’s so nostalgic!”

You ignore the Witch’s crooning cries as you set to your work.

Once, twice, thrice. At the fourth hit the enormous weapon loosens from her ruined jaw and freezes in mid-air. You grab it and it roars to life momentarily in your grasp. Walking a small distance away, you place it on the floor; the roar dying immediately and the gray cast world returning to its perpetually silent state. With a nod, you go back to the suspended torso and begin to go over it with the golf club.

Up and down. Like clockwork. Like a machine.

Up and down. Like clockwork. Like a machine.

Up and down. Like clockwork. Like a machine.

"Is it just me or is it getting hot in here, Homura-chan?" she chimes in with a halting, breathy voice from somewhere behind you.

Ugh! You toss the golf club at the direction of the voice at the same moment that the shield finally gives way and the world returns to its normal hues.

You're greeted by the sound of the golf club sailing harmlessly through the air to fall down in a clatter as well as more screaming, followed by gasping and labored breathing of a decidedly different sort than the one you had just been treated to.

"I guess... I'll never get... that sword fight..."

"Sorry," you apologize lamely, "I still have too many things to do. I can't die here."

"You... you don't.... take any chances... huh?"

"Not with you. I can't afford to."

"Hah! Hah hah!" the laughter is wet and halting, "This is more... like the Murderface... I know... The one I missed..."

"Sorry," you apologize again. "I'm not that girl anymore."

"Don't apologize... you're stronger... but also weaker..."

She's smiling manically again and you find yourself wondering what sort of thoughts might be coursing through her head. It doesn't take too long before she shares them with you, grinning widely even with a bruised faced and ruined jaw.

"Our little trio... will finally... be reunited!"

"In Hell?"

"In Hell!" she says enthusiastically, somehow sounding incredibly pleased with herself.

"Don't... make us wait... too long... Murderface!"

"I'll visit as soon as the job is done, I promise."

"Good... That is good... Now, comrade... finish it... and farewell..."

"Farewell."

BANG