“What did you say?” Ian went to lean in closer. Butz took the cylinder in both hands, twisted it and tossed it to the side. It erupted into a ball of white hot magnesium flame.

“Come on, Ian!” yelled Phil. “She’s coming! Let’s go, let’s go!” Phil pulled Ian’s arm and led him off the train and up one of the staircases. Butz meanwhile leaned back against one of the doors. His legs were weak; too weak to move his feet from the center aisle. He managed to pull his sidearm and cock it. Wallace slid through the door at the end of the car. There was a haze in the air from the cylinder burning, but she could make out some feet sticking out by the far exit. She held her weapon extended with the safety off and crept quietly up the aisle. The door slid open behind her. She spun and saw it was DeVriendt. She gave her the ‘quiet’ signal, and pointed at the feet. DeVriendt acknowledged and followed a few steps behind. Ricky couldn’t see them, but he could hear them coming. He leveled his gun as best he could. Wallace quickly peeked around the corner and swiftly ducked back. Butz squeezed off a shot that tore through a window. And before Butz recovered from the recoil, Wallace did a somersault to the other side of him, and a reverse spin kick that pinned his hand to the wall. Yeah, she was good. DeVriendt simply walked up and took the gun out of his bloodstarved hand.

“You know you’ve been a real pain in the butt?!” Wallace raged.

“You know if it wasn’t for this bullet in me, I’d beat the snot out of both of you.” His voice was weak, but his reply really ticked Wallace off. She grabbed him by the collar and she and DeVriendt yanked him up. He almost passed out from the pain.

“Don’t you die yet, punk!” she said, slapping him in the back of the head. As if on cue, Grant walked into the car.

“Now, now, that’s no way to treat a wounded man, Ms. Wallace.” She gently stroked her gloved hand over his bald head and glanced at the burnt cylinder remnants. Drawing her face near his, she asked, “Where is it? You wouldn’t have destroyed it all.” Butz opened his mouth as if to say something, and then let loose a sneeze that sent a bloody, saliva-mucus mixture right in her face.

“Err, um... You’re to close,” Butz mumbled, painfully grinning.

Grant’s expression changed to that of controlled anger. “You will die. Your family will die. Your dog will die. Everyone you love will die, if you don’t tell me now!” Butz sneezed again, sending another volley of blood, sweat, and saliva in her direction.

“Um... You’re still too close,” he chided. Grant was disgusted. She scanned the subway car interior. Her eyes fixed on a dark, reflective glass embedded in the wall.

She leaned over Butz and said in a whisper, “I don’t need you.” And with that, she kissed him full on his mouth. She dragged her flattened tongue out of his mouth, then up the surface of his nose, between his eyes across his forehead, and back down the side of his face to his chin. “Goodbye,” she said, and walked off the train.

Butz’s eyes widened. He never wanted to die this way. He had hoped the bullet wound would have finished him. But in the end, it wasn’t meant to be. First, the burning started in his mouth and on his face; he could feel the blisters forming. From there, blue veins could be seen in his neck. This heralded them carrying death to all parts of the body and their own destruction. By now, Wallace and DeVriendt had backed off; his muscles had locked which kept him from falling right away. The pain from the gunshot was all but gone now that his head and neck was one big pus-filled blister farm. His eyes were almost swollen shut completely when he fell forward; teeth popping out of his head on impact. The last thing he would see was the dirty, rubber walkway of the train’s floor, then, darkness. The blister that was his head exploded, and what little blood remaining in his body splattered across the floor and against the wall. Even though he was quite dead, his body continued to twitch and blister at a phenomenal rate. This was EVE. This was her legacy. Introduction to her was saying ‘hello’ to Death. Woe unto you if she came to visit.

Grant and her squad stood outside the train, peering in through the door and windows.

“God, I never get tired of seeing that,” she chuckled. “Ms. Okada, would you please go to train’s control room and retrieve the security camera video?”