And here I thought we were past self-indulgent bullshit.
When you accuse me of cruelty — it's important to maintain a good fucking perspective.

DIRK: It's not about lacking talent... Of that there's plenty.

Power, too.

DIRK: More than me, probably.

But, you? You are mindless, aimless — pointless.

You don't think ahead.

DIRK: You wield incredible power like a child.

You're disgusting.

The AUTHOR: ...

The AUTHOR: I don't have to play by your fucking rules.

The AUTHOR stands, her hand is placed upon her blade. Sure, in a fair fight, she would beat him, effortlessly. Sure, if she was in control, she would beat him. But she is at a disadvantage. None of her tricks will work here. She stares at Dirk — trying to read his reaction to this bluff. For just one moment, she runs the fight through in her head, a thousand times...

I STAND, and RELEASE my BLADE, a slice of JUDGEMENT, CUTS the AIR around DIRK STRIDER. Who then gasps for AIR, trying to BREATHE, but CANNOT. Because Dirk is holding his breath — he is awaiting the enemy's attack, after all.

I STAND, and BREATHE, then SUMMON a storm of BLADES, to close the distance. But I get tired of writing an action scene, and wince.

A blade reaches through your chest.

> AUTHOR: Make your play.

You swiftly draw your blade, and Dirk waits for your attack. But you know better than to do that.

> AUTHOR: Run Away.

You SWING your BLADE through the FABRIC of REALITY, widening a miniscule hole. You step through the PORTAL
and you RUN AWAY.

> ==>