All that Sentinel received, all she ever warranted from Heathen was his condescending laughter. His ever-expanding, raucous echo chamber of lunacy.
"You're killing me, Sentinel,"
He appeared behind her, fingers hovering over her shoulders. The gauntlet was covered in blood, her surefire aim and power secured that much truth. Or was it truth? The music was beginning to play again. The pipe organs howled, the jaunty kettle drums, the rolling waves of kazoos and noisemakers and party streamers popping. Popping like wet cartilage. Fresh bone. Marrow, spinal fluid oozing out of the wound. Blood.
"You're absolutely murdering me, heheh,"
She wasn't facing Heathen anymore. She didn't punch him. It was a man in all black, tears streaming down his long face. He wasn't smiling, but the laughter in his depressurizing lungs betrayed something of a sick entertainment in his imminent death. Perhaps security? Hope? The white flowers in his hand were flecked red by his incessant coughing.
"Come on, do something else!" he verbally poked and prodded. Taunting her, pulling her in all directions.
"Say something heroic! Do something fun! I want to see you save a cat from a tree! Oh, that man is falling, won't you save him?"
Splat. Distant, cruel, but it's there. A spotlight from nowhere shines on a corpse. Was it really there? Where were the two? How was...
"Oh, too bad. Let's try that again!"
He pointed elsewhere. Crunch.
"Come on, try harder! Try harder! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!"