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Run, Run, Run

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Buffy Summers stands at the height of a swaying metal tower. Its structure is far past unsound; this is a construct of insanity, the labor performed by a horde of victims to a brain-sucking hell goddess with no respect for either safety regulations or human lives. Under no circumstances should a person ever trust their life to this tower, and yet Buffy Summer stands here all the same.

She stares far down at the concrete below her, and her body aches as if its every bone has been smashed. There is grave dirt beneath her fingernails and terror set deep into the primal part of her brain, and all she can think is run, run, run back to the warmth and the glowing light she left behind.

It will only hurt for a moment.

Buffy steps to the edge, and she readies herself to dive.

And then, like a bolt of lightning shattering the dark, Dawn's voice breaks the silence.