"You know," muses Quantum Nebula, casually flicking his hair out of his eyes, "they say that revenge is a dish best served cold..."
Pyroxide's eyes narrow with resolve, and her head twitches involentarily.
"No." She breathes hoarsely, "Revenge is a dish best served flaming hot."
She stands up, and gives Nebula her shoulders, reaching in her pocket for her key to the locked door.
"Where are you going?" He asks.
"Out." She replies.
"You're not going to do something you'll regret are you?" He studies her face in the reflection of the metal door.
"Probably." She mutters without turning around, and then the door is open, and she's already halfway down the corridor before it slams shut, leaving Quantum Nebula chained to his chair, at the mercy of the guards.

And she hadn't turned the surcurity cameras back on before she left.


H.Superior.

Revenge, en flambe.