I'VE GOT NO STRINGS

By: xffan_2000

Summary: Drabble for "Ancient History." John wants to fight fate, huh? Two can play that game.

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It wasn't a choice. It was instinct.

Bad guy with big laser gun. Teammates in trouble. Jump between. Absorb the blast.

Seemed like a pretty stupid idea in retrospect.

Metamorpho knelt by Shayera's head and stroked hair from her eyes. His mouth opened, but he couldn't seem to get any words out. A "you'll be okay" would be a lie.

The advantage of having a laser take out most of one's chest is the lack of blood. The trade-off is the pungent stench of scorched flesh and feathers.

"Not..." she forcibly exhaled the last air in her trachea, "...destiny's puppet."

END