“No flamethrowers?” I said. “What kind of evil organization is this?” “A particularly stupid kind,” he whispered back, “one that was reckless enough to try taking you and foolish enough to underestimate your ability to fight back. I think you gave them the shock of their lives.” It was what I wanted to believe more than anything in that moment: that I was capable of both getting us out of here, and making whoever had taken us regret it. That strand of confidence wove through me. “And that’s too bad. About the flamethrower, I mean. I do know how to use one, you know.” “You say that like it’s
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