Conference of Submission

She looked at him; his clothes torn. She tried not to notice his bruised face, nor the blood on the ground. _Where were they?_ His eyes flickered alive as a candle in the wind.

"_Elsha?_"

He had recognized her at once, yet she still had no idea his name.

"_ElshaHawk_?" He reiterated.

_yes_, she thought but came out as an illegible whimper.

"_Mighty-Joe,_" he said weakly with a thrusting motion to his chest.

A figure moved from the shadows.

"_THX_" she whispered. And indeed it was.

She had heard the rumors, but never thought them true. He wore a white laboratory coat, and held a syringe. He lanced forward, and quickly injected her in the neck. Her body drooped limp; nothing more than a doll. He then applied the same dosage to Joe.

She and MJ had grown too powerful, and so they were to be _recycled_. A normal process. It was necessary for maintaining the originality of ficly.

In the end, only one would be left alive. And in a month, two more writers would be invited to the Conference of Submission.