The waiting room was a massacre. The bodies of the fake Amazonians were strewn across the floor, their limbs severed, their faces frozen in expressions of terror and pain. Only one remained alive, the leader, her legs hacked off.
She tried to run but she couldn't, so she crawled. She crawled like a worm.
Dasha stepped on blood.
The leader whimpered. She dragged herself away, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. The other fighters in the waiting room were as still as statues.
No one said anything. No one could say anything.
Not until a voice called out from the doorway. "T-The Professor, you're up."
Dasha stopped. Whenever he committed a murder, he had to cover it up. The only exception was for when he had future intentions and plans. When he needed a detective or powerful man to realize something. Dasha turned without a word and walked toward the voice and the gate that led to the battle arena.
