Deathscythe was still capable of getting into space? Duo glanced over his shoulder at the robot in question, and felt some uncertain flicker in his chest. A regular person might have called it hope.
But there were other things to deal with first. He shifted on two blood-stained feet and took the branch from Dick. "He asked me," he muttered.
From the corners, Kisame had said. Duo had seen enough funeral pyres to know that was true. He limped around three, lighting dry tinder with a burning flick, and tried to stop thinking about the broken-glass feeling radiating up his legs. He was supposed to be thinking about what he was doing, not how much he was hurting.
He was probably supposed to pray.
He tossed the lit branch onto the fourth corner, and refused to sway where he stood. "F'you end up in hell, buddy..." The smoke rose up, thick and grey with a dry scent like beef jerky. "Save me a good spot."