They Shall Breathe Ashes, the famous assassin, and her assistant Shelby are on a rooftop. They and Shelby have neither guns nor toupees.

“What did you dust on his toupee, Shelby?” asks They.

“Powdered sugar,” says Shelby, “and permanganate of potash.”

“Nonpoisonous on contact,” gloats their opponent. “Should have done your homework, girls!” He waves his gun, and they walk obligingly toward the edge.

“Storm’s coming,” observes They.

“I promise you’ll miss the worst of it,” he scoffs. “Make like lemmings.”

“That’s a myth,” says Shelby.

“No, lemmings are real,” he says, as the first drop of rain hits his head.