"You almost had me," he finished, pointing his gun straight at her heart, "but you didn't give me enough credit. No one gives me enough credit."

"This isn't the way to go about fixing that," Sydney replied tightly.

Cotton laughed shortly as he carefully stood up, keeping his gun trained at her the whole time. "You've started taking me seriously, haven't you?"

"Point taken," Sydney conceded.

"Maybe not seriously enough, though," Cotton said thoughtfully. "You look scared, sure, but not terrified. Let me fix that."

Before Sydney registered what had happened, Cotton pointed the gun at her leg and fired. Hot pain exploded up her thigh as she crumpled to the floor with a shriek.

"Cotton! What the hell!" she howled, clutching her leg. Warm blood oozed through her fingers.

"Don't worry, it's just a flesh wound," Cotton assured her, ambling over. "But it hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?" He stomped down on her wounded leg, grinding his boot into the bullet hole, and she screamed in agony. "Now, that is a lovely scream," he said, dropping down on top of her. She tried to push him off, but her arms felt strangely heavy, like she was pushing through Jell-O. He caught them easily, pinning them above her head. "Your mom used to scream for me just like that."

"Get off me!"

"You're not really in the position to be giving orders, are you?" Cotton asked, still with that maddening grin, as he leaned in closer. "You're in an entirely different position." He leaned down and kissed her hard on the mouth. She tried to squirm away from his sharp, woodsy taste, but he was too heavy. "Say, that's tasty. May I have another?" He kissed her again, fumbling with the front of her jeans. Sydney bit him on the lip, and he jerked back with a hiss. "That'll cost you, Sid," he snapped, backhanding her hard across the face. She rocked to the side, her face on fire. "We'll just have to tweak the narrative a little."

"You're crazy," Sidney protested desperately. "There will be evidence!"

"I've got you covered," Cotton replied. With his free hand, he dug into his back pocket, pulling out a condom and waving it in front of her eyes triumphantly. "Tada! Thank God for the sexual revolution."

Sydney jerked suddenly, managing to wrench free from Cotton's grip. She rolled to the side, starting to spring up, but Cotton caught her wrist, swinging her back to face him—and his gun.

"This is the part where I'd quip about you being feisty," he said, keeping the gun against her throat, "but that's so cliché. Luckily, I'm good at doing things one-handed—" he winked at her—"if you know what I mean."

Sydney fought back frustrated tears. There was no way she could get away from him, not when he could put a bullet through her brain with one shot. She didn't hold out much hope for reasoning with him, either—but what other option did she have?

"Cotton, look, you don't have to do this," she said.

"Well, you're absolutely right, Sydney," Cotton agreed, dropping a hand onto her leg and sliding it up uncomfortably high. "I don't. But I want to. I really, really want to." His fingers crept even higher, over the front of her jeans, coming to rest on the front button. Sydney's breath hitched involuntarily, and Cotton grinned. "After all I've been through, I think it's about time I get what's coming to me, right?"

"I couldn't agree more!"

Both Cotton and Sidney jerked their heads towards the voice—Gale's voice. They hardly had a chance to register her presence before she slammed a prop rifle into the side of Cotton's head. It was only rubber, but it was enough to knock him out. The gun clattered to the ground beside him.

"Gale!" Sydney sprang up, totally forgetting her leg until it crumbled underneath her. She crashed back to the ground with a cry, and Gale rushed over.

"Sydney! Are you okay?" Gale knelt next to Sydney, spying the blood stain seeping across her jeans. Gale's eyes grew wide as saucers. "My God! What happened?"

"It's fine," Sydney insisted, waving her off as she reached down and clutched the gun. "We've got to get out of here. We've got to get the police!"

"It's okay," Gale replied, grabbing Sydney by the shoulders. "Cotton's out cold."

"They never stay down," Sydney said through grit teeth.

Suddenly, Cotton sprang back to life, lunging towards Sydney with Mickey's knife in one hand. She didn't flinch, just fired until there were no more rounds in the gun. Cotton tumbled backwards, blood spurting from half a dozen bullet holes. This time, he didn't get back up.

Sydney let Gale help her up, and the two women leaned on each other for support. Sydney caught her breath, staring down at Cotton's body dispassionately.

"Told you."