You take a deep breath and whisper to Heather, "On my mark."
Heather doesn't get it, though. "'On my mark' what?"
The burgers realize something's up, so you don't have time to explain. You kick the lead burger and start stomping down several of the crowd. Heather joins you and quickly outdoes you, destroying five for one of your kills.
After an hour of "fighting," there is a calm amidst the burning buildings. You and Heather look at each other, both covered in ketchup and mustard spray with lettuce and bits of meat stuck to your clothing. You have scratches on your arms, too.
There's a slow clap, and out of the shadows steps a tall, dark man with an eyepatch. He pulls an envelope out from under his trenchcoat and hands it to you. On it is a logo consisting of an eagle flying above the phrase "The Pretenders Initiative."
When you look up at him, he eyes you with his good eye, not saying a word, because you know. And he knows you know.
And you know he knows you know.
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