Gunshots ring out through the warmish night air, Cynthia/Michelle flinch. They hunch over as the bullets plunge into their body, striking from all angles. For a moment, they panic, their lives flashing in their memory, each seeing things they hadn't known about the other, as they mentally prepare for their demise.
However, it doesn't come. Seconds pass and the rubber gestalt girl remains standing.
"What the hell?" the lead cow waitress asks, lowering her weapon. "How...?"
Michelle/Cynthia slowly lift their head and gaze directly into her eyes. A wide grin slowly spreads across their face, dark and sinister despite their bright pink coloration. "Guess we're invincible," they say, their voice an off combination of two. They suddenly stand up straight, causing their skin to go taut and the captured bullets to fly back at their points of origin.
The slugs strike the cow women with full force, some being shot in the head, others in the chest. They all fall, however.
The rubber girl(s) step over to the lead cow as she writhes in pain on the pavement and the crouch down to whisper into her ear.
"Yes, it seems we are dangerous. And it also seems that nobody can stop us. This sick twisted island made is into what we are, and so everyone on this island will die for it. It's just oh so bad that you'll be unable to warn anyone..." at that, they ram their right dust down her mouth, plugging up her throat and holding it there. She wriggles, squirms, tries to fight, but it's no use. Between the bullet in her gut and the fist in her throat, she's doomed, and soon struggles her last as her body relaxes for the final time.
They pull their dust out and stand tall, surveying the carnage they inadvertently caused. "Yes, let Pleasure Island tremble, for we're gonna bring it all crashing down!"