I froze in place, briefly confused at this person now standing before me. How high his threat level was. What a smug asshole he looked. Safe to say he had some powers, given his confidence and ridiculous attire. Jury was out on whose side he was on, and I was less keen on getting my head pulped in by accidentally attacking one of the League's goons.

It would be a reasonable assumption to pin him as the unknown security entity for the place, which led to an explosion of other questions. Why he hadn’t stopped me, for one - he seemed to be insinuating that he intended to off the doctor himself, so was he double-crossing them?

“You seem confused.” He tilted his head as he idly twirled his glowing sword around. “Cat got your tongue, big guy? Or are you succumbing to those nasty injuries?”

I deflated and pointed at my neck.

He returned a shrug. “What does that mean? Guiding my blade already?”

Actual threats of harm were something I didn’t much care for. If he was with the League, I’d have to subdue him and escape. Unfortunately, plenty of supers were assholes, so I couldn’t paint him with a villainous label just because of his smarm and desire to kill a hitman. I was far from any exits, however, and if my eye tech was accurate, then getting the man to do anything but cut me in half with a smirk across his face seemed like an uphill battle.

Especially with my reduced gear and current injuries. Perhaps I’d allow my mind to turn into useless mulch and hope that he was going to let me go free.

“Just scared then? I get it. Probably wondering why the doctor hired someone like me to guard him… and then I just sat on my hands and twiddled my thumbs until you came along.” He scoffed. “Even got rid of the last automaton for you.”

As much as I struggled to imagine what he was doing with his hands, it seemed as though he was the insufferable talkative type. Needing to fill the silence, I was sure if I gave him all the air in the room, he would use it to tell me how smart and savvy he was to get on top. It was pretty clear to me that he wanted to steal the doctor’s research data for himself, but keep his own hands clean.

Usually I’d end a monologue prematurely by sticking enough lead through the offending mouth, but I was waiting for him to tell me his affiliation so that I might do the deed guilt free. Or at least die trying. I made the show of seeming confused and overwhelmed. Not a difficult task when I was getting close to passing out.

“Imagine this - the doctor coming to my organization and hiring me, only for me to take the money and use it to put out a contract on him. Then I could steal the data for myself. While most in Goldarch would pale at his ideas, down in J’rool he’d be hailed as a paragon.”

Only now he was a pile of inert fleshy parts leaking his lost vitality around my boots. I wasn’t even sure if Boss would be pissed at the set-up. Maybe for the loss of the other Agent - but otherwise he got paid, and the contract had been completed.

Me, on the other hand, I was fucking furious.

“It’s a shame the first guy they sent me didn’t make the cut. You could say he… lost his head after a run in with a Python.” The man grinned. “It was enough for the doc to green light a second one as well as the Shredders. Good thing too, as you were clearly tougher.”

Perhaps I was. Or just lucky. I doubted that all other Agents were cyborgs like me, so my advantage in having the stims as a crutch might not be universal. I didn’t really have any information to base that assumption on - the other Agents could all be gnomic bards for all I knew.

“But look at me standing here having a monologue. You’re clearly tired and looking for a way out.” He stepped to the side and gestured for me to leave. “That’s the trouble with us villains, we-”

I fired my shotgun. Question now answered, I threw nails across our coffins to see who had the most determined hammer to finalize this.

He flashed with blue light as his sword flickered around to deflect most of my shot. I’d already leaped from the raised platform and tried to lower myself behind the closest tables.

“Asshole. So eager to die.”

The thrum of energy waved across the room and a bright light ran across the thick table to my side. With a burst, it split apart, his sword attack fracturing the furniture. Lab equipment dropped to the scorched floor alongside my empty shell. I sprung up and leveled my arm at him before he had a chance to- oh, he was quick.

Sparks ran along my gun as it slashed across and caught my left arm. Already, he was turning to follow up with a spinning attack. With his eyes blazing blue energy, I was tired of this match-up already. Braced my shotgun with my lagging left arm and absorbed the strike, stumbling back into the raised platform. Let off my shot. Didn’t hit him.

The unnamed villain jumped into the air and darted down, pale blue streaking behind him. Narrowly missed my neck as it pierced me through near my collarbone and then dug into the scenery behind me. Another shot, and he moved away just in time.

I was slowing - I couldn’t deny that. Despite enduring all sorts of injuries as part of my job, I wasn’t superhuman. Blood was running low. Pain edged at my senses where even my adrenaline couldn’t hide it away. Even my gun-arm wasn’t snapping at my target as quickly as it should. Losing battle? They all were, up to a point.

Metal rang out as I tried to defend against another flurry of blows. His smarm and overconfidence had gone, and determined focus had taken control. Cold and capable killer - or perhaps the streaks of black across his suit where I had barely scratched him was an affront to his ego.

A slash to my forehead made me thankful for my goggles, otherwise I’d be blinded in short order from the running blood. A shot, and then a quick second. No damage to him. Left arm was really struggling to do much now.

Now he grinned. “To come so far, and you can’t even hit me. Pitiful!” He jabbed forward and caught me through the stomach.

Not too deep, but as the sharp shock of it fizzed away, an uncomfortable, dull sickness took hold. Almost made it a shame that I took out my vocalizer. Didn’t have a good one liner for the next part, but a brief explanation before it was too late would have suited, too.

I stepped into his strike, taking in more of the blade and grabbing out at him. Was able to grasp him into a rough bear-hug only thanks to his brief surprise - my gun-arm made the process awkward. Seeing the confusion on his face only made the self-inflicted damage worthwhile. Shortly followed by his eyes dropping to the floor and realizing what I had done.

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Never intended to shoot him. Normal shot wouldn’t hurt him, and he could deflect it, anyway. So I took my frustration out on the floor. Despite the efforts made to look like a high-tech lab, I had seen how thin and weak the walls in the offices had been. The flooring wasn’t that much better - and hadn’t enjoyed the repeated blasts from my shotgun.

Using the last of my living energy, I pooled all my strength into this last ditch move. Would have been screaming and growling, if I could. Against his will, I leaned back and lifted the man into the air. Only a foot or so - and he used the excuse to move the blade up higher into my stomach.

Dropping to my knees, I slammed him down on the weakened floor. A hideous groan was the response, before a crack and the peppered panels split, dropping us down into the level below.

We twisted in the air, jettisoned by the lab awkwardly into another office. I struck something incredibly uncomfortable that broke under my weight. A cloud of debris and dust washed over the space, obscuring us both.

Blue light bloomed through the air as the super rose to his feet.

“Nice try, asshole, but you’ll have to do better than that to-“

V-Force rocketed a Sanguine stake up at my assailant. Nice of him to keep fucking blabbing so that I knew where his face was. The power washed away the cloud of dust, sucking it into the space the metal ammunition had traveled. It brought the villain into view.

His face was one of surprise. Impact point was under his jaw. Exit wound left a hole bubbling brains at the top of his skull. A trickle of powdered factory ran down from the puncture wound in the ceiling.

With a shaky step backwards, his senses gave out, and he flopped over to the floor.

Now I needed to make my escape.

Muscles burned and shook as my attempt to stand felt like torture. Bloodied wounds were now caked in dust, but I could see that I didn’t come out of that knife fight as well as I had thought. Woozy. Left arm had been cut to the bone in two places. Head was still bleeding. Stomach was pulsing with the stuff as my muscles cramped and protested against the puncture. Oh, and I’d also either dislocated or broken my left knee in the fall.

And this was with stims on the go.

I blinked my exhausted eyes and looked around. A long, open plan office. I’d lost my orientation at some point, but there were actual windows down at the far end. Falling to the lower floor had the side benefits of being away from the security measures and lockdown. Not that my current predicament made getting back home any easier.

Couldn’t even let Boss know the contract was complete. Left hand could barely raise above my waist, so no vocalizer or typing.

I had one option, but I was going to fucking hate myself tomorrow. Still, better living than dead. My legs shuffled me to the closest wall, and I tried to get into a crouching position. Left hand needed to do one last task for me. It would hurt. I scrabbled into my tools for a particularly prong-shaped piece of metal.

Cursed myself and people with super powers for ruining my evening.

With what little energy I could muster, I flung my hand up to reach my neck briefly. My pained actions rewarded with a crack and a slow hiss. Stims were programmed to only release so much magical goodness every so often so you didn’t get hooked or overdose. Something you could override if you broke it in just the right place.

My whole body became numb and warm as the stim pack unloaded everything it had into my system. Briefly I felt elated - like I was dreaming. If only. A residual pain lingered everywhere, but it was just a brief discomfort. That amount of nanites would patch up the bleeding parts of me, but I’d need a few days to actually heal up.

Eyes went over to the window and I moved toward it. Awkward gait as I could somehow walk on my broken leg, despite the biology of it hating every step.

Other downside of stim overdose was blacking out. As sweat ran against my drying blood, the next few stages of my evening played out like an old movie. The fading memories of a drunken night out.

Smashed the window and flung myself out. Landed on an awning before bouncing off and landing atop a vehicle. Broke the windshield and a couple of ribs. Tazer mag in and sirens in the distance. Gave the guard-post and gates an electric handshake and worked my dizzy self over to my bike.

The journey back… I don’t even remember. Darkness. Flashing streetlights. The roar of the engine. Pain that I had long dissociated from.

And then I slid the mechanical beast across the loose gravel as the blurred shape of my house was in view.

Somehow made it off the bike without falling. Started to drag myself towards salvation.

“Dubs? Out working late… oh, what the fuck?”

I turned my head and blinked slowly to see Roxy literally leap from her front yard to mine. Concern across her face. Dark baggy clothing, and a bottle of beer in her hand.

“Shitting hell, you look dead. You need a hospital right now.”

Blood dripped to the ground as I attempted to shake my head.

“Oh, you’re unclipped. Let me…” Her brow furrowed further as she reached around my neck to clip the vocalizer back in place.

[Thank you. I will be fine.]

“Fuck off with that toxic masculinity shit.” She pressed a finger against my chest. “Either you go to the hospital, or you tell me how to fix you up. Now.”

I found myself unable to argue, only partly because I might literally die any second. This was going against standard protocol, but I was honestly too tired to care anymore.

[Switch by front door to disable traps. You’ll hear… lack of hum. Workbench. Bring fresh cannister, stims, and the case with blue writing on it.]

She nodded eagerly before vanishing for a moment, only to return with a thud. “Here, sit on this deckchair. Good thing I had two out already, huh?”

I grunted and did as I was told. Probably would have apologized for getting blood all over it if I hadn’t used all my energy to tell her how not to die to my house traps. Maybe they wouldn’t kill a strength super, anyway. I heard her leave, and then return almost immediately - my brain not bothering to remember the in-between.

“Damn, Dubs. Your house is… well, it looks like a kill room. You kill people in there?”

With nothing but exhaustion, I looked up at her.

[Not yet.]

“Not my place to judge how you live, but you could do better.” She placed the gathered items at the foot of the deckchair. “What do I need to do?”

[First lower my scarf and replace cannister and stims. Clasps, align pins, clasps.]

She nodded, an odd amount of apprehension on her face. I almost preferred it when she was obnoxiously overconfident. It would certainly make my current safety less stressful if the both of us could pretend it was no big deal.

I was patient and didn’t rush her. Better to do it right. Cannister went in and soft comfort ran through me. Stims were next, and she swore under her breath a couple of times trying to align the pins - but it went in and another pulse of the good stuff made me feel awake. An unhealthy amount of the nanites for one evening. The withdrawal the next two days would be… challenging.

“What now?”

[Tool in the case is for removing shrapnel. Click it against my wounds to remove bullets.]

Roxy pulled a face as she withdrew it. “This is barbaric. Isn’t this for using on non-organic materials?”

[Please. It will not be enjoyable for either of us, but it is necessary.]

How right I was about that. By the time the last piece of my terrible evening had been ejected and she waved the smell of burned flesh away, she had paled and had her fill of playing nurse.

I slunk back in the deckchair, barely surprised that she moved hers across to be almost beside mine.

She sighed and picked up her half-full bottle once more. “Was planning on getting you to come out and shoot the shit with me for a bit, but looks like your evening was a fucker. Want to talk about it?”

[Not at present.]

“They had me do a presentation to kids today. It was awful.” She shuffled in her seating. “I like kids, but I’m the wrong fucking person to talk to them about bullshit. Not without swearing, anyway. Felt like punishment.”

[I’m sorry you had to deal with that.]

Her fingertips drummed on the glass bottle. “Asshole, I know you’re hurting. Tracker picked up something in the Oceano Group factory district. I can put two and two together. A story for another day, I hope." She paused for a second, her tongue caught on a thought. "I actually wanted to ask you something…”

[Oh.]

An evening beneath the stars where she bitched about her day and we discussed anti-villain defensive measures sounded slightly better than getting chewed up on a stupid contract, but perhaps she had an ulterior motive. Catching me when I was weak and tired was a strong play on her end, if that was the case.

“Don’t say no immediately… hear me out first, okay?”

[I’m… fine, go ahead.]

The super turned to her side to face me, an awkward grin across her face.

“I have a housewarming party soon. I’d like you to come.”