The stairs groan under my weight as I take them two at a time, each step a jarring reminder of how much my ankle hates me right now. The whole house feels like it's holding its breath, the damp air thick with mildew, smoke, and something sharper--an acrid tang I can't quite place.

Bursts of red fire flare to life around me, BWOOMF, BWOOMF, BWOOMF, each one threatening to catch me alight again all over. They cascade over my jacket, hitting my fur lining and starting it smoldering. For a second, I think about how mad Gossamer is going to be at me, and then stop worrying about it.

"There's nothing up there for you, Sammy!" he taunts. I ignore him.

My blood pounds in my ears as I hit the landing. The ache in my ankle spikes with each step, but I push through it. My lungs are burning, my throat's raw, and my ribs feel like someone's trying to twist them into a pretzel. None of it matters. This ends now.

I reach the spot I'm aiming for, and test the second floor's floor, feeling it rapidly begin to creak inward at all the fire being thrown around. Great. That's just what I wanted. I pull off my jacket, bundle it around my arms, and then wrap the fire blanket around my good shoulder.

"There's height, asshole!" I yell.

Then I throw myself backward, leading with my elbow, and let gravity do the rest.

The floorboards crack like a gunshot as I hit them, my weight driving down with every ounce of force I can muster. The wood groans, splinters, and gives in one smooth motion, sending me plummeting into the darkness below. The fire blanket is wrapped tightly around me, shielding me from the worst of the debris as I crash through in a shower of rotten planks and splintered beams.

The landing isn't graceful. I hit the ground shoulder-first, the impact sending a shockwave of pain through my already-battered body. The air rushes out of my lungs, leaving me gasping and coughing as I roll to my side.

The fire blanket falls away as I scramble to my feet, the darkness of the basement swallowing me whole. The air is lousy with smoke, choking and blinding, and every breath feels like sandpaper scraping down my throat. Where's my oxygen mask? Did I leave it with Kate? Fuck. I might've. No, it's in my jacket - I snatch it out, pull aside the bottom part of my helmet, and clamp it on. It'll muffle my voice a little bit, but oh well.

"Well, that's one way to make an entrance," Aaron says, his tone unimpressed.

I can't see him, but I don't need to. My hand darts to my palm, a quick, practiced motion cutting the soft flesh against the tooth I've grown there. The sharp sting of pain is followed by the familiar rush of clarity as my blood sense kicks in. That's one of us - now I can see myself. "You can make this easier if you just give up now. We're already getting this place surrounded."

"If I'm going to jail for life, I might as well make it worth my while!" Aaron shouts, making his intentions clear. A tiny shaft of moonlight lights up his glinting, perfect teeth. Did he get dental work done? Crazy.

Before I can respond, a flash of light erupts in the darkness, blinding white that sears through my closed eyelids. I stagger back, my arms instinctively shielding my face as the heat washes over me, the fire blanket eating enough of the heat that I can feel it. He comes through the flare swinging, something thin and hard smacking into my stomach and forcing bile out and up my tongue.

If I was feeling cocky, I'd say that was the wrong move. Now I know where he is.

I lunge forward, aiming low. My shin connects with his leg, and I feel the impact ripple through both of us. He grunts, stumbling back, but he recovers faster than I expect, swinging what I imagine is a pipe towards me. I duck just in time, feeling the whoosh over my head.

"Missed me," I snap, my voice raw and hoarse, teeth sliding cleanly through from the slots in my gloves.

"You won't be saying that for long," he growls, the fire in his voice burning hotter.

I close the gap, driving my knuckles into his forearm and punching, drawing first blood. The thin, sharp lines register instantly through my blood sense--a high cut, shallow but enough to track him. He roars in pain, yanking his arm back, but it's too late. He's pinpointed.

His retaliation is immediate. He charges, slamming into me like a freight train, and I don't have time to dodge. The impact drives me into the damp, crumbling basement wall, the back of my head slamming against the plaster hard enough to make stars explode behind my eyes.

He grabs my collar, lifting me just enough that my feet barely scrape the ground. "You really don't know when to quit, do you?" he sneers, his breath hot and sour against my face.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Why Kate?" I rasp, clawing at his grip. "Why her?"

He smirks, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. "You think I remember every match I've lit? C'mon, Sammy. Surely you of all people understand what complete life destruction means."

He pulls the bottom half of my helmet off and tosses it away. I'll need to replace that, if I survive. I grit my teeth and spit blood into his face, the sharp tang hitting my tongue as I aim for his eyes. He flinches, just for a second, but it's enough to weaken his grip on my costume, and I jerk myself free with a harsh twist.

There. A headbutt. I lower myself down and slam my shoulder into his belly, sending us both hurtling to the ground.

The fall knocks the wind out of me, but I roll to my feet as quickly as I can. Aaron's already grabbing for something--a loose pipe from the debris--and he swings it wide, the metal cracking against the side of my helmet with a sickening clang.

The world spins, my vision swimming as I stumble back. My head feels like it's been split open, but I force myself to focus, my blood sense keeping him locked in my mind's eye.

"Get up," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Likewise," I mutter, blinking away the dizziness. I can almost feel something delicious coursing in my brain, like the world's best soup. Sure, it's another on an increasingly large stack of concussions (very worrying), but it feels so good. Like I can finally breathe.

He charges again, swinging the pipe in a wide arc, but I duck low, driving my elbow into his ribs. He grunts, the air rushing out of him as I follow up with a quick strike to his jaw.

For a moment, I think I've got the upper hand. But Aaron's bigger, stronger, and he knows it. He grabs me by the arm, twisting hard enough to make my shoulder scream in protest, and slams me into the ground.

Pain explodes through my ribs as his weight presses down on me, pinning my arms with his knees.

"You should've stayed down," he says, his hand reaching for my helmet.

"No thanks," I mutter, and with a sharp twist, I buck upward, slamming my forehead into his nose.

He yells, reeling back as blood gushes from his face. The pressure on my arms eases, and I drive my elbow into his side, forcing him off me.

I scramble to my feet, panting and clutching my ribs. Aaron's already getting up, his face twisted in fury, but I don't wait for him to recover.

Aaron staggers back, clutching his nose, blood pouring between his fingers. For a moment, the dim light of the growing fire makes the whole scene look like something out of a nightmare. The squalor of the basement stretches before me--an old, grimy mattress shoved against the wall, stacks of prepackaged food covered in dust, the hum of a cheap dehumidifier fighting a losing battle against the damp air. Canisters, piles of Duraflame firestarters, the kind for people who are bad at campfires. It reeks of mold, sweat, and something sharper.

Then my eyes land back on the canisters.

Fuck.

It's gasoline.

His eyes flick to the closest one, the barest hint of a smile curling his lips. I see the glint too late. His fingers twitch, and a sickly yellow flame bursts to life, snaking toward the canister.

"Shit!" I yell, throwing myself backward.

The explosion rocks the basement, a deafening roar that leaves my ears ringing. The gasoline ignites with a blinding flash, liquid fire spraying across the floor and up the walls. The heat slams into me like a wave, so intense I can feel it through my mask. Flaming debris rains down around us, the chaos swallowing everything. Smoke curls thick and black, coiling into my lungs even as my oxygen mask fights to keep me breathing.

The flames paint the basement in hellish shades of orange and red. Aaron is still moving, his shadow flickering in the firelight, but I've got the edge. My blood sense keeps me locked on him, tracking every twitch and stumble through the chaos.

I stay low, weaving through the inferno. The smoke clings to me, thick and suffocating, but I keep moving. He tries to follow, his eyes scanning the flames for movement, but he's slow. He doesn't have my blood sense. He doesn't know where I'll come from next.

I grab a loose plank from the wreckage, the wood splintering in my grip, and swing hard. It connects with the side of his head, the crack of impact cutting through the roar of the fire. He stumbles, cursing, but retaliates instantly. A burst of red flame arcs toward me, too fast to dodge. The heat sears through my costume, forcing me to drop the plank as the fabric smolders.

The fight shifts, chaotic and primal. We collide again, grappling like animals. His size gives him an advantage, but I'm faster. I drive my knee into his stomach, the teeth I've grown into my shin cutting deep. He howls, his voice raw and furious, and swings wildly. His fist catches my ribs, sending me sprawling into the debris. Pain blossoms sharp and bright, but I force myself back up, the adrenaline numbing just enough to keep me moving.

"You're just like me, you know that?" Aaron says, his voice hoarse but triumphant. "You need me, Sammy. You need this fight."

"I need you like a fish needs a bicycle," I snap. My voice is a rasp, raw and broken, but I make sure he hears every word. "I've already got a nemesis, and there's no room for second fiddles."

His smile falters. For a second, there's something else in his eyes--doubt, fear--but then it's gone. He's still bleeding, his arms, his face, his sides, but he doesn't stop. He doesn't back down. Good.

I feint left, my movements quick and erratic, drawing his focus. His eyes track me, narrowing as he anticipates my next move. But I'm faster. I lunge right, slamming into him with all the force I can muster. We hit the burning wall together, the impact sending a cascade of sparks flying around us. The fire roars louder, licking at the edges of my vision, but I don't stop.

Aaron gasps, the air rushing out of him, and I seize the opening. My hand darts to my belt, fumbling for one of the fire suppressant pellets. My fingers close around it, and I yank it free, smashing it into his face. The pellet bursts, a thick foam spraying out in a chaotic explosion.

He screams, clawing at his face as the foam blinds him, covering his eyes and cutting off his ability to see. The firelight catches on the wet sheen of the suppressant, the chemical smell overwhelming even through the smoke.

I stagger back, panting, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. The heat presses down on me, the flames closing in, but I don't care. Aaron is disoriented, flailing wildly, and for the first time, I see the cracks in his confidence. He's bleeding. He's blind. And he's not invincible.