I don't hesitate. I launch myself at Deathgirl with a wordless roar of fury, my vision narrowing to a single point of laser focus. The world falls away until there is nothing left but her, me, and the white-hot rage burning in my core.

Deathgirl meets my charge with a savage grin, her small fist sprouting a bristling cluster of jagged tooth-spikes as she swings a vicious haymaker at my head. I throw my left arm up just in time, feeling the spikes scrape across my armor with a screech of metal on bone.

Gritting my teeth, I snap my right leg out in a low kick, aiming for the nerve cluster on the outer side of her thigh. The strike connects with a meaty thud, and Deathgirl's leg buckles slightly, throwing her off balance.

She snarls like a rabid animal, retaliating with a wild backhand. The tooth-spikes extending from her knuckles glint in the sunlight, a macabre imitation of a cestus. I duck under the swing, feeling the rush of displaced air against my scalp.

Surging back up, I drive my right fist forward in a straight punch, every ounce of my considerable strength behind it. Knuckle meets jaw with a sickening crack, and Deathgirl's head snaps back, the force of the blow sending her staggering backward.

She teeters at the top of the courthouse steps, arms windmilling for balance. For a single, breathless moment, I think she might go tumbling down the unforgiving concrete. But she catches herself at the last second, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the handrail.

"Not bad, Bloodhound," she spits, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. "Looks like someone's been practicing since our last dance."

I bare my teeth in a humorless grin, my breath coming in harsh pants. "I'm full of surprises."

Deathgirl laughs, a jagged sound like shattering glass. "So am I, sweetheart. So am I."

And then she's coming at me again, a whirlwind of gnashing teeth and slashing claws. I meet her head-on, my own fists sprouting fresh rows of fangs. We collide in a furious tangle of flailing limbs and snapping jaws, all semblance of technique or strategy abandoned in favor of raw, animalistic savagery.

I land a solid elbow to her temple, feeling the crunch of cartilage. She rakes her spiked knuckles across my shoulder, leaving burning lines of agony in their wake. We exchange a flurry of punishing body blows, neither of us willing to yield an inch.

My lungs are screaming for air, my muscles burning with fatigue, not just from the day's events but the dozen injuries that have been there already. I push through it, drawing on reserves of strength I didn't know I possessed. Kate's face flashes through my mind, twisted with bitter resentment. Jamila, eyes shining with unshed tears as she walks away from me.

No.

Not now.

I shake my head violently, banishing the unwanted memories. I can't afford distractions, not with Deathgirl coming at me like a pint-sized berserker. I need to focus, find an opening, end this fight before we're both too exhausted to defend ourselves against the aftermath of her heinous attack.

Easier said than done.

Deathgirl is relentless, a miniature engine of destruction that just won't quit. Every time I think I've got her on the ropes, she comes surging back with redoubled ferocity. It's like trying to fight a hurricane, all howling fury and implacable momentum.

I take a step back, trying to create some space to catch my breath. But my foot finds only empty air behind me, and I realize with a sudden lurch of my stomach that I've reached the top of the courthouse steps.

Deathgirl sees it too, her eyes lighting up with vicious glee. She lunges forward, sensing weakness, her spiked hands outstretched like claws ready to tear me limb from limb.

I brace myself, preparing to meet her head-on... but at the last second, I pivot to the side, grabbing onto the handrail to swing under it like a chimpanzee, letting her momentum carry her past me. She stumbles, thrown off balance by the unexpected move.

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I don't hesitate.

Planting my forearm against the small of her back, I clothesline with all my remaining strength, sending her tumbling down the steps in an ungainly sprawl of flailing limbs. She bounces and skids, fetching up against the concrete wall at the bottom with a bone-jarring thud.

Slowly, agonizingly, she pushes herself upright, swaying drunkenly on her feet. Her face is a mess of blood and bruises, her clothing torn and stained. Her eyes are alight with a terrible, feverish madness, lips drawn back in a skull-like rictus grin. She stares up at me, something dark and hungry in her gaze, and shimmies her way up, one step followed by another, toothy spikes ripping through her hoodie like it's made of tissue paper.

"Is that all you've got, Bloodhound?" she rasps, her voice a sandpaper rasp. "I'm just getting started."

Darkness begins to creep in at the edges of my vision, my body trembling with exhaustion. Every breath is a knife in my lungs, every heartbeat a sledgehammer against my ribs. My body isn't ready for a fight of this caliber, not after the rumble with Pumice and the man at LOVE Park.

I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up. But I have to try.

For Playback.

For the protestors.

For everyone counting on me.

I steady myself with a shaking hand against the cracked concrete, forcing my battered body into a fighting stance once more. Fresh fangs push through my torn knuckles, agony and determination mingled.

"Come on then," I whisper, more to myself than to her. "One more round."

And then I'm launching myself down the steps with a wordless battle cry, ready to meet my fate head-on, come what may.

The world narrows to a claustrophobic tunnel of concrete and pain as Deathgirl and I tumble down the stairs in a tangle of flailing limbs. She slips off the middle step, her feet sliding out from under her, and we go crashing down together, a snarling, clawing mass of fury.

She catches herself on the handrail after three bone-jarring impacts, jagged fingers ripping into the concrete like it's made of flesh. I try to press my advantage, diving at her with hands outstretched, ready to grab her by the collar and slam her into submission.

But she's too quick, wrenching herself free with a twist of her shoulders. Her hands are a blur of motion, spiked fingertips slashing at my face in wild, frenzied arcs. I reel back, retreating up a step to avoid the flurry of blows.

Gritting my teeth, I lash out with a kick, aiming for her right knee. But she's already moving, twisting to the side like a snake, and my foot glances off her shin instead.

She lunges forward with a wordless snarl, driving her shoulder into my midsection. The impact slams me back against the concrete wall beside the stairs, driving the air from my lungs in a whoosh. Spots dance in my vision, but I force myself to focus, grappling for position. My left hand finds a fistful of her hair, and I yank her head down, smashing my right elbow into the back of her neck with all my strength.

She yelps in pain, but it doesn't slow her down. Her jaws snap shut on my right bicep, the spike-like teeth puncturing through my armor and into the flesh beneath.

Agony lances up my arm, hot and bright.

A scream builds in my throat, but I choke it back, slamming my left palm into her chin instead. Her teeth tear free with a sickening squelch, and I grab her by the front of her hoodie, swinging her hard into the concrete wall, ripping her crown loose with a splatter of blood and teeth.

She hits with a crunch, her eyes going glassy for a moment. I use the brief respite to stagger onto the landing area at the top of the stairs, my chest heaving as I suck in desperate gulps of air.

But Deathgirl is already recovering, shaking her head like a dog shedding water. She stalks onto the landing to face me, her face bloodied and swelling. Blood drips steadily from the ragged bite wound on my arm, splattering the concrete at my feet. I feel my body already straining to put itself back together, feel the head-rush of adrenaline.

We circle each other warily, two predators sizing up their prey. Then, as if by some unspoken signal, we clash again in a whirlwind of violence.

I land a solid left jab to her nose, feeling the crunch of cartilage. Follow it up with a right cross to her cheek, snapping her head to the side. But she just absorbs the blows, her eyes burning with murder.

She fires back with a vicious right uppercut, her spiked knuckles raking across my jaw. Pain explodes in my face, hot blood coursing down my chin. But I push through it, grabbing her extended right arm.

Planting my feet, I pivot hard to the side, using her own momentum against her. An aikido shoulder throw, one of the first moves I ever learned. Deathgirl goes flying, slamming into one of the metal bollards lining the edge of the sidewalk.

The post dents under the impact, and she crumples to the ground, gasping for breath. But even as I move in to press my advantage, she's lashing out with her left hand, tooth-spikes extending in a blur of hellish growth and imitation.

They puncture deep into my right thigh, a white-hot lance of agony that brings me to my knees. I scream through clenched teeth, feeling the spikes scrape against bone as Deathgirl wrenches her hand free.

The world swims before my eyes, going grey at the edges. I can feel my consciousness threatening to slip away, the siren song of oblivion whispering seductively in my ear.

Somehow, I force myself back to my feet, swaying drunkenly as I face Deathgirl once more. She's grinning at me, a monkey-like grimace stretching her blood-smeared features.

"Just give up, Bloodhound," she rasps, her voice a guttural snarl. "Lie down and die like a good little girl."

No.

No.

NO!