Explosions had downed the substation, pylons twisted and fallen and live wires dancing like earthworms in a child's fingers. Electricity was coursing across the ground in arcs and sparks and smoke, all positioned as though by design to trap the Defiant inside the warehouse. The gravel was white and black with scorch marks, and I'm sure the air stunk of burning, not that I could tell.

I jumped the fence and sprinted through the mess of damaged components, electricity jumping from the ground into my legs in painful white-blue flashes, but this body had been built to withstand incidental electricity, and a little pain wasn't going to slow me down. I slid to a halt feet from the door and pulled out a strand of my hair tipped with a camera to peek inside, adjusting for the darkness manually before I even looked within.

Dragon, he had to be. A lithe Sino, standing in front of the group in a cloak that made him look bigger than he was, his straight black hair all I could see of the back of his head. Stag was on the ground, all his words of his strength useless as he choked on a knife protruding from his throat, and one or two others among the Defiant in the same position. The rest were backed into the corner, waiting, cowering.

"One among you," Dragon said, in a thick accent I'd never heard "holds something which I desire. You will give it to me, or you will die."

He made not even a gesture with his hand, and there was suddenly a knife in it, pulled from his sleeve.

"Eminent sir," Dork-Hand said, from somewhere near the back. "With recalcitrance I vacillate to inform you--"

"I did not learn your language so that you could abuse me with it," Dragon hissed. "Come forward and speak plainly."

Nobody stirred. After exactly five seconds, one of the Exhumans lunged and made a sound, and I thought for an instant she'd chosen to attack, but realized that Dragon had moved, and there was a knife sticking out of the Exhuman's throat.

It was unbelievably fast. In the back of my mind, I replayed the footage and even in slow-mo, I could barely see his arm moving. The speed wasn't everything either, it was deceptive...it was the sudden explosion of motion. There was no wind up or anticipation or tensing like he was going to act just...action, as fast as a human could go, out of nowhere.

The Exhuman made a plaintive gurgling and fell forward, pulling the knife out stupidly, which I knew would just make her bleed out faster. It'd punched straight through her carotid, just to the side of the trachea. A perfect shot, even at that speed.

"I said step forward," Dragon said, and this time there was movement, as the Defiant pushed a struggling Dork-Hand to the front of the pack.

He stepped forward and dusted himself off as he reached the front, as though it were still by his design that he was there. "Hello...there. You must be...Dragon. I'm...ecstatic to, uh...visitate your personage--"

Dragon's hand snapped forward again with the same speed, but only to point a knife in Dork-Hand's direction. At the speed of human reflexes, Dork-Hand screamed and flinched as he realized he wasn't dead yet but very nearly had been. "Speak plainly," Dragon said.

"Yes. Sorry."

"The object I seek is a small orb, the size of a grown man's fist. It is mechanical, and I know one among you possesses it. It was the possession of Minerva 'Mini' Frossard, and was not on her person. It will be mine, whether you hand it over now, or I take it from your bodies."

"Wait...you...you don't want us to...to riot and destroy the XPCA?" Dork-Hand stammered.

"I care nothing about this country or the people in it."

"But Athan said--"

"I am finished explaining myself. Surrender my item. Or die."

Again, I felt the group tense up. Nobody seemed intent on handing over the item though. Unlike the others, there was something in Dork-Hand's biologicals that indicated more than pants-shitting terror. Despite the situation, he was still trying to come out on top it looked like.

The five-second count drew near, and Dragon lowered his arm so that he could raise it again with a throw. Just as time was about to elapse, Dork-Hand threw himself to his knees.

"Waaaaait!" he cried. "I beg you, spare my life."

"I have already informed you what in this room has value to me. Your words were not mentioned."

"I know what you're looking for, though. I know where to find it. Just spare me, and I'll tell you where you can get it."

Was this some kind of moronic bluff? Was Dork-Hand trying to pull an Athan and draw the attention off the others? Or just some ballsy doomed escape attempt?

Athan was within sight now, beginning to thread his way through the downed lines. The electricity wasn't anything to him, he could push it away, but it was still a mess of metal wreckage he had to get past. I wondered if I should have tried to jump Dragon while I had the chance before Athan got involved, but given how fast the assassin moved, I didn't think even I could keep up. It was close anyway, and if I did strike, the Defiant would probably unload their powers at both of us, which optimistically would kill both of us.

But somehow I doubted he'd have stepped in there if there was any chance at all that would have worked against him.

"Take these," he said, and threw a vial to Dork-Hand. "Ensure each person here swallows one."

"What...what are they?"

The knife was back in hand and levelled at Dork-Hand's face, who began moving without asking any more questions. He went around the room, placing a large pill into each Defiant's palm. When he'd made it halfway, suddenly, with a wet pop more than a bang, and the horrific sound of splatter, one of the first Defiant's head simply exploded into gore.

The headless body collapsed, blood running and splashing everywhere, and people screamed, shoving one another to get away from the corpse, to avoid the growing, slick, red pool. There was movement to run, but even that stilled when Dragon's blade rose and pointed again.

"I said swallow, not chew," Dragon clarified. But it was now very obvious what was in those capsules. A bomb...probably remotely detonated, so that he could keep these people hostage while he went with Dork-Hand to claim his object. I'd imagine he'd put down a camera or something to keep an eye on them, and realized the only reason he was going through all of this was the possibility that one of the Defiant had hidden his prize somewhere. That was the only reason they weren't all already dead.

Just more convenient to keep them alive for now. The only reason. It made me sick.

The knife shot out again and another Defiant gurgled through a blade. "I said swallow, not hide in one's cheek. Do not think you can evade my sight."

There were no further incidents. And as I'd thought, Dragon threw a camera into a corner, promising that if they stirred, if the camera showed any irregular function, if they tried to disable the bombs, if the police or XPCA or anyone was contacted, he would pull the trigger without hesitation. And you bet they believed him.

"Take me to it," he said to Dork-Hand, who just nodded and headed for the door, and for me.

I had to decide now what the call was, but my decision was made for me by Athan closing the last of the distance in plain view. I couldn't get to him and get us out of sight without making a lot of noise, and Dragon would certainly see him, and greet him with a knife at the throat. Athan's shield had a hard time with fast or bulky objects, and I didn't know how a thrown knife would stack up...much slower but much, much heavier than a bullet. At the very best, the shrapnel might be nasty enough to cut him up some, and I would be certain Dragon would want to finish the job.

So instead, I raised my leg above my head in preparation and waited in ambush. The second he passed through that door, I would axe-kick him in the head, and we'd go from there.

Not my idea of a good plan, but given the circumstances, it's what I had.

Dork-Hand emerged first, and gave me a confused glance, focused on my exposed crotch. Fantastic guy. I jerked my head to tell him to keep moving, and thankfully, he did, not pausing long enough to be suspicious.

I tensed, focused in so hard that time seemed to slow down as my perception of it dilated ever so slightly. I could end it all right here with one shot.

For an instant, I saw the crown of his head emerging from under the door, and my foot crashed down towards it. But the very moment I moved, he did too, pulling his head back out of the guillotine and throwing himself backwards. I heard him tumble and roll, and Dork-Hand took off like a bullet.

And then I was shot. Three times in the chest, each explosion of noise accompanied by the sensation of getting punched very, very hard by something very, very hot. I reeled backwards a couple of steps, and in that time, Dragon slipped through the door and headed for Dork-Hand, who'd pulled curved, springy running stilts out of somewhere, and was using them to bound over the electricity and wreckage with incredible speed.

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Athan was almost here, but I took off again, mostly unhindered by the bullets in me. If I were human, they'd have breached both my lungs and my heart, but my essential systems were stored closer to my gut for exactly that reason. I rocketed up on Dragon, and fast as he was, in a sprint I could still pass him like he was holding still.

He was preparing another dagger for Dork-Hand's backside, and I kicked him in the arm, sending it flying. He hardly flinched at the blow, instead looking at me and the ineffective bullet wounds he'd put in me.

"What Exhuman are you? You are not of the Defiant," he said.

"I'm just some guy's girlfriend, crashing the meeting!" I yelled at him, cracking the ground where he jumped away from another kick.

Where he landed, a flash of light streaked from Athan, erupting in a spiderweb of crackling electricity and sparks that coursed up and down Dragon's legs. He shuddered and twitched involuntarily but…

But his every erratic motion seemed planned. When one of his legs gave, his other leg gave equal and opposite, keeping him upright. He seemed to spasm and burn and be in pain, but acted nothing like it. As though to prove it, he whipped out two pistols, one in each hand, one pointed at Athan, and one pointed at the fleeing Dork-Hand, his eyes trailing the latter.

Somehow, even with his lower half consumed in electricity, shuddering and flailing, he kept his arms steady and fired both shots, knocking Dork-Hand from his springing stride to a painful-looking crash with the side of a parked car, and the other making Athan's shield strobe white with a direct hit.

Just what the fuck was this guy?

I went in for the kill while he was still disabled, sliding up to him with my leg poised to crush him, Athan's lightning jumping up and down my leg. As hard as I could, I swung my leg down, and felt contact, but only grazing.

He'd pivoted his body so I'd only clip him in the front of the shoulder, pushing him more than crushing, and he went with the force of the blow, tumbling backwards and rolling gracefully to his feet.

He'd seriously just used the force of my kick to knock him clear of Athan's lightning? That was completely impossible.

And yet there it was. Guns gone within some compartment in his coat again, he bolted off towards Dork-Hand's crumpled form. On his first step away, I tried to sweep his still-electrocuted legs, but he just did a fucking cartwheel over me, his fingers twitching into the gravel as they bore a shock, and then he was away from me.

The next few seconds were an exercise in pure frustration as I repeatedly caught up to him, only to have him gracefully dodge my attacks with ludicrous panache. I lunged for a grab, he arrested my momentum with a palm strike to the face. I squared up for a pair of front kicks, suddenly, he was completely out of range. I did a goddamn spinning tornado kick, to indiscriminately crap on the whole area around him, but the second I'm off the ground, he's ducking under my leg, spinning me upside-down with the momentum of my own jump to crack my head on the pavement.

Which fucking hurt.

"You are quite resilient," he said, through heavy breaths. "Perhaps I will have a place for you after I finish my errand."

"Oh eat shit and die," I said. Talking while fighting was more Athan's thing, but I was venting my frustrations at him.

He abruptly sidestepped as another pair of lightning bulbs sailed past him. "Stop hitting my girlfriend!" Athan growled as he closed the last few feet to catch up, his breathing deep and even. If my indexes weren't so dialed down, I'd have swooned at his concern. He didn't even flinch as two bullets unloaded into his shield with no effect but to set off some fireworks.

"You are not of the Defiant either, but I believe I know of you. Athan 'Chariot' Ashton, lapdog of the XPCA," Dragon said. "What business do you have here? These Exhumans are not your allies."

"These Exhumans are people, and you're murdering them, you fuck," he said in response, his eyes dark and dangerous. "For what!? They won't do what you want, so you just fucking kill them? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

It wasn't the time to correct Athan on his misconception of Dragon's motives.

"They chose their fate when they refused my demands. Stubbornness killed them, not I."

"And Talon? And Mini? And Micaiah? Were they all just too stubborn to you too? Because it sounds like you just fucking shot them in the back without warning or demands. Just a sick fucking killer."

Dragon cocked his head. "You believe I killed these people?"

"Oh like I'm going to believe this bullshit."

Athan stepped forward again, and this time as he did, I thought a second sun had dawned. Twenty blades or more, of pure sparking luminance manifested all around Athan, throwing harsh shadows against his features. Dark lines under his dark eyes matched his glare as he advanced towards the murderer.

Dragon gave a small amused smile beneath his thin moustache. And then, as he had before, he moved without warning or anticipation, just bolting right between Athan and me for Dork-Hand again. The dozens of blades lashed out as one, moving to intercept, and I jumped to block his path.

But it was a feint. He'd shifted again, and closed the distance to Athan before I could react. One arm struck Athan in the face with an elbow, the other, crudely blocked by driving a knife through Athan's hand instead of through his chest.

He retreated just as the blades came back in to eviscerate him, slicing through nothing but air.

"So you can see the future? Read my motions?" Dragon whispered.

"Ow, you goddamn fuck," Athan screamed at him, his hand dripping blood from both sides. He ripped the dagger out, gasping as he replaced it with one of his own blades, cauterizing the wound shut with a sizzle. And all he had to say was 'ow'? Holy shit, Athan's pain tolerance was high.

"I see that you are serious. You have more nerve than the whole of the Defiant. I appreciate that."

"I'd appreciate it if you fucking died!" Athan screamed back, throwing the knife back at its owner. But Dragon just shifted to the side and seemingly pulled the knife out of the air into his waiting hand, moving not to avoid the attack, but the spray of blood which flew off of it.

Athan lunged forward, his blades forming a wedge in front of him to split Dragon in two, but again, Dragon reacted as soon as Athan was moving, and again, once within the barrier of blades, he brutalized Athan.

I screamed and ran into the blades myself, somehow so far away for only being a few of steps apart. In those steps, I watched as Dragon hit Athan a dozen times, his hands a blur, flying up and down Athan's reeling body, impacting again and again, palms cracking ribs, elbow shattering nose, a downward chop above the pelvis, at the liver and kidneys.

Athan was just stumbling backwards, every blow pushing him further and further away, unaware of what was happening to him, unable to feel more than pain, to see more than Dragon moving at him. His blades finished their arcing attack at nothing and came back, but not before one final gut-punch collapsed Athan's center of balance and dropped him face-first to the gravel.

He coughed, a torrent of blood leaking from his face, and then he laid very still as his blades winked out.

I couldn't...couldn't do anything. He was right there in front of me, and for all my strength and speed, I couldn't do a single fucking thing. Dragon just reached into his coat and pulled out knives to face me and I just stood there staring at Athan, watching him again and again in the back of my mind in slow motion as every punch connected, every bone broke, every bruise was laid.

I just...just wanted to scream, wanted to go feral and dive on top of Dragon and tear and rip until there wasn't anything of him left. How fucking dare he do that. I didn't give a shit about who he was or XPCA politics or anything. I just wanted to kill, in a way I didn't even know I was capable of.

He was on me, giving me only an instant to react as he came in with both daggers primed. I took only long enough to calculate whether their impact would disable me or not, and when I concluded they wouldn't, stood there to take the blow.

Unbelievable white-hot pain shot through me, but I didn't care. My arms snapped shut around Dragon, with the aim to pin him to me. If he wanted to hurt me, cut me up, stab me, he could fucking do it all day, but I'd fucking make him pay. I would wring the life out of him as his skin burned, trapped against my searing-hot body. He would blister and scream and I'd break every one of his bones so he could fucking know the cost of crossing Athan and me.

I saw by his eyes that he was surprised I just stood there and took it, but even with that surprise he still almost evaded. I barely caught the trailing end of his coat, my fingers snapping on it like a vice as he tried to pull away. In the next moment, I'd yanked him backwards, and though he was already halfway out of it, I grabbed his trailing arm with both of mine.

My engines blazed to life, hot enough to ignite the air around me, as I put everything I had into breaking him. His bones were like toothpicks in my hands, and I ground them into dust in my fingers. He'd broken Athan in six or seven places. The bone in my hands, I shattered into six or seven thousand pieces. His flesh screamed in protest at my grip, blood forced out of ruptured capillaries to flood the muscle and skin, to weep through the pores like crimson sweat. His skin burned in my palms, shrinking and blackening. I squeezed and crushed until his entire arm felt like nothing more than gritty sand in a wrung-out tee, crunchy and broken and dry.

And then, like a piece of paper, I ripped his whole fucking arm in half, tearing whatever was left, beneath where the elbow used to be. What blood remained splattered the ground with a sick wet noise.

Somehow, impossibly, he was still up, and pulled away, sagging slightly as he cupped the torn shreds of his arm. "I see now. You are no Exhuman. You are machine."

I had no words for him. I had only pain he needed to feel. I charged him again, but he refused to let me have him, slipping away whenever I thought I was close, no matter how fast I forced myself to go.

My engines were screaming. My clothes were on fire. And still, by the breadth of my fingertips, he was fucking eluding me. I wanted to scream, but all the air I had was being forced into my engines.

But as I charged him again, he reached out with his remaining arm and put something on my back. For a moment, I scrabbled for it, until it engaged and I felt my systems going haywire. Power surges created aberrant behavior, components were misfiring and cascading failures began to trip.

I hit the ground before I realized I was falling, my auto-gyro telling me I was still upright. I couldn't move, not in a coordinated manner. My thoughts became more and more corrupt, I realized, as I began to become hyperfocused on tangents. In that moment, I needed to apologize to Lia. I had four cam-drones finished and waiting back at home, just idling, completely wasted potential. Athan was helpless at the moment, not critically wounded, but if I couldn't stop Dragon...

Yes. That last one was important. I sent the highest-priority emergency alert I could manage on every channel I could manage, resolving to my location and with an image of Athan as I saw him in front of me.

And then everything went utterly black. I thought...I was just out but...but I was still here, thinking, struggling in vain. Maybe just my optics then.

Until I heard Dragon speak.

"Hmm, and what is this now?" he asked me, presumably.

And then out of the blackness stepped a silver-haired girl, a dark wind whipping around her as her silvery-blue eyes burned with the same rage and desire to eradicate this man as I felt.

"Pain for pain. Blood for blood," she whispered, and the black wind howled.