Looking up at the thing in front of her, Rafferty realized why they called them Gods.

She wasn't sure exactly how she was supposed to deal with something this big by herself, but she knew that she had one advantage. It hadn't noticed her yet.

The sun glinted off its left shoulder, and gave Rafferty an idea she didn't hate.

Sprinting toward her target again, she looked for a flat patch of ground she could use as a springboard. When she saw a suitable spot in front of her, she jumped, and kicked her feet together, feeling the Blue bloom under her heels. When her feet touched the ground, she pushed off the earth, and rose rapidly through the air.

Rafferty drew her sword. As she gripped the handle and swung it over her head, Blue shimmered up its center, heating the blade before bursting out the tip and streaking across the sky.

She crested next to the giant's shoulder, quietly pleased with herself at getting the jump just right.

She plunged the sword through the metal in another burst of blue sparks. Gravity did the rest. Rafferty was sliding down her opponent's arm, the sword neatly bisecting the appendage along the way.

This was going great, couldn't have been going better really. She had crippled its left arm, reducing its offensive ability by roughly half, and the fight had barely started. Rafferty reached for one of the row of rivets they always had above the elbow, which she would use to stop her descent and swing into the next phase of the attack.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

It wasn't there.

Rafferty groaned as she remembered that the Class Four Boxsters were smooth on the left side.

This was a problem.

She was still sliding rapidly, and she was running out of arm. If she let go of the sword, the blade would cool, but she wasn't entirely sure it would cool fast enough to stop cutting before she reached the elbow joint. There was also the issue of whether or not, once she let go, she would be able to grab the sword again before, you know, falling to her death.

Dangling from the sword, she kicked her legs and flexed her hips, hoping to get a little swing action going. Once she did, she let go, and flung herself above the blade. If she over rotated, she wouldn't catch the handle on the way down. As she twisted in the air, Rafferty really had no idea where she was in relation to her weapon. It was down to luck.

She came out of the spin, saw the handle, and reached for it. Her hand closed around its familiar perch. Rafferty wanted to be relieved, but she still had work to do. The sword was slicing slower, but she didn't have much time. She pressed both feet against the metal to try to provide as much friction as she could. Normally this was a good way to cut yourself in half, but she didn't have much choice.

The last three seconds were spent scowling, straining, and swearing, until Rafferty finally came to a stop a few feet before the elbow joint.

Rafferty howled in triumph, and then took stock of her situation.

She was dangling a great distance from the ground, stuck in the elbow joint of a Class Four God. Her only weapon was presently lodged in her opponent, and any attempt to withdraw it for use would precipitate a dangerous fall.

And now the God was pissed.

Balls.