Accompanied by her officers, Ayda stepped foot onto Carmichael Street. It was a rather short street, serving as more of a junction between two more important avenues. Still, there were quite a few residences on this little stretch of road. Hopefully they all were empty, despite the normal riot protocol of staying indoors. Ayda didn't want anyone getting caught in the crossfire.

Coming at the street from behind, she'd noticed them from quite a ways off. People milled about around a bulky man, one who gleamed beneath the streetlights. He had his back turned, more concerned with directing his cohorts than observing the immediate area. It probably meant nothing, but Ayda considered how she could turn that to her advantage.

Watching him at work for so long allowed her blood ample time to boil. He was so calm, so cool and collected in spite of the destruction he caused. By all estimates it hadn't even been an hour yet, and how many millions of dollars had he already cost the city? How much worse would it get if allowed to continue? These questions and many more permeated her mind as Ayda made contact with the street and came to a stop several feet from him.

"Tahoe!" She shouted, louder than necessary.

"There you are." He turned to her. Metal eyes locked with her organic pupils. "I wondered when you would show up."

Now that he'd turned to face her, Ayda noticed he had only one arm, just like Elliot said. Moreover, a few hairline fractures stretched from his right shoulder and across his bare, metallic chest. He was still wounded from their last encounter, and maybe couldn't heal those injuries at all. This was information Ayda could potentially use. She blinked to clear her head, did her best not to show she'd caught on.

"I assume this is all your doing." It was not an inquiry, but an accusation.

"Guilty as charged," he smirked. "You figure that out all on your own?"

Ayda pushed past his taunting. "Why do this, Tahoe? Why start a riot? Are you trying to draw me out?"

"You're awful conceited, aren't you?" Tahoe crossed his arms. "No, this is something I've had planned for quite a while. Were you even listening when I said people like us deserve to run the world? Your presence just accelerated my plans a bit."

"OK, but you didn't answer the first part of my question. Why are you doing this?" Ayda reiterated.

"Isn't it obvious? Look around you. What do you see?"

"I see a madman."

"Not a madman, an emperor." Tahoe made a wide gesture. "This is my empire. Everything here belongs to me, and most of the peasants living in this piece of shit town don't even realize it. But, they will soon. This is my play for dominance, my way of telling the world I'm here, of showing them what I'm capable of."

"You're just calling attention to yourself," Ayda countered.

"Yes, that's exactly the point," agreed Tahoe. "When you outed me, I knew it was the right time to move forward. People like you and me have lived in the shadows too long. It's time we take our rightful place as rulers of this world, town by town. I told you we—the ones with powers—are truly in control of this world. This is my proof. It could be yours, too."

"Is this the part where you recruit me, and we 'rule the galaxy as father and son' or some shit? I'm not joining you. That should be obvious."

"I'm not asking you to join me, Pulse. That ship has sailed. I don't even really want to fight you. All I want is for you to pay attention. Maybe when half the country is controlled by people like me, you'll change your tune."

"This is just one part, of one city, Tahoe. That's hardly a revolution."

"There are others like me, people who are tired of the status quo, of a society which shuns them by refusing to acknowledge they even exist. They'll rise up, when they see what I've accomplished here today. It won't happen overnight, but soon the exceptional will rule over the ordinary. No more government coverups. No more hiding. The ones with powers, will have power. It's that simple. After decades of being forced to live under the shackles of secrecy, we will finally have freedom."

"This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" Ayda shifted gears. "Even before I came along. The entire reason you worked your way to head of the Triad was to take over the city."

"You really are as smart as I'd hoped." Tahoe made that sound like a slimy insult. "Yes. Everything I've done since the time I escaped my creators was in preparation for this moment. The people I recruited, the infrastructure I built, it's all been about this. I told you when we first met that this was my empire. I told you what I thought about who should be in charge. You refused to listen, and now here we are."

"And what about when people take notice? What about when the National Guard sends in the tanks?"

"Do you really think I'm afraid of a few tanks? They can't hurt me. When the military steps in, I'll fight them off, simple as that."

"You really did plan for everything, huh? Even though I hate you, I have to admit I'm impressed." Ayda gave a sly smile. "However, you forgot one little thing."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Me." Ayda set a hard expression. "As long as I'm standing in your way, you haven't accomplished anything."

"I was afraid you'd say something like that." Tahoe drew his sword. "I had hoped this wouldn't come to blows."

"Don't give me that," Ayda shot back. "You wanted this to happen. You wanted the chance to finally get me out of your hair."

"It may have crossed my mind," agreed Tahoe. "It's unfortunate to strike down talent like yours, but you forced my hand."

Ayda assumed her favorite fighting stance. "We'll see which one of us ends up on the ground."

Tahoe brandished his blade in front of him. "Have it your way." He turned to his entourage. "Open fire."

"Get to cover!" Ayda shouted at her police officers a split-second later, a blast for emphasis.

Gunfire erupted all around her. It was deafening, and the smoke from so many firearms partially obscured her vision. She glanced behind her and found two officers had been hit, one of whom lay on the ground breathing slowly. The others managed to find cover behind abandoned cars, tucked into alleyways, and various other suitable places. A scan of the Triad side revealed a similar scene, but with a trio of injured, instead of just two.

All the while, Ayda's reactions fired on overdrive. She reached out to block a few bullets, but enhanced reflexes allowed her to quickly realize none of them shot at her. The ones on the periphery could've easily bared down on her, but none did. Instead, they focused on exchanging fire with the normal humans. Either they were more concerned with the cops, or something else was at play. No matter the reason, Ayda was glad for the reprieve. It meant she could concentrate solely on Tahoe.

She focused again on her enemy. Tahoe pointed his weapon at her, an unreadable expression on his face. It was a threat. He was goading her to attack. In moments like this, the aggressor expected their opponent to back off, to realize what they were doing and keep a cool head. The best thing for Ayda to do in this instance was the exact opposite. Kicking herself into the air with a blast, she charged him.

With the fore end of her staff, Ayda hooked his sword away. With the back end, she struck him square in the neck. In typical Tahoe fashion, he took the blast with nary a flinch. Before her feet touched the ground, Tahoe slammed her ribs with the pommel of his blade. She deflected to the left and just barely got her feet beneath her, stumbling once for balance.

Tahoe closed the distance. He struck downward, and Ayda blocked. He rotated his sword and came in for a similar attack, only to be met with equally analogous results. Ayda used his blade as a fulcrum to tilt her staff around and strike diagonally at him with the back end. Tahoe stepped back to intercept the blow-blast combination. In the same motion, he made a backspin and kicked for Ayda's midsection. She faded back, and just barely managed to block the follow-up stab.

Tahoe surged forward, and Ayda stepped back again. He crisscrossed slices at her, but Ayda's defenses remained true. She leveled a powerful blast strike straight down, but Tahoe blocked, all the while moving forward. Ayda quickly angled a blast into his groin. It did nothing, and he kept coming.

Tahoe took advantage of her momentary slip-up to thrust twice, one high, the other low. Ayda blocked the first and dodged the second. She lashed out horizontally. Her staff and its blast cleared Tahoe's head entirely as he ducked beneath it. He rose up with a strike, and then cut downward immediately after. Ayda stopped both.

She became aware of the building wall a second before her back came to rest against it. She pressed into the bricks, unable to move any further. Tahoe cut straight for her skull. She blocked, barely. When that didn't work, Tahoe leveled a push kick at her. She rolled onto her shoulder along the wall, avoiding the foot by a hair's breadth. Tahoe cut down at her. Ayda shifted back the other way. This put her on the outside of his wrist, in a much safer spot than before. She blasted herself into the air, and then kicked off the wall. The two-fold maneuver brought her sailing over Tahoe's head. She struck down at him on the way. The blast detonated on his still-injured right bicep. That one caught him off guard enough to interrupt his balance. He faltered, but remained upright.

Ayda landed a ways back, further than she wanted. A stray bullet careened for her, but she deflected it with a flick of her free hand. Doing so reminded her of the firefight still going on. She took a moment to investigate her allies. Two more wounded, but still only one seemed to be dead. Not great, but better than it could be.

Ayda launched toward Tahoe, striking downward when she met him. He recovered his balance just in time to step out of the way. Ayda hit the building behind him. She jumped back as her blast dislodged a cascade of bricks. There was now a gaping hole in the building where she'd been standing seconds before.

Tahoe struck at her head. Ayda held her staff horizontally to intercept. He disengaged and attempted to disembowel her. Ayda slipped back, out of the way, and retaliated with a strike-blast from each end of her staff. She kicked out at his left leg. Instead of fighting the blast, he allowed it to push his foot back. He used that momentum to redirect the motion and throw a low kick at her. Ayda realized a bit too late this was all on purpose. She tried to dodge, but doing so meant she only took the hit on her knee, instead of wherever it was intended.

Ayda yelped in pain and hopped closer to the center of the street. She tried to put weight on the injured knee, but it buckled and she fell upon it. Tahoe closed in on her kneeling form, raising his sword high for a final blow. Ayda capitalized on their respective postures. She put everything she had into a jab forward with her staff. The strike caught Tahoe in his abs where there were a few fractures left over from their last fight. The air was forced from his lungs in wheezing gasp. He stumbled back a few steps, breathing hard.

Free for just a moment, Ayda stood. Gingerly, she put a feather's weight on her affected right knee. Nothing. She set down on it entirely. Pain shot through her leg, but it wasn't unbearable. She could at least stand on it.

Tahoe growled and once again came at her. Ayda stood her ground. They exchanged a series of quick, but mostly ineffectual strikes. Neither one found a kink in the other. Ayda's blasts proved as useless as ever against this opponent. Tahoe thrust at her. Ayda dodged to the outside, back-to the Triad. She struck down and caught her enemy with a blast in his injured shoulder. He grunted, but gave little else in response. He spun to face her.

Ayda went for a lateral slash, but never made it quite that far as a bullet grazed her right shoulder, pinging ineffectually off Tahoe's chest. Ayda winced and covered the wound as a crimson trickle stained her jacket sleeve. Tahoe took advantage of her disarray to swing diagonally at her. Ayda tried to step back and turn away, but was just a split-second too late. The tip of his blade caught her in the left bicep. A relatively shallow cut, but pain radiated from it all the same.

Tahoe did not relent. He charged forward with a flurry of blows. Ayda blocked them to the best of her abilities. He was reckless, and left subtle openings. She tried to capitalize on one with quick strikes, but pain flared in both arms. The injuries on both were too significant to sustain both counter-attacks along with the blasts she needed to be effective. The result was a paltry little burst, and a hit so weak it may as well have been a bee sting.

The injured girl stepped back from a thrust. This situation would be easier if she could separate her staff, but her opponent wouldn't allow for it. He struck again, and Ayda just barely managed to block through a haze of pain and frustration. Tahoe brought his right heel up and hooked it around her staff. He yanked toward himself, pulling her forward and threatening to disarm her entirely. Ayda kept hold of her weapon, but doing so put her terribly out of position.

Tahoe raised his sword. Ayda looked at the darkened steel as it caught a glint from a street light. She'd been forced to over-extend much too far. Even if she dodged, she wouldn't have time to avoid the blow entirely. Ayda put up a forearm in one final, desperate attempt to minimize the damage as she began to step back as far as possible. The blade came down, and she grit her teeth.

A silver streak shot through the air. It collided with the flat of Tahoe's blade with a sound like metal on metal. The projectile deflected, and the strength of its impact forced Tahoe's blade from his hand. It tumbled a good few feet through the air, missing Ayda by a mile. The intrusive projectile clattered to the pavement.

Through her shock, Ayda managed enough sense to stand straight and take a few hefty steps back. She then looked at the projectile. It was a foot and a half long, roughly the width of her hand, and sharpened to broad points on both ends. Ayda was sure she'd never seen anything like it. She looked up, trying to get a bearing for where it had come from.

A man stepped forward from the police line. The police were so concerned with their slowly dwindling firefight, they just let him through. The hood on his zip up sweatshirt covered his dark hair but, judging by the lines on his face, he was about forty years of age. He was just a few inches taller than her, with broad shoulders and an athletic build.

Ayda watched in utter amazement as tiny spikes sprouted from his pores. They emerged from his skin, cut their way through his scruffy black beard, hundreds of miniaturized versions of the larger one on the ground. They lay flat, knitting together until each came together to form a mask upon his face. It was a simple design, barren of artistic inflections. Instead, it allowed the natural texture of so many tiny spikes to create a complex pattern. The only holes were for his eyes, and a thin slit for his mouth.

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"Who the hell are you?" Tahoe shouted what Ayda was thinking.

"Step away from her." The new arrival's voice was a low natural growl.

"The chivalrous type, eh?" Tahoe mocked. "Run along, little white knight, before you get hurt."

"Fuck you." A four foot long spike grew rapidly from his right palm. "I won't say it again." The spike broke off, and he grabbed it as it fell.

"Alright then." Tahoe drew his gun. "Can't say I didn't warn you."

Three shots rang out. The struck a wide pattern on the man's chest. Ayda took a step toward him, but stopped short. The bullets lay crumpled on the ground. Holes in the man's hoodie revealed a latticework similar to his mask. The little spikes were cracked and broken, but the armor was not penetrated. It was hard to tell, but Ayda thought the man might've smiled. Tahoe lowered his weapon just slightly.

The man looked over at her. She met his eyes. A nod.

Without warning, Ayda separated her staff to its paired kali sticks form and sprang into action. She struck at Tahoe with the left, and then the right. He blocked both with his forearm. He tried to punch her, but a spike just like the first collided with his fist. Tahoe wasn't deterred, but it distracted him long enough for Ayda to get a hit in on his injured side.

Tahoe stepped back. Before he could retaliate, the new arrival closed with him. Holding the big spike he'd made as if it were a longsword, he sliced straight down at Tahoe. The Triad leader caught the blade in his one hand. While he was occupied, Ayda struck him once again on his damaged shoulder. He growled and leapt back, away from the onslaught.

Ayda stepped up beside the man. "I assume you're on my side?"

"I am."

"You have a name?"

"Like a nickname? No, just call me Frank."

All conversation they could've had was interrupted when Tahoe drew his other blade, the one he normally would've been using as a pair with the other before being crippled.

"First you attack me, then you ignore me? I'll kill you both!"

He charged, and Ayda ran to meet him. She blocked a wide swing with her left stick. The other struck out at him, but he repositioned to stop her as a blast shook. Ayda kicked him in the gut, but the ensuing blast served to push her back more than it did him.

Frank took over the attack, holding Tahoe in place with a downward slice. They fenced back and forth for a moment, Tahoe's controlled, almost graceful motions a direct contrast to Frank's wild swings. Tahoe made it past his enemy's defenses, and only made a cut in the grey sweatshirt with no effect to the man beneath. Frank capitalized on the opening to swing down on Tahoe's shoulder, and met a similar effect on his metal skin.

Ayda dashed back into the fight. She sprinted the short distance and leveled a terrible blast into Tahoe's cracked side with her right stick. He grimaced and stepped back. His counter attack met Ayda's left stick. They exchanged a few blows in this way, Ayda's accentuated by purple, but none found purchase.

Frank found an opportunity and thrust forward. His spike-blade skittered off Tahoe's body and careened straight for Ayda. She just barely managed to shirk the blow, bending forward so it missed her by centimeters. She gave Frank a hard look. This momentary distraction gave Tahoe enough time to kick Frank in the gut, knocking him over.

He focused all his energy on Ayda, the only one he could actually hurt. He struck twice. Ayda blocked both times. She countered with a sweep of her right stick. Tahoe slipped out of the way. It was difficult to block with one stick, but also remain within range to strike with the other. This wasn't a fighting style she had enough experience with.

She gave a side kick and Tahoe dodged. She surged forward. Her strikes alternated left and right. Every movement, every blast agitated the wounds on both her arms. She did her best to ignore the pain, but it was still there. Her hits lacked impact.

Tahoe took advantage of her weakness to aim a thrust for her midsection. Ayda blocked with both weapons, but that tied up her defenses. Tahoe buttoned up and tried to shoulder check her. Only Ayda's enhanced reflexes allowed her to turn away at the last moment and deflect some of the force. She still took a blow which put her on the ground, but managed to avoid shattering the bones in her face. Ayda landed spread-eagle on her back, stunned and open to attack.

For the second time that night, Ayda found herself facing down Tahoe's finishing blow. He stepped up, flipping his blade upside down. Ayda kicked at his knee, but his lower-half had been left completely undamaged from their last encounter. Tahoe was completely unfazed.

He'd only managed to just begin raising his weapon when Frank jumped him. The contact had little effect to destabilize Tahoe. He barely even flinched. It did, however, tie up his only good arm. Tahoe could no longer swing past the body hanging from him. He shrugged and struggled to dislodge the intruder, but Frank refused to budge.

Ayda wasted no time in scurrying to her feet. She stepped forward to where Tahoe and Frank still grappled. With and impassioned yell and all the strength she could possibly muster, Ayda slammed both her sticks into Tahoe's wounded right side. She held nothing back with the blast. Wind whipped around her in response to the sudden disturbance. The force was enough to break Frank's grip. He rocked back a couple feet, digging his sword into the pavement to remain upright. Tahoe let out a pained howl and took several unsteady steps away. A few flecks of metal rained down from where he'd stood when the attack hit.

It was Ayda's turn to go on an all-out offensive. She dashed on blasts up to Tahoe and hit him again in the side. He lost even more ground. With only one sword, his options for both attack and defense were limited. Ayda kept him at bay with the left stick in her more injured arm, mostly hanging guards with the tip pointed down. The other rod slammed against the cracks and fissures in his body.

Again and again she hit him. Each blast produced a strained expression from Tahoe. Frank also joined in the fray, although he did little more than distract and annoy. Still, his efforts allowed Ayda to continue her assault. He helped tie up Tahoe's defenses while Ayda swung. Every hit did more damage, and the occasional tiny sliver of metal flew off, though at times it was hard to tell which armored man they came from. The cracks on Tahoe's body were noticeably wider than at the start of the fight.

Finally, after several long, agonizing seconds, Tahoe's equilibrium faltered. He slipped from one foot to the other, flailing his arms in a most undignified manner to keep from toppling. Ayda swung upwards. A hefty burst uprooted him. He didn't go far, but it was enough to get him away. Tahoe crashed into the ground and rolled a couple times before coming to rest on his front.

Instead, of continue the onslaught, Ayda used the reprieve to look around and catch her labored breath. The firefight on either side of her had largely dissipated and—judging by the lack of smoke in the air—had been like that for a while. She hadn't even noticed, so absorbed in the fight was she. There were officers on both sides of the conflict. They must've broken off at some point and flanked through the adjacent streets. They exchanged sporadic fire with the few remaining Triads, now doomed to their fate.

She continued to scan her surroundings as Frank came up on her right. This was working, but slowly. Tahoe wouldn't allow her a chance to do that much damage again, not without a serious fight. She needed to weigh her options, to think of a different tactic and keep him on his toes. She didn't like her chances otherwise, even with Frank's help.

Ayda looked back toward the cops' side of the fight. They were still mostly in cover, but the wounded were now receiving help since the combat largely whittled down. To Ayda's disdain, Amanda was among them. Blood trickled from a hole in her shoulder. It reminded the teenager of her own wounds. She tried not to call attention to the cops. Instead, she focused on something just behind them.

"Distract him!" Ayda called to Frank as she dashed away, propelled by her power.

"What? Hey!" Frank shouted after her, but she was already gone.

"Get back here!" Demanded Tahoe. Ayda refused to look back, but heard the sound of steel on steel. Frank got the message.

Ayda made it to her destination in record time. An abandoned police cruiser. Illuminated by streetlights, Ayda saw only her reflection in the driver's side window. Zero hesitation, she smacked the glass with the butt end of a stick. Even the reinforced material couldn't stand up to her explosion. A malicious grin split her face when she saw what was inside.

"Oh, God bless Texas," she mused.

Ayda abandoned her sticks entirely. Careful to avoid the broken glass, she reached inside the car. Her hand gripped something long and cold between the seats. With one good yank she removed it. She held in her grasp an assault rifle, American designed AR-15, if she remembered correctly, standard issue in select police vehicles. Whoever left this car behind either didn't have time or simply wasn't able to grab it. But, that was just semantics. What mattered was she now was in possession of it.

Ayda removed the magazine. It was, indeed, loaded. She replaced the receptacle and pulled back on the charging handle. Years had since her firearms training, and that had been with entirely different weapons. Hopefully video games could fill in all the information she didn't have.

Pulse took a few steps down the street and raised the weapon. It took a second to line up the sights. The design was a bit cluttered, but easy to use. She stood still and put the front post on Tahoe. He and Frank dueled back and forth, each caring little about taking hits. It was more a battle of attrition, a chess game to see which would fall first. Frank made an excellent distraction, but that also made Tahoe impossible to hit while he was in the way.

"Frank, move!" She shouted at the top of her lungs.

Both metal heads turned to look at her. Frank just stared at her, obviously taking in the situation. His inaction didn't really matter, though. The important part was the both stopped fighting, and Tahoe was facing her. Purple energy engulfed her weapon. Ayda took aim, and pulled the trigger.

A single bullet flew from the rifle. Like a comet in space, a lingering trail of purple stretched along its flightpath. It hurtled toward the target, reaching him in an instant. The moment the bullet made contact, it exploded in a great show of purple energy. The blast was voluminous. It shattered windows and shook the buildings. Bricks spilled from the previously damaged walls. Even though she were the furthest away, Ayda's ears rang at the sound.

Along with the rain of broken glass flittered a shower of sparks and steel shavings. When the dust settled, Tahoe had a rough crater in his shoulder where the bullet impacted. He looked at it, shock apparent even on his metal face, an expression Ayda must've mirrored. She lowered her weapon to get a better look at the damage, keeping the buttstock mostly in her shoulder. But there was no time to dwell on it. Tahoe locked eyes with her at the same time as she raised the rifle and pulled the trigger once again.

Purple streaked toward him. The shot hit a different area, approximately near his right kidney. The effect was the same, though. A massive blast—bigger than anything Ayda could normally produce under her own power—tore into Tahoe's hardened flesh. A few more windows broke, but those were mostly dealt with by the first. A chunk of material went missing from Tahoe's side in a spray of sparking metal. Small, but significant.

Ayda propelled herself forward, over the police line to stand before them.

"Open fire!"

At her beckoning, the police trained their guns on Tahoe. Bullets pinged off him all over his upper-body, though most focused on the damaged areas. Ayda fired again. This time she hit just below the crater on his shoulder, widening the depression further.

Tahoe tried to surge forward through the torrent, but Ayda shot again and pushed him back. The ravines along his hide lengthened, stretching past his bellybutton. New cracks joined them. Fire from the police officers was less effective, though a stray bullet occasionally found a rough edge to shatter.

Another purple streak. It landed right in the ever-expanding depression in Tahoe's shoulder. A split formed in the center of it, running at a forty-five degree angle. Tahoe took a step back, inspecting the wound.

Frank hurled a spike. It buried deep in the split, only about six inches sticking out. Ayda aimed at it and fired. Her aim was off, but the gigantic blast did the job. The crack allowed for the kinetic energy to flow inside of Tahoe, and drove the spike even further. Ayda's heart skipped a beat as Tahoe's shoulder separated from his body, shorn off entirely by the attack. It slammed into the ground like a giant sledgehammer. Tahoe stumbled back onto one knee, holding the spot where what was left of his arm had once been.

Ayda's side continued their attack. She was aware of the fervent throbbing in her wounded shoulder as it absorbed the shock of another shot, but she didn't care. All that mattered was Tahoe, making sure he hadn't a second to breathe.

Rivulets ran all over Tahoe's chest, now. They spread up onto his neck. Ayda tried to put a bullet-aided blast in that vulnerable area, but missed. The bullet sailed past him and detonated against a car a ways down the road. It exploded in a brilliant show of shrapnel, fire, and purple kinetic energy. It was loud and distracting. A few officers ceased firing to shield themselves, despite that they were clearly outside of the splash zone.

The only ones completely unaffected were Ayda, Frank, and Tahoe. Though, the latter had bigger problems. Frank hurled a spike, trying to get it in one of Tahoe's cracks, but missed. Immediately afterward, Ayda took a shot. She hit the left side of his chest. The force was dramatic enough to lengthen the fissures just slightly.

The police resumed their attack. Bullets flew at Tahoe from behind her. Thankfully, the cops on the opposite side of the battlefield were smart enough to refrain from shooting at his back. A miss from that angle could potentially hit their comrades.

Frank threw another spike. Without a lager fault to embed within, it just skated off. But, Ayda saw where he was aiming. She took two rapid shots, barely giving herself time to stabilize between. Each purple burst hit just above the chunk she'd taken out of Tahoe's kidney, an area with extensive damage already. Large chunks flew away from his flank, clattering somewhere behind him. There was now a gaping vacancy beneath his pectoral muscles. Chipping away at him, piece by piece.

Ayda did her best to focus on what remained of his right side. He was a much smaller target, now, and a few shots careened wide. Every missed bullet made craters in the road or took out parts of buildings. She didn't even have time to feel bad for destroying the city.

Each hit on Tahoe's chest, every violent explosion, took off more pieces from great chunks dowto little filings. Every little bit helped. Frank threw a spike and dislodged a loose piece. Ayda was quite impressed by his accuracy. Tahoe slumped to one side, supporting himself with his remaining hand as unpowered slugs riddled him.

One of Ayda's bullets missed Tahoe's right, but still managed to hit his left. It's impact widened more fissures. They spread onto his cheek. Ayda shifted focus. Her aim became somewhat erratic. The head was a minuscule target, and she wasn't sure how much ammunition she had left at this point. She needed to end this, before her one advantage faded away.

She placed a shot on his right cheek. The breaks creeped further, running into his metallic hairline. Ayda fired again, a miss that detonated somewhere down the road. A third projectile issued forth. This one smacked him in the forehead. A wide split formed right between his eyes, one that separated them from one another.

"Frank, spike!" Ayda screamed over the din of gunfire. She prayed her ally was close enough to hear.

Frank almost immediately lodged a projectile within the split. Ayda hesitated; a second to make sure her aim was absolutely spot on. A deep breath in, and then out. She pulled the trigger.

The purple effect from her blast obscured the area for a moment. The cops continued firing, but Ayda stood stiff as a board. Her heart sank. Had it been enough? Would she need to fire again? Against her better judgment, Ayda lowered her weapon to get a better look.

The blast dissipated. In its wake was the visage of Tahoe, but it was off, wrong in a fundamental way. Between his shoulders nestled a dip where his head should've been. Neck and cranium were gone completely, leaving only a U-shaped divot into his chest cavity. A spray of metal pieces littered the ground behind him.

Ayda held her breath. The only sound was that of blood pounding in her head. The gunfire ceased abruptly. Her arms ached. Her knee still hurt from when it had been kicked. She probably had a broken rib. But still, the most agonizing thing was the wait. Everyone waited. Tahoe remained completely motionless. He didn't move, nor make a sound. Nothing happened, and yet, everyone waited.

"Is that it?" Frank said. "Is he dead?"

"I don't know! Just wait," Ayda ordered.

And so they did. Torturous seconds crawled by. Ayda silently willed for something to happen, anything. Even if Tahoe got up and started running around again, that she could deal with. But this, the standing around just to stare at a statue? It was fit to drive her mad.

She took a step forward, just to get a closer look, but immediately retracted her foot. The moment she moved, Tahoe began to change. Starting at his beltline and moving upward, the metal faded. It gave way to Caucasian skin and dark body hair. Steel became flesh, and where muscle had been blown away vitreous fluids sputtered. It spilled from his gaping wounds and leaked from the fissures. Blood covered the asphalt in a slick pool. Bits of meat, broken bones, and organs slopped out from the gaping wounds. Tahoe dripped and bled, but remained perfectly still for a time.

His joints changed and buckled where steel turned to flesh. He fell forward with a sickening slap of raw gristle on a hard surface. The metal retracted further as he lay there motionless on the ground. There, his change completed. Not a single ounce of silver clung to his form. Red poured from the cavity in his chest, wherein were visible broken bones and muscle. Last to change were the metal shards behind him. They became nothing but crimson shreds of rent flesh.

Ayda dropped to her knees, spine straight and eyes fixed forward. The rifle slipped from her grasp. Her eyes were wide, and her breaths came in shallow gasps as if she'd just run a marathon. She was aware of police officers moving around her, but paid them no mind. Behind the motionless body of Tahoe, the few remaining Triad members stood, their hands up, weapons nowhere to be seen. Cops quickly moved to arrest them.

All the while, Ayda just stared. It didn't feel real. How could it? She'd been working toward this for so long. Months of her life led up to this one moment. Now, it was just over. If Tahoe's wounds didn't kill him, then the blood loss certainly would. That was it. Her battle was finished, her duty complete. Yet, it felt so surreal, almost too easy.

She fell onto her hands. A carnal screech escaped her lips, one with all of her anger, pain, frustration, and sorrow poured into one statement of pure, unabated emotion. It echoed off buildings, spread down the street until she was sure the entire city heard, but it was good. Let them hear. Let them know it was over. She won.

The scream died away until it was but a whimper, and then even that retreated back into her throat. She was left in silence, hyperventilating in the middle of a bloody battleground. She swallowed to quell a parched throat, but her mouth was just as dry. So, she only knelt there, catching her breath. For a few more seconds she huffed, but her composure returned in short order.

"That was for my sister, you son of a bitch!" Ayda screamed. Tears fell from her eyes to dot the pavement in little wet spots. She then whispered, a declaration meant only for her.

"That was for Jackie."