I would’ve put my fist through him if it wasn’t for the corpse that smacked me out of the air. I hit the pavement hard enough to choke me with a stab of pain. I rolled over and gasped, getting onto my elbow and tasting blood on my lips. I looked up. What the hell was that? I searched the rooftops and found nothing. I got up again, smelling the stink of rot in the air. I shot toward the window, and just like last time, a body collided with me, sending me spiraling through the air as their cold hands latched onto my wrists. Then I saw them in the moonlight, their sheen of a shiny metal face, their features that were missing and a body made from steel and fetid skin. It didn’t have a mouth to shriek. Didn’t have eyes to see. What it had, though, was a fist hard enough to swing and hit me with.

  A fist solid enough to daze me long enough to smack, skid, and roll against the street and slam into a parked delivery van. The truck tipped over as the container caved in around me. I groaned and shook my head, then held my jaw. Two loose teeth. Split lip. I swallowed the blood and knuckled the saliva that had spilled down my chin. That thing slammed into the ground in front of me, followed by two more either side of it. The street was still dark, painted in pitch black and illuminated by the overcast moon alone. Sleek black metal chests, shoulders, arms and legs. Exposed black flesh on their stomachs. But they reeked of decay, of a body somewhere inside that thing.

  A body only held together with something that stank terribly sweet.

  Lucas didn’t have to be anywhere close for me to hear him, though. Through my hammering heartbeat and the blood whining past my ears, I heard his voice through everything, like a knife cutting through a body: “You like them?” he asked. I stumbled out of the van, jumping onto the pavement, my bare feet melting away the snow surrounding me. The robots didn’t move. They stood still, watching and waiting. “I was always a bit of a purist, but times change, and I knew that when brats like you stopped listening to what’s good for them. Doesn’t have to be this way, Rylee. You can tap out and we can talk, or you can keep being stubborn like you’ve always been and get hurt, and trust me—I’d rather not want to do that, but if you force my hand, I’m gonna force you to listen, kid.”

  I knew he couldn't hear me even if I had something to say to him, so instead, I clenched my fists, and hit the first robot in front of me hard enough to send it spiraling through the air. It didn’t break. Its black faceplate looked just fine when it stopped spiraling mid-air and hovered above me. I swore, then came up with a new strategy.

  Just gotta hit them a lot harder, because I wasn’t going to play this game with him.

  Not tonight, and not with Dennie.

  The one above me came down first, a bullet that slammed me into the ground with both its fists digging into my chest. I shoved my legs underneath it and launched its body off me. I rolled, flipped, and landed on two feet before the closest two lunged for me. I ducked the first swing, stepped aside, planted my fist into its fleshy gut and swept the second one’s legs out from underneath it. The concrete cracked when it hit the floor. I grabbed its arm and swung it into the next one coming my way, sending it through a shop window that got an alarm blaring wildly.

  Still not enough. They came at me, all at once, silent and deadly. They swung and they kicked, they grabbed my arms and held me in place so another could plant their fist into my gut and make me double over and vomit. I fell to my knees, blood streaming from my mouth. Then one of them kicked out, snapping my head backward. The world flickered. I fell on my back, gasping for air. Every breath that came through my nose felt like a shock of lightning through my face. Broken. I tried to get up again, but my muscles ached and so did my bones. Everything hurts, because he’d thought ahead—he’d thought about catching me, whether alone or not, for a long time. Ambrosia. It had to be it. I felt numb and weird, not really focused. I got to my side, struggling to breathe, then onto my chest. I pushed the concrete away from my face, snow drizzling around me and settling on the stones.

  The one I’d punched in the stomach stomped down on my back, putting me an inch deep into the pavement. I fought for ounces of air, swallowing more snow and blood and saliva than oxygen to stay awake.

  The silence paved the way for the sound of shoes crunching through the snow. He stopped in front of me, then crouched and used my hair to angle my face toward him. Lucas shook his head slowly, smoke drifting lazily upward from his cigarette. I spat blood on his tie. He barely paid any attention to it. “Might be a little stronger and a lot more durable, but you’re still the same thick as a stone little kid wanting to impress everyone with her powers.”

  I grabbed his sleeve. My hands shook. My fingers barely had enough purchase to stop them from slipping off. I glared and bit down on my tongue, forcing myself to focus. “I’m gonna put you through half of this city.”

  He said nothing, only breathed smoke in my face—the glowing butt of his cigarette illuminating the shine of his teeth, like he just loved seeing me beneath him so much that saliva filled his mouth. “Cute,” he said, letting go of my head and standing. “I never wanted this to happen, and if you hadn’t freaked out, then it wouldn’t have.”

  “You tried to kill me!” I snapped, getting to my knees. Head pounding, vision swimming. Fuck sake, focus Rylee. “You kept poisoning me so I’d keep being weak. So you could keep pointing out how much I needed you.”

  “You still need me,” he said flatly. “You’re just not willing to accept it.”

  A sound came from my throat, animal-like—angry, raging.

  Then I lunged at him, and one of his robots grabbed my arm, swung me around, and put me right back into the pavement at his feet. I lay there bleeding and hurting, my electricity flickering around my shaking hands.

  “This city needs you,” he said. “It’s always needed you, no matter what the news says or the civilians protest, because you’re more than just a pest, you’re Zeus’ daughter.” He walked a little closer. I barely had the strength to get up this time. My entire body stung, my skin felt like it was burning. Lucas dropped the cigarette beside my face, letting it die in the snow around his feet. “You’re a symbol, that’s what you’ve never understood. That bolt on your chest means something, and the only reason the world wants to replace you is because you’ve never even made it feel like his legacy is alive anymore.” He crouched again, but didn’t drag my face up with my hair. Instead he grabbed my jaw, digging his fingers into my cheeks. “I saw a future where you’d save the world.”

  Blood on my teeth and raging in my ears, I quietly said, “All you ever fucking wanted was control.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “But without it, what’s that gotten you these past few months? You’ve accomplished nothing because you don’t have the structure I gave you. You’re a pointless bullet. A gun without a hand. But if you stopped fighting for a second and listened to what I had to say, then I’ve got a future for you that means you get to have your old life back. Go to college. Save the world. Fall in love with whoever and outlive all of us.” He kept quiet, his lips drawing into a thin line as I glared at him. “Or I can make you a superhero, the best there’s ever been. And not for one second will you ever argue with me again. I can make your life better, Rylee. Just stop fighting.”

  “You think that’s an option I’ll ever take?” I snarled.

  He sighed quietly, resignation making him briefly look away. “Thought you might say that.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Get this over with and kill me already.”

  “I never wanted you dead,” he said, standing up. “Christ, all those years I spent teaching you how to think and analyze, and you haven’t gotten any better at it. You can be great, more than the little you are right now. You were always meant to be, and you were always going to be. But somewhere along the way you failed and never stopped, so now I think it’s time I paid for my sins because of the lives you failed to save and try to fix you, Ry.”

  This time, he let me get to my feet. This time, it took a solitary minute for me to find my balance and drink in the thick, soupy wind. I stood in front of Lucas, panting like a dog in the sun. I tilted my head back and breathed in deep, running a hand through my hair to get it out of my face. The blood on my fingers slicked it to my scalp, and the brisk air nearly froze it in place. Finally, I looked at him, meeting his eyes. The street was silent. The lights were still off. I looked over my shoulder and saw those five corpses in their iron caskets standing behind me, stiff, dead, waiting for their orders. I turned around, bitterness in my mouth, and my gut turning over and over again.

  I sighed, then said, “Alright, how would you fix me?”

  He stayed silent for a moment, as if he’d been expecting a fight. “First we need you tested, see how strong you are and set a base level for your physicals. Then you’ll start with classes. History lessons followed by strategic planning to get you faster on your feet.” He slid his hands into his coat pocket. I could smell the Ambrosia on his clothes, in his hair—I didn’t move back, because that would be his sign to put me on my knees again. “Then you start to listen more. Debriefs everyday of what you’ve done and what you still need to get done. Training in the morning followed by whatever else you’d want to do for several hours, albeit with the public’s concern in mind.”

  “Hm,” I hummed, not really looking at him. “You know, that sounds pretty great all around.”

  “I guess you’ve grown up enough to see what I wanted from you. Come on, let’s—”

  “It’ll sound a lot better without you anywhere near me, though.”

  His lips sealed shut. I clenched my fists, looking at him through the loose strands fallen over my face. The wind blew between us, stiff and frigid. I could count his heartbeat, smell the Ambrosia soaking through his pores.

  Lucas’ dull green eyes narrowed. “You really want to see how this ends for you?”

  I did, actually, so I made a finger gun and pointed it directly at his chest. Bang, I mouthed.

  Nothing happened. He stood there, one brow raised.

  Then a violent tongue of electricity shot from my finger, punching him square in the chest. It slammed him through a convenience store window across the street and into the dark aisles beyond. I stood still, the end of my finger smoking as I slowly lowered it. I waited, because I didn’t trust that it would be that easy. The creatures hadn’t moved anywhere near me either. I slowly walked down the dark, deathly silent street, the sound of my feet echoing against the backdrop of a darkened city. I stopped on the sidewalk, my feet making the glass crunch. It stung, nice and dull, as I stood there, peering into the shadows. I raised my hand and forced what little power I had left to wrap around my fist. Just enough light to color the shards of glass and the broken shelves. A light fixture hung low, swinging gently back and forth. Complete silence. Not a single heartbeat. Liar. Couldn’t smell a body there either.

  “I know you’re alive,” I said, turning around, my voice echoing. “And I never thought you were a runner.”

  Behind me.

  Gun to the back of my head, his deep and labored breathing spilling out of his mouth. I’d still gotten him, still charged him with enough electricity, however weakened, to jump start an eighteen-wheeler. Maybe the bastard was just too stubborn to die, or maybe he just wanted me dead so badly that he couldn’t let himself go without making sure I wasn’t going to go with him. I tensed my jaw and lowered my hand, listening to his racing heart.

  “A lot of blood down there,” he said quietly. I glanced at the ground. My feet had been nicked open by the glass, leaving bloody smears amongst the snow. “Looks like you’re not half as ready for this as you want to think.”

  I swung on him, fist to his chest, making him stumble, then ducking low and punching his forearm upward. I flinched as the gun barked loudly into the night, its muzzle flash violent in the darkness. I lunged through the broken grocery store window, sending us tumbling onto the ground. I rolled and got up, running at him again. He’d lost the gun, leaving it skittering away underneath a shelf. He parried my first hook and grabbed my left wrist, yanking it down and slamming his forehead against mine. Dazed. I shook my head. He slammed his fist against my jaw and sent me crashing against a shelf. I stumbled and grabbed onto it, blood streaming out of my mouth. The world was getting darker. The dim glow from my eyes was slowly fading. My body feels like it’s burning. I breathed hard and fought even harder to stay on my feet as he walked me down, parrying and blocking, sweeping my legs and dropping me onto the floor. I scrambled to get up, making sure to plow my head right into his groin as hard as I could. He swore, stepped back. I punched his throat, my knuckles digging hard into the soft flesh under his jaw.

  All he did was massage his jaw and spit a solitary tooth onto the bloodied ceramic tiles.

  He dug his hand into his coat and pulled a dagger from his belt. Short, sharp—the kind he’d tried to teach me how to use, and the same kind I’d never really learnt how to fight against. The silence hung between us as he straightened, white-knuckling the blade. I squared my feet and put up my fists, biting down on my tongue to focus.

  Every breath, every heartbeat, every movement, felt like my muscles were being torn apart. I wanted to scream and drop and stop. Give up. But that wasn’t really an option. He wasn’t ever going to play fair because it would never be fair. I’d crush him. He’d put a bullet between my eyes. One of us wasn’t leaving here alive tonight.

  And he really, really should have gotten his will done by now.

  Might not be in it, but it’s his life I wanna take.

  I ran forward, breaking the silence. He palmed my fist aside then cut my side with the knife. I stepped back, grabbed my ribs, bared my teeth and ducked when he swung the blade through the air. I grabbed his arm and locked it in place, used my feet to get him off balance, and used my weight and what little strength I had left to flip him over my shoulder and slam him spine-first onto the floor. Kept his arm in my hands, stepped over his shoulder, then twisted. He roared in pain. Used his heel and kicked my shin, sending a shard of pain up my leg and making me hit the floor beside him. I scrambled for the knife. He lunged for me instead, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking my head backward. I swore. He plucked the knife off the floor, put it to my throat, and held me there in place, leaving me squirming until the blade bit through my skin. I stopped, put my hands up, breathing hard and aching with pain.

  “Don’t,” he growled into my ear, “even think of moving. Stand. Down.”

  I did him one better, and used a glass shard beside me to take out one of his eyes, plunging it deep.

  I’d never heard a roar so guttural in my life. So shrieking, hateful, and raging that the wind felt colder the moment he let go of both the knife and myself. I rolled over, breathing hard, and climbed on top of him. My fist landed across his jaw. Then the next. He grabbed my wrists, glass still in his right eye. I struggled, pushing myself forward, using my flight, my strength—every fucking ounce of power still left in my veins, to get to the shard.

  His hands blistered from my electricity. Flesh began to burn and scar and darken and finally smoke. The air stank of death as blood squeezed through his clenched fingers burrowing into my wrists and seeping into his shirt.

  I bared my teeth and roared, pushing until my fingertips, my fingers, then my hand clutched it.

  I forced the glass to wedge itself deeper into the soft fleshy goo in his skull. Lucas screamed.

  And I didn’t stop when I ripped it out of his skull and brought it back down again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Until his face was a bloodied, meaty mess of flesh and blood and the dull whiteness of his cheekbones.

  And yet, the devil wouldn’t let him die.

  Through his torn lips, he breathed. From his one remaining eye, he stared death at me.

  I spat on that eye, and raised the glass shard to lodge it into his throat.