“Ruth!” Skipper roared. He grabbed Blaine by the sleeve and pulled her to the side, out of the way of Muzazi’s blow - and at the same time, he sent one of those concussive blasts flying towards the swordsman with a pointed finger.

Dragan saw the telltale rippling of the air, the concussive blasts being fired.

Muzazi saw it too - and in the moment before it hit him, he instead went flying backwards. Those jets of Aether reappeared, now on the front of his body, moving him out of the way of Skipper’s attack and propelling him back towards the car he’d come in on.

The two thugs the Hyena had brought with him shouted in surprise as the Special Officer came flying towards them, and sent blasts of plasmafire in the hopes of intercepting him before he got too close. A decision brought about by panic, with no clear strategy that Dragan could see.

It was no use.

Muzazi didn’t use the thrusters this time. Instead, he twisted his body in the air, moving just enough that the bolts of plasma brushed past him, burning into the walls and ceiling instead. In the same movement, he slashed out with his sword twice - and the two thugs fell to the floor in two pieces each, painting the carpet red where they came down. Muzazi himself landed on his feet, on the Lord Mayor’s desk.

Rikhail cowered on the floor beneath him, hands covering his face. “No problem!” he screamed. “No problem!”

“Be silent,” said Muzazi. “It’s unsightly.” His gaze shifted back to Blaine, but Dragan couldn’t help but shiver as it moved over him. It was like having the eyes of Death upon you.

Muzazi continued: “If you surrender now, I will not kill you. I give you my promise there. But if you resist me, at all, I will have your head.”

Skipper pushed Dragan behind him, and tried to do the same with Blaine, but she stood firm.

“You can’t beat him,” hissed Skipper. “You know you can’t. Let me handle this.”

Blaine shook her head. “You’re worse off than me. You’re missing an arm, and you’ve still got those drugs in you. He’d kill you easy.”

“He’ll kill you easy.”

She glanced at him. “Both of us, then?”

Skipper’s firm expression shifted into an easy grin. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, before flicking his eyes to look at Dragan. “Best take some cover, Mr. Hadrien. If things go bad here, I, uh … well, thanks for the jailbreak.”

Dragan opened his mouth to let out some sarcastic retort, but none came. Instead, what came out was very different.

“No problem,” he said quietly. “Thanks … thanks for saving me. It cost you an arm, so … uh, I - I appreciate it. I guess.” The words didn’t come naturally to his lips. They felt heavy and cumbersome.

Skipper blinked, surprised, then smiled softly. “No problem, kiddo.”

Blaine grinned with what was obviously more confidence than she felt, and stood tall, balled fists at her hips.

“Sorry, Special Officer,” she said, pouring as much disdain into the title as it would hold. “You gave me the same speech last time, and I didn’t like it much then either. Stop flapping your gums about how bad you’re gonna kill me and do it. Coward.”

The tension in the room grew ten times as thick, the very air seeming to freeze in place as Muzazi’s calm expression shifted to one of murderous fury.

“Coward…?” he muttered, as if trying to confirm to himself that she’d really dared call him that. He took a deep breath, shifted his stance just slightly.“I see,” he said, rage barely restrained by a calm exterior. “Die, then.”

He launched himself off the desk - but instead of charging directly at the group, as he had previously, he leapt directly upwards towards the ceiling. As Dragan ran off to the side to find cover as he’d been advised, he furrowed his brow in confusion. That move didn’t make sense - dangling from the ceiling offered no advantage whatsoever.

Unless it was a distraction for something else.

Dragan opened his mouth to say something, to maybe shout a warning, but it was too late. The Lord Mayor’s desk went flying towards where Skipper and Blaine were waiting to counter Muzazi’s attack. White Aether jets protruded from the back of the object as it hurtled through the air - and Skipper spotted it just in time, sending one of his concussive blasts into it and utterly demolishing the piece of furniture, which exploded into a cloud of wooden dust and debris.

That was when Muzazi began his attack.

Taking advantage of the reduced visibility, the Special Officer landed with his white sword in hand between Skipper and Blaine. He slashed at Blaine’s neck, clearly intending to punish her for the earlier insult - but she ducked at the very last moment, and the strike only shaved away a few stray red hairs.

At the same time as his attack on Blaine, Muzazi kicked backwards at Skipper’s torso with an Aether-infused leg. Skipper’s arm lashed out - leaf-green Aether flowing weakly across it - and grabbed Muzazi’s boot-clad foot, shaking as he struggled to keep a grip in his weakened state. A split-second later, Skipper let go with a grunt of pain, and Dragan saw why from his position in the corner.

An additional jet of Aether had burst out from the side of Muzazi’s foot, exactly where Skipper had been gripping it. So those things definitely produced heat too.

Muzazi didn’t miss the opportunity provided by Skipper staggering back. The swordsman whirled upon Blaine again, bringing his sword up for an overhead blow - and as the sword came down, Blaine blocked it with an oddly-shaped glittering thing that Dragan couldn’t quite make out until he squinted.

It was a large shard of glass from the broken window that Blaine had forced her red Aether into, enhancing it to such a degree that it could serve as a temporary shield. The thing wouldn’t survive a second blow, though, judging from the spiderweb of cracks spreading across its surface.

But Blaine knew that.

As Muzazi lifted his sword for another attack, she grinned and cut the flow of Aether to her makeshift shield. Then she punched it, sending her enhanced fist into the glass with such force that it shattered outwards, sending tiny shards of glass flying directly into Muzazi's face.

The swordsman squeezed his eyes shut to protect them from the glass, stepped away to get out of the range of Blaine's next attack, but it was too late. One of Skipper's blasts slammed directly into Muzazi's back, sending him flying forward, past Blaine and into the wall.

As he landed, Muzazi transitioned into a roll - and at the same time as he finally stopped, he hurled his glowing sword at Blaine and Skipper. A jet of Aether roared from the back of the sword's hilt, propelling it so fast that it seemed more like a line of pure bright light than a physical object.

The blade speared past Blaine's arm, gouging it deep and sending spatters of blood down to the floor. A second later, the thruster on the sword's hilt disappeared and a new thruster appeared on the tip of the blade, propelling the weapon back towards its owner.

Blaine didn't miss her chance, though.

In the moments before the sword returned to Muzazi, she charged in towards him, slashing at him with her Skeletal claws. Muzazi blocked the first swipe with an Aether-infused elbow, but the second, aimed lower, got him - cutting him deep in the leg. As Muzazi continued to block further blows, his mobility now impaired, the sword he'd been waiting to catch zoomed past him and lodged itself into the wall.

Dragan shook his head, came back to himself. For a few minutes now he'd been utterly enthralled by the battle in front of him - he doubted he would have noticed if that sword had cut through him during its trip around the room. He could say what he wanted about Ruth Blaine, but she was clearly a fighting genius. Atoy Muzazi too.

As the fight continued to rage, Dragan kept low and made his way across the room to where Rikhail was cowering. No matter what happened here, he had to operate on the assumption that they would need their hostage. That this would work.

"No problem…" mewled Rikhail, still on the fetal position on the ground, amid the ruins of his office. "Hahaha...n-no problem…"

Dragan reached out, grabbed the bastard by the hair, and pulled him out - ignoring the yelp of pain the politician let out. He could make whatever noises he liked; he'd tried to get Dragan killed. He put the barrel of his gun against Rikhail's head, and the man stopped thrashing.

"Don't move," Dragan hissed in his ear.

Then he heard the voice of Atoy Muzazi, dangerously close: "I wouldn't recommend that, Dragan Hadrien."

I'm dead. It was a terrible, nauseating certainty - and as the thought crossed his mind, his heartbeat seemed to increase in force, shaking his whole body as if making the most of what little time it had left.

He looked up, eyes wide, mouth gaping. Muzazi was standing over him, towering with sword again in hand, so menacing that it felt as if he could crush Dragan with his shadow. Cold, grey eyes looked down, and hot-white remnants of Aether sparked around his back - clearly, he'd used those jets to disengage from fighting Blaine and Skipper when he'd noticed what Dragan was doing.

"I-I…" Dragan tried to come up with something, some defense, but nothing came. Words couldn't come so long as that white sword was so uncomfortably close. He could see the blood on it.

"Dragan Hadrien," Muzazi said, smiling softly, ignoring his attempt at a response. "Please don't worry. I know you are no traitor. Simply wait for me to dispatch these criminals and I'll help you get this whole matter cleared up. Agreed?"

A sense of sick relief came to Dragan, and an involuntary grin spread across his face. He wouldn't be killed. Muzazi wouldn't kill him. It was as if a noose had been untied from around his neck.

"Excuse me a moment," said Muzazi - and then he turned in a flurry of movement, using his sword to block a series of blows from a suddenly appearing Blaine. She screamed in anger as she kept trying, claws coming down again and again from every possible angle.

Dragan looked past her, back towards the entrance, and saw the cause of Blaine's fury. Skipper was slumped down next to the hole in the wall they'd come in from, clutching his side. Vivid red blood oozed between his fingers. Stab wound.

The exchange went on. Muzazi continued to block her attacks, his movements becoming faster and faster even as Blaine grew more weary. She would lose, it was obvious. She was operating on pure rage, strategy abandoned, and the pool of adrenaline she was drawing from was starting to run dry.

Grunting from the exertion, Muzazi batted away another of Blaine's swipes - and, using the split-second opening that provided - he brought his sword up, clearly about to bring it back down on his opponents head.

Just as it had on the ship where they'd first met, Blaine's Skeletal mask dissipated into red Aether and was replaced by the seamless white helmet, the one that had sent Muzazi flying.

The swordsman smiled.

Dragan's heart dropped. It was just what Muzazi had expected. What he'd wanted. This was his chance for a killing blow.

Muzazi changed his stance in a second, and now his blow was coming in from the side towards Blaine's torso, rather than down onto her head. The sword flared with light, all of Muzazi’s Aether flowing into it at once - it was like a supernova in motion.

Blaine was wide open. She'd be cut in half. Dragan heard a soft.gasp from beneath her helmet.

A sharp bang rang out.

Muzazi staggered forwards, sword slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor. His limbs were stiff, his movements awkward - something was preventing him from moving his joints. It was a wonder he was even still standing.

Someone had shot him, Dragan realized. Someone had shot Atoy Muzazi. But who?

He looked down at his hand, at the pistol held there. Smoke drifted up out of the barrel, and crackling blue Aether orbited it. His eyes widened.

No, no, he couldn't have. He couldn't have!

Dragan stared down in muted horror at his stupid, treacherous hands.

He had saved Ruth Blaine.