Another night, another rousing expedition into the criminal underbelly of an American metropolis. As she had done every night since taking up her mantle, Ayda rode through the streets in search of crime and debauchery. The piercing screech of her motorcycle echoed off the decrepit walls of the industrial district. It was an announcement of her presence, a sign she was on the case.

Ayda did not ride alone, however. At least, not in a spiritual sense. The sounds of late night radio programming accompanied her on this evening excursion. It was not something she usually took part in, if only because of how loud it had to be to drone over the engine, but it seemed like a fitting choice on this especially quite weekday night.

This station in particular wasn't one she'd ever listened to at such an hour. Doing so proved an incredible moment of valid judgment. It had only been about twenty minutes, but she already adored this D.J. As a song ended, he segued into a brief interlude. Music faded out as he spoke.

"Alright, that was Nirvana with 'Lithium,' my personal favorite of theirs. I am, as always, Casey Calamity. Now, I swear this wasn't on purpose, but it's fitting our last song should be a drug reference, because that's what my next news report is all about. Specifically, I'm talking about crystal meth. Last night the E.P.P.D reported yet another member of the Triad drug gang was found badly beaten and zip tied to a street light. Those paying attention will know that brings the current total to an even thirty in a little more than as many days.

"The cops and blowhards of this fine city are quick to dismiss events like this. 'There are no vigilantes in El Pureto.' They tell us it's all just hysteria and urban legend, but that's a load of horseshit. You and me, the real citizens of this town, the ones who go to bed every night wondering if we'll get mugged on our way to work? We know the truth. There's someone looking out for us. We have a friend in this city. I don't know who you are, mystery woman, but you have my thanks. Thank you for putting your life on the line every single day. Thank you for making our home just a little bit safer."

The station switched over to a song Ayda didn't recognize, but she cared little for it. All she could do was smile. She'd heard voices in support of her actions before, of course, but never to this level. To know she had the support of such an outspoken personality—and, presumably, a good chunk of his followers—drowned out any opposition she may have encountered. It was all the young woman needed to validate her daily exercises. To make the city safer and to find justice for the men who wronged her were the only things she wanted.

Ayda would have loved to continue on listening to this radio program, but it was time to go to work. She neared her destination. With the radio switched off she slowed down, both measures to minimize the noise of her vehicle. The object of her desire lay around the block, hopefully waiting next to a fire hydrant. Ayda parked her motorcycle behind the corner where it could not be seen. With a press of a button to kill the engine, she stepped off.

This was an unfortunate measure she'd adopted in the past few days. The Triad was not stupid. As word of her actions spread, they took measures to prevent them. Not all, but many dealers now worked in teams. One man would carry the package while the others waited in a nearby vehicle. If anything went wrong, the latter group took off with the remaining product still inside. This way, the only loss was a single footman instead of his whole supply. Ayda had lost a few battles to this tactic. Arresting the man himself did no good if his product remained on the streets. It could just be assigned to someone else. So, even though she abhorred the idea of keeping her precious bike so close to the action, it was a necessary risk.

As the teenager rounded the corner, she did indeed find her quarry waiting next to a fire hydrant, one of the more obscure locations she'd been forced to deal in. Hydrants weren't exactly a rare find, so locating a specific one was potentially a daunting task. Knowing the street made it easy, but no less ridiculous.

Members of the Chinese Triad seemed to fall into two distinct archetypes. Some looked like regular thugs, while others dressed like professionals. This man definitely fit into the second group, dressed in a black suit and matching shirt. In her experience, the professionals were slightly harder to take down, but still provided little in the way of actual challenge.

As she approached, the man turned to her. His body language said it all. He froze in place momentarily, halfway between a full sprint and sheer shock. His eyes were noticeably wide, even from this distance. It was a wonder his knees didn't rattle. This disorientation only lasted a brief moment. When it wore off, the man craned his neck around and cupped his mouth.

"Guys, she's here!" He shouted behind him.

The moment her target had begun to speak, Ayda was on him. With two substantial blasts at the bottoms of her feet, she launched herself forward. The distance between them was rather short, only about half a block. To leap such a gap was easy, simple child's play. Ayda collided with him while his back was turned. A midair burst put the dealer on his face.

An engine roared to life several feet away. Ayda looked up for a split second. She could not see the vehicle to which it belonged, but it would be in the street any moment now. Quickly, the girl fished around in her pocket for a zip tie. When extracted, she hastily bound the dealer's wrist to a chain hanging from a cap on the fire hydrant.

As she did, a black sports car emerged from a nearby alleyway. It zoomed onto the road with a slick right hand turn. The car zipped down the street away from her, its high performance engine whining with the signature hiss of a supercharger. It was fast, much moreso than anything Ayda had chased down so far.

"Shit," cursed the girl.

She straightened and took off back up the block, headed for her motorcycle. Two big bounds brought her around the corner. She skidded to a stop, sliding on the flats of her feet. A short sprint put her within arms' reach of the bike. All in one fluid motion, Ayda mounted the beast, pushed the ignition, and turned it on. The motor hadn't even time to idle before she took off. Her front wheel lifted off the ground a few inches from the force of pure acceleration.

Ayda moved as fast as she possibly could in order to reach her bike. Despite her best efforts, the target vehicle was already well on its way. She turned onto the street just in time to watch it disappear around a corner. She gunned the throttle even harder, desperate to catch up. This added velocity amounted to little, however, as she had to slow down around the turn.

It was in this that the car had a distinct advantage. More horsepower meant faster acceleration coming out of the turns. However, this faded away after a second, and the balance shifted back to Ayda's court. As long as those four wheels avoided long straight stretches, they could eventually lose Ayda entirely, and the driver seemed to realize this. He did an excellent job mixing things up.

The driver never stayed one course very long. He bent a curve at almost every single block, working his machine's strengths to that of his pursuer's for all they were worth. Put bluntly, it was infuriating. The vast majority of opponent's Ayda went up against were both woefully outgunned and lacked basic intelligence. Why did this particular guy have to be the exact opposite of both features? One or the other she could handle with no problem, but not the two combined.

Normally, the unusual lack of traffic would be a good thing. On any given night, the fewer cars she had to fight through, the better, even when just going about the business of a normal citizen. On this occasion, however, it served as only a detriment. One of a motorcycle's biggest draws was its ability to weave between commuters far more effectively than a bulky box on wheels. Without cars to weave through, that strength was negated entirely, and only added to the difficulty of this chase. If the enemy vehicle barely ever had to slow down to avoid another car, which only made Ayda's job far more difficult.

At first, the driver's behavior seemed erratic, turning down random streets with no rhyme or reason. However, as the chase wore on, Ayda noticed a distinct pattern. Although the routes he took were quite roundabout, he always looped back to the same path eventually. At times the direction would change, but the method remained the same, almost as if he weren't actually trying to escape.

Curiosity peeked up in the back of her mind. What was this guy playing at? He already portrayed the presence of mind to play to his strengths. What if he had a plan? It didn't seem as though he wanted to get away. Honestly, he probably could have done that by now. If Ayda didn't know any better, she'd say this man were leading her somewhere.

Every fiber of her being protested. Each and every shred of common sense she possessed screamed at her to reconsider, to either end it now or turn around and go home. But the warrior in her could not be swayed. The driver would only try to lead her somewhere if there were something significant waiting on the other side. Ayda wanted to see what it was.

What started out as a chase transformed into more of a convoy. The odd duo raced through the mostly empty streets of El Puerto's industrial district. Ayda slowed considerably, going only fast enough to keep an even distance with her target. She sat up in her seat as opposed to leaning forward in concentration. The driver, again displaying impressive instincts, must have realized she no longer wanted to catch him. He also maintained a consistent speed.

The two of them continued like this for a few more blocks. The absurdity of it was not lost on Ayda. Where once they were mortal enemies, the two now had an understanding. It was one born of puzzlement and necessity, but neither wanted to harm the other anymore. They'd turned into a game of follow the leader. When this was all over and done, Ayda would likely think back to this night and laugh.

The cat and mouse game ground to a somewhat abrupt and almost disappointing end. As they approached their newly shared destination, Ayda realized she hadn't actually made it too far from where she started out. All that driving amounted to little in the way of progress. This immediately raised a red flag. She knew this was probably a trap, but why was it so close by? Things seldom were ever so convenient.

The black sports car slowed almost to a complete stop and hung a sharp right into the wide open front garage door of an abandoned warehouse. It was the kind of entrance designed to facilitate large vehicles, so such a tiny automobile slipped in unhindered. Ayda had an even easier time following him in. She also slowed to a crawl, but out of caution more than anything else.

Inside, the warehouse was pitch black. No outside light was aloud admittance through years of grime caked on the old windows. Almost none leaked in from the open door. The only source of illumination was Ayda's headlight. It cast a narrow cone of white over the darkness so complete it seemed to almost swallow up the light as it traveled.

She inched her way further into the decrepit facility, sweeping her front wheel left to right. The lamp revealed a couple old conveyor belts, ancient grease stains, the ruins of some big machines Ayda had never seen before, exposed rebar where concrete had fallen away from the walls, but no black sports car.

"Alright, you dicks," she called into the void. "I know you're in here, so why don't you come on out and we can do this the easy way?"

Predictably, her offer was met with only silence. Criminals never wanted to do things the easy way. It was like they had conflict hard coded into their brains. Surely, some did. Not that she really minded. The easy way was boring. More direct methods meant she got to crack some heads, which provided exponentially more entertainment.

She progressed further into the bowels. As her light swept eastward, she observed the back wall. This was it, the final inches of the warehouse, or, at least, all of the areas big enough to fit a car. Going back the other way would have to reveal the suspect vehicle. Sure enough, as she brought her front around to the left, the cone of illumination caught the glint of a taillight. The vehicle had been switched off, its driver side door swung open. Just beyond it lay an open personnel door to the outside.

"Dammit!" Ayda slammed her palm against the center of her handlebars. She sighed. "Well, at least I can check the car." Leaving her bike on for the sake of illumination, she dismounted and made her way over to the vehicle. "I should probably call the cops and tell them about the other guy, too. What street was that even on?"

Idly, Ayda switched her staff from one hand to the other and moved it around behind her back. She held it diagonally with her arm relaxed. Its tip missed scraping against the ground by only about an inch.

This maybe wasn't a complete loss. Presumably, this car was used to transport whatever goods the dealer team planned on selling that night. Even if the driver had an accomplice, which he didn't appear to, there's no way the two of them could ever empty out all of it and leave before Ayda arrived. Whatever they had was most likely still on board. In the end, the removal of crystal meth from the streets was the ultimate goal. In that, she may very well have succeeded. This thought filled her with confidence as she approached the abandoned car.

All at once, every light in the building flickered on. Ayda went through many stages of surprise over the next few seconds, the first of which being astonishment that the lights even still worked. If not for her sunglasses, the sudden illumination would've been temporarily blinding. Now fully lit, this place had obviously been sitting around for quite some time. The electricity should have been shut off long ago. And yet, the fluorescent tube lights were on. This problem seemed trivial after what happened next.

"So, you're the one," suddenly said a gruff voice to Ayda's right. She turned and instinctively assumed a fighting stance. "I thought you'd be older."

The source of this voice was a middle-aged man. He stood upon a loading platform raised a few feet off the concrete floor. Just under six feet in height, he had swept back dark hair and a goatee, gray splotches in both. A strong jaw and square features combined with blue eyes made him quite the silver fox. He wore urban military fatigues and a combat harness on his chest, which added to his already considerable muscle mass. He did not want for weapons, either. A sheathed short sword hung from each hip. A pistol sat in its holster just below his right sword. A knife was strapped to his left boot. He looked like a man ready for war.

"You clearly know who I am," began Ayda, "so who are you?"

"My friends call me Tahoe," replied the man. Ayda had failed to notice the first time he spoke, but he had a distinct New Zealand accent.

"Your friends, huh?" Ayda raised an eyebrow. "So, what can I call you, then?"

"They said you were a sarcastic little shit," observed Tahoe matter-of-factly.

"Okay, Tahoe. Why are you here?" Ayda changed her angle of attack.

"I'm here because the two of us have business. We need to talk."

"What makes you think I wanna talk to you?"

"Because I'm the leader of the El Pureto chapter of the Chinese Triad."

Ayda's heart plummeted straight through the floor. Of all the things he could have possibly said, that was not even on the list of what she'd expected. A bounty hunter or hired gun, maybe, but not the big dog in charge.

"You're the leader of the Triad?" Ayda raised an eyebrow. "But, you're not Chinese. ...You're not even Asian."

"Yes, well, that's a long story, one I don't have patience for right now." He paused. "I've been following you, you know? I read about your exploits in the paper, I hear about them on the news. Every day more of my men fall to your pointless brand of justice." He hopped down from his pedestal. Ayda planted her feet. "You've been a thorn in my side for much too long, now."

Tahoe drew both of his swords, extracting them from leather scabbards in a crossing motion. He stood with each one held at hip level, their points facing outward. They were thick bladed, single edged designs similar to machetes with little serrations toward the hilts. All of this was probably meant to intimidate, but all Ayda could do was chuckle at him.

"Dual swords, really?" She scoffed. "What is this, a book?"

"Laugh all you want," fired Tahoe right back. "I like it when my opponents are arrogant. It makes them easier to kill."

"So, you actually want to do this?" Ayda let the question hang in the air, as if that would actually make him reconsider. Unsurprisingly, Tahoe remained silent. She shrugged. "I don't really want to hurt an old man, but have it your way." Ayda removed her cropped leather jacket and threw it off to the side somewhere.

The atmosphere in the room shifted. It turned from confusion to tension in a fraction of an instant. This was no longer a conversation between strangers, it was a battle of two warriors who were both sure they would win. But only one could come out on top. Ayda was determined to be the one.

Most fights had a sort of calm before the storm, a time when each combatant sized up the other. Not this one, though. Tahoe leapt into action. He closed the distance with impressive speed and leveled a vicious strike straight down at Ayda with both swords simultaneously. Ayda took a wide grip on her own weapon and intercepted the blades. Tahoe followed up with a low kick. The teenager disengaged and slipped back out of the way, narrowly avoiding the blow.

This backpedaling put Ayda on the defensive. She attempted to make up ground by spinning her staff vertically in a series of quick strikes, each one accentuated by a blast. In total, eight attempts were thrown. Tahoe dodged each one, walking rearward at a steady pace. This wasn't working. Ayda transitioned from the twirls to a backhand lateral strike. Tahoe ducked underneath it and stepped forward. He tried to slash diagonally upward, but Ayda blocked it with the rear end of her staff. Using her distinct leverage advantage, she cranked the rest of her weapon downward toward the man's shoulder. Tahoe quarter turned and again stepped forward, this time to within arm's reach. He smacked her across the face with the pommel of a sword.

Ayda took a step back and stupidly cupped the place on her cheek where the hit had made contact. He was strong, and faster than she expected. At this point, many of her aggressors knew of her, and what she could do. It put her at an odd sort of disadvantage. Most knew not to block, and Tahoe was no different. However, she never possessed information about them. It made situations like this uncomfortable to be in. No playing around. No underestimation. She'd already made that mistake once with Guang. This had to end soon.

Ayda stepped forward and brought down a heavy overhead blow. Tahoe slipped back and it smacked the concrete with a blast. The girl raised her staff up in what was a mix between a slice and a stab. Again, Tahoe dodged. He retaliated by sweeping both weapons horizontally, one right after the other. He spun around and came back with both in unison at the same level. Ayda avoided all three attacks.

She twirled her staff and then kicked forward. Tahoe didn't even have to dodge, as it missed completely. He countered with a strike over his left shoulder. Ayda blocked. The man attempted to run her through the midriff. She narrowly avoided the blow, breaking off from the bind. Tahoe lowered one of his swords to strike, and in doing so left his right arm wide open.

Ayda brought her weapon around and hit him right on the elbow with a powerful blast. He soared across the warehouse, completely clearing the dais he'd started on. The only thing which stopped him was the wall. Tahoe landed in a sitting position. His right arm hung at an unnatural angle, bent outward in the middle.

The teenager smirked. Not as tough as he thought. Her expression faded, however, when she realized Tahoe's matched her own. Arm broken and clearly losing, he still found reason to smile. He must have been crazy. Anyone who stood to her was. The man slowly rose, and as he did, Ayda saw he wasn't crazy at all. No, the only word she could use to describe him was impossible.

His right arm... changed. Ayda really didn't know how to describe it. The limb quickly transformed from flesh and skin to some sort of gray semisolid. It seemed to seep right out from his pores. It consumed his entire arm, even the clothing and sword in his hand. The substance almost appeared metallic in nature. It shifted in constant motion, reminiscent of the surface of a lake blowing in the wind. A sickening, squishy sound like flowing corn syrup accompanied the movement. All Ayda could do was stare in petrified awe at the spectacle which unfolded before her.

After a few seconds, the semisolid faded away. It retreated back into Tahoe's body. It left in its wake not a broken arm, but a brand new one. Anybody who didn't know any better would have no idea he'd ever been hurt in the first place. Tahoe gave his new fingers a slow flex as if testing unfamiliar joints.

The gray substance returned for a brief moment, this time in the palm of his hand. It formed into the shape of a sword. When it retracted, what remained was a new weapon identical to the first. He grasped it.

"I... how did...what was..." Ayda stammered as he brain struggled to comprehend all it had just witnessed. Tahoe laughed at her confusion, a low rumble from deep in his core.

"Did you really think you were the only one?" he said. "The only one with... gifts? No. Far from it, little girl. You're just another chapter in a long story. Corrupt governments have been running human experiments ever since the First World War, all in an attempt to create the perfect super soldier. It's what I was, and if I had to wager, it's what you were."

Tahoe clearly had more to say, but he stopped, as if to give Ayda the chance to respond. She did not. The teenager had a million questions running through her head, but could form none of them into actual words. It didn't make sense. Even though she'd seen it with her own two eyes. Even though she herself were capable of similarly amazing feats. It simply didn't make sense. Seeing that his now captive audience would not offer any sort of rebuttal, Tahoe continued.

"You hear about it, every now and then. A man just walks away from a ten story fall. A woman convicted of a dozen arsons with no starting point. People who claim to fly, or lift buildings, or run at the speed of sound. The governments of the world pass them off as miracles, or psychos, or urban legends, but we know the truth. People like you and me? We're out there. All the proof you need is right here." He made a wide, all-encompassing gesture.

"But... but that's impossible," Ayda challenged. "Someone would have found out. Someone has to know."

"Oh, people do find out, but they have a strange habit of disappearing. And even if they don't, who would believe them?"

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Ayda changed the subject. "Why go out of your way to bring me here, fight me, and then reveal all of this? Don't tell me this was your real goal."

"I knew this would happen if we ever met," Tahoe said with a nod. "I'm telling you this because you deserve to know the truth—the real truth—about what you really are."

"You don't know me. You can't tell me what I am." Ayda took on a defiant tone.

"Is that right?" Tahoe said with a cock of his head. "Let me guess: you were taken from your loved ones at a young age, and they were probably killed. Or, maybe you were an orphan or a street rat when they came for you. Some team of scientists ran experiments on you and, one way or another, you got abilities you never wanted. Now, either someone rescued you, or you rescued yourself, but somehow you ended up here. Am I close?" Tahoe asked. Ayda's melancholy silence was all the confirmation he needed. "The story is always the same. There are variables, of course, but they amount to the same thing. Capture, experimentation, and rescue, in that order. For me, it was Chinese smugglers. We're not all that different, you and I."

"Bullshit!" Ayda defied. "We're nothing alike. I'm trying to stop you."

"And I'm trying to stop you. See? We're similar, just on opposites sides."

"Shut up! Just, shut up! I don't want to hear anymore of your bullshit! Stop pretending like you know me."

"Did I say that?" Tahoe began. "No. You were the one who—"

"I said shut up!" Ayda cut him off curtly. "Even if everything you just said is true, I don't care, not right now. All I want to do is kick your ass."

"I knew you would say that." Tahoe chose his words carefully. "We don't have to fight, you know? People like you and me? We're the real powers in this world. We deserve to be in control of everything, and yet no one knows we even exist. The people would never know what hit them. You can go back to pretending you're one of them, You can even fight crime on the other side of town. I don't really care either way. Don't step on my empire, and I won't step on yours. When all of this is mine I may even give you a nice apparment, or something."

"I don't have an empire," asserted Ayda. "And I'm here to make sure you don't either." She channeled more energy into her staff. It glowed an even brighter purple luminescence.

"I appreciated your dedication. It reminds me a lot of myself at your age." Tahoe laughed at her grimace upon the comparison. "You wanna pick up where we left off? Fine." He assumed a fighting stance. "Come and get me."

Ayda let loose all her rage in a primal scream as she charged at the man responsible. Tahoe smiled and widened his stance, ready to receive her. When she was still several steps away Ayda kicked off the ground. She flew through the air for a moment, on a collision course with her target. Still, Tahoe stood motionless. As she came down, Ayda smashed a terrible blow at the man. Tahoe finally sprang into action. He jumped to his right, clearing an impressive distance for an unassisted leap. Ayda's staff sliced only through air before smacking concrete. An immense blast cracked the raised floor, but did no damage to either fighter.

Tahoe closed the moment the blast dissipated. He struck downward at Ayda with both is swords. She blocked with staff held high. The girl retaliated with a shin kick from her kneeling position. This attack did not hit, nor was it meant to. Its only goal was to buy her enough time for an escape. Tahoe stepped out of the way, and in doing so allowed Ayda just enough time to stand up. She lashed out, a horizontal cut from her right side. Tahoe's reaction was not what she expected.

He made no attempt to avoid the blow. The liquid metal seeped out from under his skin. In the blink of an eye it covered his neck and head. It molded to his body, a second skin of impenetrable metal. Ayda's attack and the ensuing burst made contact with a brief ringing. Tahoe was unmoved. He showed zero reaction to the blow; only grinned in sick satisfaction.

Ayda froze, stunned beyond the realm of human comprehension. That was an excellent attack, more than enough to crush the roof of a modern automobile. And yet, Tahoe took it without batting an eye. He retaliated with a push kick to the body. So completely stupefied was Ayda, she didn't even try to avoid it. She took a couple wobbly steps back from the impact.

She barely had enough time to get her balance before the Triad bigshot pressed further. He swung left, right, and then left again, alternating his blades, but was blocked. Ayda swept laterally with the butt end of her staff at the man's exposed side. Tahoe raised his free sword and turned his entire arm into metal beneath his shirt. This allowed him to block the attack, blast and all. However, the surprise of this wore off swiftly. Unfazed, Ayda sliced upward with her staff's fore end. Tahoe kicked it away with a metal foot in his black boot, completely redirecting the blast in the process. It pushed the staff back faster than it would have gone with just a kick alone.

Tahoe cut diagonally downward with his right weapon. Ayda sidestepped the attack and tried to jab through his defenses. Again, Tahoe didn't even try to defend as her offense met a metal shoulder. Every time that happened, it took her just a little bit off guard. Tahoe knew this. He could see it in her eyes. The man batted her staff away with his left sword and then cut back the other way with it. Ayda leaned back. The tip missed her neck by fractions of an inch.

This avoidance required a huge dedication to movement. When Tahoe send another body push kick her way, Ayda could not get the required balance to either deflect or avoid it. A metallic foot planted firmly in her midsection. She had been fighting close to the edge of the raised section the entire time. This kick was just enough to send her over. The girl twisted at the last second in a desperate attempt to stay upright, but it was all in vain. She toppled off the lip. Ayda hit the floor shoulder-first. Gravity added considerable force to an already devastating impact. She slid a good few feet along the slick dust and gravel.

The man hopped down. Slowly, he walked over to Ayda. She swiftly got to her feet, pushing herself up with her hands, ignoring the pain in her arm. Nothing was cracked or in any way broken. The discomfort would pass in time. Right then, she had more important things to worry about. Tahoe reached her in just a few steps. She took up her favorite ready stance, staff held in front of her slanted from left shoulder to right hip.

Tahoe struck downward with each blade and spun, arms like a lacerating windmill of death. Ayda blocked both with staff held flat and grip wide. Coming out of his rotation he sliced vertically once again with a single blade. Ayda pushed back to meet it with a blast. The sword was knocked up and away. It clattered behind Tahoe. Ayda swiftly cut high, forehand. Tahoe dodged. Ayda passed the staff behind her back with a twirl before coming again from the same direction. This time, her opponent blocked with one sword. He reformed his other sword and cut low. The teenager slipped back. Once the blade passed, she came down with a straight strike. The man blocked with crossed swords high above his head.

For a third time Tahoe kicked her in the body. This time his foot made contact with her left hip with such force she spun around a half rotation. Tahoe struck at her exposed back. Cold steel bit into her flesh, cutting her at an acute angle from shoulder to shoulder. She cried out in stinging pain and fell to her hands and knees. Blood seeped from a mangled wound on her back.

"You can't beat me, little girl," Tahoe menaced, towering over her. "You should just give up, it'll be easier that way."

He was right. She couldn't win. This man bested her at every turn. He was an opponent she couldn't hurt, a fighter she hadn't a snowball's chance in hell to overcome. She was outmatched. This fight was over, but Ayda would not just roll over and accept her punishment. She'd come much too far.

In a sudden outburst of rage, Ayda spun around and sliced at Tahoe's ankles. Assuming he'd won the battle, he was not ready for any sort of retaliation. A strong blast knocked both his feet out from underneath him. He fell face first, slamming his chin against the hard cement floor. Stars danced in his vision, but he would not be down for long.

Ayda scrambled to her feet. Her motorcycle was still in the warehouse, and still running, for that matter. She sprinted over to it. She didn't care to slide her staff into its loops on the saddlebags, opting instead to lay the thing underneath the handlebars. The girl mounted the bike and pinned the throttle. With all her weight she threw the thing into a tight U-turn, rear wheel kicking up a cloud of dust as it spun against the ground. Ayda took off out the big door, disappearing from view.

As the dust settled, Tahoe could only smile.