The Banshee crept forward, shrugging the damage from Itzhak’s blow. With her trump card revealed, she began to lay down their former traps across the floor, limiting his movements further.

Foxtail now understood why Jin had been so careful to explain the activation mechanism and to be thoughtful in placement as to avoid a misfire. If they expected all the trap would do is slow down the Banshee, Foxtail dreaded thinking about what that meant about their opponents power level.

“And I still have to stall for time…” Foxtail mumbled. Without assurances that Foreigner was going to come and save them, she would need to step up to the plate and incapacitate their opponent.

“You think just because this arm is shredded that I am not a capable combatant?” Itzhak’s voice boomed, his facial expression a manic grin. “I am Itzhak, born in the Undergrowth, raised in that den of monsters, and champion of the Rose Garden.”

“I don’t care who or what you are, frankly,” the Banshee flung her weapon wielding arm and caused the slicing strands to move around in a dizzying flurry, “You are an obstacle that will be taken care of like the rest.”

Itzhak jabbed with his good arm, releasing an electrical charge to stun the advancing blades.

Foxtail took that as her moment to strike. Whether he was high on adrenaline and didn’t realize their situation or did actually have a trump card up her sleeve, she didn’t want to lose the advantage in him. She entered into the headspace back in the arena, walking a tightrope between her need to be a coward and abandon her friend to his own devices and the courage necessary to overcome that panic and handle the situation.

This will only end in failure… failure… You’ve already saved what you care the most about… you’ve done enough heroics… The wraith kept whispering in her mind that she had done enough, a seemingly distant voice now pressed up to her ear with these taunts.

Foxtail would contemplate on the side effects of purposefully entering into her empowered state later. She waved her glass rapier and stabbed at the Banshee. The Banshee recoiled, alerted to Foxtail’s presence but not quickly enough.

“Grah,” the Banshee turned to look at Foxtail, “You filthy rat! I knew there was a saboteur with your group but I expected that their skills preclude them from direct engagement. My mistake.” The Banshee ripped a sliver of cloth from her scarf and placed it on the open wound. Whatever its function, the scarf mended with the suit and her skin, leaving nothing but a purple patch to indicate the damage. There were echoes that clung to the wound, scraping at the healed patch with their hands. Whether the phantom pain was affecting her or not, their opponent didn’t show it.

Itzhak leapt forward and smashed down with his fist, taking advantage of the opening she had helped create. The Banshee stepped back, creating distance with the movement and an impediment for approach with her cloud of slicing strings. Itzhaks fist crackled with electricity and he unleashed another voltaic blast. Just like before, Foxtail followed his lead and-

Click.

Foxtail recalled to her pool of echoes, the space she was just occupying distorting and crushing the ground underneath with the unnatural gravitational force of their trap. The Banshee took advantage of their own disorientation and yelled.

Her cacophony pierced through the warehouse, shaking its foundation with the tremors. Even with protective hearing equipment, she could feel blood welling up in her ears, a light dribble of warm blood running down her ear lobe.

Itzhak was unperturbed, closing the distance between the two of them. He gave the Banshee a hooked strike, retreating the moment his attack connected to avoid any subterfuge on her part.

Her body rag-dolled with the impact, skipping off the ground and rolling onto the wall.

Foxtail didn’t let up, using her echoes to close the distance and strike down on her body from above.

The Banshee shifted out of the way. While on the ground, she let loose another scream having Foxtail recoil. Foxtail felt a heavy weight crash into her chest, her own body sent flying in the opposite direction. She tumbled through crates and inert machinery, her mind dazed and foggy.

Izhak made a guttural war cry and pressed on his offensive, slamming his good arm down on the Banshee’s prone position. She scuttled around on the floor, keeping her scarf tightly bundled around her body.

The Banshee kicked at Itzhak’s thigh and slid her body as far as she could, leaving behind a gravity trap on exit. Itzhak was wary of falling for the same trick again and fell back from his assault, the trap activating harmlessly until becoming inert.

This is a losing battle… just give up and run away… Foxtail ignored the wraiths whispers and ran forward. Her breathing was labored, the blow likely leaving her more damaged than expected. Even with a power as strange and empowering as this, her physical fitness might only have been marginally improved while in such a state. She ignored the pain radiating across her torso as she made contact with the Banshee.

The Banshee slammed her cross onto the ground and caused the strings to explode in erratic patterns in front of her. Foxtail transposed herself behind the Banshee and stabbed them squarely on her flank.

“AHHHH!” The Banshee yelled, instinctively slamming the back of her fist into Foxtail, tumbling her to the ground.

“Thank you, Little Fox!” Itzhak lifted his arm up, the crackling energy surrounding his fist a ball of unstable electricity. He crushed the Banshee’s weapon, a satisfying crunch of wood and uncoiling metal echoing through the warehouse. The aftershock of the attack sent the Banshee and untethered machinery and crates flying in all directions.

The building gave a heavy groan as the metal walkway came crashing down onto the first floor.

There was a moment of stillness, dust clouds obscuring vision within the dilapidated warehouse, Foxtail only able to make out the outline of Itzhak standing in the darkness.

“Are you okay Itzhak?” Foxtail croaked. She gingerly shuffled out from underneath debris, walking towards Itzhak.

“Don’t move, Little Fox. Our fight is not over yet.” Itzhak’s voice was unnaturally haggard, his boisterous cadence reduced to a whimper. On cue, they heard the clattering of metal and the shifting of wood coming from deeper within the warehouse.

“So it’s Little Fox and Itzhak. I’d be touched by such an unlikely combination if I wasn’t so annoyed. To think that Sam’s work on those accursed Thought Tools extended beyond our experimentation. At least I got to confirm firsthand that even rats can be dangerous when given the power.” The Banshee’s voice modulation cut in and out with their natural coolly angered tone interposed with the detached robotic tone.

The moment was interrupted with the sound of a door opening. They all stopped and stared at the figure standing underneath the doorway, the light from the city streets giving them a halo.

“I hope I’m not too late to cut in,” Foreigner approached, “But I do believe we have some business, Drusillia.”

Drusillia? Was Foreigner referring to the Banshee? Did he gain his memories back?

“Are you this Foreigner or the Arenas I used to know?” Drusillia called out, preparing herself for the worst.

Foreigner gave a small chuckle, “I guess you can consider me Arenas, although even that would be inaccurate. I’m sure you’ll come to understand in our conversation soon enough.”

“Conversation? What are you talking about, Foreigner, we need to put her down while she’s-” Itzhak’s voice was cut off. There was an intense pain that pierced his chest and radiated out across the rest of his body.

“You do not order me around, whelp. You have outlived your usefulness in protecting this vessel. I thank you for your services but you are no longer needed.” Foreigner spoke with a detached fury, not sure if he was making an example of his victim or stepping on a bug.

Itzhak’s body slumped and fell over.

Foxtail was frozen in place, not sure of what to do next.

“You needn’t worry just yet, Foxtail. I am eager to have a chat with you too,” Foreigner conjured a throne of marble, “Let me just figure if any of you are worthy to be exposed to my greatness.”