“It’s time to explain our weapons, yes?” Lana calls. “Would you like to go first, or shall I?”

  Charlotte stares back from her side of the field, Pierre raised in an offensive stance. Her heart still trilled, impatiently waiting for the chance to fight once more.

  “I shall go first.” Charlotte says, a small smile cresting her face. If this was a test, then she’d comply. “My blade, Pierre, can manipulate and interact with the wind, but only one facet at a time. Is that satisfactory for you?”

  “It’s more than I hoped for.” Lana mutters, her feet shifting to a more defensive stance. She raises one of her hands, tapping the space just beneath her eye. “My weapons are contacts. They allow me to view the two possible futures that my opponent will make, but only those two. I don’t know which one will be chosen in the end. It can also peer no more than five seconds into the future.”

  Charlotte blinks, her eyebrows quarking up. She resists whistling, but just barely.

  “That’s a strong ability.” Charlotte compliments. She could feel that familiar burning within her body growing stronger, her excitement ready to burst from her flesh.

  “You’re too kind.” Lana smiles. “But you’re just flattering me. I’ve heard tales of the genius Arcille child with a powerful Synth Weapon to boot.”

  Charlotte dismisses it with a wave, her momentary battle lust forgotten. “You speak of me too highly. You are the real genius here.” Her smile grows more pleasant. “You are Lana Ferguson, aren’t you?”

  Lana cocks her head, a bit of genuine surprise washing her across her features. Her arms fall. It made Charlotte feel good to know even she could surprise someone who saw the future, even if their ability probably wasn’t always active.

  “You know me?” Lana questions finally.

  “Of course.” Charlotte answers. “I make it a habit to learn all my peers' names. It’s a… Skill I’ve developed.” She tries to keep as much of the sneer out of her voice as possible. While she loathed court life, that particular skill was one she didn’t quite mind, even if the late nights of memorization had been tortuous on her young mind. “It’s not like you’re anything to pass over either. You ranked eight overall, after all.”

  Lana doesn’t seem as shocked by this as she was before, probably because she’d finally started using that ability of hers. Why she didn’t use it all the time was beyond Charlotte. A drawback, perhaps? It could just be something about morality, or perhaps it was simply a respect thing. It was fascinating.

  “I believe the pleasantries are over.” She says, her fists raising back to their previous state. “I can see you jumping anyway. Come at me.”

  Charlotte doesn’t need any more prodding. An explosion of dust kicks up as Charlotte charges, the wind billowing around her as she cuts through it, forcing as much drag out of her path. Pierre shines in front of her. It was an awfully strong defense.

  Lana didn’t move an inch, her fists still primed in the same spot. If she could see two options, then Charlotte would just have to be unpredictable. She slows noticeably, her form warbling before splitting into four distinct clones. She’d had time to improve the technique with her months of training, to the point where the differences between them were nearly imperceivable. That's why it caught Charlotte so off guard when Lana simply stepped forward, her arm quickly slapping Pierre away in a single fluid motion.

  Pain shoots through her body as a fist slams into her armored chest. They felt like damn cannon balls, an ominous crack sounding out with each blow. She tries to extract herself, but finds herself unable as Lana’s hand wraps around her wrist. Three strikes slam in quick succession after that. One to her face, the other two to either of her kidneys. She could feel her armor caving, the shining metal unable to handle the force exerted upon it.

  Charlotte tries to wrench her arm away, but finds herself completely stuck. Just as Lana’s elbow flies toward her face, Charlotte dissipates her clones, condensing their wind into a single spot in front of her. Lana’s eyes widen a touch, her arms shooting to shield herself. The two go flying back, Lana’s back slamming into the wall with a loud crack. Charlotte skids across the floor, Pierre tumbling at her side. Blood streams down her lip, her teeth stained red by the blood leaking up from her throat. She tests one of the dents in her armor, a cry of pain tearing its way from her throat. Something inside her ruptured.

  Without further notice, Charlotte snatches Pierre up again, relief quickly flooding her system. Lana tears herself from the wall, her dress mottled by stains. If she was affected by the blast Charlotte struck her with, she didn’t let it show on her face.

  “I’m shocked.” Lana says, wiping some of the dust from her dress. “I really thought that would’ve taken you out.”

  “I’m quite sturdy with armor.” Charlotte responds, her grip on her blade tightening. She hadn’t expected Lana to hit that hard, nor did she expect her to see through her illusion just like George did. Great, she had Synth Sense. She should’ve anticipated that.

  “Yes you are.” Lana muses. “I didn’t expect anyone, let alone a speed focused fighter, to wear actual armor in this day and age. It’s like fighting the knights from some of the books my father read me as a child.”

  “It’s a promise to myself, one I intend to fulfill." Charlotte says succinctly. Pierre raises once more, a sheathe of wind echoing around it. Close range was more than off the table against an opponent like her, especially with her strength and precognition. That left one glaring weakness, however. She had no range to speak of. Charlotte didn’t like fighting at a range either, but saying she had no ranged options would be a lie. She had practiced enough to fill that weakness.

  She whips Pierre forward, willing the wind to bend to her whims. The air coalescing around her blade shoots forward suddenly in a curved slash. Lana easily jumps to the side, her eyes locked on Charlotte, a neutral expression dominating their face. Charlotte allows a sigh to escape her lips. Of course she would’ve seen it coming. Well, Charlotte was nothing if persistent, and Lana couldn’t dodge forever.

  Charlotte steps back as Lana steps forward, unleashing another ranged slash of air. Lana sidesteps it, then the next, and the one after that. Even as Charlotte pushes herself, willing the wind to bend further and further to her will, Lana still sidesteps her attacks. That power of hers let her predict Charlotte too easily. She had to bypass it somehow. The first solution that came to mind was to simply throw an attack that Lana couldn’t dodge. That didn’t account for how sturdy the girl seemed to be. Slamming her into the concrete hadn’t worked; in fact, it didn’t do a damn thing. She also wasn’t Liv. The size of her attack didn’t correlate perfectly with the strength of her attack. She could also try to outspeed them, but Lana seemed to be able to react to something approaching top speed fairly easily.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Charlotte bites her lip, another option swimming around her mind, desperate to be considered. She pushes it down without a second thought. There was no way to confirm if that would work, and it would take her out of the fight entirely if it didn’t. Her final option was clear. Create too many futures to be sure. Luckily, she had just the move for that. She takes a deep breath, calling upon Pierre once more. Pierre responds, the wind quaking around her. Lana stops, her eyes slowly widening as the future unfolds before her.

  Power surges through Charlotte, pooling in Pierre’s blade. Charlotte waves her blade around, focusing on the air surrounding Lana at all times. At once, a tornado whips around Lana, stone and dust whipping at her. They tear at her, small cuts dashing across her skin, even as she raises her arms to defend her extremities. Charlotte watches from the outside, willing the wind to continue as she sprints over. Now that the cyclone had begun, it wouldn’t end any time soon, not unless she willed it so. That would take most of her senses out of the picture, including her Synth Sense. The entire tornado was infused with the stuff.

  She didn’t know the intricacies of her opponent's power, but she could assume the possible futures involved her either standing back or attacking. Her contacts might offer her eyes some protection, but Charlotte knew she wouldn’t risk it. Staying back was the smart decision…

  But Charlotte decided to gamble.

  Getting a clean shot on Lana would mean the other woman would have to expend a charge to compensate. If Charlotte could just keep pressing the offense, she could force them to burn through all their Synth Charges in no time. Hell, maybe she’d get a good strike that they couldn’t heal. Synth Charges were impressive, but they had limitations. They couldn’t revive the dead, nor could they regrow an entire extremity if it was lost. It was a gamble, and there were more than one thing that could go wrong, but it felt worth it. She just had to time this right.

  Her time comes when a particularly large piece of kicked up rubble strikes Lana on the back of the head. Lana stumbles a step. That was all Charlotte needed.

  She lurches into the cyclone, Pierre poised and ready to strike. Her heart thrums in her chest, trilling like a bird in the summer sun. The strategy, the back and forth, the calculated risks each party made… This was a fight! What she couldn’t see was how Lana countered her. Sure, her ability would give her some trouble– but wasn’t that the case for everyone? She felt like Liv would’ve been a more interesting match up for Lana. Her rationale wanted to focus on it, but the larger part of her– the part that craved combat– shoved it to the side. That could wait. She had this!

  She pulls Pierre back, jabbing it toward Lana’s still blocking form. Just as she does, a buzzing crashes into her ears, her eyes widening as she realizes what’s happening. Lana opens her own eyes, her sclera growing a brilliant white. At the same time, her body subtly shifts, her hand aiding by slapping Pierre once more. She could see Lana’s muscles swelling in kind, the sleeves of her dress ripping at the seams. Charlotte dispels the cyclone, focusing all her power into creating another blast of wind.

  It’s not quick enough

  Lana’s fist crashes into Charlotte’s nose. Charlotte’s head whips back, her brain tumbling around her skull. Her hearing whitens, temporarily robbed by the indescribable pain rocketing through her system. Her vision darkens for a moment, splotches of dark coloring her eyes as she flies backwards. She tries to exert control over her body once more, to manipulate the wind, to use that final charge she has to fix herself, to do anything to save herself. It doesn’t work– her body isn’t listening.

  She crashes into the wall like a bug, crumpling into herself. Pierre clammers next to her, the blade just out of her reach. On the other end of the room, Lana exhales, sweat pouring down her brow like a waterfall. That had taken a lot more than she would’ve liked. She walks toward the grasping Charlotte, her opponent slowly gaining some sway over their body. Perhaps she went a bit too hard on the poor girl; then again, she had to use all her charges to even defeat them: one to boost her weapon’s ability, one to boost her physicality, and one to recover her body from the aftershocks of boosting both.

  Lana arrives at Charlotte’s side before the taller woman has a chance to grab her blade. She kicks it away. The blade skids across the floor, settling in the corner of the room before it has the chance to continue the fight.

  “This fight is over.” Lana says matter of factly. “Concede.”

  Charlotte stares up at her, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth. Shame wars with the still stoked flames of battle in her chest. She wanted to keep fighting! It couldn’t be over yet! She tries to push herself to at least a kneel, just barely managing to push her hands up. With enough willpower, she could push through this barrier. She had to-!

  Lana kicks one of her hands, sending Charlotte crashing back to the floor. Her head slams against the concrete, stars flashing behind her eyes. The black spots grow, her consciousness fading quicker and quicker. Her soul hammers against the injustice of it. Her exhausted mind, however, didn’t care: neither did her body. They had accepted the truth that her soul couldn’t accept, but was forced to grapple with.

  She had lost, well and truly lost.

  On the other side of the room, the barrier falls around the two teams. Liv sprints out first, Donovan following hot on her heels. One there, the two work to push Charlotte to a sitting position. Blood leaks free from her nose, her slacken jaw missing a few teeth. One of her cheekbones sits depressed into her face.

  Pink energy envelops the unconscious woman, her face knitting back into place. At the same time, Lana grabs Pierre, slotting it back in her grasp. If Anthony’s wasn’t enough, Lana figured the weapon would pick up any of the slack.

  “Impressive work.” Arata compliments, patting Lana on the back. She smiles nervously, her hands clasping at her waist.

  Liv whips her head around, raising to her full height. There was a lot pouring through her mind right now: anger, concern, and a healthy thirst for vengeance. That hit could’ve killed them! What the hell were they thinking? What the hell was Anthony thinking?

  Lana’s eyes suddenly dart open as Liv takes a step forward, a sheen of sweat exploding across her now freshly terrified face. She dashes back, her fists raised to defend herself, horrifying futures playing out before her. Liv is stopped, however, by a hand landing deftly on her shoulder. Liv whips her head around, staring into Arata’s disapproving gaze.

  “Your fight is with me, not my team.” He says simply. “If you have a problem, we’ll settle it soon.” He squints his eyes. “And don’t you forget the favor I’m doing you by being here. Your team came to me to aid in your training, not the other way around. You may leave if you’d like. You are their leader, after all.”

  Liv stares back, her fists clenching at her sides. The way he said “leader” had no ounce of respect in it. She steals a glance at Charlotte once more. Anthony was tending to her, Donovan standing worriedly at her side. Anthony speaks in hushed tones, though not enough to the point where she couldn’t overhear. Charlotte was fine, but she would be resting in the medical wing. Something inside Liv boils brighter, a feeling not entirely too dissimilar to when she fought Faraji.

  “I’ll be fightin’ ya.” Liv says, her teeth clenched.

  Arata scoffs, gesturing for Anthony to hurry it up. Anthony shoots him a glance, a grunt escaping his lips. He whispers to Donovan. Donovan nods, scooping Charlotte up in his arms. She looks almost delicate, her arm drooping down limply. Donovan excuses himself, but not before giving Liv a hard stare. An invisible conversation shoots between the two, the message clear.

  Win.

  Liv walks to her own side of the room, her gauntleted hands splaying out on her hands. She felt her muscles activate, a calming breath sucking through her nose. There was no doubt in her mind. She would win, or she would be knocked out trying.