Nothing was under control anymore.

  Liv barely deflects a swipe from Ainsley, bruises blooming across her forearms with the amount of blocking she’s done. She doesn’t have time to dodge the slash aimed at her side from one of the townsfolk, blood fountaining down from her shoulder like a waterfall. Donovan fared a bit better, easily fending off a group of four with a mix of defense and, of course, kicks. Charlotte had already “taken care” of the ones coming for her, now focused on defending Anthony and Donovan from their own attackers. Though one would expect Anthony to be faring poorly, he was doing just as good as Donovan. His wounds weren’t closing like Donovan’s, however.

  Liv jumps back from the altercation, her chest heaving, pain lancing through her body. Sheila had joined the fray, her hand shaking around her dagger. Charlotte hadn’t “taken care” of them in the building Liv supposed, though Liv was starting to curse that decision, just like she cursed most of her friend's decisions.

  Why the hell had Anthony done that? Why hadn’t Charlotte or Donovan stopped him? Couldn’t they hear that strange noise too? It was infuriating knowing they had peace right there, knowing they could’ve solved this without bloodshed– a dream so close, yet so far.

  Liv watches as Sheila bum rushes her, her concern for her life outweighed by the desire to avenge her fallen friend. Liv rushes forward herself, sidestepping the downward thrust aimed for her chest. She slams her fist into her attacker's kidney, unable to capitalize further as a spike trails by her face. She growls, jumping back, Ainsley’s foot shooting past where she had once been.

  She had found out that, no matter what, she couldn’t stop him once he started a charge. That tidbit had been earned when she tried to grab in midair. She nearly dislocated her shoulder trying to slam him into the ground; luckily, she had the foresight to let go when the first tug didn’t work.

  Despite their ceaseless attacks, Liv genuinely didn’t want to kill either of them. To her knowledge, they had just watched what she could only assume was a good friend of theirs get executed in front of them after mercy was proposed. Sadly, all her calls for peace were ignored.

  She quickly slams her hand into her chest twice more, the fault lines of her gauntlets flaring their bright orange. Some part of her broiled with anxiety thinking of what she would have to do… But she quickly silences it. They had attacked her first, and a swift end would follow her if she didn’t end this soon.

  She watches as the two dash in together. Ainsley was clearly trying to draw her attention while Sheila sneaked behind. The exact strategy she saw from her first altercation with this group. It was practiced, and it might’ve been effective if she hadn’t seen it before. Luckily, she had. Liv feigns a charge at Ainsley before suddenly pivoting, her eyes locked on Sheila’s defenseless form. Sheila barely has time to register the sudden shift in attention before a fist is flying toward her face. The knife wielding thief was skilled, nobody could deny that; sadly, there was no bridging the gap in physicality between her and Liv.

  Liv’s fist connects with Sheila’s face, the subsequent explosion roaring forth. Sheila flies backward, crashing into one of the few intact huts. Smoke billows from Liv’s gauntlet, the sickening smell of charred flesh and fresh blood tickling her nose. Liv waits for the span of a single heartbeat, her eyes locked on the ruined hit. Sheila wasn’t getting back up.

  That melody returns to her voice, her leg instinctively shooting back. Ainsley stumbles back, caught off guard by Liv’s sudden attack. Liv doesn’t think twice, twisting on her heel, a fist on a crash course with the back of his skull.

  Metal scrapes against stone as Ainsley skirts his weapon across the floor, right underneath Liv’s legs. Liv’s punch goes sideways as he slides forward, one of his legs raising, making direct contact with Liv’s torso. She stumbles, though she has more than enough time to recover as Ainsley scrambles to his feet, just as disoriented as she was.

  The two stare at each other, an arms length away. Liv was exhausted to high hell, her stamina reserves nearing complete collapse. He wasn’t faring any better, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, sweat pouring from his face. He wore that same expression of unperturbed malice, hate swirling off him like waves of force.

  “I should’ve known better than to trust a Hellfire peon like yourself.” He growls. “Monsters, the lot of you. I should've stabbed you the second I had the chance.”

  Liv glares back, though her own emotions bordered more on annoyance than outright hate. Her heart raced in her chest, her mind completely and utterly checked out.

  “The Baphos were right about you,” He continued, his grip tightening on his weapon. They were caught in a stalemate, a preemptive strike easily open to counter attack from either party. “Your people really are morally corrupt bastards. You don't care about the people beneath you... You just want more.”

  “Yer speakin’ a whole lotta shit for someone who stole n' struck first.” Liv shoots back.

  “You wouldn’t let Malo survive, even if I had explained from the beginning. Your ‘mercy’ is proof of that.” He spits, his ire growing by the moment. It was almost like he was looking past her, his eyes boring into the insignia emblazoned on her tank top. "And stealing? Hellfire takes all the Synth Weapons, and they don't allow any level of Synth Corruption for the sickly. So we can't use weapons, we can't get weapons, we certainly can't stay locked up, and everyone who gets corrupted by weapons or otherwise is as good as dead if we call Hellfire: if they even get to us before we all die!"

  Liv can only stare back at him, her eyebrows furrowing, a bead of sweat rolling down the ridge of her nose. She could feel that knot of unease in her stomach tightening by the second, ready to snap any moment.

  “Yer not helpin’ yer case by stealin’ though. If ya really want help, ya shoulda’ started by bein’ decent at least.” Liv retorts, her resolve chipping just a bit. She would be a liar if she said she couldn’t see his angle, especially when she had waited so long for help too… She never resorted to stealing though, but she never had the option to steal.

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  “And what? Starve? Hellfire is one of the few entities on the planet with the means to reach beyond the seas. Nothing grows up here, if I could even get my hands on seeds, but I can't transport all the people I look after across the road with bandits and demons around. Should we just curl up and die while Hellfire caters to the wealthy, or should we all make some pilgrimage to one of your precious bases where ninety percent of us would be rejected?”

  “Ya should find somethin’ honest to do.” Liv retorts, his response rehardening her crumbling resolve. “There's gotta be somethin' y'all can do, so find it. I mean, y'all built this!" She gestures around to the massive cave, one arm always out to defend herself. "Maybe y'all can start yer own thing n' stuff, or y'all could be one of them outposts! Somethin' like that! Stealin' from the people who're killin' demon's ain't the way, though."

  It’s Ainsley’s turn to stare at her, though he seemed less understanding of her words than she did his. His mental image of her reassessed, his mind mentally noting his findings about her. His muscles tense, his teeth clenching together to halt the torrent of vitriolic words that wanted to erupt from his mouth.

  “Something about you is off.” He murmurs, giving her a once over. "You aren't a snob like the rest of them. In fact... You speak like you don't know anything. You're like me."

  “Know ‘nough.” Liv responds. “But yeah, I wasn’t born with an awful lot of money.”

  “And how did they find you?” He questions.

  “Found me after I killed a big ‘ol demon” Liv says, her eyes turning to slits. “Helped me get outta dodge.”

  “And, pray tell, what happened to those you surrounded yourself with? Did they take them too?”

  “Everyone ‘round me was dead ‘fore they ever got there.”

  “Then they failed you like they failed everyone else.”

  The two stare at each other, their muscles tensing. One fundamental truth hovered between them. The time for talk was over. Liv steps forward, her hip twisting as she throws a hook straight toward the side of his head. He steps into her space, her fist whirling past his head. For her troubles, she earned a jab to the kidney, his skull careening to her already broken nose. Without thinking, Liv hurls her own head forward, their skulls connecting with a loud thwack. He stumbles back, though he doesn’t make it very far as Liv hooks her leg behind his knee, staring daggers at her opponent.

  He recovers in time to block another one of her punches, his forearm creaking with the blow. His head was swimming. A concussion? Maybe something worse. Still, he didn’t need to flee just yet. He still had the advantage. Unlike her, he still had another charge in the tank.

  The two exchange minor blows for a while, most either blocked or dodged entirely. Liv had come out in better shape, only sustaining a few scuffs and a small stab wound. Ainsley’s eye was swelling shut from a lucky punch she got off, his ribs bruised by two lucky shots she got off. She had an explosion prepped, her gauntlets practically humming with power. At the same time, Charlotte and co had mostly "dispatched" of the townsfolk, a few skilled stragglers the only ones to continue the onslaught. Ainsley was on a very finite clock. That would make him desperate.

  Her assessment is proved correct as his defense breaks down into pure offense, risky dodges and desperate blows abounding out. Finally, he flubs an attack, a risky stab Liv narrowly dodged, her arm wrapping around his wrist. He can only watch in horror as her arm pulls back, careening straight into his face.

  BOOM.

  The subsequent explosion shakes the cave, Ainsley’s body flying back like a rag doll. That familiar scent fills her nose, her face wrinkling in disgust. Ainsley slowly pulls himself up, his destroyed face slowly knitting together, hair pouring forth from his scalp. He pants, his body good as new. Liv’s wasn’t, blood still leaking from her many wounds. The playing field was somewhat equalized at least, and he certainly wasn’t going to wait for her to bleed out.

  The pulverized ground crunches under his feet as he dead sprints toward her, one of his hands reaching deep into his pocket. Liv braces herself, preparing to close her eyes to save herself from the flash bang that was bound to happen… Except, that's not what comes. His arm shoots out, marbles flying around her like confetti. Liv furrows her brow, only a handful of the small balls even connecting with her person. What was he doing..?

  Suddenly, she can hear that hum crescendo once more, traveling in the direction behind her. She understood it at the last possible moment… He was going to deplete his weapon in order to get a final stab off.

  By the time she began to turn, he had already vanished, a marble falling where he had once been. Though she knew where he was going to be, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to dodge in time without depleting her weapon. Sure, she could do that and wait him out… But she found that she didn’t want to do that. While she could understand his plight, she felt she had a point to prove; plus, she was royally angry with her team at the current moment. She didn’t want their help, and didn't need their help right now. No, she would do this her own way.

  Her eyes meet his as his weapon begins to fall, her gauntlets brimming with energy as she pours her last charge into a final explosion. She turns her body just enough to move her heart out of his weapons way, the tip digging deep into her flesh. She bites her tongue, pushing forward as her own fist rockets toward him. Though he tried to dodge, it was already too late.

  BOOM.

  The marbles clatter to the floor, Ainsley’s body falling to the floor in a heap with them. He had turned his left side enough to take the brunt of the impact, and to avoid it being instantly fatal; though, that left that side of his body little more than a charred mess. He openly bleeds on the floor, the crimson puddling beneath him, mingling with Liv’s as she stands over him. She rips his depleted weapons out her now limp shoulder in a single, fluid motion, panting as it clatters to the floor.

  “I hope, if there is a God,” Liv starts, her eyes boring down on him. “That they’ll let ya try again, 'cause I think ya got good in ya.”

  “Fuck you...” He mutters, his voice more a wheeze than anything substantial, blood openly leaking from his open mouth. “Fuck you and the system you hide behind, scab… When they come... When the Bathos comes... You and your precious Hellfire Initiative are all done for..."

  ‘What's a 'Bathos'?” Liv questions, wincing as she adjusts her shoulder. She gets no response, however. He was dead before he could respond– that conjoined sound fading into one single, sad note.

  Liv sighs, allowing herself to collapse back in a mix of agony and exhaustion. Blood was seeping through her tanktop, the previously white article of clothing now a deep red. She could see Donovan and Charlotte running up to her, Anthony following in quick succession. When she woke up, she would have to talk with Anthony. Her anger had not been quelled; in fact, it had been exacerbated with each of them. That was for a more conscious her, though– the her of today was ready to get back to the Initiative. There were some serious questions she needed answered immediately.