The futures were lines of light in my vision, the paths in which I was safe glowing against the dull background of the futures in which I fell. There was no time for thought, only reflex. Slip the thrust, dodge right so that the ground fire would block Captain America, come up to face Will again. The futures in which I was safe shifted, twisted, and with a sudden chill I saw that they were growing fewer. Only a dozen now, and attacks were starting to get through. Will’s sword opened a gash along my forearm, and as I jumped away from the next slash ground fire scorched my leg. Only five safe futures. I tried to break past Captain America but metal projectiles cut the air, forcing me back.

Four safe futures. I got Captain America between me and Will, but before I could exploit it the girl sent another burst of ground fire that pushed me out of position. Two safe futures. I ducked under Will’s slash and hit him shoulder first, coming up to take another cut on the arm, sliding back just far enough to avoid a fatal blow. One safe future and there were no choices at all now, just a single razor-thin path through the whirl of flame and blades. Feint at the girl, jump back. One safe future. Dodge the spray, duck the sword. Fire all over the casino. Still one safe future. Deflect, stabbing pain as metal cut skin. Twist and weave. One safe future.

One safe future—

One safe future—

No safe futures.

I had just time to think Oh, then Will’s sword rammed through my gut.

It felt like a murderously hard punch. The impact came first and I lost my breath in a gasp, then an instant later agony ripped through my lower body. I tried to scream but my lungs were empty. Another blow hit me from behind and I was driven downwards, the sword grating on bone as the impact pushed me off the blade, and the second wave of pain was so horrendous that my vision greyed out.

When I came to I was on the floor. My lower body hurt with a hideous pain, every movement sending waves of agony spidering outwards. I could hear the crackle of flames and smell smoke on the air. “—cameras are still blind,” someone was saying.

“Lee,” Will said. “Lee!”

“Huh?” It was the Chinese kid’s voice, somewhere close.

“Get him out of here.”

“What about him?” another voice said. It was the Indian boy.

My vision cleared enough to make out people standing above me: Will, gold-hair girl, Captain America. They turned to look down at me. “He’s still alive,” the girl said, sounding surprised.