As Shahim’s castles surged forward, John enclosed them, and at that same moment, began firing his sonic pulse, repeatedly, at the wall Shahim had just come through, using it to propel his body back and down. And suddenly, Shahim was not attacking, he was being pulled in once more. His whole self, king and all.

Shahim felt his body wrench upward, successive pulses from John into the wall and then the ceiling sending the British Agent down and under Shahim, while John’s grip on Shahim’s ankles was now redirecting Shahim’s own strength and ever increasing momentum up and over John. It didn’t seem all that bad at first, but Shahim’s onboard computers were already telling him how it would end.

John held on as long as his machine fingers would allow him, flipping his enemy with all his might. John was attempting to wield Shahim like a transcendent sledgehammer. They both saw the forces at play.

The concrete floor literally rippled under the blow.

John had not been able to hold on any longer, and he was sent scurrying across the floor as his opponent impacted, trying his best just to keep his eyes on the scene.

It was spectacular. Shahim hit hands first. He had set them, as pawns, to attempt to alleviate and redirect some small measure of the impact. But in the end he knew he was going to have to take the brunt of the blow directly and hope his armor could withstand it.

For the most part, it did. The superconducting shielding spread the pressure across every inch of him, and every system buckled and sang under the blow. His machine brain shuddered within its protective cradle and his systems flickered. It was momentary, but highly disturbing. He could not feel pain, but his systems never slept, never, so when they went offline even for a second it was a profoundly unpleasant sensation, like somebody switching off the sun for a moment in the middle of the day.

But it was not quite over yet. Shahim, his position shattered, his pieces decimated, scrambled for purchase. If he could only get a signal to the hub satellite. He looked for a gap in his opponent’s position. The wall he had come through was all but obliterated, but there was still the basement’s main entrance.

As they both regained their footing, John saw Shahim trying to claw his way out, broken, but still full of fight. And as Shahim began to turn toward the door. John focused a sonic wave at the Agent’s feet and fired.

Shahim felt his feet fly from under him, the impact spinning him in midair. Reacting smoothly, he threw his arms back to connect with the floor once more. Even if John could stop his legs from running, Shahim would happily use any of his remaining strength to get out of this fight.