“Yeah, it’s like a field trip,” Sam says. “A field trip where at the end a dude made of solid steel tries to stab you to death.”

“No one’s getting stabbed to death,” I say.

As we enter the plaza that stretches around the statue’s base, I keep my gaze centered on the upper pedestal. That’s where I’ve decided Five is most likely to be. He can fly, so it’d be easy for him to reach that area, and it would allow him to keep an eye out for our arrival. I don’t see any movement up there, though. Maybe he isn’t here yet. Or maybe he’s hiding inside the statue. I crane my neck more, trying to glimpse inside the statue’s crown, but it’s impossible. We’ll have to go inside to make sure the statue is clear.

“Look,” Sam says, lowering his voice. “Over there.”

I turn my head to the left, towards the perfectly sculpted lawn that stretches out from the statue’s foundation. There’s movement. A glittering shape slowly stands up from the grass and takes a faltering step in our direction. I was looking in the wrong place.

“You’re early,” Five calls. “Good.”

To say Five looks messed up would be an understatement. His clothes look like they’ve gone through a thresher—ripped, bloodstained and caked with dirt and ash. His skin is a silvery steel, making me think that he’s ready to fight, even though it looks like he can barely stand up. His features look swollen and out of place despite their metallic coating, his nose crooked, and there are visible dents in the side of his shaved head. He’s hunched over, one arm dangling uselessly at his side. His other arm wears that wrist-mounted blade of his. The day’s fading sunlight glints off his skin.

Immediately, Walker and her team fan out, flanking Five. They’ve got their guns leveled at him. Daniela goes the opposite way, taking a step behind me.

“Uh, you should’ve described this rogue dude better,” she says.

Five takes a look at Walker’s agents and sneers. Even though he looks worn-out, having a bunch of guns pointed at him seems to rekindle his intense temper. His remaining eye tweaks open wider and he stands up straighter.

“Don’t make me laugh with this shit,” Five says to Walker, then turns towards Agent Murray when the man chambers a round. “I’m bulletproof, bitch. Come on, I dare you.”

There’s something weird about Five’s voice. It sounds tinny and raspy, almost like he’s having trouble breathing.