‘Not quite.’ He smirks.

I form a small ball of fire in my palm. I figure I’ll make my lack of humor about the situation clear enough if I bowl the ball of fire at his legs, but he knocks it away with the end of the staff like a hockey player. I skip two more fireballs down the roof, each one faster than the last, but he uses his mind to push them to the side. The first one rolls off and ineffectually burns out; the other makes its way to the edge of a fan casing. The heat melts it away, and the high winds tip the whole cover off the enormous fan, leaving it exposed.

I raise my hands over my head to create a fireball the size of a refrigerator, but as it grows, Nine charges at me with the staff over his shoulder. He plants one end of the staff in the ground and vaults himself, feetfirst, at my flaming chest. He screams in pain as the soles of his shoes connect with my burning body, and I’m sent flying backwards. The world that had been reds and yellows is now grays and blues. On my final rotation, I realize I’m flying directly into the exposed fan. At the last possible moment, I spread my arms and legs out and catch myself, mere inches from its blades. The fan is powerful enough to nearly extinguish what’s left of my dwindling fire before I dive off and roll away.

‘Trying to cool off?’ Nine asks, hands on hips, as if simply observing my technique. He’s kicked off his half-melted shoes.

‘I’m just getting warmed up!’ I leap to my feet to ready myself to respond to his next move.

Nine sprints to his left and I follow. He jumps over some pipes onto the raised ledge. Again I follow. We are now both inches from a thousand-foot drop onto the street below. To my utter shock, Nine then steps off the ledge. I yell and lean over to grab him, but when I do, I don’t see him sailing to his death. He’s standing, horizontal, on a window with his arms crossed, that same, big, smile on his face. I’ve leaned too far, trying to grab him, and I frantically wheel my arms to regain my balance. But I can’t catch myself and suddenly I’m tipping further over the abyss. Nine sprints back up the side of the building and hits me with a powerful uppercut to my jaw. I’m knocked backwards but I don’t have the chance to land. Nine catches me by the neck, spins and holds me over the ledge.

‘Now, Number Four. All you have to do to get me to set you down, all safe and sound, is say it.’ He holds the staff with his other hand over his head. ‘Say you’re not Pittacus.’