Paris took advantage of it, leaping closer to the immobilized Steamwheel while remaining out of reach, and he swung his arm. The swinging motion produced flying darts at set intervals, though dart might have been the wrong word. Lines or needles more than anything thrown toward a bullseye in a bar or kid’s basement. One sank into the decorative metal at the side of Tribute’s leg, another into a shield that Coiffure fashioned of her hair, while the rest buried themselves into the road.

Where each needle sank in, they became a spray, a geyser, firing the opposite direction the needle had traveled. Decorative metal and road disintegrated, the pieces sent flying back toward the point Paris had been—now the point Tristan stood. Coiffure wrapped up the damaged hair in more of her hair, that flowed out like strands of wire she could manipulate, ‘catching’ the geyser in a spherical bubble of hair that left her momentarily unable to use her power. Flecks of metal and road chipped at Tristan’s armor, threatening to strike him in the exposed portions of his face, his eyes in particular.

Tristan had to blind himself by bringing his arm up to shield his eyes. Byron could feel the pain explode as Paris used the blindness, kicked one from the side, maybe trying to sweep Tristan’s legs out from under him.

Let me out, let me fight. We can trade off in moments like this.

Tristan landed on all fours, tried to find his balance, and before he could raise his head, felt the impact of a kick against the side of his helmet. He went flat.

The giant wheel at Steamwheel’s back spun up, steam poured out, and Steamwheel skidded forward, still on her knees.

Tristan raised his head, watched as Paris backed out of the way, and created a mote of light, moving it only an inch or so before giving it life. Paris walked past it, twisting around to throw more darts at Steamwheel.

Tristan didn’t even look at Steamwheel—he was focused on Paris, creating another mote, another short motion before he gave it life.

It manifested as a spike, and Paris stepped on it.

“I’m out of action!” Steamwheel shouted, her voice amplified by mechanics in her suit.

The spike hadn’t punched through, but Paris had rolled his ankle and tipped over. Byron felt a surge of triumph at seeing Moonsong slap Paris down with an increased gravity effect.

Steamwheel hit the ground hard, landing on her back as her suit disintegrated around her, the fragments flying out. While she was on her back, the fragments were directed at the ground.

Paris twisted around and threw darts toward the roof Moonsong stood on. She had to move, and as she did, the gravity effect broke.