“Got it,” the young hero says. He looks up, sees the woman with her own fluid between her and the wall. White and glossy.

Their March isn’t alone. We are dead, all three of us, disconnected and detached, with a limited pool of energy to draw on between us. It is helpful that our third has no host anymore. Their March isn’t wholly disconnected, however. She’s found someone connected to a structure that is purely for establishing those connections and facilitating power. A fake kind of life, but something life-like, all the same.

A power boost, as their March would put it. She sees things with a keen eye for the sequences of events, we organize and supply the information faster than her mind can connect to it, and she sees it all in slow motion.

While his head is turned away, her rapier touches the wall. A line drawn.

The boy speeds down, shifting to a zig-zag. It puts him further away than their March intended as the explosion occurs. The exoskeleton at one hand and one foot are destroyed. Some of the meat of one hand is parted from bone.

More importantly, he is nowhere near the wall, and not cognizant enough to figure out what he needs to do to not fall to his death.

The woman with the white fluid gathers the fluid on the wall, then instructs it to lunge out—a spike or javelin. It clips a bend in space that the woman cannot see, and it is thrown off course. A transformation into a boomerang shape follows, and is interrupted as her own freefall down the side of a building stretched to unlikely height turns her away. She cannot see boy nor white fluid.

When she can again, she reforms the fluid. A disc, skimming the air, cutting a diagonal angle. Before it slices into the falling boy, it distends, becoming amorphous, liquid. It touches between him and a building’s edge, and the part that touches the building adheres. The part ensconcing the boy dulls the impact, as he swings into the wall like a pendulum or wrecking ball.

The boy is saved, but the woman continues to fall. She manipulates the fluid’s composition and shape, bidding it to splash out, to extend between two buildings and form a slide shape.

Their March has already leaped away from the wall to a space where two different ‘downs’ meet, gently breaking her own fall in the process. She reaches a rooftop, and touches rapier to the roof’s edge. A stroke of the rapier, and one of our three faces provides the power, the delayed explosion that can rip through most things.

The timing of it is managed by our primary face. A power that accounts for the movement of the debris, the fuse of the delayed explosion, and the movement of the woman with the white multi-function fluid several distorted stories below.