Good thing he was in hock to Citrine, because any career with a real hero team would have a hard time selling that image.

Couldn’t get distracted.

I could see them. A group of people running away from us. The connecting corridor we were in was long and straight, and even though they were distant, I could count out six or seven.

Love Lost jumped up, pushing me to one side, and then screamed.

The scream traveled far enough to catch two of the guys with guns. They stopped, shifted position, agitated. One held their chunky gun over their head with both hands, like they intended to use it as a club. The other took aim, then seemed to remember he needed to reload.

I flew over them. Sveta pulled the gun away from one, while Withdrawal pounced on another, smashing him into the floor.

I tried to make up for time lost when I’d been pushed.

The one at the rear put his hand back.

More ripples. Easy to fly past. Easy for Sveta, Withdrawal, Love Lost and the Harpoon guy to manage.

I closed the distance, my little mover squad close behind.

His buddies had guns, though. I saw the red-orange-white glow of tinker gun barrels, and adjusted, flying to evade two shots of what looked like hot magma, putting myself in the way of a third, to block any danger to Sveta or Withdrawal. It clung to the Wretch, which I hadn’t expected, forcing me to drop my forcefield and move away so I didn’t fly face first into the glob that was now falling to ground.

Which cost me time, cost me progress. Which put a big blob of molten liquid on the floor for the others to have to avoid.

I imagined that was the strategy. To slow us down, set us up to either get shot or get steamrolled by this shaker power that was too effective in corridors like this one.

I could see the shaker preparing the power in his hands, getting ready to throw again. The closer I was, the less time I had to react.

He threw out the power, and it webbed out to every nearby surface before lunging forward. Before, it had been rings, a pillar. Always with a way through.

This time, a wall, impassable.

I veered hard right, put my foot out, kicking the actual wall, just to stop my forward momentum, then reversed course to get away and get back. My forcefield was up as part of the kick into the wall, and I felt the wall make contact with an extremity.

I felt the forcefield tear. It didn’t die, but it remained in tatters, a body torn in two, with limbs scattered.