Swansong severed the tongue, and then looked at Ingenue. A blast of her power saw her lunge ten feet forward, as her other hand reached out.

The blast consumed Ingenue, head to toe.

It cleared away. Swansong stood there, head bent, a glare in her eyes.

Ingenue was untouched. She turned her head and saw Usher. Usher could grant an invulnerability to powers.

The heroine threw herself from the ledge, toward the intersection and the entrance to the hallway where Valkyrie and her team was holed in.

Ingenue straightened. Bitter, annoyed, she reached out, using the focus that Teacher had given her.

She normally reserved using her power for people she liked, because she felt a connection through that link. But she’d liked Swansong as a kind of modern representation of herself, a bit in aesthetic, a lot in attitude, so she gave herself a pass.

While Swansong was still in the air, reaching down to direct a blast that would break her fall, Ingenue reached out to take the control away from that blast. Adjust the slides and scales. More power, less control.

Swansong pushed to have her power come out, and it didn’t. The hand she wasn’t intending to use her power with sparked instead, throwing her off course and doing nothing to break her fall.

The ledge they’d stood on was twenty feet above the hallway below. The landing was a violent one.

“Get them,” Ingenue pointed in the direction of Leister, Captain Claw, and Usher. “So they can get her.”

Swansong tried to stand, and an involuntary use of her power knocked her to the ground again.

Valkyrie’s forces were coming. Ingenue wasn’t bothered.

She watched as Swansong, too far away to say anything, clearly in pain from the fall, reached for her belt. She had a syringe.

Ingenue was a little more bothered by that. Contessa is out, she reminded herself. That meant—

An involuntary use of Swansong’s power destroyed the syringe she held. From a distance, those white eyes outlined in black were wide.

“Go,” she said, to Spawner, who was on the floor below. She made sure he was healed. Leister had already caught up. Usher was a bit further behind, hand still extended as he granted her the perpetual, inconsistent power immunity. “Handle it.”

⊙

Secondhand adjusted his kit, then his goggles. Always fussy. He filled himself in on tech. Last Minute remained patient.

“Running too hot, we’re shutting it off!” the thralls called out.

Last Minute gauged the machine, but he had no fucking clue how good or bad that was. That was for Final Hour to decide.

For now?

“That’s fine!” Last Minute called. The hole should be big for our man to get enough. He turned to Secondhand. “Isn’t it?”

Secondhand was gone. There was a distant explosion. Last Minute turned to look.