I flew, and I could barely recognize the city I flew over. Too much damage, and the path I took showed me buildings that had rotted, places with no snow because every surface was tainted, to the point that water was transmuted to something else, or the concrete of buildings interacted with trace chemicals and moisture to generate heat, steaming even ten, fifteen, or twenty minutes after the Titans had passed. Too hot for snow to settle on.

Dauntless was standing between other Titans and Titan Fortuna. Those who ventured too close to her suffered a blistering attack. Long-ranged strikes that did more damage in one hit than Legend managed in five minutes of fighting. All the while, Fortuna did nothing, her face turned skyward.

Fume Hood was trudging in Dauntless’s direction. She was still healing some of the damage that had been done, though she’d been relatively unmolested toward the end of the fight and in the course of her journey. Was it that Oberon’s group had more clout and power? Three or four Titan’s worth of energy or infrastructure to draw on? That Dauntless was spending his coupling’s power for each of those heavy attacks, that drove Auger and Arachne away?

I couldn’t be sure. But I floated in closer to Fume Hood, the gas-cloaked Titan.

Tried, flying past her face, to get her attention.

Nothing.

I settled on her shoulder, standing in waist-deep gas. My forcefield kept it from touching me.

Her head turned, the hood and the darkness beyond it. The ‘hair’ that was a constant, heavy downpour of gas out of each lower corner of the hood washed over me, and I made sure my forcefield had its mouth shut, everything sealed.

She didn’t slow down or stop.

I put chilly hands in my pockets. My entire body felt clammy, with sweat on every inch of me, forming a wet layer between me and my costume. That costume had holes in it. I’d torn it when Oberon had smacked me down into the side of the tear in reality. My skin was intermittently visible and abraded from armpit to hip, with a few cuts and tears that had already clotted.

“Sorry we hurt you,” I told her.

No response.

“Sorry we didn’t get the message, when you told us to go, that you had it handled. We’re still kind of concerned that if you build a network, it’ll catalyze something dangerous.”

Her body creaked incessantly, like the suspension of a bridge in strong winds. Always like something was on the cusp of tipping over or snapping, though it never happened.

The hair-gas flowed over and around me, obscuring my vision. A mustard-yellow and green haze that consumed everything that my forcefield counterpart didn’t protect.