“I’ll get to that momentarily. I’m doing these guys out of order. Final Hour, he has a targeted slow. One target at a time, if he’s aware of them, he can slow them, as an ongoing thing. He can swap it with a moment’s notice. Tinker gear applies other effects to slowed targets. Makes it so being slow also crushes you and makes it hard to breathe, or chills you. Makes it so he can target a friend and make it so they fall slow, and reduce the impact of their landings. He had a thing which screwed with—”

“This works,” Snag’s growl interrupted me. “I could do something with this, if I had time to study it. I could use the engines you’ve got here to make emotion effects I channel through my tech last longer, or prolong battery life.”

“Good,” Secondhand said.

A pause. A metal on metal sound.

“What’s she saying?” Secondhand asked.

“Love Lost likes that. She thinks she could do something with it. Right? Yeah.”

“Alright. Doesn’t tell me much,” Secondhand said. “How about you show us something?”

“It’s damaged, but you should get the picture,” Snag said.

I checked the phone. He was using one of his overlong, mechanical arms to pull off his other arm, holding it out by gripping it at the midpoint, the shoulder near End of Days and the hand near Secondhand.

It was my first clean look at the whole group of Speedrunners, as Kenzie zoomed in the camera.

Secondhand was fairly normal in build, with goggles and a flat-top cap. He managed to not look old-fashioned.

Last Minute was shorter, stout, with a lot of muscle and fat both. His gadgets hung from a high-tech belt.

Final Hour was more muscular, with tech wrapped around one of his arms, ending in a blunt design that resembled a brass hairdryer, with red smoke pouring from the fans and vents along its length. Aside from the brass helmet he wore, which covered his entire head the armor covered only half of his body.

End of Days, well, I’d already gotten a look at him. He wore a mask that wrapped around his head in a broad band, from eyebrow to cheekbone, with the black sunglasses on top of that, but it was hard to imagine how he’d be less recognizable when his facial shape, lack of hair, and mustache were all so apparent.

“Keep going,” Tristan said.

Where had I been? Final Hour, right. “He could attach an EMP thing to his slow that slightly hampered powers, made machinery grind to a halt. All through this oversized thing he wore that covered his arm and hand.”

“He’s wearing it now,” Sveta said.