A larger chunk of ceiling fell. I flew forward, ready to intercept, when more came down above the Wardens.

I caught smaller chunks, and hit the bigger ones, slamming into them at full force, to drive them away. Below me, capes were forming barriers overhead. Narwhal’s forcefield, Golem’s stone hands.

Withdrawal was back in his frame, now, covered in yellow that looked like he’d sloshed a bucket of paint over himself. As a chunk of broken concrete platform floated near him, he sprayed it with a gush from the syringe.

The platform hit ground.

I could see as he did more, spraying more things, hitting the tinkertech the Simurgh was using, and causing it to fall. Everything he sprayed came free of her telekinetic grip, and none of it was getting picked up again.

The screaming in my head increased in intensity by the second, until I couldn’t see straight. I closed my eyes, shaking my head, and almost missed a hail of metal spikes. Caryatid caught it, instead.

I would have replied, but someone touched my leg, pushing me aside. I obliged, floating over.

Win, with a reduced-down version of my gun mounted on his power armor. He opened fire.

“Stay focused,” Narwhal said. “We need a few more good hits before I feel good about this.”

I wasn’t sure we were going to get them.

Withdrawal’s trick with the paint was great, but it was defensive. For our offensive tricks, our heavy hitters were out. Dragon’s mech was in pieces. Chevalier appeared to be out of ammunition. Damsel was injured and uncooperative. Torso was running around like an idiot.

The Undersiders—not enough straight combat powers. Deathchester, they didn’t have much that did the kind of damage we needed to do.

Rain was over there, I saw. Awake, coherent, trying to help out. But Rain’s power was at its weakest right now. He could create the blades, but he couldn’t throw them.

I raised my voice, hating myself for it. “I’m going! I see a way! Back in a minute!”

Not that we had a minute.

Chevalier was venturing out of the barricade, and glanced back at me. From behind his visor, he met my eyes, then he looked at the Fragile One. He nodded.

Giving me permission.

I flew over. To the Undersiders, to the back line of Deathchester, and to Rain. Gibbet was cloning the painted bits of wall and floor that Withdrawal had covered with the stuff that made the rubble too slick for telekinesis to grab, walling off sections and piles so the Simurgh couldn’t grab as much. The Simurgh, for her part, was gradually rising higher. She blocked the majority of what we put out there. Legends’ beams. Win’s gun. Gundeck’s barrage. Miss Militia’s turret fire.

I could feel it. She was poised to escape.

“Rain!” I called out.