The boy charged him. He turned to fire at the boy instead, and felt the silver blade intersect his arm again.

He grabbed the boy around the head with his arm, felt two hands grip his arm, and with a wrench, tore the arm clean off.

He used his own power to keep from falling, while the boy did hit the grass. Shucking off most of the metal below the elbow, he reached down with both hands.

Two ordinary hands gripped the mechanical arm, one silver blade flaring, then dying as it made contact. Snag felt the divide in the metal, though integrity mostly held.

His ordinary hand, reaching for the boy’s throat, was gripped by two smaller metal ones, narrow and spindly.

“Give up,” he growled.

“I can’t,” the boy grunted, straining. “I have things I need to do.”

The spindly metal arms creaked and popped as the metal broke under the downward pressure. Cracks ran down the housing, and Snag was very aware of the flaws in the design.

“I’m going to put the Fallen shit—unh. Behind me. I’m going to build something. If you’d just… Let me!”

Building something.

There was a part of Snag that was horrified by the contrast, the inversion of it all. That part of him disappeared into the noise, the screaming and the shouting, the conversations and the straining to hear the whispers. Everything from the room that seemed like it would drive him mad and drive him further from the peace he’d once found, that never felt like it had truly stopped.

He felt numb, and above all else, he felt so very tired.

He wanted to end the Fallen boy in the same way his old self had wanted to put his head down to a pillow after a long, tiring day.

It would be so easy, and… he’d be out like a light.

Metal creaked and popped.

The metal shattered, and Snag’s hand reached the boy’s throat. He felt the pain in his forearm.

Two blades had punctured his arm, in through the wrist and out the back. His weight coming down made them move, turning the two wounds into one wider one.

He pulled back, and blood flowed from the hole. He tried to staunch it, but his oversized mechanical arm wasn’t designed to reach to something that close to him.

With his hand numb, fingers refusing to work as they should, he tried to undo the catches that attached his oversized arm in place. He dug one finger into the gap, and when he pried, it came free, the fingernail breaking, a trail left on the surface of his arm.

Help. He’d get help. He turned—

He felt the impact of the silver blade. A line marked his body.

Two more lines appeared, as the boy struck him.

“Either let me help… or get no help at all,” the boy said.

Snag twisted around.