A clomp and crunch of footsteps hit her ear, the scent of a new person filling her nostrils. A man had appeared, but she couldn't make a face. The force kept her frozen, crushed in slow motion.
The smell of nervous compliance. An overabundance of black pepper, ground salt, olive oil, presto, even the type of soy one couldn't buy from a store. The type family lines made. All sweated out, onto steamed denim and branded starch. The type only affordable if bought in bulk.
It told of how each had prepped for the day, him a meal, her a long shower.
The corner of her eye had to tell the rest of his story.
He was tall, taller than Drake, in a thick woolly jacket, exactly like the one she'd seen on the old man but he was no older than twenty-eight.
He strode, palms pointed at her. Paige could only keep her shield. Failure meant being crushed like a bug under a shoe. They'd turn her into jelly and leave.
No one would find her.
No, there'd been enough oblivion.
She worked her head as far as she could. He was white with a dark complexion, almost swarthy, Italian, Greek or even French, he could have been on the cover of a romantic novel in a grocery store. Real bookstores had some pride.
"[Wh-Who's this?]"
Her face mashed against the wall, shield slowly starting to give. It was only a question of time before Vanessa decided to speed things up by adding her flame. Then, game over.
"[I see now! Even you knew ya ain't enough to take me, let alone win!]"
Whether that was a bright thing to say was a mystery, but it was too late to worry about it.
The wall cracked.
Vanessa stepped right up to her, still weak, delirious, but strong enough to offer a sneer.
"[Yeah, you're probably right, but I did say I was going to kill you. Not how.]"
The side of Paige's face was glued, ear pressed flat.
Crackle… crackle… crackle…
"[Wh-What e-eva.]" She managed, her nose bending terribly. Sweat flowed out her every pore, a line ran down the wall and dried.
"[H-Hey where's y-ya friend's charge?]" Paige asked.
Her eyes were shut tight, face locked in a grimace.
"[Killing yours.]" Answered the man. He was definitely European, most likely Greek. "[Would you like to see?]"
There was a moment of relief, but only on her face. It lasted long enough to allow her to turn her head. A snake had wrapped around Aramas, his arms caught and held as the beast's hold tightened. In an instant the leeway was gone, her face pinned. Blonde locks tore at the root. Blood dripped from her scalp. Her shield, a fraction of its original size, moved internally, defence enough to keep her bones intact but had given up on keeping her flesh from purpling. Red patches seeped through her black shirt.
Kroom!
The wall broke.
The force rocketed her fast and hard into the building. She slipped under it rolling and bouncing on dust cached tile. She was a hot-water-bottle with a leak, being rolled down a flight of stairs. But no complaint could be found from her.
She was alive.
A deep breath let in clean air like glass to her throat.
The freedom scream she let out was trembling and weak, it wasn't enough. The bony invisible hand of death holding her hadn't let go, smothering her in helplessness. Like a wet dog she tried to shake it off, shivering and then…
A breath… haggard, gross but seeped in focus, concentrated, so compressed it resonated power.
The fear wasn't gone but didn't have to be. She could move.
Another breath… then…
With a monstrous grunt, a roar would have been better, she threw herself to her feet.
"[Ya lost ya chance Vanessa… friend!]"
Her adrenaline was wasted, leaving her with wobbly legs. Willpower held it along with anything below her ribs. Then it vanished, sweeping her legs from her.
She plopped onto her back, rolling to what, at some point, might have been the wall of a cubicle. No feeling, she was alive but had to work now. Her nose scanned the area, three smells, hers, theirs.
With every ounce of effort in her, she pressed her back against the cubicle wall. Shivering intensely, her body buckled and twisted, her head the anchor that allowed her to pull herself together, to worm her way up and stay standing. But that was the limit. Stuck on her feet, she waited until more strength could blossom from her core, sucking it in.
Her first step was of a child, soft skull and weak neck included. Then she grew, each sequential step aged her. Every phase trudging along until she stepped out her hole, reborn.
Blood dribbled down her forehead into her eye, ruining the moment, it stained where she wiped like there was acid in her face.
Fuck, how embarrassing.
A grin formed.
==============================================================================
Battered but defiant, Paige isn't just surviving—she's evolving. As rivals close in and her true power unfurls, the field becomes a graveyard of underestimators. No mercy. No restraint. Just practice... and perfection.
"After two lifetimes? I'm perfect."
Next round: Burnout or breakthrough. Either way, someone's getting scorched.