I stumbled out of the bathroom a hot fucking mess, trailing behind my fiery squadmate. Some club-goer would sort the bastard in the bathroom out. There wasn’t enough time to fix myself up, which oddly pissed me off more than having my face shoved in a toilet. It was one thing for it to happen in a fight, but it killed me to walk out into a club after. Eve shoved dancers aside. The girl gave no fucks, the anger in her eyes kept anyone from retaliation.

It was a sharp relief to take in the cool night air as left the club. Music still blaring in the background from the open door, but I was free from the overwhelming smell of more booze and sweat.

A loud thump and grunt of pain radiated out from the right half of the building, right to the parking lot. Eve leaned down and grabbed a discarded bottle from the curb, before darting off in the direction of the noise, pulling ahead and moving with far more dexterity than I could manage while drunk.

I turned the corner and saw Bruno, surrounded by five Crimson Eagles. At some point he’d tossed his jacket on the ground, flames crawled up the big guy’s arms. They burned an unnatural red. A sixth Crimson Eagle was groaning on the ground, a hole burned in his midsection.

Two of the Crimson Eagles darted around the big guy like flies—weaving and ducking as Bruno swung. They managed not to take hits but were unable to safely breach his naturally long range. The bastards were coated with burn marks, another had a nasty red splotch of blistered skin on his face. How long had this been going on?

The thing that struck me the most was the grin and radiating joy from the big guy in his five-on-one. Almost like he didn’t want us there. One of the Crimson Eagles noticed me and Eve, calling out. This split the attention of one of the two harassing Bruno. The big guy didn’t miss a beat, snapping forward and catching the distracted man directly in the stomach with a meaty thud. He skidded across the ground, groaning and breaking into a roll, trying to put out his burning shirt. One of them rushed in to cover their fallen ally before Bruno could take him out of the fight.

Eve hesitated as much as me. Not sure how to step in. Even fighting six on one Bruno had yet to work up a sweat.

Romeo taught me to fight with a quick and adaptable flow; Ideally, I would avoid hits, and strike where they didn’t expect. Bruno fought in exactly the opposite way. The man was a determined and inevitable force, gladly taking a blow and welcoming pain for the chance to hurt his enemy worse.

One of the Crimson Eagles drew back, whipping out a pouch. In a second his knuckles were sporting a bunch of iron nails. Before I could yell out—thinking the bastard was about to go in and punch Bruno with a cheap shot—the nails shot out of his hand.

He had a Soul Ability.

The trio of nails curved their trajectory to hit their target: the back of Bruno’s knee. The big guy shuddered and his leg gave out. Seeing wounded prey, one of the Crimson Eagles leaned down and grabbed a chunk of concrete, then bashed Bruno in the face.

Instead of going down, the fire on the big guy only blazed brighter. Turning into twin infernos, but even that didn’t seem to deter the Crimson Eagles' frenzy, they’d tasted blood in the water and would go in for the kill.

Couldn’t leave him like that, I was the first to kill my hesitation, dashing past Eve. I’d be damned to let those fucks have a free-for-all on the big guy. The cultivator was already digging out more nails to ram into Bruno’s coffin, so I targeted him. Running into range, and then lashing out with my foot. I landed a solid kick on him, tossing him on his back. Unfortunately, I’d overestimated my balance and also spilled onto the asphalt.

But, my hit spilled his pouch of nails across the ground. The guy lurched, trying to grab some. I was on him in an instant—grabbing him by the collar and slamming a fist into his nose. His nose cracked and burst with blood. Someone shouted behind me, but it didn’t matter. This prick was mine, and I’d take him down. My knuckles split as I punched him again.

I didn’t get another in—my fist shot with pain. I yelled—three iron nails jammed right into it. The sudden grotesque sight and pain made me lose focus, and my target wiggled free. “Son of a bitch!”

The momentum was switching quickly, and I needed a little bump to maintain the advantage. I pulled on my Soul Seed; my unhurt hand grasping my wrist cascaded red sparks.

Before I could react or think, more of the nails dug into my side, little pricks of pain I tried to jerk away to avoid. But I was too late. One chipped a rib, making me gasp with hurt. The cultivator got to his feet, that pouch in hand. I tried to grab onto his leg to keep him from getting away, but I slipped, fumbling my grip and letting him put distance between us. I groaned and picked myself up to follow.

I saw Eve rush by—the beer bottle in reflecting neon light as she ducked a Crimson Eagle. Far too fast for him to land a blow. She whacked him in the side of the head with the bottle, showering herself and the guy with glass as it broke against his skull.

Bruno was back on his feet. His flames wrapped all the way up to reach his shoulders. A bold smile on his face. The two Crimson Eagles on him still, the one he’d knocked down earlier was approaching me to cover for their cultivator. So that the bastard could launch more of those awful nails.

There wasn’t any way I’d be able to catch up to the bastard in my current state with someone harassing me. But the thrill still flooded me, I felt more alive than ever. I wanted to test my strength. The Crimson Eagle kept approaching, the sooner I dealt with him the sooner I could go after the Cultivator again.

I slammed my good hand against my chest, calling Fickle Fate again. This time it rewarded me with a flash of blue. A wide grin spread on my face, and my self-offered opponent slowed. He was wary of my Soul Seed ability, since he didn’t know what danger it presented. I gave him my most evil look.

He hesitated even longer, and that worked to my benefit. I rushed him like a hurricane, emulating a poor-drunken form of Romeo’s fighting style. Less like flowing water, more like slush as I lashed out a punch to the Crimson Eagles’ gut. It was a sloppy blow, and he easily moved to block—before my fist connected with his arm, it caught a flying nail. Redirecting the projectile intended for me and sending it to slice across the guy’s arm, then fly into his gut. He screamed, defense forgotten.

Unfortunately for him, that little piece of iron did nothing to stop my fist from its current course. It dug into his kidney—pushing the nail deeper. The Crimson Eagle gasped and sank to the ground.

One left. The cultivator gave me a worried look, frantically withdrawing more iron nails. A loud screech pulsed through the air from my left, staggering me. I tried to cover my ears to cut off the horrible noise, but it kept going. Stabbing into my skull, making it impossible to focus. Everyone else seemed just as disabled, trying to drown out the violent screech.

The only one unbothered by it was Eve, actually… Was that coming from her? She smashed a fist into her cowering opponent’s face, and he hit the ground. She leaned over, mouth by the guy’s ear, until a second later he stopped struggling and she cut the noise off.

Bruno was quick to adapt, letting out a roaring laugh even while my ears still rang. He slugged one of the two Crimson Eagles on him, who were still recovering.