You made a mistake. You got too cocky. Too impatient.

There must be some sort of silent alarm you missed. Or the plans you’d plucked from that security guard’s mind were faulty. You should know by now not to pry sensitive information from the new guy.

Can’t think about ‘what-if’s’ now though. Not while you’re busy weaving through marble statues, gaining some much needed distance before you slide behind a large sculpture, narrowly missing the next bolt of lightning.

It’s more to catch your breath than anything. Your armor is specifically made to handle Ortega’s electricity, and you’ve had plenty of time to get used to how it handles. This light show of her’s is little more than static shock to you.

“It’s rude to keep a lady waiting, you know.” Her voice bounces off the high ceiling. Not trying to hide then, but if she’s the distraction, then where are the rest of the Rangers?

A quick scan tells you they’re not in the building, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. The Ratking can keep an eye out for any other threats, while you deal with the menace in front of you. Her mind might be an invisible void, but you’ve had a lifetime of practice. Another telepath might not be able to trace the exact path she’s taking to get to you, but then again, you’re no ordinary telepath. Not anymore.

Patience. You can’t afford to mess this up again. Just wait a few more moments and— there!

Sidestep as she throws a punch. Counter with one of your own, right in the ribs. It’s not nearly enough to stop her, but it gives you a second to jump back. Reassess. Start sliding to the left, trying to lure her right where you want her.

“Not much of an art enthusiast, are you?” You tease, but it doesn’t have the same effect with your voice distorter. Sounds more like a threat than light banter.

“I didn’t know you were.” She frowns. It’s almost imperceivable, but you know her too well not to recognize the slight confusion written on her face. “Is that why you’re doing this?”

You scoff. “Wouldn’t you like to know…” As if you’d reveal your motivation to her like this. Or at all.

“I would.” She’s starting to smile now. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“In your dreams , Charge.”

“No, if this was a dream, you’d have the armor off.”

…What?…

ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ !!! The Rat King chitters in your ear, and you’re barely able to duck and avoid that right hook. Parry the next. Take advantage of that opening and— Shit!

The kick to your chest would’ve sent most other people flying. Lucky for you, your armor cushions it just enough to give you some distance. Just enough space to maneuver around her. 

She turns with you, of course. This dance between you has always been too evenly matched.

“What’s the matter?” Her fists are raised, and she’s still circling the floor with that smug smile. It almost looks like she’s waiting for something.

Stalling for time, maybe?

“I could ask you the same thing. You’ve barely scratched me.” But the insult falls flat. It always was a challenge to get under her skin the same way she far too easily gets under your’s. Time for a different approach. “Are you waiting for your little friends to come save you?”

That can’t be true. If Herald knows about this then he’d already be here. He’s definitely fast enough, even if he stops to change into the suit. As if he ever takes the damn thing off. And if this is a planned ambush, you’re certain at least Argent would be here as well. You don’t like being in the dark like this.

“Maybe I just wanted you all to myself this time.” She sends a wink in your direction, still not bothered by your words. You, on the other hand, are paying close attention to her footwork.

“You never were very good at sharing.” …Shit. That was a little too personal. Better pull back a bit. “Don’t you think it’s time to retire and give someone else a chance to hog the spotlight?”

She’s laughing now. Not the fake laugh she sometimes uses to throw the enemy off either. It’s genuine. And unnerving because of it. “Maybe you don’t know me that well after all. Not like I know you.”

“You know nothing about me.” You spit out, willing your voice to be harder.

“But I do.” Her hands lower slightly. Another trick to let your guard down? “I know where you live. It’s down by the pier, right? Fancy place with a nice view of the ocean? Now I know how you got the money to afford it.”

You take the opportunity to press the attack instead of answering. Throwing punches where you think her suit is weakest. Where it would cause the most damage. Or at least enough to get her down.

Because it’s impossible, right? She can’t know where you live. You’ve been so careful, haven’t you? She’s bluffing, that’s all this is. Pure coincidence.

It feels good to drop the banter. Let your fists do the talking. Punches like a kiss to her cheek. A desperate grapple that both of you are too stubborn to submit too. A heavy hit to your solar plexus that leaves you just as breathless as the night you spent in her bed.

You’ve kept up with your training, and unsurprisingly, so has she.

All you need is a second. Fake right, and go left. Take a swing at her jaw to distract her from the kick that shortly follows. You aren’t expecting her to grab your leg and twist until you’re forced down. Hard.

Oh, you’re definitely going to feel that in the morning, but you can’t focus on the pain right now. You have just enough time to activate the jump jets before she can really pin you down. You can only win this fight if you’re still standing.

But she doesn’t advance. Just stands there and looks at you with those deep brown eyes.

“Please, let me help you.” And your name is soft as honey on her lips. Gentler than it has any right to be. Not after everything you’ve done to her.

But you can’t let it affect you. Can’t let her confirm that it’s you. Not yet. You still have plans.

A stuttering laugh erupts from you as you rise from the floor, vocal distorters making sure the nervousness you feel doesn’t bleed over. “Is that who you think I am?”

“Don’t bullshit me. I followed you here.”

Shit. That explains a few things. It wasn’t any alarm or security guard, it was that god damn van you brought along for the bigger art pieces. Shit!

Was that why the rest of the Rangers weren’t here? Were they at your apartment looking for clues? Ransacking your base? Was Ortega only here for distraction after all?

You’re both tired, but you still send another flurry of blows her way, not caring how desperate it makes you look. You’re screwed no matter what, but at least you can end this. Quickly.

All it takes is a single mistake. A pause just a few seconds too long, and you hear a crack! as the final kick hits home. Broken bones, if you’re lucky. Whatever it is has her falling to the floor, but you can’t be sure for how long.

She’s still breathing. Still conscious enough to move into a more protective position, in case you decide to start kicking again, you assume. Unfortunately for her, you have another plan in mind.

It’s almost second nature now, reaching out towards the nearest statue, planting your hand on a marble ankle, and willing the nanovores to eat through the already weakened structure. You don’t look when it comes crashing down.

You can hear her though. Heavy breathing and the sound of rock scraping against tile. Sounds like you were right, it was just heavy enough to pin her down, but not enough for it to be lethal. As much as getting her out of the way would help your plans… you still can’t do it. Still can’t deal that finishing blow. Still can’t stand to see the damage your own two hands have caused.

But you can look at her. One last time. You owe her that much.

“You should’ve trusted me.” She says. You try to ignore the fresh blood on the corner of her mouth as she speaks.

“Trusted you?” You take a step closer. And then another. She’s usually taller, but not now. Not when you have her on the ground like this. “I gave you everything, and look where that landed me.”

Everything that mattered. Your body. Your heart, if such a wretched thing ever existed inside of you. Even if it had, it’s long since broken. Fractured like the crumbling sculpture on top of her.

“Don’t bother following me. I promise you, you’ll never find me again.”

The last thing she sees of you is the corner of your cape. Not your face, not your back, nor any piece of armor. A frail, fluttering thing, gone as easy as an ocean breeze.

You’re very good at keeping your promises.