Amiran keeps his distance from anyone and everyone. He slinks between doorways and ducks around corners, maintaining a close grip on the pistol Reese gave him. It’s only loaded with shock rounds that’ll merely knock someone unconscious, but he’s never aimed a weapon at someone outside of an arena. He hopes he can rise up to the occasion if need be. He hears a commotion a few hallways over, but decides not to engage; finding Bronwen is the reason they came back and he refuses to leave without her.

As he checks behind him to make sure no one is following, Amiran runs face first into an operative and the rifle resting across his chest. Instinctively, he raises his pistol-- but lowers it slightly when he notices who these guards are escorting.

“If this is about me swiping you with a knife, I hope there’s no hard feelings,” he says to Bronwen.

“It was actually pretty clever,” she admits. From her waist, she pulls a pistol and cocks it.

“Bronwen, you have a choice. All Quenlin wants is someone to order around, someone to be his lab rat. We can help you start over.”

Her voice wavers ever so slightly. “And if he gets to you before you can?”

Amiran gives half a shrug. “Then I guess you won’t be the only puppet in his show anymore.” Brushing hands with danger, potentially death, and he’s still using dry humor to sway his opponent. Bronwen turns around and fires her pistol at the two guards beside her. She pulls the trigger before she has time to regret it. She begins down the hallway and beckons Amiran to join her.

Nearly colliding, Reese and Leon cross paths with Amiran and Bronwen. “Did you find Nate and Adya?” Amiran asks.

“Not yet,” Reese says. “But there’s only one option left and it’s not a good one.”

Leon takes one look at Bronwen and finds himself both relieved and distraught. There is so much he has to say, but can’t put it into words. He merely wraps his arms around her, glad to see her safe and on their side. She begins to choke up.

“Leon, I’m so fucking sorry,” she says. “I’ve been lying to you for months. You were one of few who treated me like more than a plaything. There was nothing I could do to make Quenlin change his mind. You were the one he wanted, and it was my job to--”

“It’s not your fault,” he says. They’ll have time for apologies later. “Goddard agents are surrounding the building. Find one and stay with them.” Reese and Leon head in the opposite direction, towards Quenlin’s quarters. “I’m the one he wants, huh? I have a knack for giving the people what they want.”

Despite going in prepared, what they see when Reese kicks open the door is hardly what they expect. Both Nate and Adya, battered and exhausted, sitting on their knees. Their wrists are ziptied. Goddard’s two top dogs, practically begging for a saving grace with the look in their eyes. In one hand, Quenlin holds one of Nate’s batons-- in the other, a screwdriver. He flashes a bright smile in his opponents’ direction. “I’m a little surprised, I won’t lie,” he says. “Usually the dragon’s lair is the first place you’d check for a missing team member.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, Quenlin--”

“I don’t need a 20-something year-old fighter who’s shorter than his temper to tell me who I am.” Quenlin jabs the baton into Nate’s back. It’s not enough to knock him down, but enough to make him wince through the pain. “Do you know how hard I’ve worked to keep this world of mine thriving? It’s gonna take a lot more than a few agents to burn it down. When I say I know how to keep my name out of a man’s mouth, I mean it.”

I couldn’t fight them, Nate’s gaze says. But we haven’t lost yet.

“And don’t say it’s ‘more than a few’, because I’m well aware. I know you’ve got agents surrounding the place. You wouldn’t want them to lose two of their best leaders, would you?” Raising his arm up, he drives the screwdriver into Adya’s shoulder. She cries out in excruciating pain. “You call them off and these two are yours. For once, there’s no need for a fight. But if you want to bring in your goons and raid the building, you even so much think about telling them I’m here, the punches you throw won’t be enough to save them.” Reese nearly lunges forward, ready to protect Adya at any cost, but Leon holds her back.

“He’s just trying to get a rise out of you,” Nate mutters. Speaking out of turn earns him another, more intense shock to the back. He collapses face-first onto the ground.

Quenlin twists the screwdriver sitting in Adya’s arm. Her breathing accelerates. “Isn’t it fascinating what we can do with cybernetics?” he says. “A completely artificial body with fully functional, simulated sensory processing. No nerves to damage, no blood to shed-- but you can feel every millimeter of it. Just like a real person.”

Adya grits her teeth. “I am real.” Quenlin only drives the screwdriver farther into her arm. She cries out in pain. As Quenlin entertains himself with his spiel, Reese reaches around to her lower back. There is one smoke bomb left. Slowly, she raises her hands, crouches down, and sets her gun on the floor. The smoke bomb rolls across the rug to Nate just in time.

“As for you, big brother,” Quenlin goes on, turning to him, “You have everything to lose. Your body is fragile. You think you’re so strong, yet you still can’t face the one thing that drove you away from home.” Nate’s palms curl into fists. The comments about his father hurt almost as much as the electrocutions. “When I first spoke with him regarding your brother’s arm, he talked about you. Said you didn’t even say goodbye. He misses you. Maybe it’s time you finally give your father a call and apologize.”

Reese and Leon couldn’t be more different; but in this moment, their thoughts are identical. Love, whether it be romantic or familial, is worth any risk. Both have had to fight for peace, fight to feel like someone truly loves them, and how that they have it, nothing is going to prevent them from holding onto it.

Nate curls his finger around the pin of the smoke bomb. Leon catches a glimpse and says, “And if we fight you instead, Quenlin? You’ll kill all of us?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘kill’. Your memory will live on-- when I strip you for parts and see in your eyes the exact moment where you’d wish you surrendered.” The grin on his face is that of a man who has never lost, yet always cheated his way to a win. “You think highly of yourself, Leon, but I’ve fought worse white guys with god complexes.”

“Yet, the one you can’t beat is yourself.”

The pin clatters to the floor and smoke fills the room. Reese grabs her gun, emptying the clip into Quenlin’s chest. It’s not like six shock rounds will kill someone, but they sure as hell won’t wake up for a while. It’s the least she can do after seeing Adya’s life on the line. Tears in her eyes, she presses a delicate kiss to Adya’s forehead to make up for the terrible pain of pulling the screwdriver out of her arm. The team gathers themselves (and their belongings), making a break for it before the fumes suffocate them.

Outside the building, Leon and Nate stand in silence before pulling each other into a tight embrace. Nate comments on his brother’s swelling; with all the chaos of the past hour, Leon almost forgets about his broken nose. Amiran incessantly apologizes. Together, the two tournament fighters sit quietly with Bronwen as she sorts through her emotions. This feeling of losing everything, of mistaking familiarity for comfort-- the Anastasios know it all too well.

Zion is about to lead the Goddard agents into the building when Quenlin stumbles through the doors, pistol in hand. If he wasn’t before, he’s definitely out for blood now. “You want a fight, fine,” he slurs. “But you’re out of your mind if you think you can just get rid of me. One of you comes with me, and the rest of you live. Else-- you’re gonna wish the rounds in this gun were shock rounds.” Making harsh ultimatums, he’s desperate for a win.

“I thought you emptied your clip into his chest!” Leon says. Quenlin begins counting down from five.

“Clearly, he’s more metal than man,” Reese responds.

He’s moments away from putting a bullet in Leon’s head when one enters his own. Everyone’s gaze is directed up at the roof. “Come on, Reese, you know this! When trying to knock someone unconscious, always go for the head. What is this, amateur hour?” Colby sets her rifle in her lap, letting her feet dangle over the edge of the awning. The way she handles the situation is so casual, her colleagues are at a loss for words.

“Have you been here this whole time, doing fuck all?” Reese asks.

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ve only been coordinating your escape, helping Zion corral the agents, securing entrances and exits, and preparing for this exact situation where the bad guy almost gets his second wind. So, yeah, fuck all.”

Leon chuckles. “You’re a real piece of work, gunslinger.”

Colby smiles. “You’re not so bad yourself.”