(AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN…) ONLY ONE REMAINED

Momentum carried both of them to the street.

Taylor barely registered the impact as she and Bakuda rolled across the rough asphalt in a tangle of limbs and fabric. For a moment, the world seemed to spin while gravity and momentum fought over who would win the struggle, and then the motion stopped with Taylor on top.

Her knees pressed into the ground on either side of Bakuda’s torso, her hands already gripping at the woman’s mask before either of them had time to fully process what had happened.

There had been a time, not very long ago, when Taylor might have hesitated.

That thought surfaced briefly in the back of her mind as she struggled to keep her balance over the other woman. After the fight with Sophia Hess had left its marks on her body, she had been offered the chance to have those injuries erased by Armsmaster. Panacea had even been there, leaning against the wall. 

Yet Taylor had turned the offer down.

To most people the scars and lingering aches might have seemed like something to erase so life could return to normal, yet to Taylor they were proof that she had endured something terrible and survived it. 

They had also become, in their own strange way, a kind of constant in a life that had stopped making sense. Just like her memories, they would remain with her no matter how many times the world reset around her.

But Taylor doubted Bakuda cared about any of that.

The woman beneath her was already struggling, her hands pushing against Taylor’s shoulders as she tried to twist free and regain control of a situation she had clearly expected to dominate. The metal mask that covered most of her face shifted slightly under Taylor’s grip as Bakuda attempted to shout something, the words distorted by the filter built into the front.

Taylor did not wait to hear what the command might have been. With a sharp yank and a grunt of effort, she tore the mask away.

The straps snapped loose under the sudden force and the metal piece came away in her hands before being tossed aside onto the street, where it skidded across the asphalt and came to rest several feet away.

For the first time Taylor saw Bakuda’s face clearly.

The woman stared up at her with an expression caught between disbelief and fury, pale skin tightening as the shock of the sudden attack gave way to anger at the humiliation of being dragged to the ground in front of her own captives.

Taylor did not give her time to recover.

Her fist came down a second later.

The first punch struck Bakuda across the cheek with a solid crack that sent a jolt of pain shooting up Taylor’s arm. But the sting barely slowed her as the next blow followed almost immediately, and then another after that, each strike landing harder than the last as the anger that had been building inside her finally found release.

Whatever pain flared through her knuckles quickly faded beneath something far stronger.

Satisfaction.

Each blow snapped Bakuda’s head back against the ground while the woman’s attempts to shield herself or get away grew weaker with every passing second. Taylor could hear voices shouting somewhere nearby, the sound carrying through the air as panic and confusion spread among the people gathered along the street, but none of it seemed to reach her properly.

All that mattered was the person beneath her.

Taylor poured all of her anger into the next punch and the one after that, her fists moving almost on their own now, rising and falling in quick succession, while the rest of the world around her blurred into something distant and unimportant. The shock of the collision had burned away whatever hesitation might have once existed, leaving behind a raw, violent clarity that pushed every other thought aside.

At some point Bakuda stopped struggling.

Taylor did not notice when it happened.

Her knuckles were slick and aching now, the skin split open in places where bone had met bone again and again, but the discomfort barely registered through the haze that had settled over her thoughts. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was dimly aware that people were shouting her name now and that hands were grabbing at her shoulders in an attempt to pull her away.

The noise continued to sound distant until someone finally managed to wrench her backward.

The sudden shift dragged her awareness back to the present with a jarring snap, and Taylor blinked as the world came back into focus around her, the shapes of people and uniforms resolving into something recognizable.

Her father stood several feet away, his face pale with a mixture of shock and anger, while several officers from the PRT moved quickly to secure the scene.

Taylor stared at them in confusion.

When had they gotten there?

The question lingered only briefly before her gaze drifted downward.

Bakuda’s body lay motionless on the ground where she had fallen, the ruined features of the bomb tinker already beginning to lose the last traces of warmth as the afternoon air settled over the street.

Taylor followed the line of horrified looks directed toward her hands.

They were covered in blood and bits of flesh. 

Judging by the expressions on the faces around her, she had a feeling she would be seeing Jessica Yamada again very soon.