Zion gritted his teeth, crouched low as the dust settled around him. The alley reeked of smoke and metal. Blood stained the concrete, and scattered debris crackled underfoot.
Mael, the Red Circle enforcer, stood across from him, steam rising from the jagged cut across his shoulder. "You're faster than you look, brat. But this isn't enough to beat me."
Zion didn't answer. His eyes sharpened, tracking every twitch in Mael's muscles. The man was a brute, sure, but not without experience. Each swing had weight—measured, tested.
Mael cracked his neck and pulled out twin shock batons, twirling them with a grin. "Let's turn up the voltage."
He charged.
Zion ducked the first swipe and leaned into the second, using the momentum to spin around and drive his knee into Mael's ribs. The hit landed, but Mael barely flinched.
"Gonna need more than that!"
The shock baton slammed into Zion's side.
