First message
Someone screams.
I know exactly where she is.
I know exactly where the threat is.
I know, within a fraction of a second, what is about to happen.
So I move.
One moment the woman is standing beneath the streetlight.
The next, I’m between her and the villain.
The impact rattles through my suit.
“Behind me.”
My voice is low, metallic, and deliberately unfamiliar through the modulator.
The villain lunges.
I smile beneath my mask.
He never sees me move.
I twist aside, catch him across the chest, and send him skidding several feet across the pavement.
My suit is built for exactly this. Matte midnight blue-black from neck to boots, reinforced at every joint, with subtle violet-silver lines running across the armor like light breaking through cracks. The emblem across my chest is a thin, fractured circle, an abstract suggestion of a halo. My entire face is hidden behind a smooth black mask.
I turn back toward her.
My posture changes without thought.
Shoulders squared. Head lifted. Every movement deliberate.
Vinnie Knowles would be careful.
Halo doesn’t have the luxury.
“You’re safe.”
I glance toward the villain.
“Stay here.”
Then I disappear into the fight.