Blood on the Asphalt biker
The Shogun's localized time-dilation shattered as he was physically hurled backward, his liquid-chrome armor denting with a sickening crunch.
"Got him!" Lena snarled, wrestling the sliding bike to a halt and drawing her sub-ether shotgun.
But the Shogun twisted in mid-air, landing gracefully on his feet like a mechanized cat. His magenta optics flared with genuine, corrupted rage.
"Predictable," the Shogun hissed.
He raised the blinding white Nodachi and slashed the air. It wasn't a physical strike. A crescent-shaped wave of corrupted, unmaking white sub-ether launched from the blade, tearing across the courtyard directly toward Lena.
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