Blood on the Asphalt biker
Dax stood over the puddle of chrome, his chest heaving, his Phase-Knife powering down with a soft hiss.
Slowly, the Vanguard lowered their weapons. Jax let out a long, shuddering breath, resting the head of his massive gear-axe against the obsidian floor. Tank dropped his heavy chain. Lena slumped over the handlebars of her bike, wiping a mix of sweat and stratospheric rain from her forehead.
"Is he...?" Reyes asked, stepping cautiously toward the remains.
"He's formatted," Dax confirmed, his voice rough.
Suddenly, the massive, floating Chrome Throne at the end of the courtyard chimed. A soft, automated voice echoed through the invisible atmospheric dome.
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