'Giving them a taste of their own medicine' was a strong enough hint for Montana. The particulars would show themselves should fighting break out between the gifted in the area, and fighting seemed like an inevitability with the way Spire spoke.

His eagerness to engage in conflict indicated more then a simple mantra of self defense to the older male. Much like springing him from his prison, the boy seemed to revel in the prospect of conflict, and by extension, death.

While Montana acknowledged he wasn't dissimilar when he came into conflict with a particularly strong opponent, the age behind his coal blacks sensed something that extended beyond the simple thrill of combat.

From where he stood, facing the wastes, the mind manipulator didn't seem too keen on conflict. If they were, Montana imagined, their opening move would have been to turn the brothers on Montana. He knew he wouldn't have too closely questioned the sudden change of heart, and their infighting would have created an ideal opportunity.

The wildcard was the manipulators relationship with the teleporter.

"One would think the manipulator would have long assaulted our minds, if they sought conflict."

"Or isn't close enough to get a good hold," Spire mused.

"A mile, give or take," Toby chipped in quietly.

Spire looked around, studying the surroundings before heading toward one of the more sound-looking buildings, a three-story structure that may once have been some manner of office building. He stowed his weapon and took hold of the exposed steel bars and crumbling cement, scaling toward the top floor while avoiding the shards of glass camouflaged by the gray ashdust.

Spire looked over his shoulder at Montana. "Sorry that this isn't a very cheerful welcoming party, old man, but trust me when I say it's a little late to be making friends with this one. This is a bit of a kill or be killed situation. There's some history." All his and Toby's history, mind you, but not exactly a lie.

Toby shaded his eyes to watch Spire's progress up the side of the building. "So...I d--dunno if it's rush hour around here or what, but some of that other group is moving this general direction...and, um..." he said. Out of nowhere, a new presence had burst into his senses. "There's another one. Resurrecting. Was probably, you know, d--dead a minute ago, so I missed it, said Toby. He coughed. "If they all show up, we're probably in over our heads a little, here," he muttered.

A resurrector and regenerator. Because killing one or the other wouldn't be enough of a pain. Spire could just imagine the hassle of alternately killing Montana, then this resurrector, one popping back up as the other went down, he and Toby unable to keep either of them dead enough to get them both in the ground, like some macabre Vaudeville routine.

Usually in a situation like this, Spire and Toby would wait, avoid confrontation, sometimes even buddy up with the strangers until sleep or trust left guards lowered, but the presence of a mind reader blasted a bit of a hole in any tactic that involved deceit.

In any case, they needed to get rid of the mind manipulator.

Spire had reached a firm foothold in the empty windowsill of a gutted office. Far away, he could see the smoke curling from the flames of the damaged building. A bit closer, several other figures, and what looked like an animal of some kind. Closer still, but still far enough that he had to squint to see detail, two women. "Kid?"

Toby closed his eyes to concentrate before pointing in the direction of the psychic and teleporter. "Your left."

Spire focused on the leftmost girl, the mind manipulator, as well as he could at the distance. "Hang tight. I still want to hear those stories of yours," he said to Montana, and then his matte gray eyes turned bright as mirrors as he used his ability. He smiled, feeling his power hit her. "All yours, Toby."

Toby took off toward the quarry, knowing that as long as Spire kept his eyes locked in the psychic, she would almost certainly be down, her brain screaming with pain or her body out of her control. Now his only obstacle would be the teleporter.

Eddie's shielded arm swung over her face to protect her eyes from the artificial sandstorm that began to whirl around her, rendering her blind, leaving her only with her sense of hearing. Eddie immediately fired off another round aimed at where the viking Knight had been standing seconds before when she used her Gift to start the chaotic cover of ash and sand.

Her left hand still covering her face, she used her free hand to reach a hand into her vest, pulling out a glasses case, before opening it. She looked inside, seeing the old, glorious item that she had searched for for so long, one which she used only in the most dire of situations, or when she wanted to appear as even more of a badass: a pair of old aviator sunglasses, from before the war.

Eddie wasted no time in shoving them onto her face, removing her arm, pulling her sword from its sheath with her newly free hand. The sunglasses weren't the perfect protection, but they were better than nothing. The only problem now was to find the ginger. Eddie did her best to strain her ears to hear beyond the noises of the smokescreen, but heard nothing. At first. As she continued to listen, she caught the sound of foot steps. They were off beat, seemingly limping. It must've been the Knight, so Eddie called out.

"So yer gonna run away, are ya?" she yelled over the sounds around her, slightly muffled by her shawl. "Yer ancestors'd be proud. Y'know, my mama always used to tell me stories about vikin's. About how they stole from the weak and fled from the powerful. It's goodta know that it's a tradition rather than a personality trait."

@VitoftheVoid

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen's head swiveled back to gaze at the restaurant that Eddie had previously been inhabiting, now being eaten by a fiery conflagration, startled by the gunshot that rang out behind it. It could be possible that that was the end of the confrontation, but that was unlikely. Gwen knew the extent of training that most Knights went through, and a couple of gunshots weren't going to be taking one completely down. In any case, she had to hurry. She turned back to the Ingram and the metal man, who she decided must've been illiterate, a common symptom of being an Ashlander, due to his lack of a reaction to her words, only to find another girl, asking the duo if they were alright. Gwen decided to simply ignore the girl for the moment, and turned back to the other two. The horse let out what sounded like a sigh as she lowered her head towards the ground, her knee resting on the ground. She hated kneeling, as it was vastly dehumanizing, but, unfortunately, desperate called for desperate measures. She then shot a glance at the scruffy-looking girl, and a message started to appear on the wing that the girl could see.

We haven't enough time to explain. Please tell this large, metal man that I mean no harm. Tell him that I can help.
And don't ask any questions. Someone's life is on the line.

@VitoftheVoid@ScoundrelQueen

Dawn, having been distracted between speaking to Vivian and navigating the webs of mental activity around her, was easy prey for Spire's Gift. Within moments of its activation, a near-blinding migraine struck her, pounding its way through her skull and sending her knees buckling with the sheer force of it. Her jaw stiffened, and, breathing thinly between her teeth, Dawn pitched forward into the asphalt at their feet.

A thin trickle of blood had begun to weave its way down her lip, even before making contact with the ground.

Vivian scowled at her as she explained that at least one of the minds among the ruins wanted the two of them dead. "Why?" she asked, looking around again. "And I'll drop my weapon when people stop killing each other..." She needed a better vantage point, but she didn't want to leave such a potentially powerful ally. Being alone when these people did attack could spell disaster. "Let's get out of here," she suggested, gaze flickering back to the girl. For all the debating between the two, though, a decision was suddenly made.

The girl collapsed suddenly and Vivian gasped, frantically looked around again. Her gaze finally settled ahead on an office building as it slowly fell apart. Then her gaze dropped to a figure quickly approaching. Despite the fear in her golden eyes, her lips twisted back into a dark smile. "Knocked out the wrong one, buddy," she growled, finally pulling the short knife from under her jacket. Suddenly, she appeared at the top of the quarry to confront the figure.

The large jump already took some stamina out of her, but her goal was always to end it quickly. "Fuck you!" she said, her movements quick as she slashed horizontally at the male.

An understated "Oh" was Toby's reply to Vivian's arrival and hostile greeting.
He evidently wasn't much for the mid-combat wordplay.

Toby expected the teleporter to come after him, but he expected to make it more than a few hundred yards before she warped so boldly in his path. Catching him off guard like that, Vivian would have spilled Toby's guts then and there if not for the microsecond of warning he got by sensing the teleporter's Curse.

The forward momentum of his run made it impossible to jump backward, so the only way to get out of the blade's path was to throw himself to the left, too violently to keep his balance, instead skidding on his side, fluttering up a cloud of ash. But even as he dived, he twisted his torso and aimed, so that when he stopped few yards past her, his eye, his gun, and her center mass made a straight line. Teeth clenched in a grimace of discomfort from his impromptu slide to home base, he squeezed the trigger once.

Even with the awkward spontaneity of the shot, Montana had been right about Toby's steady hand.

-

Spire could see none of this. Even though he noticed the teleporter vanishing from his peripheral, he had to keep his eyes on the mind manipulator, or she could wreak havoc on his brother when he approached. With the young woman so far away, Spire could barely keep his squinting focus as it was - already he worried his hold on her might slip if she pushed back - and intermittent wreckage would have hidden Toby even if he could look away from his target.

Underscoring these practical considerations, he liked the way said target cringed and folded like her hard drive was shorting out. He wished he was closer for a clearer view.

"It would be unnatural to expect otherwise, much history exists in this place." Toby's mention of a resurrection power was perhaps what finally made Montana feel directly invested in the happenings around him. There was a chance this person was an immortal, quasi or otherwise. Immortals were gifted he took a special interest in, to help, or to hinder, was the question always answered when he met them.

This development didn't distract him from the prevailing 'us vs them' mentality that seemed prevalent in every choice these two made. Spire had referenced this past history with the mind manipulator, but neither seemed to reference any past association with the teleporter or any kind of knowledge in regards to the resurrected gifted who has returned from the dead.

If there was a singular, simple truth to Montana, it was that he took life on his own terms. Not at the behest of another.

He followed close behind Spire as he scaled the building. He propelled himself upward with the unnatural speed that came with his endless pool of stamina, and was beside the younger male not a second after he had taken his chosen position of attack. Spire's cold eyes caught his own, and he followed their mirrored gaze down to the mind manipulator below, who was immediately overcome with obvious pain. The teleporter had jumped moments later, no doubt turning their attention to Toby, who was the closer target.

"Your partner seems a bit too preoccupied to share where this arisen is."

"In the meantime, shall I subdue your target, or aid your partner. Tell me Spire"

Spire couldn't look at the inhumanly agile regenerator at his side, nor could he check to see what had "preoccupied" his brother. But his answer was sharply directed, earnest, and immediate.

"Help Toby."

Even to her, her attack had been nearly instant. However, she watched as the other managed to lunge to the side and further past her, protecting himself. When the metal of the gun gleamed against Vivian's eyes, seconds dragged on into hours and the rapid beat of her heart sounded like slow, heavy echoes in her head. Although she was suddenly hyped on fear and adrenaline, she continued to grin. Bullets were fast, but they still had to physically travel distance. Vivian did not.

As the bang! filled the air, the teleporter disappeared again. She appeared on his other side and thrust her blade downwards at him with an aggressive yell. Sweat flung from her arms as she did: two jumps in such a short time had her fatigued.

Montana's descent from the building had been immediate, there was no pause between Spire's response and his action. As he fell from the building, hand guiding his descent, his Italian made shoes pushed off of the crumbling material, propelling him towards a lower structure.

His foot touched ground for a fraction of a second before he tucked into a quick roll, moments after his shoulder completed the motion, he sprung forward again, supplementing whatever momentum he lost with a sudden burst of speed. the forward motion carried him over the lip of the second building, and onto the crumbling outline of what was a boarder wall of some kind. Ahead of him was Toby, and the teleporter.

Toby's marksmanship was flawless, but the predictability of a bullet was a timed counter for someone who could exist wherever they pleased within reason.

Montana understood his place as the unknown variable, and used it wisely.

He surged forward from the wall, crossing the distance between himself and the two combatants in seconds. He had begun his leap the moment she dissipated, and when his motion reached his apex, he was among them.

What maiming blow he could have attempted, he didn't. Instead, he drew his blade in an outward arc, meeting hers before it had the chance to bite Toby, and redirecting her attack above them both as his blade pushed hers skyward.

The momentum he used to reach the duo in time propelled him another five feet beyond them, Montana finally came to a halt amid a mess of ash and gravel, turning to face them at the last moment.

"Perhaps you should take greater care to watch your ally." Montana's blade spun thrice in his hands, the metal reflected the suffocated sun with each rotation. "Unless you feel as if the odds are currently in your favour.

Orion came to a hesitant halt at the sight of a bloodied young woman emerging from the building a few yards in front of him. Her question was of even further confusion.

Injured college kids and winged horses were far from the kind of help he had been banking on, but Mitch was bleeding. He looked the girl up and down: She was covered in gore, but whether it was hers or somebody else's was another question entirely. He glanced back at the horse, still flashing words across its side. Then back to the woman, trying to at least place where the blood looked like it was coming from.

If his partner were not literally bleeding out in his arms, he may have stopped and reflected on how much stranger the Ash was turning out to be than they could have imagined.

"I heard- read?- you the first time. I'm not putting her on an Erubescan animal. Go back to you Knight," he commanded, stepping away and toward the woman. He was talking to a damn horse. He imagined that whatever radio its handlers were using to direct it were having a decent laugh at his expense.

He then turned his attention back to the woman, looking her over. She had little blood of her hands, and what was on her clothing was more soak than splatter. Perhaps it was hers? Or with more luck, she was a medic. But a rough guess at blood stain patterns was little to go off of.

He heard another explosion behind him.

"She's hurt," he said, his voice hoarse but even as he stated the obvious, "Do you have any medical supplies? Or know of a healer? Or..."

Toby's hand flew up on instinct to catch Vivian's wrist, only to find there was no need. "Um...thanks," he said mildly, using the opportunity Montana had given him to roll away and push himself to his feet. It was a bit jarring, getting aid from...one of Them.

Hoping Montana was keeping her busy enough to hold her attention, and that she was too worn to make another teleportation, Toby considered taking off after Dawn again, pretty sure his long strides could outstrip anything but another warp...but he rather wished Montana hadn't reminded the woman about the mind manipulator. And it was becoming clear that she was going to protect the mind manipulator until she was subdued. He switched his gun to his left hand and withdrew a combat knife for his right. He would rather a firefight than a hand to hand brawl, but she was good, clearly good enough to dodge bullets, and if the teleporter got up close and personal again, he wouldn't be wasting ammunition. And he didn't forget that the regenerator could turn on him at any moment.

He took a defensive stance, waiting for Vivian's move.
---

Spire couldn't hold Dawn forever. He needed to blink, his focus was growing scattered by concern the longer it took Toby to appear in his peripheral vision, and the mental effort to sustain mirroring the young woman's ability was making his head ache almost as much as hers.

Well. Probably not nearly as much as hers.

The teleporter must have been causing more trouble than he expected. He should have taken her out first. His desire for a close fight the teleporter with the psychic out of the way had clouded his judgment - now Toby must be stuck with the fight, with only enigmatic Yoda in a Box to help him--or hinder him, for all Spire knew.

Spire felt the threads of his control snap. "Agh," he hissed through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment at the sting of pain. He was no more good from this perch. She was so far away, and his eyes had gone so watery and blurry, he could hardly see her. He only hoped the young woman's brain sufficiently resembled scrambled egg after their long session together, leaving her weak until he could get her in his sights up close.

He did not attempt Montana's flying squirrel act, instead catching a dangling steel cable through his sleeve and sliding down two floors, making so much friction the fabric of his coat smoked, then dropping the final distance and rolling to keep his knees from shattering.

He sprinted to catch up.

Vivian gasped as her arms were flung upwards by the interruption. She stumbled back, barely saving herself from falling onto her ass. She glared at the new threat, watching carefully as the dust from his skid cleared. Her arms hurt from the force she felt when their blades clashed and she adjusted her grip, tossing the hilt between her hands as the showoff twirled his own weapon. This is bad, she thought, sparing a glance in Dawn's direction. She was still down for the count, and Vivian had already teleported twice trying to kill one person--and he wasn't even dead. She noticed, though, they were just as wary of her--if not more--as her first attacker settled his attention on her again.

A tired smile remained on her lips, a bead of sweat on her forehead. For all her tricks, she hadn't seen either use their powers. "Can't take a little girl all on your own?" she taunted, desperate for a moment to regroup. "What do you want from us anyway?" As she spoke, her golden eyes flickered between the two. It was a stall, of course. Dawn had said they wanted the two of them dead, and neither seemed like big talkers. But she was afraid of her own fatigue if she rushed in again.

It hurt.

Dawn’s brain was screaming, a jumbled mess of static and sound and blinding, unbearable pain. She couldn’t move, or even think. It hurt too bad. She didn’t know how long it had gone for, her curled up in the dust like that, but it eventually just...stopped. Like if someone had snapped off a light switch. She gave a shuddering, choking gasp, back spasming for a moment as she regained some measure of control of herself. Her thoughts were still frazzled, and her blood was pounding heavy in her ears, but she had a dim realization of just how dangerous the situation had become.

They were facing three people, one of them with the power to put her out of commission even with miles between them. Dawn was in no shape to fight, and from what she could sense, Vivian was quickly getting worn down. Something needed to be done, or else they would both die.

Animal instinct had her digging into Toby’s mind, rooting into his thoughts. With a clumsiness brought on by the attack, Dawn yanked control of his arms, and pressed him to throw the knife as far as he could into the ash. The other hand she bent down, trying to make Toby squeeze out all the ammo into the ground. If she was lucky, that would keep him busy enough for a few minutes. Dawn moved on, attempting to do the same to Montana- although by now, her control was shaky enough that the most she could do was push for him to release his grip on the knife.

Taking in deep lungfuls of ash, Dawn pushed herself up, trembling like a leaf. “We…” She coughed, wiping her face and smearing it with blood.. “We have...we have to go. Now.”

At most, she would have given them some time, but angered their attackers in the process. And the one who had taken her down was still on his way over.

"I d--doubt you'd be interested," said Toby, unfazed by her taunt. He opened his mouth to say more, but then his thoughts were redirected.

Toby could sense her, feel her wrapping a strangle hold around his free will, but even as he tried to fight it, he felt himself swing back and throw the knife full force, far away into the rubble like he was pitching a ball. His expression misty, his left hand pointed his firearm toward the dust. Pop. Pop. Pop. He discharged three precious bullets before he could attempt to untangle himself from Dawn's disorganized mental attack. Even with his insider knowledge giving him warning, he knew she could overcome him completely if she hasn't been reeling from Spire's power. And where the hell WAS Spire and why had he released her?

Vivian's bravado earned her an amused, albeit slight, eyebrow raise from the older male. It was interesting to meet people who hadn't had the swagger in their step stilled by circumstance or the harsh realities of a violent existence. He followed her eyes over to the manipulator, and the acute mental attack she was victim to. Good. Montana wanted her to weigh up her options, perhaps even cease the attack.

When he mentioned her partner, it wasn't an idle conversation. It was a suggestion, the olive branch that inspired dialogue, while it questioned alliances.

"A conversation."

"That is what I desire from you, and your companion."

Montana moved to place his knife back into its shoulder holster, when rather suddenly, a gun discharged beside him, and he found his fingers unraveling from the hilt, and freezing there, causing his knife to fall toward the ash below. The opposite hand moved beneath it, his fingers spread slightly to allow to blade to fall between them, enabling him to catch it by the hilt.

Spire's appearance confirmed why the she had been able to influence them at all.

Vivian squinted at the disconnect between the two: did they engage with different goals in mind? Whatever the reason for two different answers, she welcomed the slight pause. She even hesitantly lowered her knife as the older one raised his to sheathe it. But he suddenly dropped it, and her gaze flickered instantly to the second male, who was dumbfounded by the bullets scattered on the ground. Finally, her eyes fell on Dawn, who was managing to slowly stand on her shaky legs. Now would be the ideal time to attack, take one of them down while the girl had her brain claws on them--but which was the regenerator Dawn had mentioned? Where was the third? Dawn wanted to back off, why? Her hesitation costed her the chance altogether and she tensed again as she looked around--she would flee if Dawn did, but the girl didn't seem like she could get far. "Lead the way," she told her, bitter sarcasm lacing her words.

Not counting on going anywhere fast, Vivian looked to the one who had requested a simple conversation from her and her companion. It was the second time he brought up alliances. She wasn't sure if they wanted her or Dawn or both, but a united front would be stronger than a split one. "We just met. But even I'm not so cruel as to leave an innocent girl with strange men," she sneered at him before glancing around again, staying vigilant for number three. She could feel her breath steadying again, her strength returning.

Dawn had successfully managed to get to her feet, although she still swayed where she stood, as if drunk. She had gotten the tall one to throw his knife, spend a few rounds on the earth, but the other still had his knife. Coincidentally, she didn’t trust his claim of wanting conversation much at all. While he wasn’t the one who had been openly plotting to kill them, neither had the younger, and he had been the first to (physically) attack. Dawn took a few shaky steps to the side, teetering dangerously, but managing to right herself in the last moment.

Sensor. With the gun. She didn't speak, instead quietly projecting her thoughts into Vivian's own. The merc had told Dawn to stay out of her head, but now, there was little other choice in the matter. There’s...the one who got me...he’s coming this way. Dawn wasn’t quite sure what that one was yet, still far too dazed to work it out. But if he could do to Vivian what he did to her, then she didn’t want to stick around to find out. She made another weak attempt to paw at the regenerator’s mind, trying to get a hold, but most of her energy had gone into her earlier stunt. His fingers would twitch a bit, perhaps, but nothing worse than a minor muscle spasm at best.

This was not good by any means.

At the sound of the three shots, Spire's heart would have dropped into his stomach (if he'd had one of those hearts people talk about). Toby would rarely waste three bullets in such quick succession in normal circumstances. Spire was in a state of disbelief that after all the dozens and dozens of fights, his one arrogant move - not getting the teleporter out of the way first - could cost Toby's life.

His relief as he turned a corner and saw Toby apparently safe was palpable, but he settled almost instantly into cool amusement as he caught the tail end of Vivian's jeering. His mad dash slowed to a saunter as he caught his breath.

"Innocent," he said, half laughing, "is a very liberal term to apply to anyone these days."

Toby glanced at Dawn. The mind manipulator was still quite far away, farther than Toby could reliably hit with a pistol. Even with his skill as a marksman, his chances of making a fatal (or even incapacitating) shot couldn't be better than 50/50, but if the teleporter caused much more delay, the two women would have them.

Toby and Spire exchanged a short glance of silent communication, and acted as one.

Spire used his ability on the teleporter unless by chance she zapped away before his gaze had settled, Vivian would feel herself whipped out of her position as he distorted her Gift in a flash. He couldn't plan where it would land her, but he knew it would almost certainly get her out of the way so Toby could do his part.

At the same moment, with a fast-twitch aim, Toby took the shot, praying that the fourth bullet, the final one in the clip, the one that was supposed to go in the ground, would find Dawn.

Mags was, for a little while, genuinely wondering if this was some bizarre exsanguination-induced hallucination. She'd seen weird, but this was kind of on a whole other level that was making her seriously question it. A horse with letters appearing on it was asking her to apparently act as its translator for the iron man that was striding along the street.

It had quite an attitude for an equine billboard, but bereft of ideas on any other way to handle the situation, the young woman was about to relay the message.

It soon seemed clear however that the man didn't actually need the services of a horse-interpreter, and was simply dismissing it...as it happened, in favour of appealing to her for help.

'She's hurt.'

A sarcastic response of 'No shit' seemed totally inappropriate considering the weight of the situation, and so Mags bit it back in favour of turning her attention to the second person, who was, indeed, in very bad shape.

For a moment, Magdalene hesitated, biting on the inside of her cheek.
She had no reason to do this. She had no reason to trust these people.
For all she knew the guy could be using the injured woman for sympathy to get people to let their guard down.
Far all she knew the woman might not even really be injured and could be using some illusion nonsense.

And she was going to have to reveal the location of her stash if she was going to be of help.
As a factionless, friendless ashlander with no offensive ability, the Erubesco cache was pretty much all she had going for her at the moment.

On the other hand.. the one who was hurt looked bad. Even from where Mags was it was possible to see she ha some serious open fractures. Even if she somehow didn't bleed to death then she'd be done from the massive infection that would follow from those kind of injuries in the wasteland. To put it bluntly, she didn't stand a chance in hell.

"Not a healer...but.." Magdalene spoke up before she'd consciously decided.

"..I got a trauma kit back there..and I know my stuff. Can't promise any miracles but I reckon I could at least clean it up and get the bleeding under control if I can get the time and the space."

Why was she doing this?

It certainly wasn't doing her any good.

Mags was also a little dubious about the possibility that she was just a good person.

Misplaced guilt?

Yeah, probably that.

She bit back a sigh.
"Look. If you can handle the heat I'll get your friend out of the way and do what I can. You've got no reason to trust I'm not trying to pull something, but...likewise really. You can think about how to pay me back later."

----

"Left, Knight." ORIN spoke into Kora's earpiece.
"Don't you dare respond. Pursue the targets."

"Mouthy little punk." Kora snarled under her breath.
"Luckiest day of her goddamn life that I don't have time to deal with her shit."

"And yet they're never grateful.
I think now is a good time. Target A is effectively neutralised, focus on neutralisation of Target B. We can collect A when engagement is concluded. You're activated Knight. Have fun."

A smirk crossed the woman's dust-streaked face.

She was cleared for it.

Time to unleash hell.

---

Stood by Orion, Mags wasn't aware of the oncoming danger.
Not until it was almost upon them.

Not until a scream like some kind of enraged animal burst out of the dust and sand behind them, and a figure charged out towards the man on a full tilt collision course. Her hands were glowing white hot, trailing off red and yellow sparks, her eyes were a bright crimson, lit with some internal glow, and every crashing footfall on one leg left a bloody footprint as one knee was bleeding freely; how anyone could be running on that, let alone at such a speed was well beyond her.

She was just pretty certain this was not friendly.

"Metal guy! On your six o' clock!" she cried, poised half-ready to move as her feelings of obligation to help these people went to war with her strong, strong desire to be out of the flight path of that fire-giant running at them.
It found a middle ground in an instant.
"Give me your friend!"