"... ago, I had just finished a double-shift at ALDI. My manager, Mr. Blayhi, had gone missing a week before clashes between the heg- hegemonic pro-human protesters and the dispossessed masses. I returned home to Magogoe and found it ablaze. The ash was suffocating..."

Najwa stood at the back of the grandiose central hall, behind rows of photojournalists. Camdrones flitted around the vaulted ceiling, and tickled her ears with the steady hum of their turbines. Chrome hulls reflected the auditorium's vedic frescoes of polychromatic Vimanas, creating a series of dependent reflections. Her discerning eyes swam through the hyper-detailed textures and forms, real and reflected.

"... and since then, we have seen unprecedented economic growth since the establishment of a Pan-African Union."

That's the cue.

Pulled from her reverie, Najwa walked through the auditorium's palatial doors with a faint smile. This assignment had seen many firsts for her; first time off-continent, first time on an aircraft that didn't immediately go down, first time on a boat- even if the boat was a city, one bigger than any she'd seen before.

These thoughts carried her out into the open air, beneath one of the Lotus Incarnate's "petals", where the midday sun's heated embrace lingered on what little skin she exposed; face, neck and forearms. The olive drab of her attire, while well-suited for her usual operations, woefully clashed with the immaculate whites and resplendent blues of her surroundings. Colorful throngs passed her as she waited for the end of Representative Ngele's speech (which she could still hear) atop a set of stairs that overlooked a mauve-hued avenue of solar collection cobblestones. Vegetation-clad terraced towers seemed to drop off into infinity beyond the aerogel balustrade.

Nostrils flared as Najwa took a deep breath. She immediately began to drool at the distant aromas of dishes she couldn't wait to devour. A tell-tale grumble confirmed it- she'd have to eat even if she dragged the representative to lunch with her. With a sudden twinge, all thoughts of hunger were banished. Beneath the fragrant tang of simmering tamarind sauce and coconut milk, she detected the faint, familiar scent of nitrocellulose, bismuth trioxide and brass.

Hmm...

"Something's up. Escort Mr. Ngele and the SWAG delegates out of the Lotus through the suboceanic tunnels. We'll rendezvous at the safe room." Najwa issued the commands via adhesive throat-mic given to her by SWAG's security detail for the conference.

Confidently, she descended the stairs and stopped a full yard away from the curve. Her eyes swept from parked car to parked car, right hand resting on the FN 5.7's grip. Hopefully, it was nothing and she'd get to enjoy the rest of their visit to Tamarin.

@apathy

Two cars down the street was a black sedan. Najwa might not be able to tell it was still running as it didn't have a combustion engine. Behind the dark tinted windows Donny contemplated his options as he casually studied the situation through his side mirror, looking straight ahead but watching carefully out of the corner of one dull green eye. Something had gone awry but as to the immediate cause he did not know. His target hadn't walked out. Instead some woman in fatigues had, obviously communicating with someone, and she had a hand on her gun and seemed to be looking for him to boot. Had there been a leak? Did he somehow give away his presence? Donny decided to fret on these matters later. It had been a real bitch finding this place, essentially a world apart from his usual haunt of Las Vegas, and the time it had taken him to get this far was nothing less than inexcusable. No time to wait until nightfall, no time to isolate the target. Donny could afford no more delays or he'd not receive payment. It had to be here and now, or for the first time his flawless record would be tarnished. Such compromises went against his pragmatism, but at this point it was do or die. He'd only ever killed targets on sunny city streets twice before, and never had they been expecting him.

Yet, here was this new factor. Was the woman a distraction? She couldn't possibly be acting alone, it had to be a setup. He came to a new conclusion and decided to stick to it until new information came to light. He knew he had no choice but to assume that his employer had double crossed him. Deep inside his chest Donny felt his resolve harden into a leaden black core, his nimble mind immediately isolating a suitable strategy. He would wipe the slate clean this time. Kill the resistance, kill the mark, kill the employer. He could always find another job, but leaving any loose ends would be folly. If he vanished now to reorganize it might tip off his employer before he got back to them. He had to do the job regardless of the heat and then proceed from there, but the first priority was this woman. The fact that she seemed ready to draw and fire was the biggest concern. The hitman popped a cigarette into his mouth, lit it, took a good drag, and left the vehicle.
---
Moments after Najwa began surveying the vehicles, the door to the black sedan opened. A man emerged, and boy was he a sight. He probably wore the ugliest mug she'd seen all day, and the suspicious black trench coat and fedora didn't help much. He stood out like the black spot on a seadog's hand, and to her acute sense of smell would reek of nicotine and lead. Did he just get back from a shooting range? Did he have a gun on him!? He just had to be an assassin, someone so, so...

No, wait.

He didn't coolly step out of the sedan with murder in his eyes and a pistol in his hand. He stumbled out, eyes wide, bright, urgent, holding his gut, a wallet in his left hand. He jackknifed at the waist, not even giving Najwa a glance as he groaned loudly and upchucked his previous lunch all over the sidewalk not thirty feet away to her right, proceeding then to shake his wallet at the restaurant with a trembling hand, eyes reddened and glossy from the effort of heaving.

"Y'awll will hear from my Lawyah! What kindah kitchen yaw think y'awll are runnin' in they-uh! Ah'll have y'awll know Ah'm a Goddamn fed and Ah went tah college!"

The wallet flopped open, revealing his false federal agent badge which he briefly waved at the establishment like a talisman he could curse them with. Still looking sickly, he'd pocket the badge in his trench coat and begin turning right, back towards his sedan.
Though Donny didn't seem to be paying attention to her, he was careful to observe any motion. If this was indeed a setup he had to assume that the suspicious woman, at the very least, had a spotter nearby, maybe even a sniper ready to fire. He'd have to throw them off for a few moments and then try to bait them into giving away their positions. He already had a notion of how to do so, but first...

@Doc Doctor

For the briefest of moments, Najwa could not believe what she witnessed. In what had to be a prime example of western bravado, out of a still-running black sedan came a charismatic sideshow worthy of the finest circus. The pungent stench of nicotine and spent ammunition accosted her keen nose. A flash of gold was enough to raise her curiosity.

What would a US DEA agent be doing on a floating arcology, miles off the former Indian coast? Why does he look like a third-rate Jason Statham? He moves like he's sick, but there's a certain urgency.. Doesn't add up.

She took three side-steps to the left, eliminating the hard cover of the cars parked between herself and the loud American. With rote efficiency Najwa drew her pistol, flicked off the safety, and raised the muzzle to lock in at the center of the man's torso.

Her gaze moved past the tritium iron-sights on her weapon. Any sign of movement that didn't comply with her demands would be met with disabling force.

"HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD! SLOWLY!" Najwa spoke with a soft South African accent. While not the most comfortable anglophone, her voice commanded the area.

"LE JAEN! NAKARVU! NAQL!" The crowd within their proximity looked around for a moment, unsure of what was about to transpire. Once they noticed the gun, things changed. She could hear the rapid shuffle of sandaled feet beneath alarmed screams.

With the immediate distraction of possible civilian casualties taken care of, Najwa waited to see what the suspicious westerner would do.

@apathy

As Najwa began moving to the side, already intending to draw on the man, she'd hear something that'd confirm her suspicions; a gun being drawn, and compared to all the other times she'd heard the sound, by far this one would perhaps stand out as the most diabolical she'd yet encountered. The brief split-second slip of the Glock being drawn was so quick, smooth, and efficient that it'd be a wonder it had come from a mortal man. He'd deposited his wallet and in one natural, fluid motion would have then drawn with the same hand. Under these circumstances anyone else would surely have interpreted this as nothing if not casual. All except the eerie dead-eyed glance Donny'd give her as he drew, looking straight through her as if she weren't there. Even with her physical speed she'd be hard pressed to beat his draw, and not just due to him drawing first. The situation had escalated from a leaky faucet into a fire hose at full spew as death stepped out from that sticky, dark omnipresent pocket of space he always hid in, and amidst the cold sweat of adrenaline and the delirious pandemonium of mortal danger declared, "Oh hey, just decided to drop in today."

But Najwa wasn't flat footed and she'd seen ol' death coming from a mile away. She'd been suspicious and prepped for action from the very moment she'd caught Donny's scent. With her hand already on her gun, she'd have the reaction speed to analyze the more subtle elements to this encounter and the raw speed to return fire without delay. She couldn't see the Glock, Donny's profile and coat hid it, but she'd be able to hear the frame brush the fabric of his coat and shirt as it effortlessly shifted into place. One factor was uncertain; the barrel's precise angle and degrees of elevation were nigh impossible to discover, alongside when exactly he'd shoot. She would be able to intuit that he was minimizing his profile, concealing his draw, and hiding his aim with the flank of the gun against his belly, but just where exactly was he going to aim and when should-

*ZAT*

---

Donny had never lost a gunfight. He was confident in his skills, could hit fast moving targets as if they were stationary, and although he wasn't the quickest draw in the world, he was a contender. More importantly he knew that speed was but a fraction of what it took to survive in open combat. Deliberation and surprise mattered too. When he killed most of his victims, he had a fairly well established use of force continuum; a bullet to the head from right out of the box, followed shortly thereafter by another to make sure the job was done. The classic double tap with a detective draw. They never knew what hit 'em, but this woman had been looking right at him. She'd been ready to draw the entire time. She might have even known already who he was and why he had come. When your opponent is already primed and ready, there is but one way to ensure they can't shoot you first, or at all.

The bullet wouldn't impact Najwa's forehead. It'd be set to strike... Her own firearm of all things, potentially tearing straight through the pistol as she sought to fully draw and destroying the weapon before she'd had the chance to get a single shot off. Donny's aim was impeccable, and if he'd succeeded in disarming her, he'd then whirl around and hunker down with his back against the sedan in case there was return fire from somewhere, already in the process of secretly drawing his revolver as he brought the Glock out into full view to take another masterful (but far more telegraphed) shot, this one set to impact her dead in the forehead unless she could avoid it. Should all this come to pass, Donny may be forgiven for assuming he'd have been able to deal with the woman in just two shots, with the double tap delayed until he could confirm that there were no other hostiles.

@Doc Doctor

To an outside observer not currently engaged in fleeing for their life, the sequence of events they witnessed could only be described as cinematic. It all happened with such precision and grace that the security cam footage would go viral within minutes of being uploaded.

At the sound of the westerner's pistol being drawn from its hidden holster, Najwa would lean into her initial step. Muscles grew taut along her calves and thighs while her 5.7 was pulled from its place at her side. Her thumb would disengage the safety mechanism on the firearm as her arm bent slightly, taking aim.

As the first scrape of fabric along the weapon's frame lit up her ears, Najwa was already airborne, if only for a moment. Propelled by the sudden surge in speed, she would fire her first shot through the passenger side window of the closest vehicle, out its rear windshield. The round would crash through the second vehicle's windshield at 2,050 ft/s, zip through its interior and blow the rear windshield out in hopes of striking the man in the abdomen, given the sidelong stance he was in the process of adopting near his vehicle. The sequence of leaning, drawing, aiming and firing all occurred in the single fluid motion of her partial leap.

Whether or not the man was able to fire his initial shot she'd never know; perhaps he had inhuman reflexes like her own. Momentum carried her into the front end of a luxury coupe. The vehicle lurched backwards. Its tires skid along the mauve cobblestones. Several flavors of car alarm blared as she fired two more rounds over the coupe's glass-strewn hood. The shots were meant to keep him suppressed as she relayed further information to the SWAG security detail over the throat mic.

"We've got an armed hostile outside the Lotus Incarnate! Engaging now. Double security on the delegation!"

Behind decent cover and with the element of concealment, Najwa's gaze turned to a nearby transluminum pole. Struck by inspiration at its reflective surface, she kept her head down and peered through the coupe's windshield at the pole nearest the assassin. With luck she'd use it to follow his movements in spite of the occasional prismatic hexagon.

Najwa kept calm and composed, making a mental note of her remaining 17 rounds. She called out to the man, ready for whatever he would respond with.

"STEP AWAY FROM THE VEHICLE. IF YOU ARE INJURED, WE WILL PROVIDE MEDICAL ASSISTANCE.

THINK THIS THROUGH, YOU'RE SURROUNDED!"

@apathy

Najwa evaded Donny's shot and returned fire. Her aim was true and it struck Donny in the abdomen, and but a fraction of a second later another bullet from the assassin pecked right back through the damaged windshields, missing her by a hair as she left his line of sight, her initial shot throwing off her opponent's aim. His ability to react and fire what could have been a deadly accurate follow up shot despite her inhuman speed was uncanny. Donny's 3A vest prevented the bullet from injuring him but it still had some oomph. More oomph perhaps than Donny had expected from such a small pistol. He'd nearly double over as he moved, feeling the air empty out of his lungs as a deep, radiating pain surged in his guts. It felt like a drill sergeant had just socked him in the bread basket.

He'd remain calm but in no way comfortable, taking deep breaths as he carried through with his course of action. Despite himself Donny could feel his coal black heart smoldering. She was just his type. Immediately after the exchange Donny ducked down out of sight to the open driver's door of his sedan, making sure to keep his surroundings in mind.

At that point Donny realized more or less what was going on. It wasn't a setup, his opponent was simply some kind of superhuman or alien or perhaps something else. His nimble mind ran through what he'd learned, what added up and what didn't. No, she couldn't be psychic, otherwise she'd have just shot him. She waited until he'd begun to draw then moved instantly, so her reflexes were remarkable. She couldn't have had X-Ray vision, otherwise she'd have taken him out at the start as well having seen all his tools of the trade. That left but a few other possibilities. More importantly it meant the job was still on and he was wasting time.
His state of mind shifted to a different spectrum of lethality. He knew now he was no longer trying to kill a mortal but something else, and whether or not she was his type he was going to have to step his game up. He steadied his breathing and continued.

---

Whilst Najwa informed SWAG of the situation, she'd be able to hear some odd things coming from Donny's direction. She'd hear the sound of the Glock being holstered and him slipping into the driver's seat followed immediately after by a pair of similarly sized small metal objects being pulled off clips and then two much fainter, more unfamiliar clicking noises that anyone without superhuman hearing would have missed, coming from just within the vehicle. Lastly, a far more familiar sound; the pin on a grenade being pulled. Unexpectedly, Donny didn't cook it, instead giving it a light underhand pass beneath the sedan so that it'd roll to a stop immediately behind his vehicle, too far away and behind too many obstacles to harm her even if it was a frag, which it wasn't. It was an M18 smoke grenade and as a thick plume of pitch black smoke began obscuring the rear of the sedan, she'd hear Donny address her as he slipped like a shadow further into the sedan, the vehicle shifting slightly with his weight as he responded to her ultimatum, alongside the sounds of a button being pushed and the passenger window rolling down about an inch and a half before he moved to the back, alongside an unfamiliar and extremely faint brushing noise as some small, flat, smooth object was removed from his overcoat.

"How do Ah know yah won't shoot meh soon as Ah step out naow missah?"

Right after he addressed her she'd also hear the trunk popping wide open as a button was pushed, but the rear was by now obscured by smoke and the shaded windows prevented her from seeing what he was doing in the back of the sedan via the transluminal pole.

@Doc Doctor

Through the vaporous heat trail of the return shot, Najwa espied the westerner nearly fold from the impact of her round before ducking into the relative safety of his sedan, by way of the transluminum pole. A pungent amalgam wafted from the vehicle’s open door; new scents came into play with the man’s concealed rummaging and betrayed a portion of what his mobile armory contained. What she did smell informed her course of action. With the realization that lethal force was vital in the prevention of civilian casualties, she adopted a more aggressive attitude. Hopefully she wouldn’t cause too much property damage.

The Lioness holstered her pistol, freeing her to grip the front end of the luxury coupe she took cover behind, while she demanded the assassin’s surrender. The composite metal foam of its frame warped within her grasp as she adopted a stance reminiscent of a deadlift. The faint plink of a grenade’s pin being pulled coincided with a wave of tension washing over her thewed physique.

His response began in conjunction with Najwa pushing down through her heels while her hips were propelled up and forward. Sweat trailed the nape of her neck and soaked into the reinforced fabric of her uniform’s olive drab jacket. The faint hiss of the assassin’s grenade underscored her silent resolve. The rising cloud of billowing smoke became an asset, obscuring her actions from the killer-for-hire. She’d grow to her full height just before his question concluded, driving the inhuman amount of force Najwa generated into the vehicle.

Her arms curled up and out in tandem with the extension of her form. The luxury coupe exploded from its parking spot. Tires spun futilely during its airborne journey as the vehicle was flung in a terrifying feat of strength. In her heightened state of awareness, Najwa marveled at the luxury coupe’s split-second inverted reflection in the chrome accents of the Nissan 420z that remained between Najwa and her attacker. Debris from the shot-out windshield penetrated the mass of smoke; hazy tendrils collapsing to fill minuscule voids. It was beautiful, as far as impromptu car tosses went.

The faint popping of the westerner’s trunk occurred just as the luxury coupe’s front end smashed through the assassin’s rear windshield and trunk, partially crushing the recipient roof in the collision. The vehicle-turned-weapon’s front tires were shorn by the impact against the windshield’s frame. A deadly volley of pistons, connecting rods and a crankshaft tore through the sedan’s interior, caused by the coupe’s engine block being knocked loose.

Shards of glass, metal and carbon fiber showered the area immediately surrounding the carnage she’d just created. Najwa breathed deeply to settle the slight shake in her limbs. She was grateful that in the time following the quarantining of her homeland, auto manufacturers had adopted using lighter, more durable materials. No way she could have done that as easily with the steel behemoths that NYUNDO operated.

“You don’t.”

Najwa’s response was a simple one, spoken with no levity. Weapon up and at the ready, she waited for any signs of movement from within the demolished sedan.

@apathy

Donny had moved past the driver's seat after having secured microwire to the gearshift. He'd begun trading words with Najwa, and as he spoke he leaned over the passenger seat and rolled the window down just a tad. The general idea was that if she tried running by on that side, he could quickly put the sedan into neutral and coast away from her whilst shooting her through the gap in the window. He wanted to head to the back, pop the trunk from a relatively safe prone position, and then start raining hell on her without delay under cover of smoke. He'd turned away with one foot past the drivers seat, about to head further back when... He performed a double take, staring at the passenger side mirror. Anyone less observant would have missed it. Yes, although the smoke was filling in nicely the plume was far narrower towards the ground, and past it he had seen the rear tire of the coupe a spot down shift. As Donny watched and kept talking, he could see the tire well heave and start to rise, and could hear the suspension creaking.

Immediately Donny realized that he'd nearly taken her lightly a second time. He'd assumed she'd super senses, reflexes, and speed, but hadn't contributed super strength to her to boot, after all she'd been so quick to take cover he'd pegged her as vulnerable. She was probably tough as nails too in hindsight, which meant peppering her with the usual gunfire would be underestimating her. Regardless he'd seen enough television to know what was going to happen next. That car was about to get a lot closer a lot faster. Going forwards was unwise, he had no idea how far or accurately she could toss that thing. That left one alternative. Without any pause in his question or any change in his voice, and most certainly without any hesitation, he whirled back towards the wheel, his foot hitting the gas before his ass hit the seat, yanking on the garrote wire at the same time. It'd cleanly slice through the leather grip and dig a little ways into the metal core of the gear shift, jerking it from park to reverse.
---
From Najwa's end, she'd still be able to hear Donny talking calmly with his thick drawly accent, and as she was just about at the apex of her lift she'd faintly hear the gear shift down a notch. What did that little sneak think he was doing this time? Even if he'd somehow spied her before the toss there was way he could make it. The car's engine wasn't even running, so the best he could hope for was to hop down another gear into neutral, and even then there's no possible way he could escape th-

What occurred next would be one of the few sneak attacks that Najwa would have virtually no chance to anticipate. She'd have no idea that Donny's sedan could move so quickly backwards, or so silently. The sedan quietly bolted in reverse with no warning the instant the gear shifted, and with a 300 horsepower induction motor that allowed it to accelerate in either direction from 0-60 mph in 2.7 seconds. There wasn't much more than a few feet of space between the sedan and the Nissan 420z, yet the sedan had enough power and momentum even at that range to shove it backwards with a mighty bash, the driver's side door of the sedan slamming shut from the momentum killing blow. The Nissan would strike the rear of the coupe practically pressed up behind it at the same time, an immediate and concussive domino effect.

As Najwa's feet were splayed apart to help her deadlift the coupe, when the vehicle she was nearly at the apex of lifting suddenly pitched forwards onto her it'd make her top heavy and cast her onto her back, temporarily pinning her beneath the coupe in the empty space behind her if Donny's counter worked. At approximately the same time as the coupe landed she'd hear an extremely loud gunshot from within the sedan before it'd then zip forwards a hot second later, whatever caliber handgun he'd just fired nearly sounding like a little cannon going off, and anyone in a position to see would be able to notice he'd shot through the gap in the passenger window and through the double doors of the restaurant at an angle for some reason. Had her client somehow returned and been spotted through the glass? Donny's vehicle darted forwards with the pedal to the metal towards oncoming traffic, the hitman's eerily serene crocodile eyes observing whatever happened next in the rear view mirror should all this come to pass. Even with his face obscured by the dark windows Najwa might just feel the shadow of his gaze penetrating through the obstacles and through her body as if there was nothing between them in an empty void, possibly standing the hairs on the nape of her neck on end. This man wasn't normal.
---
Donny had absolutely no intention of leaving sight of her or trying to escape, that wasn't an option. He couldn't ditch the area until he eliminated this threat. If he went too far she might head back towards the mark to protect him and utilize the help of other members of her agency, something Donny knew would pose a great problem considering he still didn't presume to know the full scope of her abilities. She was a handful on her own, tossing mooks into the mix or even other superhumans would all but guarantee his failure to complete this job on time. He was going to have to head back towards her if he wanted to do this the right way.

@Doc Doctor

The pneumatic hiss of a pedal compressing stirred the strangest recollections in Najwa’s subconscious. She was reminded of the whoosh of automatic doors; a novelty she’d forged negative associations with, given her childhood experience with Xanathan, until her arrival to Tamarin. She’d been so amused at the locals aversion to opening their own doors, instead relying on sensors. There was another sound beneath the hiss she did not recognize; it was like a shrill whisper from miles away that became a discordant chorus as thousands of microfibers cried out before being summarily executed. A shiver traced along her spine at the subsequent frequency of a metal rod being sliced into.

The Lioness assessed everything she’d learned about the assassin in their brief exchange, processing scenario along scenario and reaching her conclusion between the first touch of the pedal and its compression. The level of weaponry she’d gleaned through her enhanced senses, paired with the deadly efficiency the westerner operated with, had Najwa reach the same outcome with each concurrent scenario. Failure was not an option for this one, and retreat seemed unlikely.

Her preternatural strength, dexterity and coordination came together in awesome concert. Before the gear shift began to slide back into reverse, Najwa’s left boot had already created a deep furrow in the narrow thoroughfare’s cobbled surface, exposing the photosynthetic fiber optics housed within. Stress cracks formed along the solar collection panel beneath her rooted right boot.

In tandem, Najwa’s upper body adapted with a celerity no human could hope to attain. The awesome force she’d generated flowed from the Lioness’ hips into her right shoulder as it braced along the luxury coupe’s grille and bumper, before her lift had reached its apex (with negligible loss to her overall output). Her left hand tore through the composite metal foam frame at that same moment, with the shifting of her grip. The gloved expanse of her palm came to a stop against what she presumed to be the coupe’s axle.

The end result of her blink-and-you-miss-it adjustion was the creation of a reinforced bulwark the 420z crashed against. The acute-angled luxury coupe’s trunk crumpled. On her end, the shockwave’s majority traveled through the improvised barricade and into the road as the Nissan immediately bucked backwards through the smoke and into the reversing-sedan with a horrendous bang.

To the Lioness, it was like taking a charging elephant head on. The channel created by her left foot expanded. She fought through the devastating vibrations, muscles aflame. The dull groan of metal grew silent. A soft ocean breeze swept across the thoroughfare, stinging the superficial lacerations Najwa received from vehicular shrapnel along her chin and exposed forearms. With a heavy sigh the Lioness released the now-lodged coupe’s warped frame and stepped back.

Behind the relative safety of the rooted coupe, Najwa went against her evaluation of the assassin and would attempt something unexpected. Negotiations. Given the hitman’s position in the driver’s seat, he would be in extreme distress following the collision. Even the most advanced suspension system would have seen his body ragdoll against the sedan’s interior, therefore making it highly unlikely he would have found an opportunity to discharge his high-caliber weapon.

“Representative Ngele is beyond your reach! Think this through; you’re in the middle of the ocean and we know what you look like! How much longer do you think this fight will stay contained? If you value your life, throw down your weapons and exit the vehicle.”