“Rocket Palm!” 

The man in black hadn’t noticed Mav – he’d been preoccupied shooting at a cop using a door as cover – so he was easy to pick off. The attack shoved the man to the side, slamming him into one of his compatriots. A bullet whizzed beneath Mav’s extended arm, sending his heart into his throat. 

Mav ducked as a man and a woman turned their guns on Mav. 

Blood chilling, Mav rocketed himself to the side. Before they pulled the trigger, however, multiple gunshots flared. They flailed, blood painting the wall, then they crumpled to the floor. 

Mav landed among the shattered glass of the front doorway. Two more men holding handguns were rushing in. 

“Ground Slam!” 

Mav gripped the front of their dark shirts and heaved. They lost their foot, falling back. Two small blasts from Mav’s elbows thrusted the men into the concrete. They grunted, then banged their heads on the ground. 

“Mav!” Maren called from inside. 

A fire was spreading along the walls. Maren leaped over the desk, water swirling from her shoulders to her palms. Another explosion sounded from a different building. 

“I got the fire,” Maren said. “Help them get the rest.” 

She cocked her head to the side toward officers who rushed through doors leading to different buildings. 

“Got it!” 

Mav charged toward the closest sounds of gunfire, ready to enter another fray. 

“An hour’s respite would’ve been nice,” Maren grumbled, spraying the spreading fire with her water. “But nooooo. Terrorists just gotta blow up shit.” 

“Holy Leaper,” the receptionist who’d talked to her earlier said, head poking above the desk. “Please, we need your help.” 

Maren’s skin dried. Her water output expanded, blasting the flames with more powerful streams. Her drying tongue scraped the roof of her rough mouth. 

Curse it! The earlier fight hadn’t worn her out too much, but she was dehydrating far faster because of it. It was a good thing the fire hadn’t spread much, or else Maren might’ve had to spend all her energy fighting it. 

Though, other explosives shook distant parts of the building. There could be fires spreading throughout the entire complex. 

“Please!” the woman cried. 

The fire finally doused, Maren turned and vaulted behind the desk. One receptionist was still cowering and shaking beneath the desk. Paul sat over the man with the glass in his shoulder, whispering calming words. 

Maren knelt down, inspecting the wound. She held back a gasp. The shard hadn’t sunk into his shoulder, like she’d originally thought, but a little lower, right over his heart. Blood drenched his torso, pouring from the wound in heaps. 

Did it strike a major artery? If so, he could die in minutes. Should she take the shard out? Should she clean the wound? But what if he–? 

Maren took a deep breath. She’d seen something similar before. Maren had been on a job a couple years ago with two guildmates, Daniaha and Russell. It had led them to a dangerous suburban area. After an unsuccessful talk, a spore-addict stabbed Daniaha. All Maren had to do was take a deep breath and remember what Russell did to help her. 

“Blood’s pouring, so it hit a vein and not an artery,” Maren said. “That’s better for him. Don’t touch the glass, but put pressure on either side of it. Do you have gloves?” 

The receptionist looked startled, but slowly shook her head upon further prompting. Maren created pristine water and washed the wound. It was barely a second before red pooled around the glass again. 

“Try not to stick any dirty fingers into the wound,” Maren said. “But he still needs pressure applied there.” 

“I got it,” Paul said, pressing his hands on either side of the wound. He then comforted the man who groaned. 

“Is an ambulance on the way?” Maren asked. 

The receptionist nodded, pointing to a blinking light beneath the desk. 

“Good,” Maren said, rising. “There’s nothing more I can do here, but there may be more fires around the complex.” 

“I can help him,” Paul said. “And I’ll draw the ambulance over when they arrive.” 

“Thank you.” Maren stumbled as the floor shook again. That explosion was closer than the previous two. “And stay safe. If the terrorists get close, get these people out of here.” 

“Will do. And good luck. Don’t die out there.” 

Maren smirked. “That’s usually my line.”