Mav gave himself half a second’s rest after destroying the hidden door. The last three minutes had been a rush for him: dashing from hallway to hallway, knocking out people carrying boxes of bombs as quietly as he could – which may or may not have included a stray roar or two – and reaching the entrance before an alarm went off. 

He’d hoped. 

The two guards at the door had looked surprised, at least. A simple fireball stalled them from shooting, allowing him to close the gap and shove them into a wall. One explosive punch later was all it took to get into the base and inform the others to begin the raid. 

Then he found himself out of breath, his chest tight with a chill. 

Dammit. This would be his third fight in twice as many hours. Without a good, long rest, any use of his flames would freeze his body way too quickly. Mav took a breath, then grinned. There’s no way I won’t get stronger after this!

That half a second had ended, so Mav charged forward into the dust. 

Flames engulfed his hands, yet no immediate adversaries met him. JJ was pointing a rifle at a man on his knees, Maren was running to the closest ladder, and many witnesses along the ground and second floors hadn’t processed that they were under attack yet. 

That would change shortly. 

“Where’s Nadja,” JJ said to the kneeling man. 

“Asaka and Dearil have her,” the man, eyes wide, said. 

JJ looked down the rifle’s barrel at him. “And where’s that?” 

“JJ!” Mav said, pointing upward. 

JJ flinched, turned to Mav, then shifted his gaze to follow Mav’s finger. On the second story, Asaka and Dearil exited a door. They stood out like specters, wearing their black cloaks, and almost glided between people who were rushing to get to the first floor on the ladders. They leaped down, their descent slow. 

“Get the girl,” Mav said, core chilling as his flames grew brighter. “Then help Maren. I’ll handle them.” 

JJ nodded, then made for the ladder. Dearil reached for a knife, staring at JJ. 

“Distracting Stream!” 

Mav shoved his hands forward and expelled a line of fire. Asaka flicked his wrists and the two flew backward, escaping the flame but taking their eyes off JJ. Instead, Dearil threw the knife at Mav, then another as they reached the ground again. 

Mav sidestepped both, remaining away from their trajectory. Other people fled from Mav’s fire, but it didn’t appear any had been burned. All the while, Maren was climbing up the ladder and JJ was approaching it. 

“It’s rude to look away,” a deep, buttery voice said as a hand clamped around Mav’s throat. 

Asaka’s dark eyes glared into Mav’s. An immense pressure pulled Mav back into the dust, dragging Asaka along with him. 

Mav smirked. And he thought he was dumb. 

Mav locked Asaka’s arms together, then flipped him around so Asaka would slam into the wall. The pressure ceased and they hung in the air. In that moment, Mav set his neck ablaze. 

Asaka, almost as fast as the fire, flung his hand aside and pulled himself away. When he was standing again, he started nursing his wound. 

“Already forget I can make fire?” Mav asked. 

Asaka smirked. “It was a worthy sacrifice.” 

Before Mav could ask for what, a whooshing sound from all sides reached his ears. The two knives Dearil had thrown were twirling back to him. More reached for his back, but based on how close the noise was, Mav wouldn’t have enough time to dodge. 

“Small Impact!” 

Mav slammed his heel into the floor. The blast had only been meant to scatter the approaching knives, but it rocketed him upwards, as well. Mav turned, eyes flashing over the scene: Asaka was raising his hands, Dearil stood twenty feet away with an extended arm, JJ was entering a room on the second story, while Maren was climbing to the fourth story. 

And a knife was inches from Mav’s chest. 

Mav twirled. The blade was too close to grab or push away, so he let it sink into his right shoulder. Mav had been stabbed in fights before and this one wasn’t special. He didn’t feel the pain, but his upper torso jerked and what felt like warm water streamed down his chest. Then, the gravity kicked up and plummeted Mav into the ground. He spread his legs, landing in a squat, and glared at Asaka who was pushing his palms toward the floor. 

“Fireball!” 

A large sphere of flame formed before Mav’s chest, then flung toward Asaka. The terrorist released his hold on Mav and leaped away. The sphere didn’t explode, but Mav spread the fire across the floor in lines, reaching out to the edges of the room like he’d done against the abomination beneath Sekko. 

Both Asaka and Dearil stood together, between the web of flame. 

“You must be exhausted,” Dearil said, voice gruff and husky. 

“And so cold, having used your fire so often today,” Asaka said. 

“Nah, just pissed,” Mav said, removing the knife. Sure, blood flowed more freely, but the knife would have hindered Mav’s movements. For this fight, he needed to be as swift and deadly as he could. “This is my favorite vest.” 

The strings of fire below grew brighter. Asaka spread his hands and Dearil drew two knives. But they were too late. 

Titans help those people who hadn’t escaped the base before now. But they’d thrown their lot with a group of murderers who cared nothing about innocent people’s health and safety. They dug their grave. If the Titans saw fit, they’d burn in it. 

“Hell’s Domain!” 

The flames ascended, all the way to the ceiling fifty feet above.