DN - Ocean Hold

He’s about to push my nose in flat and I jerk my head to the side—he goes wrist-deep in the ground, and I whip my head back to pin him there while my legs slither out from under him, wrap and lock tight around his middle. With my good arm I gouge my thumb two knuckles deep into his eye socket and use the distraction of the pain to get us airborne again.

If this doesn’t work, I’ll probably die here in the next few minutes. Either way, this son of a bitch is going to know he was in a fight.

My shoulders smash through the broad stairs leading to the field like a ship’s prow, tossing up a spray of stone and dust. My thumb squelches in his eye, and I’ve hooked it around to get a grip on his skull from the inside.

His punches are frantic, wild. My nose crunches, my molars are loose. My broken arm is one glowing brick of pain. It doesn’t matter. Because I’ve remembered something important.

There was a group photo taken after the Northern Union superteam stopped that asteroid from hitting us three years ago. I remember I bought a glossy copy because I was hoping to get it signed someday. In that photo, Thunderbolt was wearing a pressure suit, unlike the old Dreadnought. That’s because Dreadnought could hold his breath for hours on end. So can I. Thunderbolt couldn’t. And Sovereign is using Thunderbolt’s powers.

We hit the water at nearly the speed of sound. Half-delirious with pain, struggling to keep my hold on the lattice, I didn’t fly well. It feels like I hit every wall and piece of furniture I could on the way off the island. But it doesn’t matter, because my legs are still locked around his waist, and my hand is still locked into his head, and we are headed as far down as I can drag us.

The water is cold. It’s heavy. The salt stings my wounds. In a matter of moments we’re in darkness, and the pressure is a vice grip. The water slows his punches—they hurt, but not so much. My thumb comes out of his eye with a blooming black cloud, and I make a steel band of my arm around the back of his head, lock him in tight to my chest and throat.

Down, down, deeper we go. The anchor cables for Cynosure slide past, a dark bamboo forest reaching down to infinity. High above us, daylight winks dimly through the rippling scales of the surface.

I can tell the moment he figures out what’s going to happen. There is a horrified stillness, and then he begins to thrash. Electricity floods out from him, as much as he can make, but in his panic he can’t focus it to make it behave unnaturally like he normally can. It flows over my suit’s insulation and heads to the sea floor, harmlessly. My broken arm is as far out of the way as I can get it, and I clench tight to him with every other muscle I have. You’re down here with me, Sovereign. You’re down here until I decide to let you go. You don’t get to hurt anybody else. It’s over.

Flickering bolts of power squirm up and down his arms as he tries to shock me loose. The first bubbles escape his mouth, and just for a second I loosen my thighs so that I can slam them back down and turn the trickle into a geyser. A lungful of air bloops out of his mouth and races to daylight. He’s clawing at me now, fingers digging for purchase against my screwed-shut eyes. I turn my head to deny him leverage and hold on.

I watch his heart slam in his chest. I watch his legs thrash and twist. Not much longer now. He’s still hurting me. His attacks still land. But I’m tougher than he imagined I was, and more deliberately cruel. They never see it coming. They never expect that someone who looks like me could have so much calm, considered malice at her disposal. By the time they figure it out, it tends to be too late.

The last handfuls of breath escape his chest. He spasms, seawater rushing into his lungs, plumping them out tight. He thrashes again, harder than ever, and then goes still. Cautiously, I loosen my legs. He stays limp in the water and begins to sink.

I am not undefeated.

I am undefeatable.

- Sovereign, Chapter 29