RF67

The clash of metal ahead drew her on and Summer left the thief behind, cutting ahead and through a narrow corridor. An open door at the end led out into what appeared to be a large causeway made of metal suspended over a much bigger room below. Broken skylights cast illumination inside that rendered her scroll unnecessary.

There, in the centre of it, two figures were locked in mortal combat.

One was Tyrian; Summer recognised him immediately. The other, she would swear she'd never seen. A girl that looked as old as Yang, yet was moving as fast as Summer could, bending and flipping around Tyrian's weapon and his inky-black tail, wielding a thin rapier with precise strikes. Her multi-coloured hair marked her the ally of Torchwick, if the fact she was fighting Tyrian didn't already.

Sumer looked for Emerald and saw her beyond, slumped on her side and not moving.

The moment that took cost her ally. The girl ducked under the knife, side-stepped the tail but couldn't quite escape the wrist-blades of Tyrian's other hand. She leaned back to try and avoid impalement, bending almost double. They scraped across her breastbone, cutting through cloth and skin. Tyrian planted a foot in her chest and kicked off, flipping in the air with agility that belied his size.