“Tasnim?”

There was no way he was out of range.

“Tasnim, do you copy?”

“You!”

Henry glanced down at the redheaded woman pointing at him.

“Get down here!” Her French accent was as thick as her hair. Her three companions—a willowy, bearded man, a blonde woman, and a man with a pencil-thin goatee that looked like it came out of the 1600s—pointed pistols at him.

“Shit…” Henry muttered to himself.

“Who are you?” the French woman asked.

Henry peered down at the Latins. “It’s typically polite to introduce yourself before asking another to do so.”

“You deal with Trajan Squad. Now, get down here if you know what’s good for you.”

The redhead must’ve been Trajan 1. Callsign Josephine, if he recalled. He had heard of a Slavic Magician who’d taken his own life with just a few words from her.

There was no talking this out.

Fine.

Taking a deep breath, Henry forsook oxygen to cultivate it all into the life energy commonly known as Qi, allowing him use of Five Elements Fist, the Heaven and Earth Society’s arcane martial art.

He channeled the Qi through his veins into Fire Style, giving his muscles a boost of explosive strength.

“I do not like to repeat myself, Defector,” Josephine said, goading him.

Henry leapt off the Arch with superhuman strength, throwing a spinning kick, with two stories of freefall to build up, into the goatee man’s head. His enemy’s neck snapped upon impact.

Henry landed with a shoulder roll, grabbed the blonde woman by her shirt, and threw her over his hip and into the ground. Before Josephine could even react, Henry closed the distance and threw a punch straight to her sternum, stealing the air from her lungs. As she collapsed, coughing, he turned and grabbed the willowy man by the hair, pulling the man’s head into his knee.

Henry sprinted towards his objective once he finished dealing with the Latins.

Down the gravel path that used to be a road, he ran towards the museum, finding the woman who’d stolen the coin attempting to be stealthy.

He rushed up from behind her, wrapping his arm around her neck as his hand shoved its way into her pocket. He yanked out a small, circular object wrapped in purple cloth. It was kind of large for a coin, but he could feel something arcane coming from it, even with his blunted senses.

The woman took him by surprise, slamming her elbow into his ribs and pushing him away, ready to fight before she noticed the coin in his hand.

“You’re not with any of the Circles, are you?” she asked. “We can talk about this, can’t we?” Though her accent was light, it was definitely German.

“Pass,” Henry said, pocketing the coin. He couldn’t let her get another shot at him like that again. The coin was distracting him from being properly aware.

The woman opened her mouth to speak again, but fell silent as her gaze went past him.

“Hanying.”

Henry’s whole body went cold as a familiar voice reached his ears.

What were they doing here? Now? Of all times?

The Tiandihui had months to interrupt him. And they had to pick now? How had they even gotten the information? He had stolen it from them before they got the chance to read it.

His fists clenched as he turned to face three figures approaching his standoff with the woman. On either flank of the central figure stood a Magician wearing a Beijing opera mask, obscuring their faces. The central figure had the face of a kindly man in his later years, but a smug expression of superiority written over it. With only humble black robes and a white brimmed hat, Fang Sima—better known to Henry as Mr. Fang—stood with his arms folded behind his back.

With half of Zhao Squad.

Judging by the green mask on the woman with him and the yellow mask on the man with him, Henry was looking at his old comrades, Guoxing Min and Tao Shen.

He wondered where the other three were—specifically, where Weiying was.

Shen, in yellow and black, rested his hand on the pommels of his double Chinese broadswords. Min, in black and green silks, readied her metal fans for a fight.

“Who’s this?” Fang asked, pointing out the German woman with his chin. “You were never one for impulsive team-ups, Hanying.”

“The Tiandihui has never been one for inserting itself into foreign affairs,” Henry growled. “Don’t you have Chinese artifacts to look for?”

“Don’t give me that. You have even less reason to be here than us.” Fang gave Henry a knowing look to punctuate his point. “Is this going to come down to a fight?”

“Depends.” Henry sighed. “Are you gonna fuck off?”

Fang pursed his lips. Henry tensed his legs, ready to spring into action. He met the gaze of the German woman, whose face betrayed her anxiety.

His eyes darted between Min, Fang, and Shen. He could take Min and Shen in a fight. But Fang? That was a whole other can of worms. 

He could hear footsteps behind him, the remaining Latins having recovered from the beatdown he dealt them. Maybe they could take care of Fang.

The old man broke the silence. “Go.”

Shen and Min leapt into action, closing the distance between the Chinese and the Latins like thunderbolts.

The Europeans responded with gunfire and spell-slinging.

Henry flinched out of the way of a bullet from Josephine’s gun before he rushed in to take her out of the fight again.

“Stop.” Her voice echoed in his head as his body locked up against his will. 

She began to say something else before a bolt of golden light from the still-glowing palm of the German woman sent her to the ground.

Henry turned on instinct, only to get kneed in the ribs by Mr. Fang. His old mentor backed away rather than following up, dancing on the balls of his feet.

Henry breathed through the pain and drew his butterfly swords, fueling his body with Qi, increasing his speed and agility with Five Elements Fist’s Metal Style. 

He descended on Fang with a storm of slashes as fast as a machine gun, but the old man swayed around his flurry of strikes as if he were dodging clumsy punches from a shitty boxer.

Henry backed off, panting slightly.

“Hanying,” Fang said, aggressively neutral.

“I don’t like repeating myself,” Henry said. “Fuck off.”

“That’s no way to talk to a teacher, pupil,” Fang said. “Past or otherwise, show due respect.”

“I’m done learning from you!” Henry spat.

While not as fast as his last assault, he attacked Fang with a more diverse array of strikes, making it harder to evade. Fang, in turn, started parrying with short, snappy, efficient Wing Chun ripostes.

“You can’t keep this up forever!”

 “Nor can you, Hanying. I highly doubt you’ve managed to match your stamina with mine in the last year and a half.”

This contest wasn’t remotely fair. Even unarmed, Fang had taught Henry everything he knew about fighting. Henry would keel over from exhaustion before Fang took a scratch.

At least, so long as this kept up.

Henry tossed his left sword to his right as he undid the knot of his rope dart with his teeth and threw the dagger out.

The blade flew forth, scraping Mr. Fang’s cheek. A gash the size of a paper cut appeared on his face as Henry pulled the dart back.

He stowed his swords as Fang blinked in genuine surprise. “You like it? Made it myself.” He spun the rope dart, keeping it moving as he glared.

Henry threw the dart underhanded. Fang ducked under it. So he wrapped it over his elbow and shot it again, missing a second time. But Fang was barely dodging, still somewhat shocked by the revelation.

Was it that unthinkable that Henry would continue learning without the Tiandihui?

Henry kicked the dart out, slicing Fang’s arm as he tried to parry the soft weapon.

He pulled the dart back and started to spin it as his tunnel vision towards Mr. Fang faded. The Latins were on the ground, taken care of. And he spotted the bright violet silk dress adorning Lu Ying, Zhao Squad’s resident Daoist caster. Not far, of course, was Chen Bo, clad head to toe in modern body armor, aside from his opera mask, and carrying a rifle.

So Zhao Squad was here in full. Almost.

Henry canvassed the area in less than a second, keeping his eye out for Weiying.

He spared a glance back to find Min and Shen cornering him and the German woman together.

“Swords, miaodao, guandao, and now this?” Fang chuckled. “Don’t you remember my first lesson? Don’t be the rabbit that drops the carrots he’s picked to pick up another.”

“Shut up!” Henry hissed as he shot the dart from around his back. He pulled it back and tossed it under his leg before kicking it out.

This time, Mr. Fang caught the dart and pulled, reeling him in. Before he knew it, Henry’s own weapon was strangling him.

He choked for air, but Fang’s grip was like iron, though his old mentor never pulled so tightly he couldn’t breathe at all.

He didn’t need Fang’s sympathy. He didn’t need anyone’s charity.

Henry slammed his elbow back, but Fang just took the chance to bind his arm to his back in the process.

“You’re not ready for soft weapons, rabbit.”

“You’re the herd of rabbits. A tiger hunts alone.” Henry struggled to no avail in spite of his bravado.

“Rabbit or tiger, you’re still a beast. Stop being so stubborn,” Fang said. “I’m trying to let you leave here alive.”

“I don’t need you…” Henry strained. “To go easy on me!”

“Then do better or give in.”

A flash of light flooded Henry’s vision. Even though it seared his retinas, he managed to slip out from Fang’s grip and disentangle himself before stumbling away, half-blind.

The German girl grabbed his wrist and dragged him away as the other members of Zhao Squad chased after them.

Henry yanked both himself and the girl around a corner and into a somewhat-intact stone building housing an ancient oil press.

He kept his eyes on the road until Zhao Squad ran past him, letting out a sigh only once they were headed towards the governor’s palace. Glancing at the German girl, he narrowed his eyes. “Why did you help me?”

“Is the squad of Magicians hunting us not a good enough reason?” She raised an eyebrow. “I made a mistake before. I’m on my own as well. I’d rather have you as a friend.”

“Friend? We’re half-strangers at best.” Henry tried to patch into his radio. “Tasnim. Tasnim! Come in, dammit!”

He sighed. He might as well make sure he actually got the coin he was looking for before making a break for it.

He untied the twine holding the cloth wrap in place and unraveled it.

His breath caught in his throat as he gazed upon the perfectly polished gold sheen of the coin. There were plenty of images, words, and symbols dotting the abnormally large coin. Lots to analyze once he got out alive.

Henry grabbed the coin and held it before him.

The German girl gasped. “Wait, don’t—”

His heart dropped as a wave of intangible power exploded from the coin, rippling across Volubilis.

It was like a giant, blinking arcane sign that pointed to his exact location.

He cursed under his breath, wrapping the coin back up. Thankfully, the cloth seemed to obscure the signal. But the damage was already done.

“Run!” the girl hissed.

Henry wasn’t going to question that. He leapt from the shelter of the mill and sprinted towards the museum.

He half-ran, half-tumbled down the hill of ruins towards the museum. He scrambled to his feet at the bottom, only for Shen to land in front of him, having leapt off the roof of the museum.

Henry moved to slip past him, but his flank was cut off by a spray of bullets from on high. Chen Bo stood atop the museum’s roof. Min and Lu Ying blocked his escape to his right. He turned to find Mr. Fang helping Shen to his feet.

His mind scrambled for an answer to his current predicament.

“Henry,” Min called out to him from behind, “you’ve got nowhere to go. Give up the coin.” She undid her mask, letting her face wear another, more deceitful visage shaped like concern. He knew she hated him, believing Weiying at his word. Of everyone here, she had the biggest grudge.

He was surrounded again.

“Tasnim!” Henry roared. The radio had to be malfunctioning. If he yelled, maybe she could hear him.

They waited a few seconds. Nothing.

“Tasnim…is that the Moroccan girl you had posted up with a rifle?” Lu Ying chuckled.

“What did you do?” Henry demanded.

“Touchy, aren’t we?” Lu Ying’s condescending tone mocked him with vicious poison. “Were you two friends?”

Mr. Fang sighed. “Your Moroccan friend took off with the slightest threat from Lu Ying. You should really keep better company.”

Henry gritted his teeth. His ego bruised and his skills outmatched, he became desperate, searching for something to get himself out of here.

Chen Bo called from the rooftop. “Hand over the coin. For old times’ sake, we may let you live, traitor.”

He remembered the bomb hidden under his jacket.

“‘Old times?’ Fuck you, Chen Bo.” Henry scoffed. He pulled the canister out from his jacket and threw it at his former ally.

But he should’ve known Fang would be fast enough to throw a knife from under his sleeve at the bomb.Dangerously close to both Henry and Fang, the bomb exploded. The blast ripped through Henry’s ears and threw him back. His head bounced off a wall, causing his consciousness to vanish.