The fury of winter stabs my hands with a thousand icicles, nearly leaping out and blanking the rough concrete ground as I skid across it, skin on my hands and chin scraping raw. Scrambling for balance, I flip over onto my back and scuttle backwards, breath stuttering.

A tall figure stands over me, face cast in deep shadow and the ends of the scarf wrapped around his face whipping in the wind that swirls around us. He holds a long, triple-edged knife in his left hand.

My stomach plummets through the ground, ice water stinging my skin. I am so dead. One stab of that knife and— Insides shuddering, I glance towards the entrance to a maze of alleys my attacker dragged me through. If I could get around him and dart through—

The figure jerks his hand down and wind blasts me in the face. "Don't even think about it."

Cringing away, I shuffle another inch back. "Who—who are you?" I think I already know, but I need confirmation. I need to know if I am royally screwed.

A laugh, rough and gravelly, fills the air. The figure slashes the air and, with a blast of wind, a ball of light appears over the figure's head, illuminating his face. "Oh, I think you know," he says, gray eyes fixing me with an almost gleeful evil stare. "You are on my territory, after all."

Everything inside of me freezes and bursts into icy flames, dragging an involuntary hiss through my teeth. "No." That face—those hard eyes—I've seen them before. Seen them in articles right under the ones about Blank Slate.

Cyclone.

Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot!

Cyclone prowls towards me and the ball of light follows, swinging his knife lazily like the tail of a cat about to pounce. "There it is: the fear. The panic. How delightful." He chuckles, stopping at my feet and crouching down to my level. "So you've heard of me, little citizen? Well, you should have heard of what I do to trespassers, then."

Eyes widening with malicious glee, he raises the knife and lunges forwards.

"NO!" Falling back, I fling up my arm, hand outstretched. My control slips and searing, frigid ice flies through my fingers.

Heavy breaths. Stillness. Something heavy on my stomach. The wind is gone. Cracking open my eyes, I peek over the arm thrown over my face for protection.

The knife is gone.

Cyclone's hand hovers over my stomach, curled around empty air. On my stomach are large lumps of ore, a sheet of plastic, and strips of some other material I don't recognise, the remains of what used to be his knife.

I...didn't touch it. Heart speeding, I drag my eyes to his face. It is a dark mask of shadows and hidden intent, but as I stare, he lifts his gaze to mine, the corners wrinkling as if he is smiling.

"Well hello, there, Blank Slate."

Snatching a lump of ore, I fling it in his face and kick his chest as hard as I can. Both land with a solid crack! and Cyclone reels back with a bellow.

I roll left, leap to my feet, and spring for the alley entrance. A blast of wind slams into my side and throws me into the wall, smacking my head against the concrete. I gasp, fireworks and static taking over my vision.

Cyclone's laugh, now coated in pain, reaches my ears through the screaming wind. "Not so fast." He stands up, lowering his hand from his face. His left eye is swollen shut and blood gushes down his face from his newly crooked nose and a gash on his forehead.

His other eye gleams, all hints of playfulness erased by a black, dangerous storm. "You know, when I first met you, I thought you would be a nuisance; a gnat to squish, yes, but nothing more."

Using the wall for balance, I push myself to a standing position. Wind snaps my clothes around me, clawing icy fingers through my scrapes and bruises. Static burns behind my eyes, tilting the world like rough waves in a storm, and an acrid taste coats the back of my mouth.

"Don't let him see how weak you are," a voice says somewhere from inside me. "Come on. Fight!"

Squinting, I narrow my eyes at Cyclone as he approaches, sliding my hands around for something—anything—useful. He's sneering as he talks, hands lifting to use his power. I tense. What is he saying?

"...I control the city, after all. I have fought tooth and claw for my place. I am rightfully the number one villain. And I was. But then you STOLE IT!" He snatches at the air then pulls his hands back, and the breath from my lungs is jerked out of my mouth.

I double over, choking. I can't breathe! I can't breathe! Each time I inhale, the air whooshes out, dragged by a stronger wind.

"There can only be one number one, and that is me alone! I am going to kill you!" He swings fist towards me.

Pain explodes in my side and a soundless cry bursts from my mouth. I slump over, wheezing. No, no, no! MOVE, Denizen! DO SOMETHING! A crushed can lies just in my blurry, dot-covered sight. With the last bit of strength in me, I snatch it, roll onto my back, and throw it at him, letting my power turn it into a deadly sheet of metal.

Like last time, the wind vanishes as Cyclone ducks. Precious air fills my lungs, banishing the dots. Pushing forwards, I grab another piece of garbage and scramble to my feet. Blanking it, I whip around just in time to block a punch.

Throwing my fist, I stab at him with the sheet of metal in my hand. He twists away and kicks out a foot. I dodge, swing to the side, and throw out my hand with a burst of power. His scarf falls to the ground in a shower of oil.

Cyclone slips and crashes to the ground face first with an enraged shriek. He rolls left and climbs to his feet, breathing heavily and holding one hand to his face. The air around us stills as he stares at me in the dim light.

Backing away into the middle of the dead-end alley without taking my eyes off him, I search my peripheral vision for more things to blank, breathing hard. Dumpster to the left. It's too far to reach in a lunge, but there's a can on the right which I can snatch.

Ice courses through my body, numbing the pain from my scrapes and bruises. I—can't last like this. I'm tired and he has long-range attacks while I only have short-range ones. If I can get close, I can blank him, but he knows that. He has to know that.

I can't win this fight.

Wind screams as Cyclone bursts to life. I throw myself down, the wind blasts over me, and throw the metal sheet at him. The wind whips around and catches it, throwing it back at me.

I roll, the metal scraping my shoulder, and fumble for my wrist. My finger catches the bump on the bracelet and switches it. Shame burns in my chest, but I shove it away. I am not going to die. Not here. Not now. Not to my enemy.

Just as I reach for the can and shove my feet under me, a gust tears the can away and throws me down. A foot stomps on my back and I fling my hand around, blanking the boot, and throw myself to the side.

Cyclone falls on me, knees digging into my ribs, and grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head. "Who," he snarls through heaving breaths, blood dripping from his face onto mine, "did you think you were, Viper pleaser, stealing my place like that? Are you a fool to think you could escape me forever?"

My face twists into a sneer as I struggle to breathe. Megabytes. No, terabytes! Come on, heroes. Come on! "Viper—pleaser?"

He spits blood into my face. "Oh please, I'm not an idiot. You have her stink all over you. I know she sent you just like I know what a pathetic fake you are!"

"I...work alone." The girl dusts off her pants, straightening and fixing me with a glare.

"You think I'd believe you'd pulled off that stunt with the heroes alone?" He laughs and tightens his grip, wind whipping through my hair and tugging at my breath. "You're more of a fool than I thought."

I open my mouth, but wind rips away my words.

"Oh no. I know that silver tongue of yours and I don't want to hear it. You're just as full of lies as—"

A blur collides with Cyclone, ripping him off of me. I catch a flash of violent blue as he and the blur tumble to the side, wrestling.

Cyclone breaks free and flings a gust at David only for it to be dissipated by an earth-shaking roar from Galah as she pulls up on a hoverboard. Cyclone snarls, and with a death glare in my direction, leaps into the air. A blast of wind much stronger than the rest sweeps into the alley and catches him, flinging him into the night sky.

Galah shoots after him, Aben seconds behind her on his own hoverboard. David watches them for a beat and comes to my side, kneeling, his concerned eyes the only feature visible on his face. "Denizen, are you okay? How injured are you?"

A knot unties itself in my chest and I slump. "David." The heroes are here. I am not going to die. I am not dead. "I'm—" My words die in my throat as my eyes land on Citizen bending over the remnants of the triple-edged knife.

It's obviously blanked. He'll recognize it as Blank Slate's work, which means I have to come up with a very good reason why he was here and why they won't be able to find him here (in the strict sense) right now. Adrenaline, which had been fading, hits me with full force again, turning my body into a shaky, useless noodle.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. A wobbly laugh that has nothing to do with amusement bursts from my mouth. I'm so screwed.