Thirteen whirled too late. Slate's body crashed against him, pinning him to the ground. His gun flew out of his hands, the grass devouring all traces of it. He swiveled back to find Slate straddling him, a dagger poised to stab him. Tears trailed down her face, for whatever reason. Why would people act upon impulse, based on misguided feelings of loyalty, anger, grief, and vengeance?

"You let them die? That's the plan?" Slate wailed. "You killed them!"

The blade went down. A loud clang, and it zipped across the clearing. Slate tumbled off him, clutching her injured hand. Five's shadow fell over him, and reached down. Her grip closed around Slate's arm, pulling the girl up. "Stand down," she ordered. "Thirteen did what he did because he had a plan. You have no business intruding on that."

Slate wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Violently. She glared at him through bloodshot eyes. How dare she? Not only did she ruin a fraction of Thirteen's plan, she managed to disarm him. The gun was lost somewhere, and without it, he was powerless against Karrel.

"The only reason we're still here is because Thirteen has to face such sacrifices," Five said. She turned to Karrel who had stumbled away from the chaos to recuperate. "Don't question it."

Thirteen staggered up and dusted his trousers. "Get lost, Slate," he snapped. "I'll deal with you later."

Slate's fists balled, but when Five jerked her chin to a vague direction, she deflated. She wasn't wanted here, and it became apparent. "I won't forgive you," she spat, throwing another acidic scowl in Thirteen's direction. "Ever."

Thirteen dipped his head at her. "Wasn't the first time I heard that," he said. "My pleasure."

A weight threw him back down. Karrel's curls rained on his face, blocking most of his vision. "You vile creature," she rasped, fumbling around for Thirteen's throat. "How did you brainwash them that easily? Someone like you doesn't deserve to live."

He clawed at her hands when they found purchase and squeezed. "Someone like me wanted nothing but to live," he groaned out. "Too bad."

Black spots flitted in his vision as Karrel tightened her grip. Thirteen gasped and choked, his fingers losing more of their strength with each second. Then, a strong force slammed into Karrel, throwing her off him. Thirteen hacked and rolled over, spitting blood onto the grass. He cursed, knowing what ripped the leader away.

Eight stood there, her hair a matted mess at the side of her head. Her chest heaved. Her arms were outstretched, and her eyes shone with the characteristic glint of having an activated ability. Oh, no. No. NO.

A smile tore Karrel's lips apart, showing off her neat rows of teeth. Her gaze fixed solely on Thirteen. Shit. He told them specifically to not use their abilities with Karrel around! What was Eight thinking?!

Five lurched forward, throwing herself into Karrel's path before the latter could unleash a torrent on the ability's owner. Karrel whipped her hands in a wide arc. An audible howl stirred the clearing, tearing through the grass roots. A huge vortex of wind slammed into Five, plucking her off the ground and flinging her over the canopies. Thirteen didn't wait to see if she made it down unscathed. She would have broken a rib or two, at the least.

Eight rushed in next, only to be held back by Karrel. "Do you know what my ability is?" she said. "I can replicate whatever ability I can sense, and cause the original to malfunction."

The dark-haired girl smirked as she skidded back under her own forceful gale. "You're the real ability thief," she said. "Stop soiling our leader's reputation, jealous bitch."

Karrel's eyes widened. With a shriek, she sent Eight after Five. Thirteen gave up looking for his gun, and instead undid the bandage on his wrist. He drew the first chip from his arsenal and slotted it into the ready wound courtesy of Five's dagger. Karrel got over her initial high of tasting an ability by the time Thirteen tied the bandage back despite the pulsing pain in his flesh. Like that moment in the warehouse, the familiar warmth raced across his veins and drummed behind his eyeballs. It was like his blood flowed backwards and rushed between his ears. Close to it, anyway.

When the leader's shadow zipped towards him, he scrambled back, lashing out with his arm. Ice spread from his hands and formed a thin wall between them. Karrel barreled through, fire lashing from her eyes with nothing but sheer willpower. It was only between them, and if Thirteen was being honest, he didn't want to be the one who had to die. He would kill Karrel if he had to. Just so he could survive.

His life must be worth more than being a laboratory's plaything. He couldn't die in an experiment and as an independent variable. Everything shouldn't be an elaborate equation, and he refused to be a part of that damned function. That...determined set.

The ice wall, as flimsy as it was, shattered. Karrel's arm tapered into uneven shards of ice, slashing for Thirteen's heart. He jumped back, catching a trunk on his back. Opportunity flashed in Karrel's face as she moved for the kill. Air pushed his hair away from his forehead as he ducked, tackling the leader at the waist. He shoved her off when his back was to the open.

Distance. He needed distance between them. He was useless without an ability, and it wasn't helpful when he had one. What to do...

A boot slammed into his chest, throwing him back. From deep within his jacket, he heard distinct cracks, both from the impact and the hearty thud he made on the floor. Oh. The chips. He never should have put them in spaces where he could fall on them. Another mistake, right there. He swiped his hand, raising yet another ice wall before Karrel could pummel him clean again.

He unfurled the bandage and chucked it aside. He didn't have twelve seconds. Not anymore. He pried the chip and transferred it to a different pocket. He felt inside his jacket and drew the first functional chip he could. Just as the shards groaned and shattered upon impact, Thirteen scurried away and swept his hand across the ground. Deposits from the ground rose to the air, accumulating to form sharp darts. He sent them forward in a deadly shower.

Karrel's eyes widened, recognizing the ability. Oh, she must hate it. So much. Her steps lengthened; her movements sharpened. Thirteen rained as many darts as his new ability could afford him, keeping her away from him. Why wasn't she retaliating by replicating them? Was there something different when they manifested from him?

He'd stick with that. Karrel didn't give him time to ponder on it as she wove past the darts' trajectory and hurtled straight into his personal space. She lashed out, her fist catching his jaw. He tumbled down, pain stinging his cheek. He rolled when she bore down on him with more punches. Her sword was lost somewhere in the chaos, which was a good thing. He staggered up, ripping Caden's chip off his arm. No ability could help him now. Karrel was close. Too close.

The rest of Section M wasn't coming to help him. Not now. They have explicit orders to never come back for him no matter the outcome of this counter. It was the only way he could ensure the maximum number of people could survive. If Thirteen wasn't able to kill Karrel here, Five could take up the mantle by the next counter. That was how Section M worked.

Karrel lunged and tackled him to the ground. His back hit the compact soil, punching air out his lungs. "Whatever you think you did on these abilities," she hissed, drawing Five's dagger from the back of his boot. He had forgotten it was there in the first place. Crap. "It will not help you win."

She twisted the dagger in her hand so that the blade pointed away from her. "This is where you end," she said.

Thirteen's periphery registered a trace of black and gold a few inches away. The gun. That was where it ended up? Karrel's arm snapped down. Thirteen slapped her wrist and spun to where he spied the gun last. His fingers closed around the grip panel as the blade's taper glinted in his periphery. A sliver of warmth zoomed through his veins. An ability? He didn't have a chip on. Whatever. He twisted back, bringing the gun up. The dagger pierced through his sleeve. He clicked the trigger.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

The magazine emptied.

Karrel slumped forward, the dagger clattering by Thirteen's ear. "I was...faster," she muttered in his other ear, most of it blocked by the comms. It sounded a lot like a whimper. Like a child complaining to their parents about a stolen candy. "I was faster..."

The cold overtook her body, as if Thirteen's breaths sucked the life out of her. He...Karrel was dead. It was over. He pushed her off him and gathered his weapons. The gun was useless now. If not for Five's bullets, he couldn't fire anything through this. The dagger, though, he could use. As for the chips...

He removed his jacket and checked the stitched pockets lining the inside. A few damaged ones. He could live with what he had left. His thoughts chimed to the earlier encounter. Before Karrel keeled over, she claimed she was faster. And she was, by a greater degree. How come Thirteen shot her? Not once, but thrice. She could have dodged, but she didn't. She could have plunged her dagger through Thirteen's head, ending it for the both of them. But she didn't. Why?

I was faster. She believed she was until the very end. Maybe it was the adrenaline talking, but he swore he felt a rush through his veins even though he didn't have a chip installed. Was that...an ability? Or at least, a start of one? Did he induce one to himself from his limited exposure to other chips and using their abilities?

The Founding Chip. Could it be possible that even if it has already induced an ability in one host, it could still work in another body? He looked at his hands, his mind already whirling with all the possibilities. His chip was faulty or it was purposefully left empty, but that didn't stop him from getting his hands on an ability.

I was faster. Truth was a relative concept, and Karrel paid the price believing hers. In her mind, she had every chance in ending Thirteen, but for some reason, he made her slower than she was. I was faster. She was, but at the same time, she wasn't. Was Thirteen the cause of that? If so, then his ability let him control time itself. Or at least, a person's perception of it.

What a drastic change in his calculations. But none of that. The Game was over. He'd get out of this mess, maybe forget about everything too.

Thirteen survived. Soon, he would be free.