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... Titan.

But the victory was short-lived.

From across the field, a familiar voice rang out.

"You... I remember you!" Piolet stepped through the smoke and stopped as he saw her.

His lips curled up. "You are slave number 32."

Lyra didn’t flinch. "I’m not a slave. My name is Lyra!"

She rushed at him, ready to strike.

But she never made it.

Piolet’s fist slammed into her stomach mid-air.

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***

She: insidious, deceitful!

Him: despicable, shameless!

Passerby A: So they are a match made in heaven?

Passer-by: Bah, that’s called working in collusion!

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