Meg raised her hand redirecting the attention of the antsy soldiers. “That is a fully functioning medical lab, but for our purposes today, it can be our safehouse in the event we need to fall back and/or take care of injured.”
She didn’t wait for a reaction, but pressed on explaining the locations and nature of the four IEDs before she took a deep breath and dropped the bombshell.
“...and that will be your objective: protect the house from siege—my family will need a safe place to regroup once they’ve joined us.”
“Excuse me, Miss Winter, but you keep using phrases like, ‘your objective.’ Where do you plan to be during the attack?” Valen asked, skepticism clear in her eyes.
54 And That’s What You Get for Bringing a Psychic to a Knife Fight
Meg took a deep breath and pressed on, “I will be out there,” she waved indiscriminately, “attacking them using guerilla tactics.”
“By yourself?” Nate blurted out.
“I can handle myself.” The incredulous looks cast by the metahumans fed two things in Meg: 1) her need to prove her trustworthiness and 2) her sensitive ego. She stifled her need to boost her ego but knew she had to assuage their fears.
“This is my home. I know the terrain. I’m an avid runner and have mentally mapped the ranch’s twenty acres. Where we’re standing is smack-dab in the middle of our land. This is my home-turf, ladies and gentlemen. Every crevice, every overgrown, rocky hill—the thick cluster of woods, wild brush, cactus patches, creeks—I could tell you where every anthill is if you wanted to know. I have a pretty good idea where they will make camp and the path they will take to engage. We’re at the advantage in so many ways. I have already hidden your blocks of C4 in key locations and will detonate at the most advantageous moments. Also, I will use my mind manipulation gifts to pick apart the enemy—igniting sloppy acts of revenge and an overall sense of demoralization.”
“That’s not good enough. We’re risking our lives acting as immobile targets trapped in this place. I need to know you can do what you claim before I trust you,” Valen rested her hands on her muscular hips. Her body language as much as her words openly challenging Meg.
Meg simply nodded and began disarming herself. Off went the weapons vest, belt and thigh holsters. “We don’t have time for mistrust between us, Valen. Let’s get this over with.” Meg stood arms hanging freely at her empty sides.
“Fine,” Valen locked her jaw and started to remove her weapons.
“That’s not necessary. Stay fully armed, just for the sake of time. Let’s have it, Valen. Attack me.”
The other metahumans instinctively backed away as far as the walls of the barn would allow. Others scurried up to the loft for an aerial view.
Soldier’s code dictated Valen seek her Company Leader’s approval before accepting an unauthorized match. Rhett looked between Meg’s locked jaw and Valen’s.
“Make it fast, and try not to kill each other,” he grumbled and crossed his thick arms over his chest.
Valen leveled her gaze at Meg as she raised her fists and began circling.
Meg stood still.
Just as Valen moved beyond Meg’s peripherals, she shot forward and hissed into Meg’s ear. “You’d better take me seriously, Original.”
“Of course I do, Valen.”
“Then why aren’t you engaging?”
“I don’t have to touch you to engage.”
“Humor me,” Valen challenged. She crossed her arms to reach for the six-inch blades she had harnessed there. The gasps of surprise from the company echoed off the concrete floor as they waited to see what she would do.
Valen crouched, her eyes ever watchful of Meg, and laid one of the blades down in front of Meg’s boot before stepping back.
“As you wish,” Meg nodded toward the blades acknowledging them. With a swift kick of her boot the blade flew into Meg’s outstretched hand. In the same motion, Meg flung it straight up embedding it harmlessly into the rafters.
Valen only had time to register Meg’s movement and a flash of the blade. Assuming Meg was attacking first, Valen spun into the air and landed in a crouched position before leaping forward and slicing the air where Meg’s face had just been. Meg flung herself backward and used her momentum to backflip out of reach. Valen’s blade didn’t hesitate. She stabbed toward Meg’s torso, only to find Meg had pivoted aside.
Droplets of perspiration blossomed on her forehead, but Valen was undeterred. She tightened her grip on the handle of the blade and exploded into a barrage of rapid lunges, jabs, swipes, slices and thrusts that only ever diced the shadowed air around Meg’s graceful, evasive movements. If the others hadn’t known this sparing match was unrehearsed, they would have sworn the females had choreographed the fight. It looked more like a dance than a battle.
Valen leaped back, her dry blade still clutched in her now sweaty hand. She was panting as she frowned in disbelief at Meg.
Meg straightened calmly. Her breathing was slow and steady.