"Don't try to bait me, Marshal. I know your tricks." You've been subjected to them for years, the loaded question, the quiet prodding, everything tailored to produce a reaction, answers you don't want to give.
Steel always wanted to know your secrets, and unlike Ortega, who wore his curiosity proudly, he kept being underhanded about it. Little barbs. Getting under your skin. Digging around for what you weren't telling. Provoking.
You're not going to fall for it now; instead, you raise your fists in a challenge. You'll show him.
Enough talk, time for action.
You know you need to take the initiative, so you do, cautiously descending the stairs. He's got the range, and you don't. Ready to jump back at a moment's notice, you focus on using the awkwardness of fighting in a staircase to your advantage. You're faster, you know that. Your blow is hard enough to make him stumble, but nothing more. Disappointing.
Steel's retaliation strike comes in low, the fist heavy enough to dent your armor, had it connected. You slip back with liquid grace, moving outside Steel's reaction arc. At least the one you surmised he had.
Someone has gotten an upgrade.
His arm sweeps out, the angle inhuman, shoulder joints of metal lacking the limitations of flesh.
The blow hits you straight in the throat, and the impact causes you to gasp even through your armor. Gasp. Not choke.
This Will Be Fun
Fighting Steel is not like fighting Ortega, and even less like fighting Argent. You have the advantage of the cramped space and the fact that he is trying to stop you from going after Carter.
Will that be enough?
You've had two months to get comfortable in your armor; he's had decades. He has the United States government footing the bill, bringing the expertise, and you have what? An eccentric scientist? A bunch of rats?
Dr. Mortum will be pleased your armor is holding up well. When Steel's blows hit, it diffuses the impact, and when yours do the same…perhaps it hurts? You're not sure, Steel is hard to read at any given time, and underneath his helmet, it's impossible.
It's a thrill to be able to match him blow for blow, but there's something that bothers you.
You still haven't used your greatest weapon. Neither has he.
Why?
You know there are more dangerous missiles integrated into his shoulder mounts and a close-range plasma welder in his fist. Things used to crack open armor heavier than yours, and yet he's only fired stunners. Is he afraid of killing you? Is he obeying Carter's instructions and keeping the collateral damage down? Does he really think he can take you down without breaking out the big guns? If so, he's mistaken.
At the back of your mind, the Rat King chitters encouragements; in your palm, the nanovores rest impatiently.
You could end this right now. You could reach out and devour his armor. And his mods.
Maybe that's what's stopping you. How would you make the nanovores separate the armor from the man? Steel is reliant on cybernetics to function; it's not just mods for mods' sake.
You could kill him if you miscalculated even a little. Would you care?
It's a risk you have to take if you want to beat Steel; you can't afford to hesitate if you get a chance. If you get one. You know the limits of your little herd of monsters, the more compact the structure, the longer it takes to devour. And Steel's armor is bound to be treated against surface aggressors; there are enough acid and napalm-wielding villains out there that it would make sense.
You need a breach to get to those juicy innards, but that's proving to be tricky.
Maybe…
BOOOOOM!
The explosion rocks the building, large enough to shift the entire staircase as the structure buckles, part of the house collapsing into rubble. You and Steel struggle to remain on your feet, but it's not the structural damage that makes you stumble.
It's the screams.
Screams desperate enough to cut through your mental shields, panicked, hurt, some fizzling out too fast, there's a fire! You shake your head, people are trapped. Rubble has blocked the exit and the fire is closing in on them.
"What did you do?" The Marshal's shields crack, at last, revealing his anger at having misjudged you and what is obviously a distraction. Anger and worry, people are hurt, and the rest of the team is not available. This is all on him. The building is burning, civilians are in danger, and Marshal Steel is just one man.
Alone. Without backup. That changes things.