The submerged anger grew fiercer, but Quinn could feel it tugging on the strings of her own panic as well. They were on the backfoot, disarmed and outnumbered, and every second that passed saw their body whittled down more and more. Her sides flamed, her ankles were cut up and her balance suffered. Blood dripped down over her eyes, stung, messed with her vision. 

Surely the phase was close; the static was louder, sure, but the truth was that time protracted in such close quarters. She still needed a minute, maybe more. Too long. 

The bladed Modir kept on her, swiping and slicing, and whenever it missed, or Quinn managed to deflect its attacks, the spearman slunk in and jabbed to cover it. Its point caught her twice, thrice in the gut and chest, piercing organs that only people like Tillie really understood, but linked up with [i]Ablaze[/i] Quinn could feel they were vital in some fashion. Modium poured from her, dousing the fire and salting the earth with poison where it landed. 

[color=black][i]We don’t die![/i][/color] came the indignant roar from within. [color=black][i]We don’t give![/i][/color]

If she could only summon her cannon.

“[color=gray]Quinn! Two more![/color]” 

[i]Two more[/i]. 

They emerged, one bolting forth with an axe taller than it was raised above its head. The second took a knee far back, and though Quinn might have been preoccupied, [color=black]she[/color] flared with urgency. 

[color=black][i]Quinn—![/i][/color]

But she was too late this time. A beam of energy, fired from a rifle of some kind, blasted through the gut of the bladed Modir, who staggered but did not die, and impacted [i]Ablaze[/i]’s hand, shearing three of her fingers clean off. [color=black]Quinnlash[/color] couldn’t catch it all, and pain, true pain, shot all the way up her shoulder and into her heart. 

The rifleman stayed put, perhaps lining up another shot, but the spearman obfuscated her. The bladed Modir got back to its feet with an angry growl, gaping hole in its stomach. 

Thirty seconds was an optimistic count. 

“[color=gray]Quinn get up![/color]” Besca shouted over the comms, desperate. “[color=gray]Get up, hun, just run! Just buy time, you gotta—[/color]”

The comms stuttered, and then there was the ping of someone joining their channel. Was it Deelie? No, a mental glance registered the newcomer as…

“[color=gray]ESC? Who is this?[/color]”

And, in a voice utterly wrecked by static and volume peaking, Besca got her answer. 

“[COLOR=fc4a03][i]WOO—o…OOO—oOOO—H…oO—HOOOOOOO![/i][/color]

Sort of. 

The quartet of Modir all stopped, their eyes turned skyward. A meteor plummeted to the earth, consumed by fire, and impacted the field between Quinn and the two newcoming Modir. The ground erupted in a geyser of dirt and fire, and as the smoke cleared, a lone figure rose within the crater.

It was a Savior, not quite as lean as [i]Ablaze[/i], but sleek and powerful. Its plating was red as fire, accented ivory over the modium-black flesh. A pair of horns, not too dissimilar to those on [i]Dragon[/i]’s head struck out from its skull, and though all Modir wore a flayed rictus, this one truly seemed to [i]grin[/i] as though exhilarated by every breath. 

It reached an arm up, and yanked down a greatsword to rival itself in height. Yet, with the grace and ease with which one might wield a baton, it twirled the thing up and let it come to rest across its shoulders. Lazily, it glanced back to Quinn. If it weren’t for the fact that Saviors didn’t have eyelids, she might have been able to swear it [i]winked[/i] at her. 

“[COLOR=fc4a03]ESC [i]Firebrand[/i], reporting for duty.[/color]” A woman’s voice, though there was the pep and excitement of someone Quinn’s age in it. “[COLOR=fc4a03]Hope you don’t mind sharing some of the glory with me, Sparky.[/color]” 

[i]Firebrand[/i] shrugged the sword down like she was striking a match, and, appropriately, white fire burst to life and consumed the blade almost entirely. Ducking low, she dashed towards the axe-wielder and the rifleman. The latter wasted no time, taking aim and firing a round directly for her head. But she was low then, and quick as a wick, she rose up and leapt, torquing herself around into an aerial as the bullet sailed beneath her and into the ground. Landing with all the deftness of a dancer, she spun, brought her sword around with both hands and met the other Modir’s axe with a powerful swing, cleaving straight through its haft and turning it to ash just as they’d done to Quinn’s cannon. 

Speaking of.

The tether reformed as the numbing wall around Quinn shrank considerably, but she would know instantly why. All of [color=black]her[/color] effort went straight to the static that had grown deafening in the meanwhile, and while Quinn felt power both familiar and unimaginable flood through her, she was also granted the precious clarity to focus it. 

Quinnlash phased.