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It was a balance of probabilities.  Taking on Feng inside Mirage Space might give her more freedom of action but it [i]would[/i] confine her freedom of action to Mirage Space.  Lubao, for now, was safe.  More than that, if Henri could get close, they could shut her down just the same as outside – maybe even release her captives and sources of power in the same moment.  Callie didn’t know how the two powers would interact.

Of course, getting him there on her own would mean opening a portal next to Feng, which would mean Henri being unable to call on his nullification mid-transit, which would give Feng an opening to devour him.

And with Noel’s reactive mobility, she would absolutely take it.

A part of Callie felt the pain inherent in that recognition.  That wasn’t the part rapidly manifesting a portal through the barrel of Feng’s autopistol that sent the bullets aimed at her instead scattering directly into the belt of additional autopistols she was carrying, or the part tapping her foot to subsequently rend the one she was holding; nor was it the part returning suppressive fire from her own assault rifle, retrieved before the civilians were evacuated from the hall and they engaged (because even with Feng’s supernatural resilience, rifle fire from a few dozen feet would still [i]hurt[/i], just as pistol shots from near-contact would).  It was instead the part that had offered harsh succour to Mikey and Grif on the roof in Manila – the same part, closely guarded, that resented and regretted and feared so many of the purposes to which she had been bent.

To that part, that had looked upon a young man and admired his tenacity and spark in the face of such oppressive responsibility, this fate felt like a cruel joke.

She [i]would[/i] unmake it.  And she would do it quickly, lest any of her teammates fall to the same fate by her hesitation.  Behind her, Nil, at once far too young and far too old; ahead, their newest recruit bravely interposing herself and unleashing…  [color=f7941d][i]Oh.[/i][/color]  Not as rapidly consumptive and transformative as hers, perhaps – not of such beautiful depth – but reminiscent indeed of Qingshe’s power.  The longer Feng lived, the less chance she might have to benefit from her tutelage when she returned.

Charter’s portals could not cut people.  She and others had tested it many times over the years.  And yet, now, if they could…  No amount of resilience would stand up to a blade of dimensional sharpness slicing the wielder in half, and then the threat would be [i]gone[/i].  She could keep every one of them safe.

Pain and weight and fear, and the need and hope that she would answer it all.  Just as before.  For the third time, Callie reached beyond her grasp.

She felt nothing answer.

Desperation – [i]clawing[/i] desperation.  [color=f7941d][i]Please!  Please, I must…[/i][/color]

Again, nothing answered.

[color=f7941d][i]Please, I must, or I will fail and they will die.[/i][/color]

Yet, however much her indomitable will reached, or asserted, or begged, the nothing answered – immovable and immutable, for a lack of anything to move or change.  Any impetus, any drive slid off it, like a wall of polished adamant glass.

And then Feng was energy, and none of it mattered anymore.

Eyes wide, Callie let instinct take over, calling for her teammates to [i]move[/i] as reactive awareness guided her they would need to, moving herself, moving [i]Nil[/i] – all while her mind tore outwards, seeking some other way to shape the battle – and inwards, to seek the cause of her strength abandoning her.