John motioned for the young man to stay down, in the event the sniper decided to start shooting through the roof. There probably wasn't too much danger of that, but he'd already determined that she was bound to act irrationally. Quickly flicking the Five of Spades towards the ceiling, he watched as it fluttered up and stuck to the ceiling just under where the sniper was hiding. She was at the edge of the roof almost, so she hadn't moved after the explosion, or at least had moved back. After that happened, she was sure to be more on edge and more dangerous.

One thing he didn't want was to bring the fight down into the garage, as that would endanger people who weren't involved. He had to get up there to her and eliminate the danger, which was easier said than done. Not that he thought it would be that hard. Obviously, the quickest way was to just punch through the ceiling and come up behind her, then use his cards like he knew how. In fact, that was what he was going to do.

Sending up the entire deck to cover a section of the ceiling, save for two cards that slid under his shoes, John silently counted to three and jumped. The two cards propelled him into the air, and just as he was about to hit the ceiling, the layer of cards pushed through, creating a hole for him to shoot through. The moment the hole was opened up, he heard a gunshot. She'd fired again. He hoped it was just an accidental shot that didn't hit anything, fired only because he'd startled her.

Landing on the roof, he called all of his cards to become a shield in front of him, leaving only a small slot through which he could see his foe. There she was, dark hair tied into a low ponytail, blue jeans and a black tank top. She was turning to face him, surprised by his sudden entrance, but already taking aim. She fired again, but the shot was blocked by his cards, and she fired again, and again, each shot blocked. Then she angled up towards the slot through which he could see her. He closed it just in time to block the next shot.

He couldn't help but wonder how many shots she had in a single clip. He continued to wonder as she shot four more rounds into the card shield. It also occurred to him that she didn't seem to be responding to the recoil at all. While he wasn't an expert on sniper rifles, or guns in general, he was pretty sure modern sniper rifles had quite the kick behind them. He could tell from the short time that he actually saw her that she was definitely fit, actually pretty strong, but even that shouldn't have completely negated recoil. Maybe he just didn't know that much about sniper rifles.

It was time to fight back, before she switched up her tactics, since his feet were actually exposed, and she could easily move around him without him being able to see her until it was too late. Keeping that in mind, he launched one card at her. The Five of Spades flew at her and covered the end of her gun. When he pulled away his shield, gathering the cards for his next trick, he saw her pulling the gun back and grabbing the card off of it. There wasn't much time to act once she'd done that.

Throwing the whole deck as one continuous stream, aimed at cleaving her rifle in half and then punching through her torso, he made the finishing blow. The cards hit the rifle, and it pushed her back, but they stopped at the rifle. They weren't cutting through. In order to push back, she put one foot on the edge of the roof and leaned into the mass of cards. This was going to be a problem, but on the up side, she only had one rifle.

The cards scattered, and she fell forward, catching herself and turning her momentum into a charge. She jabbed the business end of her rifle at him, an instant away from squeezing the trigger when two cards swept in from the side and pushed the rifle away from their master. John grabbed the barrel of the rifle, ignoring that it was hot, and pulled it out of her hands, forcing his palm into her nose to knock her back and break her grip.

She staggered back, dabbing her hand at her bloodied nose. "Give me that."

He held up the rifle, shaking it in the air. "What this? I don't think that would be the responsible thing to do. You could take out someone's eye with this."

"That rifle is mine. You can't keep it from me." Almost as if on cue, the rifle fell apart. Its pieces flew through the air towards her, save for the one piece he was holding onto. The stayed there, in the air, the rounds, the stock, the scope, like only one thing he had seen before. She owned that rifle the way he owned his cards.

"Alright. That's impressive." He waved the barrel at her. "Pretty sure you need this, though."

"Not if I am just killing you." That was a Russian accent. Fantastic.

She stretched her arm out towards him, and all the floating ammo responded, shooting through the air in his direction. His cards came to the rescue immediately, blocking the rounds and deflecting them, only for them to circle around and come back. He realized that she had been able to keep firing because of her control over all the parts of her rifle. The rounds didn't deform when they hit, so she would draw them back and put them back in their casings, reusing them. That definitely lent itself towards her being more reckless with her shots, which told him that she wasn't pregnant, just impulsive. Still, he had to wonder how much experience she had at using her weapon like she was now.

It was showing, that neither of them really had much experience with this level of combat. Apart from mainly slow hand motions to control the main flow of their attacks and defences, and quick sudden movements to try and take advantage of an opening they saw or block an opportunistic attack from the other, they both stood fairly still. Neither of them was going to get anywhere this way, so John had to break the status quo. He had to do something unexpected. That was where he was sure he had an advantage.

Drawing nearly all of his cards back to him, John hid them all up his sleeves, letting them spread out under his suit for defence. She seemed to recognize that he was doing this, which meant that she didn't have to focus so much on defence herself. Then came another hail of bullets, sharp tips raining down on him. She was banking on him not being able to block them all forever. He was banking on her not counting how many cards he had.

Down they came, the two cards he had left out, hovering over the battle. They cut down on her, taking her hands off at the wrists. Her weapon dropped onto the roof, he ability to focus on controlling it lost. Just as a scream of pain and rage was about to escape her throat, he brought a wall of cards out to slam into her and throw her off the roof. She toppled over the side of the building. It wasn't that far of a fall, so she should still be alive unless she landed on her head and broke her neck.

When John stepped over to the edge of the roof and looked down, however, he saw that she had landed on the burning, twisted wreck of Bromine's car. If she had survived the fall, she wasn't reacting to the fire that was now catching on her clothes. He shook his head, then stepped off the roof, letting his cards make a quick staircase for him, bringing them all back into his pocket when he was on the ground again.

People were still hiding, and wouldn't have any idea what had happened, so he had to let them know it was safe now. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he hollered. "It's over! It's safe to come out now!"

Right away, through the front window of the convenience store, which now had three shattered panes, he could see Bromine come out of hiding and run up to the front. He vaulted over the counter and disappeared, which drew John's immediate concern. His fear was realized when Bromine popped up again, shouting and waving him over.

"She's hurt, man! Get over here! Someone needs to call an ambulance!"

John ran over, already knowing that he wouldn't be able to help this time. He had no way of healing someone. He stepped through the window where one pane had completely broken and fell onto the floor. Approaching the counter, he looked behind it to see the girl who had been at the cash register. It must have been the last shot fired into the store, when he'd surprised the sniper. That had to be the one that hit her.

She was alive, but he couldn't guess for how long. There was a phone behind the counter. He grabbed it and pressed 9-1-1, keeping his eyes locked on the girl the entire time. When they answered, he told them that all three services were needed. Of course, an ambulance was the most important, but the police would want to know about this as well, and the fire department might as well come put out the burning car. They told him that emergency services were on their way, and he hung up.

He spent the next while, until they showed up, watching Bromine do his best to keep her alive. He didn't know how long it was, he just knew that she spent all of it in pain, gasping for breath, pale as snow. From what he could tell, the shot hadn't gone through her. But it had taken out her eye, and she was losing a lot of blood. It was messy, so he couldn't see exactly what the damage was, but it was hard to mistake that she was in very bad shape.

Bromine must have done something right, or else she had a lot more will to live than he would have given her credit for, since she was still alive when the ambulance arrived. They loaded her up and took her away to the nearest hospital, where he hoped she would continue to get the best treatment possible. They talked to the police, and watched as the fire was put out, a second ambulance taking away the sniper who was miraculously still holding on to life as well. Nobody died that day, and that was what made John ask the question once they were alone.

"Bromine. First, I'm sorry about your car. Second, now that we've both had quite enough of questions for the day, do you mind answering a few of mine?"

Bromine shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't mind the car, man. Just give me a lift and we're cool. What uh... what do you want to know?"

"Well, see here's what I'm thinking." He lowered his voice just in case, not wanting anyone else to pick up on what they were talking about. "That sniper knew what she was doing. She was not looking for me, or she wouldn't have let me get close. She was playing because she thought she could, because you don't seem so dangerous. So can you think of any reason someone might make you a target?"

Bromine went quiet for a few seconds, crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side. "Yeah... I mean, why me, sure. But a target? It don't make sense. I guess you probably noticed I was doing a bit more than just... first aid... right?"

That hadn't actually occurred to John, but he decided it was better to act as though it had. "You were doing something more. Something that wasn't exactly visible."

"You got me." Bromine shrugged, stepping back. "I got the magic, man. Healing hands. Actually a whole field around me. Something would have to actually be fatal in and of itself. Otherwise, people stay alive around me. Maybe that's why they wanted me dead. So I don't keep someone else alive. Maybe that's you."

"Maybe." John watched as Bromine headed to his car and got in the passenger side. Adjusting his sunglasses, John walked over and got in the driver's side. Closing the door, he turned to Bromine. "Alright, I'll drop you off where you need to go. Where are you headed?"

"Nearest hospital." He buckled up and started drumming his hands on the dashboard. He stopped and looked back at John. "What? There's a kid there who needs some support. She just got shot, man. We should be there for her."

"Yeah, that's a fair point."

It had been two years, and now she was finally here. It wasn't with him, but it was close. Lillin Jackson stood at the side of the road as her taxi pulled away, her suitcase and luggage sitting on the ground beside her, looking up at the apartment building in front of her. This is where her new home was. It wasn't impressive, or big, or fancy, or anything like that. But it was close to him, and that's what mattered. She picked up her luggage and struggled her way in through the front door, making her way to her room.

Inside, a few things had already been prepared. A bed, a TV, a shelf, and a mirror. The washroom was on the left, and the closet was on the right, next to the mirror that stretched from the floor to six feet up the wall. It was everything she needed, and a bit more. Opening her luggage, she started hanging her clothes in the closet and stacking her few books on the shelf. Everything else she had would be newly bought here in her new home.

Taking off her clothes and setting them aside, she sat on her bed and stared into the mirror on the wall. Her reflection, staring back at her from a reflection of her room, was almost identical to her, with one exception.

"I guess it's just you and me, Miru. Alone in our room." The reflection didn't say anything. She just blinked, quietly watching the real girl opposite her. Lillin sighed. She was used to this treatment from her reflection. She couldn't exactly blink back at her, though. Touching her hand to the patch over her left eye, Lillin smiled sadly. "Well, I've recovered enough to live on my own now, so maybe I can finally confess to John how I feel."