Rocks and pumus scattered beneath the bike-wheels as Ngaire revved her way up the hill, arms beginning to ache with the force of wrestling the handle-bars into position. Vibrations from the engine set nausea twisting in her empty gut, but she forced herself onward. She owed it to Trev.

She chuckled softly, wind stinging her eyes. If only he could see her now! He'd always been disappointed in her, she could see it in his eyes; and while it hurt, there was no helping it. Making everything she did look accidental to even those closest to her had caught villains off-guard before, and would do so again.

It was hard, though. Sometimes, like after their encounter with the American, she wanted to tell him just who  had rung the police. Now, even if she wanted to, she might never get the chance.

A trail of liquid whizzed down Ngaire's cheek, and she hastily brushed it away.

Finally cresting a hill in the general area of the assassin's last sighting, the Taihape Titan swerved to a stop and scanned her surroundings.

Below in the valley, she could see a tiny figure running—and running fast, faster than should be possible. Gritting her teeth, she flew down the hill in pursuit, anger bubbling in her heart hotter than the mud-pools of Rotorua. The bike roared beneath her.

The assassin spun as the bike's cry echoed along the valley, then sprinted through the gorse with more speed than ever. Ngaire didn't care. Let him know. Let him fear. It didn't matter; he couldn't outrun her.

Surprisingly, however, he did manage to keep ahead; Ngaire suspected his power was speed—that, or he had speed-powered boots.

Ngaire pursed her lips as the valley began to narrow ever so slightly, rocks creeping gradually forward to close them in. Luckily, the assassin hadn't seemed to notice; she wasn't letting him escape again unless he killed her.

She wiggled her toes and flexed her foot, loosening her gumboot as the hills crept nearer. It was only a matter of time. She watched, keen as a falcon, as the valley slowly constricted. Closer... and closer... until the assassin finally realised his mistake.

Quick as the wind, he turned to dart up the hillside. But too late. Almost as fast as he, the Taihape Titan whipped her boot free and leapt to her feet, steering haphazardly with one hand.

She was the Taihape Titan for a reason, and her boot—never—missed.

She launched it forward, and the Redband flew through the air as though it had grown wings. It was more awe-inspiring than even the mightiest of birds, and a lump of emotion swelled Ngaire's throat as she watched it rotate, rich reds and blacks illuminated beautifully by the rising sun.

Then it dropped, exactly how she knew it would, and struck the assassin in the temple toes-first, just as she knew it would. He toppled to the ground with a muffled cry of pain.

Ngaire ground the accelerator and tore up the valley, hair whipping at her face. Chilly air encompassed her foot, and she shuddered convulsively. She hadn't meant to throw her sock as well. She sped toward the assassin, watching him closely, counting down the precious seconds with her heart in her throat.

Just as he attempted to regain his footing, she leapt free of the bike and slammed into him at full-speed, driving him back to the ground. Not allowing herself time to think, the Titan rolled free, snatching her boot back up and driving her heel into the assassin's lungs as she stood.

She poised above him, bare foot planted firmly on his chest both to keep him down and to keep her from the damp grass, and flourished her gumboot dangerously close to his face.

"What—" Ngaire's voice choked in her throat, and she couldn't continue. The bloody bastard hid behind a bandana; not regretting the mud on her boot, Ngaire used it to whisk the cloth away.

"You're a girl!" she exclaimed before she could stop herself.

"So are you," the other growled. "I'm sure I shot a sissy dude this morning."

Ngaire's face twitched, and anger hissed in her ear like the whisper of a venomous snake. She resisted the almost overwhelming urge to plant the sole of her boot in the bastard's face, hands trembling with the effort of restraining herself.

"What's—your name?" she forced herself to ask instead.

"My name?  Are you crazy?" The assassin laughed scornfully. "Really? You're  the super y'all's prime minister sent after me?" She laughed again, amusement hitting Ngaire's ears like a slap in the face. "Tell me, punk, why'd you think I'd ever tell you that? Am I supposed to be afraid of you now?"

Ngaire's face flushed bright red, but she forced the anger down.

"No. No, you're going to tell me your name, because I'm going to tell you mine." She had a plan, she just had to stick to it. "And  the name of the father you just tried to kill, and the name of the son you just did  kill."

A flicker of something—bewilderment? Guilt?—flashed across the assassin's face.

"...alright then?" she tried hesitantly. "I'm—my name's Patty."

"My name is Ngaire, but that doesn't matter." She didn't let herself think, just let the words come; felt them welling from the lake of pain and anger inside and let them escape, because if she didn't, she might explode. "You were hired to kill David Lange. He's married, he has a wife; he has three little kids, and siblings, and friends—and you were going to murder him while he slept without a single thought for any of them.

"And Trev. My sidekick. My friend. You shot him. Shot someone's son." She forced the words out steadily.

Patty spat suddenly, cutting off the Titan's words. "Would've shot y'all if I could. You're not worth the money I'm gonna lose." In a single lightning-fast movement, she lunged forward, grabbing at Ngaire's unbooted leg.

Her nose crashed full-force into the Taihape Titan's gumboot.

She whipped her boot back for another blow, but Patty rolled away faster than the eye could follow, and leapt to her feet. Searing pain ripped through Ngaire's shoulder, and a powerful fist collided with her jaw.

'No, no, no, no, this can't happen again—'  Ngaire stumbled back, fighting to stay balanced, eyes blinded by involuntary tears of pain. The knife dropped from her shoulder.

Something flickered at the edge of her vision, and her arm shot up like lightning to deflect the blow. Shock rippled through her body as she caught the assassin's hand.

Patty's face twisted with undisguised anger, but before she had a chance to react, the Taihape Titan jerked her forward and met her halfway; teeth smashed against her shoulder, and she bit back a cry of pain. She had to focus.

Before the assassin could recover, the Titan hooked her right leg around the other's left and tossed her to the ground. Patty groaned, and Ngaire thudded down with all her weight on her stomach. The assassin's face turned a strange colour as she gasped for breath, eyes bulging and utterly winded.

Not daring to breathe, Ngaire slipped her fingers inside Patty's glove—and, as she'd suspected, light rippled across its surface. Strength-powered. She had to get it off, had to get it off, had to get it off, had to get it off—!

Recovering slightly, the assassin snatched her arm away, and with the strength of adrenaline and desperation, Ngaire tore the glove in half. She just had time to register a ring glittering from the assassin's bare hand before the second hand—still-gloved—smashed against her ear.

Ngaire landed in the damp grass before she knew she was moving, air exploding from her lungs. Spots flickered across her vision, and her ear felt funny—like someone had switched it off. Dew chilled her bare foot, and anxiety chilled her heart. She had to get her boot back.

But there was no time to act before the assassin's foot smashed against her gut, and nausea raced through the Taihape Titan's body. She curled around herself, trying not to vomit, and Patty laughed mockingly.

"You lose."

Ngaire froze, and the world screeched to a stop. No—no, she couldn't—not—not when she had everything  to lose! The world flooded back, colours too bright and sounds too loud, time too fast and earth spinning madly. Pain flowered from her abdomen. She couldn't lose. Not today.

A pair of feet entered her line of sight, and the Titan dove forward, driving her shoulder into the assassin's legs and shoving her to the ground. Pain screamed from the knife-wound in her shoulder, but she forced it aside with gritted teeth and dragged herself forward to deliver a ringing blow to the assassin's head.

Cold fingers fastened around Ngaire's throat, and she realised her mistake too late.

Terror flooding her veins, she struck again, knuckles numbing under the power of the blow. She couldn't strangle the assassin back, no matter what the movies said; it was useless; she'd die first. Patty only flinched as the Titan's fist connected with her skull, and Ngaire writhed in the assassin's grip. She scratched and kicked, drove her knee into the other's ribs, and clawed at the fingers lodged in her throat until her nails bled.

She only had about a minute to free herself, and the seconds were trickling away faster than water from a spring. Time was running out. Dark spots swirled at the edge of her vision, and she couldn't keep from gulping desperately at the air that wouldn't come. Darkness clawed across her vision with long, groping fingers, and it seemed as though life itself had drained from her muscles. She hung limp in the assassin's grasp.

A flicker of colour caught the Titan's eye, and her gaze shifted dully to see what it was—her gumboot. Mere feet away. Waiting patiently to be noticed.

Hope, the flame that had grown so dim, flickered back to life in her heart.

Patty realised the Taihape Titan's intention, and an expression of fear flashed across her face. She tried to throw the superhero aside, but too late. Cold rubber settled gladly in the Titan's hand, and the early-morning sun ran cold along its length.

The Taihape Titan reared back, and, with all her remaining might, crashed her gumboot into the assassin's head.

The squeezing fingers vanished, and Ngaire sucked in a great gulp of air, terror and relief fighting for room in her mind. She could breathe, she could breathe, she could breathe! Trembling uncontrollably, she rolled into the grass and lay still, head whirling yet curiously empty.

She'd almost died. Ngaire swallowed, fingering her throat gently, feeling the air rattle in and out, in and out. She'd almost died. It was hard to comprehend.

Patty stirred in the grass beside her, and the Titan staggered to her feet, adrenaline thundering through her veins.

She'd nearly died.

Hands trembling, she swung her boot up and slammed it once more into the assassin's temple.