Page 52 of Anarchy Chained: Alpha Thomas

She is immune to me because we are the same model of monster. We cancel each other out—or, if we’re lucky, build to synergy.

I pick her up in my arms, carefully, even though I know I can’t hurt her. And I carry her. I create another mind blast—smaller this time, because I’m not very good at this. It never works great when I need it most. Just enough to clear debris away so I can slide my back down the concrete wall and cradle her in my lap.

There’s more to this girl than I realize. There has to be more. Otherwise she’d be conscious right now, just like me.

But that’s the only reason our body parts aren’t cut in half right now. That’s the only reason our limbs aren’t strewn about in pieces, inching their way towards one another, desperate to put themselves back together.

Something happened in her head to make the car stop.

She shut a maglev train down with her mind.

Who is this girl?

I want to think about that for a while. Mull it over good in my head. Roll it around in my hand, see it from all angles. But exhaustion overtakes me.

I’m not used to this, I realize.

I need her help.

But before I can even wonder what kind of help that might be, the blackness comes to take me away.