Chapter 112: Clash of Cops (5)

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Clusters of ice shot up from the ground. Wyatt had retreated, swiftly kicking off from the ice. He soared through the air. Quickly, he landed on his feet, skidding backward. 

Wyatt halted, knotting his brows. What was this new power? He had always heard of Joan's competence, but he had simply assumed that she was merely a skillful swordswoman. But ... she was more. 

He quailed. He could not afford to have her risk the lives of others with such a powerful ability. He had to plunder her conciousness before too late. There was a wall of ice in front of him. He quickly bolted toward it, thrusting back an arm. He focussed most of his energy in his arm, and the remnants were directed at his torso. The hardness of his arm—bones and muscle—was on par with metal. 

Wyatt leaped into the air. Quickly, he launched his sturdy fist into the wall, breaking through layers of ice. His fist collided, then his body. The ice had ruptured; disintegrating into all but tiny ice shards. And through the sprinkling dispersion, Wyatt had made out Joan's figure. She was right in front of him. 

She slashed at his unprotected head. He quickly jerked his head back. The sharp edge of the blade sliced at his cheek. The icefall had cleared. Wyatt leaped backward as Joan assaulted again. He hardened his head just before Joan had slashed at it again. 

The blade had collided with his head. No damage was done. Joan dashed left, dodging Wyatt's kick. Wyatt bolted toward her. He started punching at profound speed, performing a barage of attacks. Joan received a powerful jab to her stomach. Then her face. She retreated. Wyatt followed. He punched her to the body again. She stumbled on her feet.

Wyatt dashed toward her. He stopped as soon as she slashed her blade widely. Then he zoomed into hitting range. Joan sidestepped a powerful punch. She slashed her blade in efforts of slicing at his stomach. The attack had ceased to do any damage. Wyatt used the opening to sink his fist into Joan's face. 

She staggered on her feet, but had immediately steadied. Wyatt was shocked. How did that blow not knock her out? She raised her offhand. Ice shards as sharp as knives darted out from it. Wyatt blocked his upper body. Myriads of iceshards constantly impaled his legs. He groaned. 

Frost escaped Joan's lips, blood trickling down from a nostril. She continued to fire thousands of tiny iceshards. Her ability was taking a tremendous toll on her body. She had to end this fight quickly. 

Wyatt's legs were being destroyed by the iceshards. The rounds of iceshards had already caused thousands of penetrations. He could not stand in the spot for a second longer. He ran in zigzags; still blocking his upper body. He dashed toward Joan.

Joan breathed in. Her face grew cold. The size of the ice shards had increased. They were no longer shards. They were long, sharp, pointy icespecks. One had burst through Wyatt's leg. He fell to a knee, groaning. Another had impaled his thigh, and remained in it. Wyatt winced. He quickly jumped to his feet again, using one of his hands to yank the icespeck out of him. He then took aim, raising the icespeck headlevel. He hurtled it at Joan.

The icespeck bolted toward Joan, bypassing other specks from the barrage. It went straight for her head. Joan stopped firing. She used her sword. She quickly whipped it out, and slashed three times. She then carried her weapon back into a hanging right. The ice was cut before it hit her. She quickly shifted focus on Wyatt again. He was closer than she thought. 

Wyatt kicked her to the chest. She rolled on the floor, and skated on her feet. Wyatt dashed toward her again. He slammed his fist into her body. She took the impact, and performed a backward cartwheel. Wyatt had punched her again. She staggered on her feet.

Wyatt had taken the opening. He thrust his arm back. He was ready to go for her head again. This time he was ready to knock her out. "This fight ends here, Joan!"

As Wyatt zoomed toward her. She quickly ducked. His arm swooped overhead. She then bounced up on her feet, and slammed her palm into his chest. "Die!"

Clusters of ice shot out from her palm. Wyatt blocked. The pockets constantly pushed him back. He clenched his teeth as the ice pushed him away. He quickly looked over his shoulder. He was getting closer to the spot where Alexandro stood. He looked ahead again, furrowing his brows. 

He solidified his feet; and the arms he was blocking with. His feet scraped the ground; skidding southbound. He leaned in on the pushing protrusions of frozen ice pockets, providing resistance. He used all his might to push in the opposite direction. He clenched his draw, a vein running up his neck. Haltingly, he skated on his feet, nearing Alexandro. But then he had halted. He had stopped the ice from expanding, and thrusting him away. 

He panted heavily. That was a close one. He had almost gotten himself killed. He quailed. He would have died, had he not blocked in time. Suddenly, he felt something bursting through his lower back, and rupturing through his stomach. Shredding muscle, flesh, and skin. His eyes bulged. 

His body was not proctected. He had focused his hardening on his arms, hands, legs and feet. 'W-who could have ... gotten me ... J-Joan's all the way over there,' he thought. 

He slowly looked down at his stomach. A gloved hand—clutched to his right kidney, and engulfed in blood—protruded from his belly. Blood dripped on the ground. He coughed. Blood came gushing out of his mouth. 

The hand yanked itself out of him. He suddenly collapsed. He coughed, rolling over to his back. As soon as he had so, his eyes widened in shock. Towering over him—tall and arrogant—was none other than Officer Alexandro, holding his right kidney.