Rook's seizure spear crossed the vault before Nox had fully cleared the doorway. He stepped aside, felt the weapon scrape a line of heat across his coat, and watched the point punch through a pillar hard enough to crack its concrete core.
The suit did not move like a person with training. It moved like a dozen distinct authorities had agreed on one answer and delivered it through Rook's body.
Nox cut toward the exposed seam beneath the left arm. The core blade hit a pale emergency seal, and the impact threw him backward across the vault floor before he could test the armor's material.
"That seal was signed by the municipal safety office," Rook said, lifting the spear from the broken pillar. "Its function is to preserve command during a disaster."
"You made the disaster," Nox replied, getting one knee under himself.
"I made a system strong enough to survive people like you," Rook said. "You confuse the right to refuse with the ability to keep others alive."
