The plasma wave rushed forward, expanding as it closed the distance.
It consumed nearly half the passage width. Where the edges of the superheated matter touched the walls, concrete and rebar melted instantly. Dark red magma dripped downward in thick rivulets, hissing as it struck the floor.
Even before the plasma reached her, the heat arrived first. Air distorted and shimmered. The blonde woman's exposed skin cracked like dried clay. Her golden hair ignited, wisps of flame dancing across her scalp.
In that single moment, all her arrogance evaporated.
Only shock and terror remained.
"Plasma weapons?!" Her voice cracked with disbelief.
She crushed the concrete beneath her feet and launched herself backward, trying to use her armor's enhanced strength to escape.
But the plasma moved faster than human reflexes could match. Faster than neurons could fire.
In the blink of an eye, her foot and part of her calf vaporized. The silver armor she'd been so proud of offered no protection against temperatures measured in thousands of degrees. Metal and flesh alike simply ceased to exist.
She didn't even have time to feel the pain.
Survival instinct took over. As her body began to fall, she crushed the ground again with her remaining foot, throwing herself further back.
The plasma spheres detonated completely. The floor and walls of the passage melted like wax, forming a small lake of dark red magma that bubbled and churned.
ROAR.
Through the distorted air, through the heat shimmer, a tall figure holding a roaring chainsword leaped over the lava lake.
The soles of Nolan's shoes began to melt and burn. Smoke rose from his clothes and pants. The chainsword, tilted at an angle in his hands, scraped the ceiling as he passed, carving deep furrows into concrete and rebar.
In that moment, Nolan looked like a demon breaking free from burning hell itself.
The blonde woman's once fair and delicate face was ruined. Cracked flesh wept blood and clear fluid. Her hair was gone entirely, leaving only blisters and ulcerated skin across her scalp. One eye had been cooked blind by the heat. The other, still functional, was wide with endless pain and despair.
Then Nolan was upon her.
He brought the chainsword down in a brutal arc, catching her left shoulder. She tried to raise her arms, to defend herself, but she was too slow, too damaged, too broken.
Nolan gritted his teeth and pressed down with all his weight. The saw teeth, composed of monomolecular edges spinning at terrifying speed, cut through the silver armor like a hot knife through butter. Metal parted. Flesh offered even less resistance. Bone cracked and splintered.
Blood erupted in a crimson spray, painting Nolan from head to toe.
The woman, who had been lost in shock, suddenly howled. The sound was animal, barely human. Pain had dragged her back to consciousness.
She tried to fight back. Her arms came up weakly.
Nolan gave her no chance.
Under the spray of blood, under the roar of the chainsword's motor, he sawed her tall body completely in half.
The blade bit into the ground, saw teeth grinding against concrete. Internal organs spilled out across the floor in a colorful, horrific cascade as the two halves of her body fell apart.
Nolan took a deep breath. He wrenched the still-roaring chainsword free from the ground. His finger found the kill switch. The motor died with a descending whine.
Only then, with the adrenaline fading, did he feel the burning pain in his feet.
He looked down. His shoes were almost completely burned away. The soles of his feet were red and swollen, covered in blisters that had already begun to form.
He hissed through his teeth. Quickly, he peeled off what remained of his shoes and stood barefoot on the warm ground.
Getting too caught up in combat had its downsides.
Nolan squinted, shook his head, and sighed.
Five minutes passed. The pain in his feet gradually subsided to a manageable throb.
He glanced at the magma lake, still glowing dull red with residual heat. At the plasma pistol lying on the opposite side. At the messy remains of the woman whose name he'd never even learned.
He'd deal with all of this later.
First, he needed to find Dmitri.
Nolan turned and walked deeper into the passage.
At the end of the corridor, he found a small storage room for maintenance equipment. It was empty except for tools and spare parts scattered across shelves.
A single dim emergency light burned in the corner near the passage entrance.
Beneath that weak yellow glow, a man hung from a water pipe. His wrists were chained above his head. He was completely naked. His tall frame was curled into itself, huddled on the wet ground.
Dmitri lay directly under a dripping faucet. Water fell onto his pale face in a steady rhythm. His eyes were closed. He didn't react to Nolan's arrival.
Waterboarding. Mental abuse. Humiliation.
The signs were all there.
Nolan moved quickly. He checked Dmitri's chest and found it still rising and falling, shallow but steady. He swung the chainsword once, and the chains holding Dmitri's wrists snapped.
Dmitri collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. He didn't wake.
Nolan dragged him aside with one hand and examined him more carefully. Deep coma. Not something Nolan could fix here. Dmitri needed real medical help.
Nolan looked down at himself. Blood covered him from chest to thighs. Then he looked at the still-dripping water pipe.
He stripped off his bloody clothes and began washing. As he did, his eyes fell on Dmitri's clothes scattered nearby.
An hour later, the magma lake had cooled enough for Nolan to retrieve his plasma pistol. The machine spirit was definitely displeased, but the weapon still functioned.
He'd considered salvaging the blonde woman's silver armor. Maybe it had value. But when he examined the remains, he found the chainsword had destroyed the suit entirely. The servos were shredded. The plating was sawed through in a dozen places. Worthless scrap.
Feeling like he'd lost a fortune, Nolan gathered his blood-soaked clothes and placed them near the corpse. He pulled out the plasma pistol one more time and pulled the trigger.
Blue plasma washed over the body and everything around it. When the light faded, there was nothing left but scorched concrete and cooling slag.
Evidence destroyed.
Nolan, now dressed in Dmitri's oversized clothes, hefted the unconscious man over his shoulder. Dmitri wore only his underwear, but that couldn't be helped.
Outside the maintenance entrance, traffic still rushed past. Nolan picked up the bedsheet he'd discarded earlier and rewrapped his chainsword. Then he waited patiently, checking Dmitri's condition every few minutes to make sure he was still breathing.
As the sky darkened and traffic thinned, Nolan made his move.
He propped Dmitri on the back of his scooter, positioning him to look like a drunk friend being taken home. Then he rode carefully to a public telephone booth several blocks away.
He called for an ambulance, gave the location, and waited until he heard sirens approaching.
Only then did Nolan tuck the wrapped chainsword under his arm and ride away into the night.
Behind him, paramedics would find Dmitri and ask questions he couldn't answer.
That was fine.
Dmitri was alive. That was what mattered.