The plot thickens

Maxwell's legs suddenly trembled beneath him, every muscle burning with exhaustion. His breathing was ragged, his vision swimming. He could feel it, he was at his limit. And from the look he was getting the red Brand knew it too.

The predator wiped the thin trickle of blood from his cheek with a slow, deliberate motion, his golden eyes locking onto Maxwell with a predatory gleam. "What kind of kyrennei bounces like that?" he muttered, taking a step forward. His claws flexed, the sharp tips glinting under the streetlights. "Doesn't matter, I'll end this now."

Maxwell's body screamed at him to move, to jump, to run, but his legs refused to obey. He stumbled back, hitting the van behind him, his heartbeat pounding in his ears like a war drum. Through everything though, the grin didn't leave his face.

'This is it.'

The red Brand exhaled sharply, something shifting beneath his skin. A strange, rhythmic pulsing echoed in Maxwell's ears, like the thrumming of a distant drum. The man's muscles tensed unnaturally, his veins darkening under his skin.

Maxwell's eyes widened. 'What the hell is he doing?'

And then,

Crack!

A sudden burst of purple light arced through the air, striking the red Brand square in the chest. His body seized up instantly, muscles locking as he staggered back, a strangled snarl escaping his lips. The glow in his veins flickered and dimmed.

"What the," Maxwell gasped, barely able to process what had just happened.

A figure stepped out from the shadows of a nearby alley, moving with an unhurried confidence. He was tall, slim, and dark-skinned, with short-cropped hair and sharp eyes that scanned the scene with practiced ease. Draped under one arm was the girl from earlier, unconscious but breathing steadily. In his free hand, he held a compact, sleek-looking stun gun, its barrel still crackling with residual energy.

"You know," the man said, his voice cool and measured, "for someone with legs like that, you sure don't know when to run."

Maxwell stared at him in stunned silence, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Who...?"

The stranger didn't answer. He glanced at the red Brand, who was still struggling to move, his body twitching in sporadic jerks. The purple sparks danced along his limbs, locking up his muscles in a way that seemed... unnatural.

"Purple Electricity," the man continued, almost as if explaining to himself, "just a little spark hits you guys harder than it hits us normal folks. Locks you up nice and tight."

Maxwell blinked, realization dawning. 'Electricity... that's his weakness?'

The red Brand let out a low, guttural growl, his fingers twitching. "Damn... bastard..." His legs trembled as he tried to push himself upright, his movements sluggish and jerky. "You think... this'll stop me?"

The stranger didn't flinch. He simply adjusted the weight of the girl in his arms and pointed the stun gun again. "I know it will," he replied coolly. "At least long enough."

Maxwell swallowed hard, the tension in his chest easing ever so slightly. Whoever this guy was, he seemed to know what he was doing.

The red Brand's jaw clenched, his slitted eyes burning with fury, but his body refused to obey him. "I'll remember your face," he spat, his voice strained.

The man smirked. "Yeah? Get in line."

With that, he fired again. The red Brand convulsed, his body stiffening before collapsing onto the cracked pavement with a heavy thud, smoke rising faintly from his twitching form.

Maxwell exhaled, legs finally giving out as he sank onto the sidewalk. "Holy crap," he muttered, his whole body trembling from exhaustion.

The stranger stepped closer, looking down at him with an appraising gaze. "You alright, kid?"

Maxwell nodded weakly, though he wasn't sure if he actually was alright. "Yeah... yeah, I think so." He eyed the unconscious girl under the man's arm. "Is she okay?"

"She'll be fine," the man said simply. "Caught her before she could get herself into more trouble."

Maxwell let out a breath of relief, his mind still spinning. "Thanks for the... uh, assist."

The man shrugged. "Didn't have much of a choice. You were about to get yourself killed."

Maxwell laughed weakly. "Yeah... I was kinda getting that feeling too."

The man studied him for a moment before extending a hand. "Come on, let's get you out of here before more of them show up."

Maxwell hesitated for a beat, then took the hand, letting the man haul him to his feet. His legs were shaky, but they held. Barely.

"Name's Richard" the man said, adjusting his grip on the girl. "And you, kid?"

"Maxwell." Maxwell wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing back at the red Brand lying motionless on the smoking ground. "So... electricity is his weakness?" he asked, still catching his breath.

Richard turned toward him with a thoughtful expression. "Hmm... Oh, not just him. All Brands, actually."

Maxwell's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, seriously? A weakness like that should be common knowledge by now."

Richard smirked. "Not normal electricity, genius. Purple electricity. It's not exactly easy to come by."

Maxwell exhaled, shaking his head. "Whatever it is, I definitely don't want to be on the receiving end of it."

Richard winced. "Yeah... about that. This is gonna suck."

Maxwell barely had time to react. "Wait, what..."

Before he could finish, a jolt of purple electricity surged through his body as Richard shot him, sending him into violent spasms. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Richard let out a sigh, holstering the weapon. "Sorry, kid. Protocols."

Without another word, he hoisted Maxwell's limp body over his shoulder and disappeared into the night, carrying both unconscious figures with him.

---

"She got away," a figure muttered, standing in the shadows of a dimly lit alley. Their form was completely obscured by a black cloak, blending seamlessly into the darkness.

"Did he at least recover the disk?" another figure asked, their voice edged with impatience. This one wore a deep purple cloak, the massive gun in their hands gleaming under the faint alley light.

"No," a third figure replied, their red cloak shifting as they crossed their arms. Their voice, distinctly feminine, carried a sharp undertone. "Someone interfered. Had a P.E. gun. Collin was blindsided."

The black-cloaked figure chuckled. "Defending the boy, are we?" They grinned, amusement evident in their tone.

"Fuck you," the red-cloaked figure, snapped, her voice dripping with venom.

The purple-cloaked figure exhaled, their grip tightening on the gun. "This is his second fuck-up," they said coldly. "One more, and we'll have to find his replacement, Pollen."

A tense silence followed. Pollen's eyes flicked toward the purple-cloaked figure, unreadable beneath the hood.

"Don't worry about it," she finally said, her voice even. "If he messes up again, I'll personally take care of it."

"See that you do," the purple-cloaked figure said, their voice carrying a quiet authority. "Now, about the disk. We know who she was planning to give it to. She was headed toward Berg's territory before Collin intercepted her."

Pollen, the red-cloaked figure, turned on her heel, already making her way out of the alley. "Leave Berg and his little club to me," she said coldly. "I'll get the damn disk."

The black- and purple-cloaked figures remained where they stood, silently watching as Pollen disappeared into the night.