Chapter Three

Karl's eyes narrowed, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. "Who are you?" he growled, his voice low and menacing.

The figure stepped forward, its glinting green eyes fixed on Dahlia. "Someone you shouldn't have crossed," it hissed, its voice dripping with malice.

Dahlia took a step back, her eyes wide with fear. "I-it's...," she stuttered.

The figure's gaze never wavered. "Why stutter," it said, its voice dripping with venom. " You all have made a grave mistake. Mostly you." Its right hand arched towards Dahlia, displaying its deadly blades.

At this point it dawned on them that they were faced against a brutal person, the blades of Murfield, Catherine D'Tarez.

Infiltrating Catherine's mind wasn't an option for Dahlia, so she attempted raising the men in slumber to be her mind controlled army but immediately received a backlash forcing her to the ground. Blood dripped from her nostrils –the cost of the last tier. She knew her safety couldn't be ridiculously placed in the hands of Karl and his team; instead, she pinned her hopes on the interference of a greater force — a stronger mutant.

The air broke into a field of vibration and tension as the group of five cowered behind a police vehicle, their guns shaking wildly in their hands. "Take cover!" one of them yelled, but it was too late.

Catherine began to move towards them with an unnerving calmness, her eyes fixed on Dahlia. The group's fear turned to panic as they opened fire, their guns erupting into a chaotic cacophony of sound.

Bullets ricocheted off the walls of the car, through the window and on the ground, sending shards of glass and sparks flying everywhere. The group's aim was wild, their shots spraying everywhere except their intended target.

With Catherine's incredible speed, the bullets seemed to slow mid-air, moving past her before dropping harmlessly to the ground. The group's eyes widened in horror as Catherine continued her relentless advance.

"Keep shooting!" Karl yelled, but his voice was lost in the din of gunfire.

The group's desperation grew, their fingers tightening around their triggers as they emptied their clips. But no matter how many bullets they fired, Catherine remained unscathed, her fast movements rendering their attacks useless.

As the last bullet casing hit the ground, the group froze, their chests heaving with exhaustion and fear. Catherine loomed before them, her eyes burning with an intense energy.

The silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the sound of heavy breathing and the creaking of twisted metal.

"So this is how you welcome your better?" Catherine sighed, her voice cold and detached. " Well, it's my turn now!"

Dahlia's eyes flicked to Karl, then to her teammates.

Within seconds, the scent of blood clung to the air, thick and suffocating. The once-chaotic battlefield had fallen into an eerie silence, broken only by the slow drip of blood pooling beneath lifeless bodies.

Dahlia staggered forward, her breath shallow, her boots splashing through the slick remains of what had once been her team. Her stomach twisted. The sight before her was as expected — cruel butchery.

Their throats were slit with surgical precision, the wounds clean but cruelly deep. Chests lay open, gaping holes where hearts had been torn free — her unsettling artistry.

Dahlia's gaze snapped at Catherine who was finishing Karl off.

Her trembling mind tried reaching for Catherine's, but she already knew—her telepathic energy was drained. The ones who could've answered were among the fallen, their eyes staring blankly at nothing.

Dahlia's mind reeled from the psychic exertion, but she forced herself to focus. She had read about Catherine before—stories whispered in the underworld, warnings passed down like folklore. The Blade of Murfield. A speed mutant infused with cheetah DNA, her reputation was built on terror and precision. The few who had survived an encounter with her only lived because she allowed them to.

Catherine took a slow step forward, her movements measured, predatory. "You really thought you'd get away after grounding Cassie?" she taunted, her voice smooth but laced with danger. "I was going to let Lydia take care of you, but after what you did…" Her claws extended with a soft metallic shing, catching the faint moonlight. "I changed my mind."

Dahlia's pulse pounded. She was still recovering from her telepathic overexertion, and Karl's crew laid lifeless, in a pool of blood and scattered body parts. She had to act fast.

A split-second decision. Run or fight?

Her telepathic energy flickered within her, unstable but still present. Dahlia knew that controlling Catherine's mind—even for a second—would be nearly impossible. But maybe… just maybe, she could slow her down.

Dahlia's blue-lit eyes locked onto Catherine's, and she unleashed a wave of psychic pressure meant to dull her reflexes. But in the same moment, Catherine vanished.

No blur. No sound. Just gone.

Then—

SLASH!

A sharp pain erupted across Dahlia's arm. Catherine reappeared behind her, her claws glistening with blood. "Too slow," she murmured.

Dahlia gasped, gripping her arm as warm liquid seeped between her fingers.

But Catherine wasn't done.

In an instant, she kicked Dahlia down, hard on the ground and squatted above her. Her claws inches from his throat—only for a blade to intercept her own. Steel met claws with a piercing clash, sparks flying between them.

An intervention. Maybe not —

A greater or equal force? Most likely. But in Lincoln city, a stronger force only meant more trouble.

"Lydia!" Dahlia gasped, staggering back. Dahlia knew Lydia to be a person of calculative interest; no meddling Into matters unless bound by duty. Duty to her friends, a thought flashed through her mind, maybe Lydia wanted to finish her off herself.

Lydia's expression was unreadable behind her tinted glasses, her fox-like agility matching Catherine's speed. "She's not yours to kill, Catherine," she said smoothly, her voice carrying a silent authority. "Reynolds wants her to be taken to Leroy."

Catherine exhaled sharply, clearly displeased. Her claws retracted just a fraction, but the tension remained. "I don't care what Reynolds wants," she hissed. "She attacked Cassie. That means something."

Lydia didn't flinch. "And your orders mean something too."

"So you are suggesting I spare her life then," a curt smile twisted her lips as she spoke, her voice devoid of empathy. 'If I had spared more lives, this city would be suffocating under the weight of overpopulation.'"

"This is no suggestion, Catherine!"

The two stood locked in a silent battle of wills.

"Okay then, Miss Perfect," Catherine said, breaking the tension between them. "I'll go get Cassie while you handle her." She paused for a while then continued " My best option is to take her out of here before I'm back, otherwise Leroy would be receiving the body part of a telepath."

With incredible speed Catherine took off into the night, leaving Lydia and Dahlia to themselves. Dahlia glared at Lydia with a glint of thankful fear in her eyes. She knew Lydia had just saved her from a slow and painful slaughter.

Dahlia staggered to her feet, her body still aching from Catherine's assault. Lydia remained still, watching her with an unreadable expression.

"You're one lucky mutant, Dahlia. And you had better not try delving into my mind," she warned, sliding her blade back into its sheath. "Lydia turned toward Dahlia, her expression unreadable behind her tinted glasses. Not a flicker of anger, not a hint of sympathy—just a stillness more unnerving than rage.

"You have two options," she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Dahlia's heart pounded. She was too weak to fight, but something told her wherever Lydia was taking her would be worse than death but couldn't lead to freedom.

"Decide. Now."