Juggernaut

Nadya's fight club is mostly underground, but attached to it is an old, creaky hotel. It wasn't anything fancy—just a place where her top fighters could crash during planned events, and where she kept her own living quarters.

Right now, she couldn't care less about the building itself.

Most of the town was already flattened.

But inside that old hotel... were most of the remaining survivors. Isaac. Amina. Some townsfolk they'd managed to dig out from the rubble. The only people clinging to life in the middle of a warzone.

And Isaac… he couldn't be relied on.

Nadya had noticed it. His powers were useless. Or at least, he couldn't seem to use them anymore. The man who used to walk through walls like they were air, who never touched a handle or button if he could help it, now dragged himself along like a ghost of who he'd been. Deflated. Lost.