"What are you even talking about?" Aegon managed to speak through the pain. "Is this about Nightwalker?"
He laughed and shook his head. "Keep telling yourself he's the only one." He stepped close, his face grimly satisfied in the thinning fog.
He placed a hand on the wall. The tiles beneath Aegon's feet shimmered, their surface transforming, growing slick with a layer of glistening oil.
Aegon's feet shot out from under him. He fell hard, the wire-net pulling tighter with the impact, driving the breath from his lungs in a wet gasp.
He was on his back, pinned, bleeding from a dozen new cuts. The chemical powder settled around them like toxic snow.
The hitman stood over him. He willed the wire net to dissolve back into smoke, which streamed back into the cigarette in his hand. Aegon was free, but broken. He couldn't rise.
Omniblade looked down at him, a craftsman surveying a finished piece. "The message is delivered."
