Marcus blasted a thunderclap from his staff, staggering two flankers, but the tank shrugged it, closing on Nova like a freight train. Too close, Nova thought, his breath rough.

The flag waved behind them, so damn close, but this scrap was turning ugly, numbers even, but their heavies hit harder, and the team's aches from the labyrinth weren't fully gone.

One flanker broke through Trevor's line, lunging for the banner. Col roared, axe burying in the guy's back, but it left Col open, and the wind-caster's gust slammed him into a pillar, Col's bones cracking. Trevor charged to cover, shield up, but a rock spike punched through, dropping him to a knee.

Nova parried another hammer swing, his arms screaming, and risked a glance: the flag was still theirs, but barely. The Britishers were pressing, and it wasn't looking too good.

Galileo hurled a lightning spire from his staff, staggering two British flankers, but the tank shrugged it off, closing on Nova like a bullet train. Way too close, Nova thought, his breath strident.

The flag waved behind them; they were so damn close, though it felt as if they were so far away. The Britishers heavies were still hitting harder, maybe even harder any before.

One of the flankers broke through Travor's line, lunging towards the banner. Col yelped, his axe burying in the guy's back, but it left Col open, and the wind-caster's gust slammed him into a pillar, Col's bones cracking. Trevor charged to cover, shield up, but a rock spike punched through, dropping him to a knee.

Nova parried another hammer swing, his arms aching even further, and saw the flag, still mostly in their possession, though only slightly. The Britishers were pressing even harder, and it felt as though Nova was going to lose the flag and his journey.

The tank, with a grin, swung again, harder, his hammer whistling low for Nova's knees. Nova leaped back, skidding in the dirt, but the ground slowly cracked under him, as one of the Britishers' earth manipulators, a wiry kid with fists made of rocks, hit hard, shoulder first, rolling to avoid a follow-up stomp that cratered the ground where his head had been.

"Press 'em!" the British tank exclaimed, his voice filled with cockiness. "Take the yank banner, lads!"

Their wind-manipulator whipped another gust of wind, this one had rocks and grass blades slicing like a knife. It caught Zane, slowing him just enough that he ate a faceful of grit, coughing as he skidded into a bush.

Michael summoned an ice wall to block the worst, but it shattered under the force, shards peppering his arms like hail. Nova pushed up and lunged low, slashing at the tank's calf, which was hard, though he was able to draw a line of blood.

The big man snarled, more pissed than hurt, and backhanded with his free fist. Nova ducked, but the breeze from it ruffled his hair, close enough to feel the knuckles whistle.

Nova grunted inwardly, tasting blood from a split lip.

Back at the flag, Emma loosed arrows like clockwork, one hit into the flanker's shoulder as he crawled for the pole, pinning his sleeve to the dirt.

"Not today, mate," she said, chambering another arrow.

But their rogue slipped through her guard, a sneaky type with shadows coiling around his feet like smoke. He darted in, fingers brushing the banner. Trevor lunged, his shield cracking against the guy's ribs, but took an elbow to the jaw for it. Trevor reeled, stars bursting in his vision, and the rogue twisted free, yanking the flagpole loose.

"No, you don't!" Galileo snarled, his staff creating three fake Novas around the rogue.

The guy hesitated, slashing at a phantom that dissolved into mist, buying Col just enough time. Col, whose ribs were aching brutally, but had his axe steady, swung overhead, cleaving the rogue's shadow cloak and sending him sprawling out cold with a shallow gash across his thigh.

The flag fluttered back to the ground, half-uprooted, and Trevor dove on it like it was his kid sister, pinning it under his weight. "I got it! Hold the line!"

But the British weren't done. Their earth-manipulator slammed both fists down, and the ground rippled like a wave, emerging toward the flag site. Pillars of dirt erupted, one clipping Emma's leg and sending her tumbling with a yelp.

Col staggered, axe biting deep into a rising spike to steady himself, but it left his side open. The wind-manipulator seized it, gust slamming Col again, this time into Trevor, both of them sprawling in a heap, the flagpole jabbing Trevor's gut like a bad poke.

Zane ran back, cracking the earth-manaipulator's jaw with a speed-boosted punch. The guy toppled out before he hit dirt. Zane panted, wiping blood from his nose. "That's for the shrapnel, wanker."

Across the field, Adam was rending the Britishers' defenses; a guy went down screaming, as Adam's slashes tore through. Elesch rifted in behind the wind-manipulator, sweeping him off his feet,

"Stay down," she said, breath heavy from the effort.

Emma was up, limping but arrow-ready, putting a warning shot through the last flanker's boot as he tried to rabbit away. "Yield!" she shouted, voice cracking but fierce.

The wind-manipulator, pinned and wheezing, raised a shaky hand. "We... we yield. Bloody hell, you yanks fight dirty."

Nova lowered his daggers, arms throbbing like they'd been through a meat grinder, and scanned the field. The tank was down, groaning as Zane zip-tied his wrists with scavenged cord.

The rest of the Britishers, five in total, now a pile of bruises and busted gear, hauled themselves up slowly, helping their mates. No kills from either side, which Nova was happy about. The badges on the Britishers marked them out for the battle.

"You're out," Nova said. "I guess that means the flag is ours."

The tank spat blood, glaring up at him with one good eye. "Piss off, colonial. Next time, we'll bury ya proper." But there was no heat left, just the sour taste of loss. His team dragged him off, limping toward a chunk of trees to recover and try again.

Elesch clenched her rapier, then said, "James is nowhere to be seen, must be nice being the president and not doing anything. At least we have the flag now."

Nova nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. He stepped to the flagpole. It felt good, solid, a win they could build on. He planted it firmly between two rocks, then dropped to a knee beside it, daggers out.

"Hold," he said.

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