The moment Athena saw the memory suppressor in Mors Jericho's hand, or rather, the man who looked exactly like him, she knew she had no choice but to fight.
She exploded into motion, lunging from her seat with the speed of a trained killer.
Her body moved on instinct, honed from years of experience, ignoring the fact that she hadn't fought in what felt like an eternity. It didn't matter. Combat was woven into her bones.
The imposter reacted instantly. He was fast, too fast for a normal human, but Athena had spent her life fighting against impossible odds.
She twisted mid-air, dodging a strike aimed at her throat. The chair she had been sitting on shattered behind her as his fist went straight through it.
Not human, then.
She hit the ground, rolled, and reached for the knife strapped to her thigh.
The cold metal barely left its sheath before she had to duck, a needle flashed past her, narrowly missing her neck.
They want to end this quickly.
