53 – Last MusterHector arched his back as the aura burned through him, and his mind lost sight of everything; his sole focus, his sole desire became the spilling of the PK’s blood. His ribs popped and clicked as the aura coursed through them; his wrist straightened and the bones fused in a lance of fiery pain; and his flesh, scorched and flayed by the blaster’s plasma, rapidly filled in. The Berserk ability was restoring his flesh, but it wasn’t gentle.If he’d been aware of anything other than the pain and his desire to slaughter, Hector might have watched in fascination as the new skin grew over his plasma burns, sloughing away the puckered, bloody, and blackened stuff. As it was, he was barely aware of it. He leaped to his feet, took two long strides, and launched himself at Logan’s back, slamming into the man’s armored torso with enough force to send him into a stumble.Logan reacted immediately. His powered armor whined as he twisted and crouched, then launched himself up and back, slamming Hector into the ground. Hector didn’t care; he was a pit bull with a rat. As his ribs broke anew, as Logan writhed and pushed with his legs, grinding Hector into the concrete, Hector squeezed with his legs and arms while his powerful fingers dug and tore at the cladding between the PK’s helmet and breastplate.His nails cracked and tore, but he kept at it, driving the middle finger of his left hand down into the rubbery gasket, pushing hard enough to fracture the bones, but oblivious to the pain or damage. When that single digit broke through, it felt like nirvana—a release of frustration and furious intent that did nothing but encourage the berserker in his quest for blood.By then, Logan had realized his mistake: he’d given up control when he’d sought to smash Hector’s life out. His armor, bulky as it was, made it hard enough to stand from a prone position, but with Hector’s full mass firmly attached to his shoulders, he couldn’t (...)