"I can't," Davies groaned. "I'm scared!"
Halfway down the twenty feet of cable, Mouse-hair grabbed on. "I'm holding it. Release it, you hear?"
Davies fumbled for the broad belt around his thickening middle. He jabbed the button that sent a negative current through the cable. The magnetic suction dart dropped away from Infield like a thing that had been alive and now was killed. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief.
After breathing deeply for a few moments, he looked up to see Davies releasing and drawing all his darts into his belt, making it resemble a Hydra-sized spiked dog collar. Mouse-hair stood by tensely as the crowd disassembled.
"This isn't the first time you've pulled something like this, Davies," he said. "You weren't too scared to release that cable. You just don't care about other people's feelings. This is official."
Mouse-hair drove a fast, hard right into the soft blue flesh of Davies' chin. The big man fell silently.
The other turned to Infield. "He was unconscious on his feet," he explained. "He never knew he fell."
"What did you mean by that punch being official?" Infield asked while trying to arrange his feelings into the comfortable, familiar patterns.
The young man's eyes almost seemed to narrow, although his face didn't move; he merely radiated narrowed eyes. "How long have you been Cured?"