Max and Hank stared at each other across the gaping remains of the Imuno-Tech building. Ragged pieces of metal groaned and settled to the ground.

“So,” Max said.

Hank raised his gun and flicked a jaunty salute. “Long time no see,” he smiled.

Max nodded.

“Your work?” Hank asked, gesturing with his gun to the scrap metal and frizzing electricity that had once been the quadrant’s biggest pharmaceutical HQ.

Max shook his head. “Yours?”

Hank’s laugh echoed through the debris. “It is my style, isn’t it?” Then he shook his head, “Nope, wouldn’t be dumb enough to stand here if it was.”

The rise of Max’s eyebrow cast doubt upon that statement.

A reverberating thud canceled Hank’s witty retort. The two men turned, guns raised.

Out of the smoke and sparks limped a woman.

“Quase.”

“Jesse?” Hank’s voiced cracked in surprise. “You did…?”

“’Course,” she smiled, “but you two are gonna take the blame.” As she raised her cane, electricity sparked from its end. “You know what they say about a woman scorned.”