“A horse? I’m honestly disappointed; I expected better of my brother.” Hawkeye tutted disapprovingly.

“And we have something better?” Elletra asked, casting around for why they had stopped.

“Certainly!” He raised an arm. On cue, the taxi from earlier swept in. The driver was grinning broadly; whether this was from an opportunity to open up the throttle or because of the large gold sovereign now in his pocket, it was hard to say. Probably both.

Hawkeye helped her in, and then they were above the rooftops. Not at quite the same speed, but directly at the factory.

It was a brief journey, made shorter by her concern when Hawkeye pulled out a canvas package in the taxi – the heavy carbine she’d last seen in the workshop.

The careful, tightly-focused sharpshooter that had given her his sword was barely recognisable now. In its place was a dead-eyed, expressionless creature of war running on anger and fear.

The creature charged the Nightmare rifle and checked the mercurial valves along its side.

“Let’s go.”