didn’t care how many thieves and gangs roved the city, as long as they stayed off the Hill and didn’t interfere with business as usual. “So we’ll pick up the slack,” Nina said firmly. “Maybe we should train after breakfast.”
Maya groaned. “Again? Seriously?”
“You just stabbed me with your fork for going out by myself, so hell yeah, you’re going to train. Because if you try to argue now that training isn’t necessary, I’m stabbing you back.”
“That’s not fair.” She pointed her fork at Nina and then Dani. “Superpowers. Superpowers.” She turned the fork toward herself. “Nada.”
It was a gross oversimplification. “That’s not accurate,” Nina observed. “You may not have been rewired or custom-crafted on a genetic level, but you have your thing.”
“Yeeeeeeah.” Maya drew out the word. “But remembering literally everything I hear isn’t exactly a combat skill. And I’m not about to arm-wrestle someone if I can just shoot them in the head instead.”
“Uh-huh.” Dani propped her chin on one hand. “So what do you do when you can’t?”
Maya made a face at her. “Rest easy in heaven knowing you’re gonna avenge me?”
“Not if you give up without a fucking fight.” Dani snorted. “Haunt me forever, see if I care. I’m not embarking on a dark path of vengeance and death because you skipped cardio.”
Maya waved a grumpy middle finger at her before shoving the last of her eggs into her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, and sighed. “Fine. I’ll let you guys throw my ass around.”
Dani might live for a good endorphin rush, but Nina would rather have gone back to bed. It wasn’t a luxury any of them had. “You said it.” She gestured to herself and Dani. “Superpowers.” Then she indicated Maya. “Has to work twice as hard in case shit gets bad.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Maya picked up her coffee. “Y’all are really gonna regret this next time trivia night rolls around.”
“At least you’ll be alive to give us hell.” Nina rose. “Come on.”
Maya began to clean up her dishes, but Dani waved her off. “I’ll do them. See you in a few.”
Nina and Maya climbed the stairs and headed down the hall to their training room. Support beams crisscrossed the high ceiling, and the bare brick walls had been left exposed, but everything else was the latest, most expensive tech they could afford. Bioresponsive weight machines and other equipment ringed the perimeter of the room, leaving the center clear except for a thick foam sparring mat.
Nina stopped by the control panel and activated one of the treadmills. It chirped, a bright, cheerful sound, and slowly began to fold out of its recessed space in the wall. “You shrugged it off, but Dani had a point. What do you do when you can’t shoot an attacker?”
“Run,” she responded obediently. “Run like hell.”
“Yep, so hop on.”
Nina watched Maya’s form as she stepped onto the treadmill’s rolling platform. She wouldn’t be able to do a full workout, not without changing out of those heavy boots, but this wasn’t about the cardiovascular workout or even her endurance.
This was about thinking.
With that in mind, she waited until Maya had jogged half a mile before speaking again. “And what if you can’t run?”
“I fight dirty,” Maya replied, only a little breathless. “I crush balls, poke eyes, scratch faces, smash knees.”
“With?”
“Whatever I can find. Or my bare hands if I have to.”
“Bare hands are a last resort.” Nina wiggled her fingers. “They tend to break.”
“So, whatever’s closest to me that has some heft. Break a plate across their head. Throw hot coffee at them. Fork them in the face.”
“You’re obsessed with forks.” Dani strolled in, shaking her head, and went straight for the pull-up bar mounted on the wall between the leg press and the ab board. “What is that about, anyway?”
“They’re everywhere, they’re unassuming, and no one expects it.” Maya glanced at Nina. “That’s the point, right? Using everyday shit?”
“Mainly,” she admitted, “but it’s also about improvising the right weapon at the right moment, and in the right situation. Let’s say … you’re running a hustle at Clem’s.”
At least she had the decency to flush. “I don’t hustle. It’s not my fault that men underestimate my pool game.”
“You’re running a hustle,” Nina repeated, walking around the treadmill with her hands on her hips. “Your mark doesn’t take kindly to losing all his credits, so he starts some shit.”
“I assume Clem doesn’t shoot him in this scenario?”
“Nope. You’re on your own.”
Maya frowned, her boots still thumping on the treadmill. “Well, start with a