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destroyed Movoc-under-Keeper, thanks to skirmishes on the Hon Ji border and Fedor’s Unbound insurgency. He’d seen the Mob, Shielders and Strikers marching through the city streets. So why were all these people so shocked?
    Kichlan frowned. Now that he was getting a better look at them, they didn ’t look like normal pion-binders. They were wrapped in rags and digging through rubble, just like everyone else he’d seen. But they were…too big. All solid-looking figures, faces obscured and turned up to watch as the Strikers turned in a wide arc across the sky.
    An overwhelming desire to run swelled with the quickening beat of Kichlan ’s heart. He didn’t know what was going on, but he was certain he really didn’t want to be in the middle of it.
    The sound of fast, heavy feet echoed from the streets around him.
    Kichlan ran. A staggering, broken-stride of a run, hardly any faster than walking.
    Shouts. The feet marched faster. Strikers swooped down again and this time hovered.
    “Stop!” Mob ran toward him like a tidal wave, so many, so large. “By order of the veche!” He had no way of fighting them. His suit was not as strong as Tan’s had been.
    He turned, met the Mob face on. But they weren ’t after him, and surged around him like thick, dark water. Black armour riddled with the silver hints of pion-powered weapons, golden eyes glowing behind wide, thick helmets. One, the large bear head on his black armoured breast ringed with nine circles, paused to scowl down at him. Which was an achievement in itself. Not many people were taller than Kichlan.
    “ Get out of here!” he snapped, shoving Kichlan aside.
    Breathing hard, Kichlan staggered and struggled to right himself. His body was shaking uncontrollably. The suit metal cap on his elbow rolled, squirming, questing out with small lumps, like it was alive. Damn you Tan, he thought, and clenched his teeth. The movement he could not control started somewhere near his shoulder in the twitching of muscles, and ended with the unruly suit. It felt like an invasion of his body. What have you left me to deal with ?
    The large figures he ’d seen digging through rubble, the ones he’d just assumed were normal pion-binders like everyone else, pulled off their robes as the Mob ran towards them. And Kichlan couldn’t stop a gasp. They were Mob too, some Varsnian—from various local and regional veches, if the coloured bars on their heavy armour were anything to go by—but some were distinctly Hon Ji. Their bright blue armour shone in the crisp sunlight, dimmed only by the black dragon twisting across their breastplates. They all drew weapons, hidden in their rag disguises.
    Hon Ji Mob in the city? Running battles in ruined streets? He had to get away, and he had to do it now, before he was caught in the rush of pion weapons he couldn ’t even see.
    But he couldn ’t stop the shaking. And he had only stumbled a weak step forward when suddenly, everything flashed white. Then cries around him, behind him. He spun, desperately rubbing his eyes.
    The Mob were fighting each other, and spilling back towards him, weapons like humming, vibrating swords that flickered and buzzed as they clashed; projectiles fired; flares burned; blood sprayed; chaos and violence around him in a terrible ring. He scrambled back, lost his footing and fell hard.
    A great shadow loomed over him. Varsnian Mob, a bloodied blade lifted and ready, held out an armoured hand. “Hurry, let me help you.”
    Kichlan stared up at the roaming golden eyes and did not understand what was going on.
    “Quickly, before—”
    Two more bursts, so bright they hurt, then explosions rocked the street. The Mob cursed, dropped to a knee, swung to deflect the blade of one of his fellows and followed through with a blow to the man ’s gut. It took two vicious hacks to cut through the black armour, and then the man fell to pieces on the street.
    Kichlan turned, stomach heaving.
    “Get out of the way!” The Mob