Blood blooms like iron in his mouth, staining his teeth. Gabe curls his lip back, feeling nearly manic with it, and he laughs as he lets go, as he staggers back and gets to his feet. The world goes topsy-turvy, adrenaline surging, his skull aching with a drumbeat pulse. There's someone else here, now. By right, he should kill them both. Should've snapped the woman's neck, drawn the knife he's got hidden in his boot and dealt with the man.

Could've, should've, would've. Too late now.

And then, of course - of course - his tech glitches out. Leaving him with nothing at all.

Gabe bares his teeth, angling his face toward them. He can't hide the horror of his goddamn eyes, so he doesn't try. And he doesn't waste time trying to grope around on the ground for the sunglasses: it won't matter. "Oh, fuck you. That's what you fucking get when you swing at somebody."