Up on the building, the blurs slow to a stop, as one of Koren's arms, sword still in hand, goes flying through the air to skitter across the street.

Koren snarls, slightly, rubbing his arm. There are tubes there, and beneath the tubing, muscle and no skin.

"You're like the footsoldiers," Atton says, slowly. "Just smarter, aren't you? I thought that as their leader, you'd be different. But you're exactly the same as them."

Masters, and apprentices.

Atton's eyebrows go up, as he abruptly realises something.
"You're not their leader, are you? You're the apprentice, not the master."

Koren just snarls again, charging up bolts of lightning around his remaining hand. A moment later, Atton's sword slides through his stomach, then quickly back out again with a splatter of blue over Atton. Atton swings one arm, knocking him off and down to the street.