<strong>The Forest</strong><br/><br/>She was smart, he concluded. Smart enough to figure out the ruse and immediately form a plan of action. And skilled enough to make that action count. He watched, impressed, as she effectively disabled two of his men in the first few seconds. They'd recover soon enough, but it gave her a window of opportunity to move against the single soft target in the area. Him.<br/><br/>As a younger man, full of the Xantelli pride, he might have tried to fight her. It was a difficult lesson for some of the Xantelli's to learn: Having the power of the gods didn't make you invulnerable. He'd had his left arm broken for him before he'd learned that lesson, as his overconfidence let him try to engage an agent directly. Marco wouldn't mend it for him, either -- he had to suffer the cast for the full seven weeks, healing like a normal human. It was a lesson he hadn't forgotten, though. All of the Xantelli's were in peak health, with superior physiques. But they weren't superhuman, and for Enzo at least, his martial training was that of a skilled amateur.<br/><br/>Which left the Power, as it always did. He stood his ground as Olivia sprinted straight toward him, her knife held in attack position. The two guards still in front of him would slow her down, but he knew they wouldn't be able to stop her without using their guns, and he definitely didn't want her dead now. She was far too interesting, and potentially valuable. Muscle and nerves could be conjured. Training like hers had to be earned, and it was something their opposition was far better at than they. If she could be turned, she could prove to be quite an interesting asset. And if not, the process would be entertaining enough.<br/><br/>It would be anticlimactic to wave his hands and turn her into a chair or somesuch. Besides, he wished to keep the bulk of his Power secret from her. All the better to surprise her during the process to come. So subtle changes, for now. He reached out to her and manipulated her at a fine grained level, altering chemicals and nerves. Tweaking, not destroying. Her reflexes slowed, neural messengers refusing to carry their tiny burdens at more than a sluggish pace. Her muscles, finely tuned pieces of art that they were, became soft as if suffering years of sedentary atrophy. He flooded her bloodstream with natural endorphins, calming her adrenaline-fueled activity.<br/><br/>There were no outwardly visible changes. Yet in a matter of seconds the finely tuned killing machine before him had turned into a moderately physically capable woman far, far out of her depth. The two brutes in front of him moved forward, intent on capture.<br/><br/>Belatedly he realized that Samuel wasn't dead. That pleased him. He would be moderately difficult to replace. With a thought his vertebrae healed, sliding somewhat painfully back into place. The pain seemed too much for him, though, as the boy drifted off into unconsciousness. Enzo made a mental note to have one of the slaves retrieve him when opportunity presented itself.<br/><br/><br/>