I missed this, is running through Number One's skull like a drumbeat, like a pulse. He'd spent so many years fighting without them, and it had been like having his arm lopped off, missing the parts of himself that had once functioned like such a well-oiled machine. And they fall right back into it, Sir Hargreeves' vicious hunting hounds, despite the fact that fights like this had killed Six, once.

It still feels like coming home.

One moves to the side, letting Four stand in front of him for once. Not the sentry but the frontline. Hands glowing, hands raised. One claps his brother's shoulderblades, pointing him right at the horde of zombies coming out of the lake, like he's aiming a cannon.

"Do it! Whatever you're doing, do it now!"