Breakwall Grappler

He swung over the seawall on a gold banister hooked to coral and kicked Nessa off her feet. Reef plates covered his climbing gear. His face was human apart from white calcification along the jaw, with contract tags braided into his hair. A second hook went behind us. The narrow wall became a triangle of taut lines. Closing on him only gave him another swing or shoulder throw, another pack to cut loose.

Then the evacuation horn sounded in the flooded plaza. He counted us and severed his own escape line. Rescue law, he said. Fight's over until the horn stops.

Together we hauled three strangers from the undertow. At the final note, he returned Nessa's pack, kept the medicine as his fee, and vaulted into the neon mist.

Hooks go in before the attack. Two or three anchors let a Grappler swing and reverse force, isolating a target on a narrow seawall or plaza. Equipment and balance are struck more often than flesh. A surrender is worth more than a corpse lost in the surf.

Every school obeys a continuous evacuation horn, turning to rescue even beside an enemy. Without dependable anchors, they grow cautious and negotiate. They respect someone who checks a line before trusting it. Cutting a rescue rope for advantage makes a person undertow-dead, outside almost every Crownfront truce.