With great power, comes great responsibility.

With nothing to stop me -- and, more importantly, nothing to hit -- I follow the rotation all the way through, almost in a pirouette. Barring last month's altercation, the only fight I've been in for months was aboard the space station, and cyborg zombies aren't too interested in the finer points of hand-to-hand combat, it turns out. Before that, it was the fight with Tony on the yacht, and before that it was the fight against Norman on the beach. None of those guys dodged; they didn't have to, because any hit I could dish out wouldn't hurt them, anyway. I need to change how I think, here; Steve's big, but he's just a man. No armor, no shield.

"Ooh, tricksy."

I stay up high for my next attempt, still using the momentum from the kick to power through with a solid right hook, my left at the ready.