The table groaned once, and then the floor beneath it began to fracture in a spiderweb of cracks radiating outward from the point of contact.
"C'mon, Rook," she hissed, eyes blazing. "Don't tell me that's all you've got."
Steel bent inward under the pressure of their locked arms, the center dipping like it was about to cave entirely.
Rook's arm was silver to the shoulder now, muscle bulging as he drove it downward with an inexorable force that couldn't be stopped.
The air pressure in the room dropped and Emma's grin widened. "Oh," she breathed. "Now we're talking."
She pushed again. And this time, Rook pushed back harder.
"You're overextending," Rook said calmly.
Emma barked out a laugh. "And you're underestimating me," she said as she fed more blood to her No. 8.
The table gave with a deafening CRACK and the center split downward, steel tearing apart as both of them remained locked in place, elbows still planted on what was left of the surface.
