My Talent's Name Is Generator

I kept climbing higher, wind roaring in my ears, wings beating hard as I carried the thrashing Phantom with me.

The corrupted chains it used as arms flailed wildly, trying to wrap around my limbs, but I didn’t let go.

My arms were locked around its waist like a steel vise. It squirmed and screeched, mist leaking from its joints, but I kept flying—higher, and higher, until the clouds were below us.

Then I stopped.

And dropped.

We freefell for a second, the Phantom still flailing in my grip.

Then I growled into its ear.

"Your turn."

I shifted my grip, grabbed its head with both hands, and slammed my forehead into the back of its helmet.

CRACK!