Brockton Bay, December 31st, 9:01 PM
Crusader made sure to hold his spear away from him as the van rounded another corner. As expected, the van skidded slightly, nearly throwing everyone out of their seats, save for Kaiser, who had used his armor to staple himself down.
"Victor." He said, his voice reeking of impatience.
"I know, sir. The roads are complete shit," Victor said from the Driver's seat. Rain and ice mingled in the glow of the headlights. A warm front coming off the ocean had raised the temperature just a scant few degrees, and now the blizzard had turned into a freezing downpour.
The Valkyries flanked the back door of the van, both slightly larger than normal. Packs of sports gear sat on the floor in front of them. Rackets, hockey sticks, bats, the like. Thick gloves as well, for the careful handling of dangerous capes.
Othala was in the passenger seat next to Victor, head down, tired as hell.
Cricket sat to Kaiser's left, her eyes boring a hole through everything. Crusader had never seen her so… focused, in her anger. This whole operation was about vengeance, for all of them, but it was far more personal for her. Her, Stormtiger and Hookwolf had all joined up together, all of them knowing each other from their days of underground cape-fighting.
Krieg sat on Kaiser's right, legs crossed, arms folded, looking uncomfortable. Crusader could hear him breathing heavily through his gas mask. His power was off, but sometimes Crusader could swear he could see the air around him bulge and flicker, like it was trying to escape. Made them all nervous. If he used his power now, the van might crash.
And then there was Alabaster, sitting directly to Crusader's right. Flicking the cylinder of his revolver open every 4 seconds or so, like clockwork. Flicks it open, waits, flicks it open, waits, flicks it open again.
He doesn't have to flick it closed. It just simply became closed every few seconds. Unsettling to watch.
The plates in Crusader's armor ground against itself in the shoulder area as he sagged. This was all that was left of the Empire. Purity had taken Night and Fog with her when she left, months ago. Crusader might have joined them, if he thought they would actually get anything done on their own. But they'd just gone to ground, as expected. No initiative. And now Stormtiger and hookwolf were just gone.
Crusader shuddered. Even with as many capes as they had here, it still felt like something was missing. He shifted his spear over his shoulder and looked to his leader.
"So. Kaiser," He started.
He could feel Max's eyes shift towards him behind the eye slits in his armor.
"Are we getting any backup? Purity in town? Night? Fog?" The hope was thin, but still present. Purity was strong. Really strong. Maybe they'd return for some righteous vengeance, for the sake of former comrades.
"No," came Kaiser's voice. "I explained the situation to them, but they…"
Cricket's strained, whispering voice cut in. "The bitch always hated them. Us. Doesn't care."
Crusader flinched. Cricket's rasp always grated against his ears. Sometimes it looked like the scars on her neck were about to split open whenever she talked.
"They felt the risks were too high." Kaiser continued. "Obviously I disagreed, but she would not be convinced of the necessity of our mission tonight."
Kaiser had found his opportunity for a rousing speech, which was about all he was good for usually. "And let it be known, brothers and sisters, this mission is paramount. This 'Vice' creature presents not only an insult, but a threat. He cannot be allowed to grow, to spread his influence; I have already briefed you on the PRT's findings regarding this man, but not even they suspect the true power behind him. I have reason to believe that he is collecting powers. Growing in influence and strength. He steals our powers, our territory, our reputation. If we do not make things right tonight, then-"
"Rune coming?" Alabaster asked. His voice was like a brick of marble being dropped down a deep hole. Hard, deep, and distant. His eyes were milky white all the way through, so it was hard to tell exactly where he was looking.
Kaiser gave a dismissive gesture while making sure to give Alabaster his full attention. "No. Of course not."
Alabaster checked his revolver before snapping it closed. "Good."
4 syllables in a single night from the man in white. Crusader felt like he should buy some lottery tickets or something.
Kaiser gave a slight cough as the Van took a turn.
He began pointing to each member in turn. "Alabaster, the Twins, and I, will hold off Vice. Victor, Othala, and Cricket, you will kill the cat-thing with Stormtiger's powers. I want that disgusting thing's pelt on my wall."
Kaiser's gaze returned to Crusader. "Crusader. You and Krieg will handle… what remains of Hookwolf." He sounded almost solemn. "Krieg will hold him down. It will be up to you to finish her off."
Crusader hiked up his grip on the spear. Good old Kaiser. Always makes it sound so easy.
In Crusader's opinion, it didn't seem like they'd be getting out of this unscathed, even with the numbers advantage. After the shit Vice pulled at the bank job, he was obviously stronger than he let on. Probably sandbagging with all those hits he took.
"Almost there," Victor called from up front.
Kaiser nodded. "No time for setup, we will strike as fast as we can. Stormtiger's abilities will mean they will be able to hear us coming, to say nothing of any other enhancements Vice may have given himself." He leaned over, the suit of armor he wore reshaping to accommodate the movement. It sounded like the opening and closing of a thousand tiny vaults. "The creatures under Vice's command may have the powers of our old comrades, but they are Not. Them. Do not let them convince you of any such thing. They are not worth consideration. They are not worth any pain you could inflict. They are automatons built for the pleasure of a sick, deranged man."
The Van cut to a stop, and the Valkyries slammed open the van door, each grabbing a handful of sports equipment on the way out. Cricket leapt out, sickles in hand, with Alabaster following after. Crusader heard Victor load up his sniper rifle as Othala climbed onto his back. Othala placed her hand on the back of his neck and Victor blurred beneath her touch, as he shot off like a rocket at super-speed. Krieg stretched his legs and went out, a bubble of distorted air emitting from his body.
Crusader breathed out, slowly, and went out, trailing his phantoms behind him as they scattered through the walls of the van. Ghostly apparitions, wearing his armor and weapons. He felt their dim perspectives intrude on his own as his view of the battlefield expanded. The twins were racing towards the building, Menja leading the charge with one heavily gloved hand, already 6 stories tall.
As Kaiser exited the van, his shoes grew underneath him until he was standing on high, spiked stilts of steel, towering over the battlefield. "Friends, be merciful to these creatures," he called. "Kill them quickly. In fact…"
Menja's gloved hand ran straight through the side of the building,destroying the wall and shattering the glass on the adjacent apartment's windows. Glass mingled with the cold, cold rain.
"Give them all the mercy you can."
Unknown Number
Hello, Sabah. This is Vice. I require your services, urgently.
how did you get this number
That's privileged information. Junkyard dog's clothes exploded. Also I need a fancy Kimono.
what
what do you mean her clothes exploded
She's quite irate about it. And as much as I appreciate her naked body, she does need new pants.
Unknown Number has sent you a location. Open your maps app?
Are you able to make it?
its new years eve can you not?
im not going all the way over to there in this weather
You make a good point. Horrible thing to ask of you.
I'll go to you instead.
No
I'll be there within the hour.
no
No
Vice
i'll come to you alright I can make a new set in like 10 minutes
Vice please I'll even wear the creepy skin thing do not come to my house
vice?
Asssssssssdddaaghghhjklll
what
Sorry can't talk nazis
what
Tags: Living Suit(?)
Sabah rolled over in her bed. Vice hadn't responded to the last message. Did that mean he was coming over? Or that he would come over once was done with whatever his Nazi problem was.
She'd honestly thought, for a little bit, that what had happened that night was a dream, that it didn't happen, or didn't matter. But now the closest was open, and that big plastic bin, full of liquid, and that thing, was out in the open.
And Vice was coming here.
"Sabah!" Her mother called from downstairs. "Are you feeling alright?"
No. Absolutely not.
"I'm fine, Mom. Just tired." Really, really tired. Sabah glared at the bin next to the closet. "Just think I might go to bed early."
"Okay, Dear. I hope you are feeling better in the morning."
Sabah did feel sick, more from guilt, however. Going down on a stranger in the middle of the night. No, not a stranger, a villain that had gone on to make the news robbing a bank. What was she thinking? But lying to her mother made her feel worse than that. She had told her mom everything, about her powers, the way she got them in the first place, and her Cape life. She could always trust her mom, and her mom could always trust her.
And then she'd done something stupid while tired, stressed, and horny, and now it was coming back to haunt her. She should have called the PRT the second Vice showed up. What the fuck was she thinking?
She heard her mom downstairs, laughing at something on the TV. It was so nice to hear her laughing again, these days.
None of this… could ever get back to her. Sabah would make sure of it. She got up off the bed and cracked open the lid of the bin. There, floating in strangely warm water, slightly thick like a syrup, was the uniform, as Vice had called it.
Well, one might call it a costume of some kind. It was more like someone had skinned some fantasy creature, hollowed it out until there was a perfectly Sabah-shaped space inside. She shuddered as she dragged her fingers along its 'face'. Piercing orange eyes. Sharp teeth on the outside of its mouth. Black chitinous skin. Far too many limbs.
Of all creatures, it resembled a spider most of all. As if humans had evolved from arachnids, or some other science fiction plot straight out of the 1950's. A human form covered in black chitin with the abdomen of a spider sticking out the back. Obviously the intention was for her to use her power to make it act like a living thing while she wore it. Probably.
She noted with a not-insignificant amount of the disgust that the outfit seemed to be articulated in the... genital area.
She reached out with her power and the whole thing twitched and inflated, and she had to stifle a scream as it started climbing out of the box, dripping liquid off its shining, black skin.
"Almost scared myself half to death." she muttered. Once again her power flickered, and the whole thing shuddered and shook. Whatever part of her brain that determined whether her power worked on something got confused by the spider-skin. Somewhere between alive or not. Might even be less 'alive' than your average houseplant.
Whatever. It didn't matter. She couldn't just puppet this thing around. She had to sit in the driver's seat, for now at least.
Invisible fingers prodded over the 'uniform', as Vice had called it, until they found a seam in the chitin on the back, and pulled it open. With mental command, Sabah made the skinsuit turn around, each one of the thin legs sticking out of its abdomen ticking and tacking against the hardwood floor as it swung around to reveal its insides. They were wet, a dull orange, a darker shade than the eyes. She stepped up to it.
If she got in with her clothes on, they would come out ruined.
"Fuck." She bit her lip in frustration. She wrenched her clothes off, tossing them in the closet. After a moment's consideration, she took off her undergarments as well. Goosebumps ran across her skin like the footprints of tiny invisible insects.
When she looked back at the suit, it was staring at her. Neck limp, looking over its shoulder. She grit her teeth to force back a scream. Her concentration lapsed and the whole thing fell over again, limb and inanimate.
"Stupid." She said, "Stupid. So stupid." She spat at the suit on the ground. It didn't react, of course, because it wasn't alive, and all she was doing was freaking herself out. She was getting mad at a stupid piece of garbage instead of getting mad at someone who was actually at fault. Like Junkyard Dog. Or Vice. Or Herself.
Stupid.
The suit snapped out again and raced towards her. She didn't bother having it stand. She dragged it up to her face. There was a slight sweet smell, along with warm air, coming from the seam. She grimaced and placed her hand inside.
It was smooth to the touch, a texture similar to lycra. That combined with the wetness, gave her the distinct impression of sweaty bike shorts. The only thing missing was the smell.
"Eaugh."
She reached her hand through until it met with the hand of the suit. The material seemed to part until she reached the end of the arm, at which point it seemed to tighten slightly. She took a moment to move her hand around inside, watching as the spider-girl's hand mirrored it. There was no sensation of it being loose, or somehow separate from her own hand. It was one of the most comfortable gloves she'd ever worn, in that sense. It almost made her mad, how well it fit. She decided to keep one hand out of the suit while she slipped her legs in.
The suit had two normal legs in front, separate from the four spider legs attached to the abdomen in the back. She slid inside, feeling a ridge in the suit rub against her tailbone. It was pleasantly warm inside, which was an extremely unpleasant feeling in this kind of situation.
The feet were divided into two clawed 'toes' with sharp claws on them. Her own feet slid inside easily, and she felt the whole lower body tighten against her.
"Urgh."
She didn't have to do this, right? She should just shove the clothes in his face and then leave, without putting on this stupid thing.
No, Vice was everything except reasonable. She couldn't afford to do anything that set him off. She pushed him, he would just push back, because it offended him, or because he just found it fun. She grimaced and shoved her remaining hand inside the arm of the suit. All that was left was the head dangling in front of her. She took a deep breath of that slight sweetness. And shoved her head in. She felt the skin on the neck loosen and then tighten again to allow her in.
She was plunged into darkness. Suddenly the smell inside was sickeningly sweet. She couldn't breathe. She yelled out, muffled by the material around her, when she felt the seam on the back snap shut over itself. She was trapped.
She grabbed the suit with her power and attempted to find the seam, rip it open, but her power slid off every time she tried, almost as if-
Then, there was a sensation like her entire body falling asleep, a jolt similar to hitting your funny bone, but everywhere at the same time. She knew what a limb falling asleep felt like, this was more like having all your limbs violently knocked unconscious.
The darkness gave way to a colorful blur that resolved into an image. And then she could see. And then she could feel. More than two feet against the carpet. A second set of arms unfolding from her back. The abdomen, gurgling as unfamiliar organs churned within it.
"What… what the fuck." How the fuck did this work? It was like it was a part of her. Was her. This was a mistake. Of course it was a mistake, she knew it was a mistake, but she didn't realize how big a mistake this was. Her arms, all four of them, felt their way across her body, chitin flexing beneath them as she took short, panicked breaths. Every part of her felt sensitive and high strung. She couldn't feel her real body beneath the skin– beneath the suit. She ran her hands all down her body, feeling a horrible jolt as one of her extra arms brushed up against her crotch.
This had gone too far. This had gone, way, way too far. She needed to tell her Mom, damn the consequences. She just needed to get this thing off.
Sabah paused. She looked on the lid of the box, at the instructions.
Nothing about how to get it off. She had no idea how to take this thing off. She couldn't get this thing off!
Which meant she needed to ask Vice how. Directly. She ignored the way one set of hands wrung themselves as the other tore open her closet, looking for ways to cover herself. A thick winter jacket with hastily modified sweatpants were her best bet.
Stop panicking. Just keep going forward until this nightmare is over, she thought to herself. Just as she was about to close the closest door, she caught a look at herself in the mirror.
It stunned her, for a moment. Bright, solid orange eyes, with slit black pupils. It was less that she was controlling it, and more that she couldn't stop controlling it. A clawed hand ran down the length of her check, the skin somehow both hard and flexible. She wondered, momentarily, if this suit was actually capable of anything besides having more legs. Could she walk up walls? Spin a web?
Spoiler: Image
She looked back at her Abdomen and decided she didn't need to answer that question right now. Slowly, quietly, she lifted her window open, and, after navigating her lower body out, carefully lowered herself to the ground. Thank god she lived on the first floor.
The cold wasn't as bad as she thought. She could do this. Just keep going through the nightmare she had made for herself, and eventually, she'd wake up.
Making sure the window was closed behind her, she crawled off into the night.
She was going to get Vice to remove this thing from her, and then who knows what the hell she would do then.
Crusader dove for cover as a section of street was obliterated by the falling form of Menja. Vice had launched himself out of the Apartment like a rocket and knocked her right on her ass. Now everyone was in chaos. Victor and Othala had sped off with a super-speed piggyback ride, Kaiser was up on a nearby roof causing spikes to explode from the gutters and the streets, and the other Valkyrie twin was swatting at the air with a tennis racket, trying to knock Vice out of the air as his metal wings gleamed in the darkness.
He felt Krieg's hand on his shoulder. "Come, my friend. We have our own duties. Leave them." He used an obnoxiously thick German accent while he was in costume, which when combined with the gas mask he wore, made him barely intelligible. There was a certain… stickiness when Kriegs hand pulled away. The air was growing thicker by the second.
"Got it," Crusader muttered. They both slinked off as Fenja got back up and grabbed at Vice as he decked between the two. With a somersault, Vice flew straight into Menja's face and knocked her back, sending her stumbling over and slamming her right into another building. Crusader raised his shield to block flying brickwork, only to see them slow as if falling into molasses.
"What the fuck are you waiting for?" Krieg asked, his accent turning the 'w's into 'v's. The bricks continued to fall in slow motion before they stopped just before they touched him, the surrounding air bubbling up like molten glass.
"Right, fuck, I'm moving," Crusader said. He ran towards Lars' apartment building, each step leaving behind a ghostly duplicate that spread out and took positions around the battlefield. Ghostly afterimages of the whole street from multiple angles filled his vision, letting him see a loose, almost three-dimensional view of the whole scene. Kaiser was closing off the area, cars exploding into walls of painted chrome. Street signs split and grew into perforated portcullises, the words painted on them distorted and stretched as they made spiked fences across every alley and rooftop. It wouldn't hold Vice for long, of course, but it would stop him just long enough for someone else to get in a killing blow, and thus prevented him from attempting to leave altogether.
Not that Vice seemed intent on running anyhow.
Crusader saw Victor and Othala race up onto another rooftop across the way, sniper rifle over Victor's shoulders. Cricket climbed up the side of the building like an expert parkour master to join them. But where was Alabaster?
Crusader saw a paper-white hand reach shakily out of the crater where Fenja had fallen. Unfortunate, but he'd be fine.
Krieg kept pace, moving up to the entrance before placing his foot against the door. There was a sound, similar to the squeaking of cold ice breaking apart, as a glassy bubble of air formed on the end of his foot. Krieg discharged the energy absorbed from falling bricks and the lock snapped. The doors swung wide.
Nobody was behind the front desk, so they moved to the stairwell. Fire alarms were going off and a few sleepy tenants screamed and gave them a wide berth as they moved up to the 6th floor.
Crusader overlapped himself with one of his ghosts, flying up each stairwell in a single bound. Krieg lagged behind, but that was fine. Crusader hated being too close to him in the thick of battle.
When Krieg really let loose, it was almost impossible to breathe near him.
When he reached the 4th floor, Crusader heard footsteps, heavy ones. He recalled two of his ghosts from outside and had them take up flanking positions, spears at the ready.
Standing at the top of the stairs was Junkyard Dog. Crusader had seen the pictures, of course. But that didn't do any justice at all to the sheer form of the thing in front of him. Pure white fur shone in the lights of the stairwell. She was buck naked, save for a pair of stretchy men's athletic shorts. Crusader could see all her soft curves, and the parts where those curves turned into solid muscle. She carried a duffle bag over her shoulder, dollar bills poking out from where the zipper had refused to close.
It was disgusting, to see such a beautiful body with dog bits attached.
"It took you fuckers long enough." She said, her lips curling in disgust. "I mean a whole fucking week? Are you serious?"
So, they'd been waiting for them. Made sense. His ghosts overlapped him slightly, spears bristling. Wasn't going to be easy, but if he got lucky, it would be quick.
His ghosts phased through inanimate matter to strike right at the living flesh. He and Krieg were the best weapons against Hookwolf's power. He waited for her to unfold, transforming into a beast of knives and chains.
Instead, she placed her hand on her hips and growled. "Justin, what the fuck are you doing?"
Crusader paused. "How do you know my name?" He shook his head. "No, I'm not falling for this. You're not Brad."
He advanced his ghosts, summoning another from outside. His ghosts weren't able to catch up to Vice anyway, they'd been chasing him around the past minute or so and had only scored a single hit on him, and he just healed it instantly.
Crusader's awareness of the battle outside dimmed as more of 'himself' surrounded him.
Junkyard Dog grit her teeth hard enough that Crusader swore he could hear it down the stairwell. "Justin, don't fucking start this shit. I know you think you're acting smart or clever or something, but if this is anything but a fucking rescue operation, I will skin you alive and turn you into a goddamn jacket."
Crusader was having doubts, now. That actually sounded a lot like Hookwolf.
"W-wait, hold on. We were-" Crusader tried to stall, deflect, make something up. "We just need to be sure. What's something only Brad would know."
She didn't even hesitate. "2 years ago. Back on Saint Patty's Day. We were out drinking and I found you in the bathroom pissing blood out the nose." She rolled her eyes. "You said some coon punched you in the face, but your nose wasn't actually broken. I drove you to the hospital and you begged me not to tell anyone in the Empire about it. I said you owed me, but I never collected on it. Happy?" She stepped forwards down the stairs, a duffle bag of money slumped over her shoulder, and her chest heaving.
She seemed less distressed than one might assume she would be, if she was telling the truth.
Inside his mind, Crusader grappled with the words she had spoken, the things she knew, and the way she acted. Everything fit what he knew of Brad. Was she, or he, waiting for rescue all this time? Could he not leave under Vice's watch?
She tapped her foot on the stairwell. "Well? Do I gotta start reading from Mein Kampf or something? Fuckin' Yaw-hole, mein Füher. Are we going or not?"
Crusader hesitated again. He wanted to believe her, but he'd been warned against this exact thing. Not to mention…
He just couldn't get over her appearance. The eternal plight of the bigot.
He licked his dry lips beneath his helmet. "Yeah. Let's go. We've got the van outside." He gestured for her to come to him.
Meanwhile, his remaining phantoms filtered in, hiding just above the ceiling and just below the floor. A pincer maneuver. Get it over with quickly.
Junkyard Dog sauntered down the stairs, brushing her loose braids behind her. "Great. You guys only brought a single van? You realize I'm not going to fit in there with all of you–."
The stomp of boots rounded the corner of the stairwell as Kreig finally caught up. Both him and Junkyard Dog stopped dead in their tracks.
Her eyes narrowed, a colder and paler blue than Brad's had ever been. Her fur bristled.
"You brought Krieg?" She asked. "They paired you up with Krieg? To save me?"
Crusader desperately tried to wave Krieg off before he could say anything. He hoped his desperate smile came off from underneath his helmet. "Well, you see– we would have sent you, but you know, we were here to– to rescue you! You know? And Krieg, I mean he's not as good a frontliner as you, but under the circumstances…"
Junkyard Dog had taken a step back on the stairs. "You would have sent me, huh? To rescue myself?"
Crusader took a step to follow. She took another step back. He felt like he had said the exact wrong thing.
"Here's the thing, Justin."
Then, two things happened at once. Crusader heard Krieg sprint up the stairs towards him.
At the same time. Junkyard Dog whipped her arm forward with blinding speed. There was a glint of metal in her hand, one so fast Crusader couldn't react to it at all. The next thing he knew, a crude knife was embedded in midair, caught by Krieg's field.
Junkyard Dog growled as her body bristled with blades and chains.
"Wait!" Crusader said, staring at the blade hanging frozen in the air in front of him. "We were just– we needed to be sure!"
But she wasn't having it. Her black lips pulled all the way back, exposing sharp, white teeth. Her body grew into a mass of churning steel that began to spill down the stairwell.
"You don't think I can't see what's going on here? Don't fucking lie to me!" She shouted over the scream of metal on metal. "They don't send me on rescue missions. They send me when they want someone dead."
Oni Lee sat for a moment, as snow and rain fell in through the massive hole in the apartment wall. It was more accurate, perhaps, to say that the wall was just missing. Out in the street, massive walls of steel were erupting from the street as Vice darted around on leathery wings. The previous metallic wings had grown to twice their size, forcing him into the ground. Oni Lee was fairly certain that one of the Empire capes had done that. She couldn't really remember which one. The one with the crown?
Down below, one of the giant women had taken out a hockey stick and smacked Vice out of midair and straight through the front of a building, where he emerged a few moments later, all his bones bending in the wrong direction, laughing maniacally all the while.
Don't I have something I should be doing? Oni Lee thought.
Ah, yes. She should leave.
Quietly, she stood up, brushing herself off of bits of rubble and insulation, and made her way towards the door.
The building shook as she waited for the elevator to arrive. Lights flickered as massive blows were exchanged by the combatants outside. She could still hear the groaning of metal and the footfalls of giants. Vice's laughter was a bit quieter.
She stepped inside, her new hooves clacking against the floor of the elevator. She descended to the ground floor. Halfway down, She startled as she narrowly dodged one of Crusader's ghosts that had flown through the wall, spinning as if sent reeling from a massive blow. Its head was caved in and leaking some strange slimy dust. It spun through the opposite wall and did not return.
Some part of her was taken by an overwhelming urge to kill Crusader, and in fact, anyone that got in her way. But her power was still not working, and she had no weapon. So she simply exited on the ground floor, stepped out the back entrance of the building, and walked into the dark. She only slipped on her new hooves a few times.
Rain beaded up on the surface of her fur as she continued to walk. She wasn't really sure where she was going. It was dark, and she was more used to seeing the city from up on the rooftops.
She couldn't see the glow of the radio tower through the sleet and rain, so she simply picked a direction and went. She didn't really know where her home was, relative to here.
Eventually, she'd see something familiar. A few blocks more and she'd see something familiar. As for right now, she knew where home wasn't, and that was enough for now.
Although she was starting to get cold. And horny, again.
"Hrm." She said, as a snowflake hit her in the eye.
Another block, and she'd find something she recognized. She was sure of it.
Princess Kittyhawk glided over the chaos of the battlefield. The Valkyrie twins were still chasing. Vice down. A castle of steel had grown over across every street and rooftop, cutting off all escape, except for the air.
Vice had been cornered by the twins, and, in an evasive maneuver, attempted to soar above Kaiser's walls.
There was a loud pop and then one of Vice's leathery wings simply came off, a massive hole blown through it by Victor's rifle. Kittyhawk heard him swear as he fell back to earth, where Fenja followed up by trying to turn him into paste with a gigantic aluminum baseball bat.
It was a lot more effective than the spears they normally used would have been. Kittyhawk landed on one of the roofs and watched, fascinated, as Vice attempted to crawl out of the crater he had been put into.
Suddenly there was a blur as Victor flew out onto the roof, hauling Othala in a bridal carry. He set her down gently before taking the rifle off his back and getting into position. Kittyhawk slunk back behind an AirCon unit and listened in. She briefly imagined them hearing the bell on her collar and looking at her, seeing her shameful, naked, tiny body and–
She was brought out of her fantasizing by Victor's voice. "Anyone seen that cat thing?"
That cat thing, she thought. They didn't know, or maybe didn't care. Who knows? Maybe she didn't care that they didn't care, maybe they'd kill her no matter what for failing, maybe she should just step out in front of them and ask, or just kill them, or just run away. Yes. She needed to run.
She felt her heart beating fast. She felt herself take a step around the corner, towards the two of them.
What am I doing? She asked herself. She stepped forward again. Hadn't she been waiting for this? She'd given up on escaping. She was waiting for a rescue, and now it was here. She just needed to go up to them and say… something. Anything at all!
Another crack of the rifle accompanied another swear from Vice. Victor slicked his short blonde hair back as he racked another round into the chamber.
The building shook as parts of the building's frame buckled and grew, long branches of hot rebar ripping themselves free of the brickwork under Kaiser's influence.
Victor's head turned ever-so-slightly, looking for a place to reposition to, when he and Kittyhawk made eye contact. There was a split second between him recognizing her presence before he whipped around and fired off a shot.
Kittyhawk was struck by deja vu as once more a member of her team tried to kill her on sight.
The bullet was dead-on, of course. Or it would have been, anyway. It slid off a wall of air and flew off into the night. That was a little closer than she'd like, honestly. Victor's rifle was a custom job. Very expensive, very powerful. If she got too close when it fired, it'd probably break through and hit her.
Best not to get too close. Good advice when fighting Victor anyways. She stepped away, hands behind her back.
Was she already planning on fighting him?
"You." Victor said.
"Hi." She said. Shame and anger had pulled her lips back into a grimace. "Rude." Why did she say that?
Victor adjusted his mask and shouldered his rifle. Othala peeked around his frame, her one good eye squirting to see through the dark and rain. She rested one hand on Victor's shoulder, ready to give him whatever he needed. She didn't say anything at all.
Kittyhawk took another step backwards, towards the edge of the roof. Her power could deflect bullets easily enough, but not a 200-pound man at super-speed. "So," she began, fondling the bell on her collar, "Is this a rescue mission?"
There was a heavy crash as one of the Valkyrie Twins fell against the buildings on the other side of the street, screaming as Vice crawled up her leg. Kittyhawk felt her collar give weak tugs as they both trashed around, trying to track Vice's location.
Victor chambered another round in his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. "And who exactly would we be rescuing?" he asked. The question almost seemed wored as a test. His hand edged towards a knife on his belt.
Her heart seemed to crawl into her throat, riding a wave of bile.
"Because-" she started to say, when the world suddenly turned upside down.
Her sense of balance pitched as she fell onto all fours. It was like someone had shifted the whole building underneath her, but no-one else was reacting like it had.
She sputtered, trying to get her bearings.
All it took was a momentary lapse of concentration. Victor flickered forward with incredible speed, a knife appearing from his belt. Kittyhawk's whiskers twitched, and she kicked off from the roof just in time to get airborne before Victor made a grab at her. She flapped her wings, still shaky before taking off.
And then there was a sickness in her stomach again, and then the sky spun and turned inside out. She blinked and found she was racing straight downwards. She let out a squeal as she rammed almost face-first back into the roof, tumbling over herself, pinching one of her wings beneath her body.
She tried desperately to figure out what was going on. Had she been too close to Victor? Had he stolen her ability to fly? No, she was nowhere near close enough, and Victor didn't have nearly enough time to do it. So what was happening?
She scrambled to her paws as Victor sprung upon her, his knife creating arcs of water where it split the rain. She sent a hastily-made blade of air back towards him, which he ducked almost casually, dodging forwards before it could even go off. She brought up another claw of air to block with, but it was a losing gambit from the start. He parried the barely-visible arc of her claw and went in for a grab. The moment his skin made contact with her fur, she felt a fog come over her mind.
Once, a long time ago, at a fancy dinner party Victor had thrown, Lars had once asked him what exactly counted as 'skill', where his power was concerned. Victor had paused for a moment, savoring the flavor of a dish of stuffed chiles, having stolen the recipe and the skill to make it from an immigrant chef. He then wiped his mouth off with a napkin, gave a satisfied smile, and answered.
"Anything," he had said, "that you get better at with practice."
And that meant everything that wasn't memories. And even with those, he could make you bad at remembering things, or memorizing things.
Walking. Talking. Discipline. Self-control. Your talents, your prides. All the things that made you normal, and all the things that made you special too. Lars had always been slightly terrified of Victor, and now Kittyhawk was feeling that fear at full force.
Victor's power was at its maximum during skin contact. He could turn a fully-functioning adult into a vegetable in less time than it took to cook a microwave dinner.
In a panic, she whipped a claw of air across Victor's hand. There was a noise like an arrow being let loose, and Victor screamed as two of his fingers were torn right off. Kittyhawk wrenched her body away, spine twisting over itself. Her wings snapped out as she broke free.
Victor only hissed through grit teeth. Enduring pain was something you could practice. Something many enemies of the empire found themselves unable to do as Victor tortured them for information.
For a moment, Kittyhawk felt like apologizing. They had been teammates. They'd fought side by side!
Then she saw the look on Victor's face, and she could suddenly see him over her, a set of clamps twisting her wings until they popped off like an apple stem.
All she had done was the latest in a long line of things she wasn't able to take back.
Victor stood and blurred, grabbing a set of bandages from his belt, dressing the wound on his hand in seconds. He ducked low to snatch up his lost fingers. Maybe Othala would be able to reattach those?
Kittyhawk flapped twice and flew back into the darkness. The building underneath her groaned as lead pipes and electrical wiring grew and tore itself out of the walls at Kaiser's beck and call. She could hear screaming as residents woke to find their walls coming undone.
She caught some self-made wind under her wings and tried to fly off; It didn't seem like Victor wanted to keep chasing her down. He was just staging there, as if waiting for something. And then, Kittyhawk felt it. It was happening again. The air at the edges of her power began to rattle ever so slightly. Her sense of balance went haywire and she could see the ground racing towards her, even though she felt like she was still rising.
For the second time, she slammed back down into the roof. She could swear she felt her brain rattling around in her skull, pushing against her eyes. She struggled to get to her feet, clambering to all fours just in time to dodge out of the way of a pair of sharp, silvery scythes.
Kittyhawk looked behind her and saw cricket standing there, her teeth grit, pure rage behind her eyes. Of course; she was using her sonar to screw with Kittyhawk's balance. That's why she kept feeling like everything was turning upside down.
"You're not getting away," she rasped. The glint of her blades shone for a fraction of a second before she charged forward. Kittyhawk could hear Victor also approaching the location where she fell, closing in fast, footsteps like machine guns.
Kittyhawk lashed out with blades of air, but Cricket dodged them effortlessly, superhuman reflexes allowing her to get out of the way before they even left the tigress's paws. Within a moment she was upon her.
Kittyhawk was shoved against the ground, wings splayed, Cricket's blades right under her throat, beneath her collar, where her Adam's apple used to be. Cricket had done this to Lars, long ago, when they had spared in the arenas after everyone else had gone home. Lars taught her how to work a crown. She taught him how not to die.
Victor appeared at the edge of vision, injured hand beneath his coat, his other hand holding his knife. He stood, waiting at the ready for Kittyhawk to try anything.
Cricket hiked up on Kittyhawk's prone body, bringing one of her legs forward to step on one of the tigress's wings. Something gave beneath her boot with a sickening crunch. Red hot pain shot down from Kittyhawk's wings all the way down her spine. She screamed.
Lars had taught Cricket that trick. drawing out the end of a fight to its dramatic conclusion instead of just finishing it without any ceremony. Play with your food. Make it hurt. The crowd loved it. Kittyhawk filled the space around her with nascent claws of air, but the moment they began to form, Cricket would casually swipe into them with her scythe, causing them to come undone in a firecracker-like pop, doing nothing more than scattering cold raindrops everywhere.
A massive crash sounded from down the street as one of the Valkyries yelled out. Kittyhawk could just barely see Kaiser's shining figure atop a pillar of steel, waving his arms as he conducted an orchestra of spikes and blades down below. Vice was down there, somewhere, still tugging on her neck.
She took the tether created by her collar and urged it to tug back. The second after she did, a screech of metal from below sounded out, followed by the other Valkyrie twin crying out.
Kittyhawk sucked air between her teeth as Cricket pressed her sole into her broken wing again, tearing feathers from the skin. Her body was more sensitive now, in every way. It felt like her whole back was being ripped out through her shoulder blade.
The blade pressed deeper into Kittyhawk's throat as Cricket leaned in closer. "Fucking disgusting," She said, her voice as clear as Kittyhawk had ever remembered it.
"Melody," she called, desperately. She swallowed, her throat dry and scratchy. "It's me. Please."
Kittyhawk could see Cricket's eyes, behind the cage-like mask on her face, among the countless crisscrossing scars. She hesitated. Just a moment. For someone with Cricket's powerts, that was like an eternity.
And then her gaze steeled and she swung down anyway.
Kittyhawk felt her stomach drop, followed by a screaming, sulfurous rage that billowed out of her mouth. She twisted her body, her spine coiled like a snake's tail as she curled into the swing. Cricket didn't have the range of motion to respond. Kittyhawk took her claws, the normal, tiny, black tipped ones, and dug them into Cricket's stomach. The both screamed as Cricket raised her scythes and brought them down on Kittyhawk's face. Kittyhawk grabbed onto the other woman's arms and struggled to keep the blades away from her throat, cold, wet steel tickling against her fur, when suddenly they were both interrupted by an incredibly loud noise.
CLANG.
Both of them paused as they turned just in time to see Menja's arm fly out and knock Kaiser right off his pillar and into Kittyhawk's apartment building.
They both stalled in their fight to the death. "What…?" Cricket rasped. Kittyhawk, however, knew exactly what was going on. She could feel where Vice was, after all.
Just then, the entire roof shook. Both of them were sent flying in the air as Vice, his arms yanking on Menja's hair like horse reins, caused the Valkyrie's arm to slam down over the edge of the roof. His powers were hooked into her nervous system. Kittyhawk could see Menja's eyes were rolled up into the back of her head, completely unaware of her surroundings as her limbs swung down on the roof at Vice's behest. Large sections of the roof fell open, exposing evacuated apartments below as they filled with broken concrete and insulation.
As both Cricket and Kittyhawk were flung into the air, the tigress swiped her palm to send a blast of air into her former teammate, causing her to sail off towards the edge of the roof. Her wings twitched as she desperately tried to get some air, but she could do nothing but lightly cushion her fall. She twisted to land on her intact wing as the other stood bent.
There was a flicker of movement as Victor came dashing out of the rain towards Kittyhawk, knife raised. She barely had time to raise one of her arms in desperation before Vice had Menja shake the roof again, sending Victor tumbling into a crouch. Before Victor could begin his advance again, they both heard Othala scream as her section of the roof collapsed, clinging onto the twisted fire escape as it pulled free of the brickwork.
"Shit." Victor muttered under his breath. There was a moment of hesitation before he bolted over to Othala at sports-car speeds and tackled her off the roof as it collapsed in full, saving her from being crushed. They both went off the side and dropped 10 stories to the ground, with a loud crash where there would normally be a wet thump. Othala must have given him invincibility.
They'd be just fine. Kittyhawk growled as she stood, every motion of her wing hurting all the way down her back. There was no position she could put it in that didn't hurt. Letting it hang limp felt like it was tearing at her shoulder, but it wouldn't fold up against her back quite right anymore. She hissed and sat against some rubble, trying to take the strain off it.
"Kittyhawk!" Vice said, almost screaming. He flung himself off Menja's head, leaving her barely limp and insensate as she fell off the side of the building like a drunk falling off the edge of a bar. He half-leapt, half-glided over to her like some kind of kung-fu action star on a wire, until he snatched her into a full-body hug. She tried to squeak out a protest, to tell him to watch her wings, when he gently took his hand and placed it on the joint. Instantly, a cool, pleasant tingle spread out from the point as the bones and nerves were put back into place.
She moaned into his chest as the pain turned to relief. It was like she was carrying a burning hot weight on her back that he had just plucked off like it was nothing.
"Shhhh. It's ok, Princess." Vice whispered. Kittyhawk froze, feeling her tail bristle. He sounded really angry again. She'd flown off to betray him, and Now it was only going to make things worse for her. She felt him run his fingers up and down her spine and dreaded what new humiliations she'd be forced to endure. She could feel him breathing down her naked back.
Then she realized he was also naked. All his clothes had been completely shredded, the only intact pieces of fabric being a section of sleeve awkwardly draped over one of his shoulders. Everything else was scattered tatters. In the dim light, she could see long canyons of scar tissue across his body that were rapidly shriveling up and fading as he repaired the damage he'd suffered in his fight against Kaiser and the Twins. He looked much thinner, the normal definition on his muscles having been lost. She could see his shoulder blades pressing against the skin on his back as he curled over to hug her.
She nuzzled deeper as the relief reached the tips of her wings, feathers once again catching the night's cool air.
Her eyes snapped open and her back went tense as she heard cricket approaching again. Her skin was covered in new scratches that joined with her old scars. She was limping ever so slightly, and there was a scowl beneath her cage-like mask. She let out a throaty gurgle and spat on the ground, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out her electronic larynx. She put the device up to her threat, where it let out a broken, electronic screech. It probably broke when she fell.
Kittyhawk glared at her, wanting to fly over there and tear Cricket apart. But Vice's hand was brushing up and down her spine, and his body was keeping the rain off of her. If Cricket wanted to make something of that, then she'd have to do the approaching.
Evidently she wasn't liking her chances, because she threw the broken speech-aid to the ground, shattering it, and ran off the far edge of the roof, leaping down nimbly before sliding down the curved cliffs of steel Kaiser had left behind.
As she watched her go, Kittyhawk wondered if Melody simply didn't believe it when she said that she was… that she used to be Lars. Or if she did believe it, but thought Kittyhawk would be better off dead anyway.
The tigress ground her teeth, until she felt the stress leave her as Vice continued to pet along her back. She could hear the groaning of the buildings as they sagged under the massive metallic structures that had grown in and around them. Hapless and sleepy people, afraid that their buildings would come down, began to pour out of their apartments into the cold rain. She could hear police sirens and PRT vans in the distance.
"Useless bitch." She muttered into Vice's elbow.
"Don't worry about it." Vice said in a soft, lilting tone. "She's a philistine." He scratched behind her ears. She usually hated how much she liked it when he did that. How good it felt. She couldn't muster the energy to hate it now. She'd told herself, a week ago, that all this humiliation and pleasure was just something she had to endure, until someone else came along and saved her.
The last lifeline she'd been holding out for was gone. Her own team tried to kill her. The only person who'd ended up saving her was Vice.
Again.
Vice hugged her against his shoulder as he stood up and made to leave. She pressed herself into his shoulder, causing him to scratch along the back of her neck, just above her collar. The bell jingled. Her whiskers brushed against his naked skin. She felt herself purr, a low rumble from her throat. The pain of just a minute ago was a fading memory against his touch.
No one else was going to save her. No hero was going to go out of their way to free her. Her teammates were trying to kill her and when she died she would leave behind a tiny, naked, kitty corpse.
She was going to be like this forever.
And the man whose fault it all was, was hugging her tightly.
"It's not fair." She moaned.
Vice ruffled her fur. "Not fair at all!" He looked out over the edge where the unconscious forms of the Valkyries writhed down on the street, each subtle movement cracking pavement and destroying concrete.
Vice held up his free hand, wriggling his fingers like a child at a candy store. "I do believe a lovely two-for-one deal is presenting itself–"
Suddenly, a stillness came over him. The eyes on his mask unfocused and looked towards the middle distance. Annoyingly, he also stopped petting her.
"What?" She asked, looking around. He wasn't looking at anything that she could see. She clambered up onto his shoulder and saw, on his neck, a series of tiny blades emerging from the skin, standing up on end, like the fur on the neck of a frightened animal. And then the moment she caught a glimpse of them, they retracted and disappeared into his flesh.
Vice seemed to come back to his senses and turn on his heels towards Kittyhawk's old apartment building. Metal wings grew from his back.
"Vice, what's going on?" She asked, now growing concerned.
"Someone…" he said, "...is ganging up on poor, innocent Junkyard Dog." His wings came down with a screeching noise as they both launched into the air.
As they made their ascent, Kittyhawk looked back onto the roof and saw the uncannily white form of Alabaster emerge onto the roof, before firing a few useless potshots at them, Vice's wind wicking the bullets away like rain off a coat.
Too late. Kittyhawk thought. First too late to save me, now too late to kill me.
She glared down at him, and, after a moment's consideration, stuck her tongue out.