We are Skitter

[SleepyBird]

Edith Kassidy was born in the lowest rungs of society, and Taylor Hebert's fall was almost pre-ordained. The two are broken the same day, but what one lacks, the other must provide, as they become the newest Cape of Brockton Bay - and its newest protector.

 

[SleepyBird]

Edith Kassidy

The bus roars as it drives on past me, quickly heading back down the intersection and away from the neighborhood I turn into. My hands wrap around my stomach and I try to keep my eyes focused, try to remind myself how to walk.

Each step is wobbly, my legs feel like they're gonna turn to jello at any second and I let my stomach go to run a hand through my strawberry blonde locks, just tangling the rat's nest on my head further.

I walk past a man doing his lawn care and I try my best not to look like a junkie jonesing for a fix. I do a damn piss poor job, sweating bullets and taking shaky steps as I wave to him. The guy waves back and I can only hope he doesn't try to call the cops on me, ma and pa might be Merchants but shoot, I don't want to act like them.

At least there's less people here, I know everyone on that damn bus was looking at me, waiting for me to pull a gun out of my jacket and declare a stick up. Fuck, I mighta done it iffn it meant speeding us along.

I can't run though, as much as I want to, as much as I want to just run and run and run until I'm at her door, I know my legs will crap out if I try to push 'em. I just have to keep on truckin', that's all I got to do.

The walk feels like miles even though I doubt it's a tenth of one from here to there, everything just feels slow. It's like, I point my eyes at something on the sidewalk, tell myself I just gotta get there but then, all of a sudden, there feels like it's a hundred times farther.

In a city with Vista, that might be true but I know my perspective's just getting warped by the churning in my guts. It takes too long, but I get there eventually, I walk up the rickety old porch and step over the rotten step just as my toes start to blend in with one another, just as the hand on my stomach fuses to it.

I'm about to pull the door open, I know damn well it's unlocked, when a bee lands on the knob, the girl inside telling me to at least knock. Fuck, is mister here? Did I walk by his truck or didn't I? I can't rememb— that don't matter none. All that matters is I get to her, I have to.

I look down at my hand, at the odd, mitten-like shape of flesh on my arm. The knuckles won't bend anymore, I know if I try it'll just fall apart. Unable to knock, I make one final step and press my shoulder into the doorbell, thankful it just gives one ring 'stead of a continuous tone.

A few seconds or a few hours later, the door opens and I lock eyes with a bespeckled brown haired girl.

"Edit—" She barely gets the first syllable of my name out when I slump against her, my chin landing on her shoulder when I close my eyes. I try to blink them back open but they're fused shut.

"Hey Tay," I mutter, my voice thankfully not coming out as a gurgle. "Your pa, home?"

"Yes," Taylor grunts, trying to hold me up even as my bones start to dissolve. I try to make them stay but I'm at my limit and even if I weren't, staying solid's always a hassle 'round her, even after a full charge. "We were just having dinner."

"Fuck", I grunt right back, trying to roll the stiffness out of my neck and cringing at how loose my head is. "He sees me, 'm gonna have to sit down, I… Tay I can't—"

"It's okay," she cuts me off, one hand on my back. "I know you need me."

"Heh heh… heh … heh," the laugh is a small, tiny little chuckle but I can't help it, I might be a bit too delirious to make up an innuendo but I know there's one right on the tip of my brain and that must count for something funny. I can feel the passageway of my throat close up, whatever words I want to say dying an unwilling death when a chair scrapes from further inside.

"Taylor," Mr. Hebert shouts, "Who is it?"

Fore Taylor can respond, she taps me on the back, whispering just as my ear starts to fuse into my hair.

"Go ahead."

I barely have the energy to smile at that little order but with it, I let myself melt. My clothes, my skin, my organs, and bones and brains, all of it dissolves into a mushy blood red goop, somewhere 'tween snot and webbing.

And with my actual body coming out, I lose everything. My sight winks out, my hearing gets worse than a deaf bat's, and I lose nearly all sensation 'cept for the feeling of warmth below me.

Instinctively, I let myself seep into that warmth, the stitching of Taylor's clothes meaning nothing to me as I slip tween the fibers, my body melding into hers so completely that within maybe half a second, I disappear completely under her skin.

And finally, that ache inside me, that cold gnawing pain finally subsides, finally lets me feel normal as Taylor takes a deep breath, my own body rejuvenated by her lungs.

She stands there for a moment, paused as she tries to get all of her new senses back into something manageable. We've done this song and dance everyday for the past three months now and neither of us have gotten used to that high of bonding.

Even when I can stay human, my senses are nothing like this. I can hear the smallest sound for damn near three or so houses in either direction, the new sense of smell makes Taylor's nose wrinkle, all the little things she couldn't detect suddenly coming at her all at once.

Taylor blinks as her glasses become unnecessary, the prescription lenses just making things blurry when someone shouts. Taylor turns a bit too quickly, fast enough that I imagine most would feel a twinge in their back.

Mr. Hebert tilts his head at his daughter, leaning up one foot to see past her and through the open door.

"Who was it?" he asks, probably repeating himself. Taylor ain't quite ready to answer yet, her mind a bit too preoccupied by the other thing I ramp up. Despite what she might say, her power's damn good on its own, the whole bug control thing might not look pretty but I find pretty's overrated.

Still, she claims what I do is invaluable, personally I don't see much a difference, all I do is up her range from six blocks to nine and make the bugs a bit easier to sense through.

Eventually, just shy of when it would have been awkward, Taylor shakes her head at her pa and closes the door before turnin back 'round.

"No one," she answers "Probably just a kid playing a prank."

Taylor's pa doesn't look past the bad lie for what it is, instead just noddin' as he heads back to his seat. Taylor and I wait in the little hallway before you get to the living room, the uh… whatcha call it—

"A foyer" Taylor answers my thoughts with one of her own and I give her the mental equivalent of a nod. I can feel her lips quirk down into a frown and I give her a silent sigh as I start sending an apology her way.

I'm sorry, I tell her, I know that was close and believe you me if I coulda held off on it I would've but we only bonded for an hour yesterday and then I had to go home and sleep and that was twelve fucking hours and then Winslow and my ma added another seven and I—

Taylor quiets me by putting her right hand over her heart and then a second later, she puts her left over that. The tiny gesture's stupid but it's something Tay got into the habit of whenever I act like this… like a fucking addict needing a hit.

"It's okay," Tay soothes, her thoughts feeling like a cool silk blanket over my heart… or whatever the fuck passes for it now. "I'm not accusing you of anything, I know by now that it's not something you can stop."

Her words calm me down but they also remind me that she's right, my stupid fuckin powers… world's best super addict.

If I could let my head hang I would. Taylor starts walking back to the dining room table and I try not to think about January, back when we thought cold turkey might break some kind of threshold.

All it did was make it worse, 'fore then I could stay myself most of the day, maybe around twenty two hours if I was pushing it, since then it feels like I'm down to nineteen or twenty. It's stupid, having to do this every fucking day, sure it feels great for the both of us but Taylor never comes to my house jonesing for me, it's always—

Even without directly broadcastin' my thoughts, Taylor can feel them, the emotions attached to them and with that, she squeezes both her hands together, the stupid gesture calming me even further before her hands drop.

Without the anxiousness buzzin 'round my noggin', I can actually smell what Taylor made for dinner and her mouth watering isn't the first time I've wished my emotions didn't affect her bodily reactions.

She swallows the saliva and takes her seat on her pa's right, the lanky man trying not to shake his fork like all men do when something tastes really good.

"When did you learn how to do this?" He asks her, "I don't think I've ever seen you grill before."

He picks the worst time to ask his question, right when Taylor's got a nice chunk of steak on her fork and halfway up to her mouth, the delicious, delicious protein taunting me in its perfect rareness. Of course before Taylor can answer that question her pa gets another one lined up, his green eyes staring at the pink if Taylor's bite.

"Uh…" he trails off, "Are you sure that's done?"

Both to answer her pa's question and to take pity on little old me, Taylor brings the bite to her mouth, chewing slowly and letting me savor the bloody morsel. I don't know why my powers have given me such a strong hankering for meat but ever since we got out of the hospital that's been the best food ever, meat, meat, and more meat.

Well, that and chocolate for some reason.

Taylor let's the bite fall down her throat and I can't help but grab the chunks on the way down, my powers having turned Taylor's insides into… well, more of me. Don't get me wrong, she's the one in control, 'sides from giving her some bonuses, I can't do anything with her lest she let me. That said, I'm hungry as hell and while I could conform to her GI tract, whatever the hell I'm made out of is far more efficient, no waste or nothin.

When Taylor and her pa get to jawin', I try my best to tune them both out, a task that ain't too hard given the good food Taylor's feeding me.

She and I might be close, closer now than we ever was before, but I know dinner's are s'posed to be quiet family time and I ain't 'bout to be called an eavesdropper anytime soon.

Dinner goes by quickly and despite myself, I can feel my body start to lose itself, whichever part counting as a brain starts to fade and it becomes a right hassle to stay conscious.

But then Taylor's scrubbin' her dish in the sink and with a thought that feels like someone putin a warm cover over me she speaks up.

"It's alright Edith," she says, still sticking to her solemn vow to never call me by my last name. "Get some rest, I'll wake you when it's time to go."

And with that, shuteye can't come quick enough.

~@~

I don't know when Taylor stirs me awake exactly, all I know is that when I groggily look through her eyes, I can see the window in front of her desk is pitch black. Sun was setti' when I hit the hay but I wasn't expectin' to sleep in for so long.

"What," even though I don't yawn, there's some bit of me that decides to try anyway. "Time is it?"

"10:30," Taylor replies, her pencil scratching out the homework she's working on. I follow her eyes and grimace, two worksheets lay there, one done in Taylor's more utilitarian style of writin' and another done in a loopy cursive chicken scratch.

"Taylor," I chastise, "You shouldn't be doin' my work for me, Emma's brood been tryin' to get you and me outta classes with each other since August, copying homework is the silver bullet they might need."

Taylor snorts, the phantom amusement I can feel from her traces back to two things, one's that Emma's trying to split us given if she weren't constantly surrounded by her cultists she'd have been dead in the water come third period and two: the idea that a teacher could tell we were copying each other.

"I'm serious Tay, it was a kind've divine planets alignin' type shit that got us to share our schedules but if even one of those teachers get an excuse—"

"They don't have anything to go on," Taylor cuts me off, signing her sheet with her name and mine with mine. "And I'm not gonna let you start failing classes, Junior year would be hell without you."

I know they shouldn't, I know she's just be tactful— no, wait she's being the other thing tactical, but hearin' her say that the next year would suck without me… it's nice.

"Okay," I relent just as Taylor puts her work away before squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, all of her bugs still going about their business but subtly starting to converge on her house. "I take it we goin' now?"

"Yes," she answers, heading out into the hall and turning off her light. It's a few steps into the living room and she pauses when she catches her pa, out cold in his armchair, with maybe five or six stale bottles 'round his feet. "I don't like him being here, he might catch us when we get back."

"We's quieter than a mouse," I point out, "Plus you got your whole bug army thing, we'd tell if he's up."

Taylor shakes her head at my flawless reasoning and I shake whatever counts as mine right back.

"We might be too exhausted to remember," she says, walking over to him and grimacing at the mostly empty bottle held between loose fingers. However exhausted we might be when we get back, somethin' tells me her pa's gonna be in an even deeper sleep. Still… if Taylor wants to do something.

"You have the power," I tell her and she leans forward, one arm hooking underneath his knees and the other moving 'round to his back. Without even a grunt, Taylor puts him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, Mr. Hebert groaning a little at the jostlin'.

With one arm busy holdin' him and the other settin' down his bottle, I take care of the TV. A large, mostly bright red tendril shoots out of Taylor's side, the appendage mostly in my control as I grab for the remote. With an awkward finagling of the thick webbin' I press the button and plunge the house into complete darkness.

Taylor took off her glasses at some point but even in the pitch black hallways, she moves without hesitation, her eyes perfectly clear and bright in what should be totally unseeable.

Taylor puts her pa to bed and though the guy gives one last groan, he stays out like a light. Come mornin' he'll probably think he got himself to bed, that'll be an easier pill to swallow than realizin' his daughter somehow moved him. 'Course, right now, when push comes to shove, Taylor could probably deadlift his truck without breaking a sweat.

With him put to bed, Taylor heads for the basement, or more specifically, to the old coal chute behind some fancy-shmancy armoire. She moves it and cringes at the slight scrape before lifting it up to pivot on the other side. Thankfully, the old coal chute is silent when she opens it and pulls out her costume, the thing that took her months to make.

The silk bodysuit has been dyed since last I saw it, completely black from head to toe and the paneling on the front, shoulders, and hips were kept the darker gray they was since last time. Personally, I think it kicks ass but I 'member havin' to tell Tay it weren't as edgy as she thought it was.

She's about to put it on, one hand on the hem of her shirt when she pauses.

Oh for fuck sakes,

"Edith," Taylor prods, "Would you mind leaving me for a moment."

I don't reply, instead I do my best to pretend I don't hear nothin' when Taylor sighs.

"Edith, c'mon, it'll only be for a sec—"

"I'm not gonna look," I protest, "and even if I did, what's the big deal? You see me naked all the time."

Taylor sputters at my reasonin', the blood rushing to her face before she takes a deep and annoyed breath.

"You can make your body mimic clothing," she says, "That's a pretty big difference, you aren't actually naked."

"Eh, tomatoe, tomatoh"

"Get the fuck out of my body,"

Knowin' I've already pushed my luck as it is, I slowly push myself up to the surface and fight against the almost magnetic pull to stay. I seep out of Taylor's skin and plop inelegantly on the floor in front of her, pretty much blind, deaf, and mostly immobile, I just wait there on the floor, sure that when Taylor's got her pants on, she'll let me know.

It can't possibly take as long as it feels but overtime, I quickly feel myself starting to come undone. It's like pins and needles, starting at my 'skin' but slowly making their way closer into me. I can feel my whole body shudder like fat in a seal as I wait.

I debate the merits of counting the pebbles pressed into my underside when I feel five points of pure, blissful warmth touch my body. Taylor's hand, her fingers.

Taking the cue as what it is, I slither up the offered arm and press myself into her silk covered body. The black widow silk she used is a little bit harder to get through than the clothes she was wearing when I got here but all things considered, it just makes a half second process twice as long.

We both sigh and in the privacy of her basement, Taylor drops to her knees, the sudden bonding made all the nicer by that brief minute without each other. Fuck, I hope it's not as addictive as it feels.

Her breaths are short and gasping and even though it's a little strange to be rubbing at her back from the inside, Taylor is comforted by the gesture nonetheless and after a minute of that, she gets up to her feet.

"Okay," she says out loud, cracking her neck and shaking her limbs loose, "mask on."

We only came up with that simple code phrase last month, when I first figured out there was something more to my powers than just lurking underneath the skin.

Taylor looks down at her hands as a blood red goop rises out of her palms, the tendrils of it lancing out and grabbing hold of more silk to pull myself through. It doesn't take me half a second to climb out of her, to cover her suit like algae on an old pool and then, after the tiniest beat, I layer more of myself on top of that and then twice more before Taylor's suddenly gotten taller, maybe a third of the way to seven feet before I reach my limit.

When all's said and done, Taylor looks completely different

You'd think, given that I'm just red through and through that her old costume wouldn't be visible at all but that ain't the case. The blood red of my body pops nicely against the black of her body suit, the insectoid paneling lances up in hard angles where they were before and if anything, I think I make her knuckle guards look fierce as hell with the four inch claws I provide.

The real kicker's the teeth though.

At some point, Taylor's jaw popped open, her wide mouth becoming a slit in her face as rows and rows of teeth filled it, one in front of the other as her tongue lengthened and mutated, the skin of it becoming rough like a lion's. Her mouth can close just fine though, albeit in four parts that split down her chin like a mandible.

Her hair is mostly unchanged although the tendrils I have slipping between the strands to cover her scalp have given the ebony waves a kind of wild look. I don't know how or why my power can bond with clothes and I couldn't begin to describe whatever process turned her amber lenses into functioning golden eyes but all I know is that this costume needs a final touch.

I will the skin of our front to shift, grabbing silk from some parts and forming a pitch black scorpion in the sea of red.

Taylor takes one look at the insignia and gestures with a shake of her hand, dispelling it much to my chagrin.

"For the last time," Taylor speaks, her voice now a gravely somewhat deeper and somewhat shriller tone. "We don't need a logo."

I can't help but laugh and the sound comes up through her lips as I take hold of the same throat.

"Don't I get a say in this?" I ask, my own voice distinctly deeper and with a southern twang Taylor couldn't hope to imitate. She doesn't answer me immediately, she just heads for the basement window and once she's got it pushed to the side, she slinks out into the damp grass.

"You have veto rights too, whatever we decide on, if we decide on something. It has to be together."

I hum as Taylor bends her knees, a single bound taking us to her rooftop, Taylor's bugs telling her no one's watching. The padding I put on our feet makes our jumps and landings perfectly silent as we take the long hike out of suburbia and into the city.

The journey might be long as hell, but fuck if it ain't a joy to make. Before long, Taylor has to stifle the whoops and screams that come from our throat and I don't blame her, the speed, the strength, the fact that when we actually hit the city proper we can clear a block in five seconds, it's all… intoxicating.

Last month was nothing like this, last month we barely scratched the surface of being together like this, and now— now's so much different! Leaping over rooftops, jumping between large streets and just barely catching ourselves on the lips of what's across, this is—

Focus.

The thought comes from both of us and we stop cold just on the line between Empire and ABB turf. This isn't a day to be testin' ourselves, this is a day to what we were meant to do. We came out here to fight, we came out here to make a difference and with me boostin' Tay's range and making her bugs see good, that opportunity is low hanging fruit.

While Taylor's new eyes can't close like before, she stops seeing through them to focus on the millions of bugs in this city. We catch an eyeful of things we'd rather not, plenty of people decided to stay up all night the fun way but thankfully Tay disregards them as fast as she realizes what's going on.

There's a few late night conversations, someone is working on his car, a few men are stumbling out of a bar and just on the edge of her range, closer into ABB territory we strike gold.

The roach Tay's listening through isn't able to get a good view of who's talking but the little critter's well in earshot of someone givin' stern orders.

"The work is simple," the speaker doesn't shout but his voice is laced with the authority of someone who's used to being listened to. "Tonight is a night of retribution, so says the dragon."

There's a murmurin' of agreement, a few of the less bright give half attempted whoops 'fore they realize they ain't at a rally.

"There will be no prisoners," he says just as Taylor starts rushin' his way, puttin the pieces together that whatever we're listenin in on is ugly work. "The children are going to die tonight, they've overstepped one too many times and we will show them the error of their ways. Do not let them run, do not let them hide, put a bullet in every corpse you find, just to be sure."

Taylor starts running full tilt and with the way her breath comes, more from anger than any actual exertion, I can tell she's right pissed.

"Fucking kids?!" she thinks, her long tongue running over knife like incisors. "I knew they were bad but—" she shakes her head as she jumps up onto the raised edge of another roof, her arm barely missing the next one's edge before I shoot it out, grabbing on to it and helping her up. "Fucking kids?!"

I don't reply, somethin' 'bout this don't sit right with me. ABB are mean motherfuckers on a good day but I can't think nothin' would make 'em kill some kids. The only kids worth shootin' in their wheelhouse are the Wards and that can't be right neither, Lung might be tough as nails but ain't nobody wants Legend or Eidolon to come 'round and erase them like the last Ward-killer.

Taylor feels like she's about to go on another rant when we enter the same block as the speaker, right when the roach finally crawls out from under a desk or somethin' to take in the room.

The mask the roach looks at makes us both falter, the grin of a demon not even sparing the bug a glance as he paces in front of a group of 'bout fifteen rank and file.

Whatever else he tells them falls to the wayside as we both stand there, the wind kickin' up Tay's hair as her limbs fall to her sides. We're frozen to the spot, the claws on Taylor's feet grow and hook into the concrete below us, I don't know whether it were her or me that rooted us but I can't blame either.

That's Oni Lee.

Oni Lee is telling his men to go out there and… kill some kids. That… I try to shake our head but Taylor resists it, barely tilting her chin from side to side as the realization hits me twice over. That's fucking Oni goddamn Lee!

That's the guy who regularly flunks out of suicide bombing, the ABB's sole other cape, the guy who's backed up Lung for years now, he is not first night material.

This is stupid as hell, we should turn round right now, find ourselves a phone and—

Taylor rips her claws out of the concrete, taking a single step forward before I stop us both, freezing the part of us that are me.

"No," I hiss out, shaking as Taylor starts trying to fight me, "This is a bad idea, a stupid fuckin—"

"We…" she takes control of our mouth, her voice strained like she's lifting a mountain, "Can't stop here, we can't turn back, we—"

"Yes we fuckin' can! That's Oni Lee, he ain't first night material unless you really fuckin' hate yourself, we—"

"He's killing kids!" She yells back, "I won't be able to live with myself if I turn around, I—" her hands shakily rise up to her chest, her right hand on her heart and her left on top of that. "Please."

I… fuck,

I let go of my control, let her have back everythin as she falls to her knees, wheezin' as Oni Lee takes his men outside, with him leading the front.

This is so fucking stupid, this is literally our first time goin out— I was gonna be proud if we brought in some muggers or got a cat out of a tree or some shit but fuck. A cape fight? And with one of the stronger capes to boot?

"Can't we…" I trail off, no real idea comin' to mind as Taylor crouches on the roof, the cloudy sky hidin' our silhouette as the hoodlums come nearer. "I dunno, sting his eyes or some shit first?"

Taylor shakes her head before replying, her legs shifting into a pounce.

"Can't, the lenses of his mask are sealed in, there's no gaps I can exploit without him knowing."

"So," I start, "We're really just gonna… fuckin' wing it?"

"I have a plan but worse comes to worse, we fight." Taylor waits until Oni Lee is right below her, the normally shifty teleporter has decided to lead his army on foot instead of his usual flittin' about and I realize Taylor's plan as soon as she steps off the roof.

What she has couldn't be called a plan if you explained it to a kindergartner, what she's got is a foolhardy idea that if she lands on the sumbitch she can knock him out 'fore he has a chance to blink.

And after all the shit we read 'bout Brutes gettin' cocky with their powers, Taylor decides to do somethin' like this?

It seems god herself doesn't like this plan none because the second we're almost on top of him, blunted feet about to slam into his shoulders, the clouds part and the full moon casts a shadow of us right in his path.

His shoulders snap a bit, the collarbones breakin' loose as his head bounces against the asphalt.

Taylor looks up from the guy we dropped on, and sure as shootin' there's another Oni Lee only a few feet in front of us, his knives unholstered before he rushes us. Taylor's bugs are already swarming the men behind us but they can't find purchase on either the Oni Lee beneath our feet or the one in front of us, the suicide bomber's costume offers him complete coverage of thick wool.

We'll get through in a few minutes at this rate but fight's with him rarely last longer than that, most of the time, he's killed the fucker that tried to fight him by then.

"Not helping," Taylor growls in our thoughts and she raises her arms up in a fighter's stance, a pose carried over from me when we feel a knife slide across our throat.

It doesn't dig deep but as we turn to face the new Oni Lee, the one who had to lean up to slit our neck, the one below us puffs away, jostling our footing as the second clone reaches us, trying to bury a knife in our guts.

The first cut didn't do shit, it might have left a trail of fire over our throat but I was healin' that shit up by the time the knife had stopped. This second one cuts a bit deeper for a second but then the knife snaps as our body unconsciously spools itself around the blade, the bloody red and black first holding on to, then seeping into the metal.

We know enough of his stupid tricks to know what to do, PHO says he only has one. We ignore the stabber and grab at the latest one's face, turnin' around completely with our speed far outrunnin' his reflexes before we bring that arm into the concrete.

The clone doesn't puff into ash, instead his grinin' mask cracks heavily and blood stains the ceramic before he disappears. That… that might've actually killed him. Might've killed that instance of him I should say.

The moment doesn't make us pause as much as it should but as the clone behind us tries to slice with his nub of a knife, one of the ABB goons stands up shakily.

Most of his fellow underlings have decided to just lay on the ground, unable to run as the swarm bites and stings relentlessly but this one must be dumber than most. The pistol he's holdin' makes us stop more than the guy we killed and the shot sounds so much louder than what I've heard in my neighborhood.

The crack makes our ears ring but that sound actually does more to hurt us than the bullet itself. The .45 falls out of our head, not feelin' much worse than a hard punch before it falls to the ground with a dull clink.

The goon stares at us with rapidly swelling eyes, the bees around them stinging the skin a bright blistered red as we take the three steps needed to wrap our hand around his gun, the metal contorting like clay when another Oni Lee appears on our side.

This one's knives are in their sheathes, his guns are holstered, and his fists aren't even raised. But this one is by far the deadliest.

His index finger is wrapped around a drawstring and with a sickening whir, what must be half dozen pins come loose.

The hand we have around the gun expands, parts of it shootin' off to push the gunman away as our right leg moves up, the bones of our shin and femur cracking as we kick him in the chest, the elongated limb sendin' him further aw—

The boom happens to quickly.

The world is white pain as we bring both of our hands up to our ears, the ringing hurts, it hurts in a way that feels fundamental. Hurts in the way people can only recognize when they feel it themselves. It's like a full body burn but sharper, sharp enough that it feels like knives runnin' over my skin, somethin that makes the red rise from the black as we stumble back a few steps away from where the goons might be.

Our golden eyes finally get a good look of the world again only to watch another explosion, the brightness stuns us but again, it isn't half as bad as the… as the sound.

We're thrown back this time, the explosion's proximity throwin' us down the street ass over head and bouncin against what feels like a streetlight 'fore we stop.

The asphalt feels cool against our skin but our regeneration is slower this time, like our body's close to runnin' out of whatever keeps us goin' as we get our hands out from under us.

We shake our head right as the ringin' starts to die down, right as a pair of black boots puff into existence in front of us. Oni Lee stares down at us, his mask impassive as another flit sounds behind us. We turn on the ground to spot the second and then, he turns his head to face our feet, a final Oni Lee appearing there but right as he starts to pull the drawstring, a white hot anger fills our chest.

We are not dying our first night.

Even though we're one mind on this, we both take different actions. Taylor reaches out for the clone in front of us, both her arms snaking up the serial killer's legs while her own right leg grabs for the one behind us. Her toes bend and crack until it forms a rudimentary hand to grip his left ankle while the mass on that leg's thigh reaches out, a long red and black tendril grabbing at the last clone's pelvis.

Our instinct is to slam them all into the ground but we hold that judgment off and instead, bring all three of the clones to slam into each other above us, their masks collidin' and their heads bouncin'.

The three of them are knocked out instantly and though the one that was in front of us still has his finger 'round the drawstring, he puffs away just as the weight of his limp hand pulls the pins. The one that was behind us follows the first and after a beat… the one that was by our feet stays.

Taylor gets up quickly, her head tilted as I keep the tendril perfectly still in space, the base of it sliding up her thigh and into her middle as she stands to her full height. The final Oni Lee doesn't move, if it weren't for the wheezin' comin' from his chest I woulda thought he be dead.

This… ain't right.

We might be tough, we might be smart, we might be a whole heap of good qualities but the fucker in front is goddamn Oni Lee. The guy's only ever been caught once before and that didn't stick, not 'cause the Protectorate don't hold capes proper but because this fucker's inhuman.

He's a machine, a thing built to kill and not much else, he's had years to hone his craft and while I'd like to think we'd be as good or better than him someday, no amount of dumb luck shoulda made this possible.

But still, the surprise of lookin' a gift horse in the mouth only last for so long and eventually, we spring into action again. The bit of my mass slides up his pelvis and doesn't stop until it's around his head, an organic blindfold wrapped over his eyes and some of Taylor's meanest spiders—

"Thanks for the assist!"

We both turn as fast as we can, Oni Lee jostlin' off the road as we look up behind us, to the rooftops above. There we spy four silhouettes, three people ridin'... what looks to me like ugly dead lizard dog things and one standing at the edge of the roof, his shoulders broad with some kind of helmet on.

I pull the tendril back into us, gluin' Oni Lee to our back as we make the leap up to them.

All four of the figures step away from us as soon as we land and this close, our night vision can pick up more details.

The one not on a dog, and they're definitely dogs now that I can smell them up wind, is dressed in motorcycle leathers, thick and padded gloves, and steel toed boots. The only real costumey thing that separates him from just a normal biker is his helmet, the skull painted on the front gives the whole thing a cheap but effective look.

The one right behind him looks like the only one wearin' an actual costume, she's got a black and purple leather jacket on, the stitching done stylishly into a purple T across her chest, with a slightly smaller one off to the right by her hip. She's got a domino mask on that doesn't hide her emerald green eyes, honey blonde hair frames a pretty damn soft face.

Her eyes keep my attention for a second but Taylor turns our head to examine the other two.

One looks like she just woke up, wearin' a red jacket with a fur lined collar, faded as hell jeans, and boots not too different from the big guy. And like him, the only real costume part of her ensemble is a very cheap lookin' latex dog mask, the kind you buy durin' Halloween. Her hair looks like it was chopped up by herself, done in uneven scraggly red lines.

Speakin' of Halloween, the last feller looks like he hasn't changed clothes since a school play. A big white puffy shirt, tight leather pants, and what might be fuckin' dress shoes. He's actually carrying a weapon though, a big fancy lookin' sceptre that smells to me like ozone. His mask is the most intricate one here, done in a venetian style with an oily lookin' smirk.

Like the blondie, his mask don't got lenses, revealin' pale blue eyes that seem to look right through me. He reaches his free hand up to run a hand through a mop of black curls and we tilt our head right back at him.

"Heroes?" Taylor thinks at me.

"Definitely not," I reply, droppin' Oni Lee to gravel 'neath us as Taylor's spiders give him a silk blindfold. "I don't know these fellers from Adam but they's aint heroes, I'm sure of it."

I don't mean it to come out, but with Taylor's shyness offering me a free action, an animalistic sound climbs up our throat, our jaw opens up and down and our chin splits like an ant's, revealin' a shitload of teeth as a hiss rattles everyone present.

The one in the dog mask points her hand up but the ren faire reject cuts her off before any words can come out.

"Woah, woah, that's no way to return the favor."

Taylor and I both look at him and our mandible extends out. He doesn't look bothered by our display, if anything, he's a little bored as he keeps speakin'.

"You might've gotten here first, wore him out, but the only reason you're not a greasy smear on the pavement is because I got that bastard to blink for you."

His statement pisses me off, like I owe anythin' to—

"No," the blonde speaks up, her voice a light and tinklin' alto. "She would've survived at least five or six more of those." We turn our head to look at her and while she flinches at the step we make towards her, her eyes and mouth stay steady as she adds: "I'm sorry, they would've survived it."

Her words make me flinch away but Taylor stays firm, a new hiss starts to come up as our mandibles click together.

"You…" Taylor speaks up, her words formin' with a secondary mouth behind our mandibles, one with lips able to make the sound. Her words were meant to be internal but now that she's got their attention, she has to finish the thought out loud. "You know too much."

The blonde opens her mouth again, the smirk on her face sharpenin' when the big one steps 'tween us, his hands up in a placatin' gesture.

"Yep," he says, a sigh in his voice. "Tattletale tends to say too much."

The blonde scoffs but her smirk turns into somethin' gentler as their apparent leader keeps talkin'.

"I figure you don't know our names, but I'm Grue, behind me is Bitch—" he gestures to the dog girl with a thumb over his shoulder. "You've already met Tats and last and certainly least—"

"Fuck you Grue," the blue eyed kid says.

"Is Regent and… well since you're already in, how would you like to go a little further?" His question brings both of us up short, Taylor tiltin' our head, is he… tryin' asking us to come with them? Is he actually a hero and I just type casted his costume? No, that phrasin', it's an… offer yes but definitely for money.

He might think we're a merc, maybe a freelancer like Circus.

Our tilted head makes him take another deep breath as our mandibles fuse back into a jaw with a small boney click.

"Tonight's not gonna end with Oni Lee, the way you took him down was… different, but I know you're looking for an opportunity, I've had to do work just like you."

"What the fuck?" I think at Taylor, "He thinks we're a merc!"

Taylor isn't as immediately outraged as I would've thought and I can hear somethin' in the back of her head start to whir, an idea.

"What you've heard is right," Grue continues, "Lung and Oni Lee are gunning for us and… look, we can only pay you for him—" he points to the still unconscious mad man, "If you help us deal with the other guy."

The other—

No fuckin' way.

Taylor groans and pinches at the spot where her nose should be.

"Of course they weren't fucking kids," she says, her thoughts angry. "They—"

"Hold on now," I try to calm Taylor down as I speak, "We don't know if they're villains… maybe they're freelancers like Faultline's Crew maybe—"

"Edith," Taylor cuts me off, "They're villains, I'm sure of it but… maybe—"

"We can sort out details on another day," Tattletale speaks up, one finger raised to Grue when he turns around. "Lung won't come for us tonight, he'll be spooked when his lieutenant doesn't call in. We have more time now and that's what matters."

"Tats, I swear to—"

"I'm sure!" the blonde shouts her voice and face deadly serious as she points to her dog. "Now c'mon, the White Hats are gonna be here in less than a minute."

"What?" I ask, "We can't just let them go, we—"

"We'll contact you!" She says as Grue hops aboard the mount, "I'm sure the boss can work something out."

I want to take a step forward, to see if my tendrils can grab them all before they can kick up their dog turned horses but Taylor keeps us rooted as she thinks to me.

"They have a boss." Taylor's thoughts echo in our head and my annoyance gets higher. Is she fuckin' serious? We have to go after them, they could— "No, we got Oni Lee, we can get them later." Taylor tries to reason just as pure blackness starts to come off Grue's body, the dark is absolute, the clouds lookin' like holes in the world as they rapidly expand.

The last thing our eyes see is Regent blowing a kiss at us and then… nothing, a complete and utter darkness envelops us, all sound ceasin' and despite the fact that our quarry is just… runnin' away! Something about the silence feels… amazin', calmin', like our whole body is being warmed and cooled all at once.

The feelin' is so damn distractin', we're only able to move when it finally pulls away, leavin' us back on an empty rooftop just as two new figures make it up from the other side.

The first that arrives is a man in a full red bodysuit, the plain gear isn't embellished at all save for some stitchin' to shape him out. He's got a sorta visor thingy that runs down his sideburns to connect with his suit but his chin and hair are free.

The other one is only a second slower, she's a bit of a shortass and has a suit almost identical to her partner save that hers is done up in all black with some faintly glowin' circuit lines runnin' up and down it.

Assault & Battery, well… that's some welcome party. The moment the two of them spot us, Battery puts her fists up, the circuitry along her body starting to spark to life when her partner takes a step forward, a smile on his face as he points to Oni Lee, a cocky swagger in his step.

"That a gift for us?"

Author's Note: Hey hey y'all, I really enjoyed writing this story's beginning. Just like Court of the Golden Queen, this was voted for in my channel in the Gaylor convention discord and as such, I cannot promise when or if it gets updated.

But if it does…

Next time on "We are Skitter": Edith and Taylor have a meeting with the Protectorate

PS if this wins again, I will post art of the main character.

 

[xThomas3]

This is interesting. Edith is kinda like Venom from Spiderman! And her power is.. addicting, ehh, powers gonna power.