Why?

  Why Slaughterhouse?

  Why tonight?

  Why Glory?

  It felt like the universe had it out to get me, like it had a desire to spoil everything.

  Me and Elena had pulled ourselves to our feet, standing behind Glory - this bombshell of a superhero who practically glowed with asskicking and bravado - as Elena clutched onto me.

  Across from Glory stood Slaughterhouse, a villain who looked like she’d walked out of a slasher film.

  There was a pause. Complete silence, save for the distant sirens.

  Then, the ground under Glory’s feet cracked. She launched off of the ground like a missile, heading straight towards Slaughterhouse at lightning speed, trailing golden light behind her like a comet.

  She reared back her hand to punch, threw a jab and-

  Missed?

  She flew directly over Slaughterhouse, who had ducked, almost effortlessly. Glory went sailing a good dozen or so feet behind her before coming to a stop in the air, floating.

  Slaughterhouse then turned, staring straight at the noticeably confused Glory.

  “What?” Slaughterhouse asked. “Are you really surprised I didn’t let you hit me a second time?”

  Glory snarled, rocketing towards Slaughterhouse again.

  This time, Slaughterhouse didn’t dodge.

  There was a loud crash, and a flash of golden light. As the light cleared, I could see Slaughterhouse had slammed Glory in the stomach with her open hand, catching her charge head-on.

  But Glory didn’t seem fazed.

  Where Slaughterhouse had hit her, Glory’s body - or maybe the air around it, it was hard to tell - was crackling with golden light. And Glory didn’t look hurt; she was grinning.

  The light shot from Glory’s stomach to her right leg, causing it to glow a bright golden-white as she immediately kicked up, catching Slaughterhouse in the ribs and launching her into a building. It sounded less like a kick and more like a gunshot.

  Glory looked up at where Slaughterhouse had landed, then her eyes widened.

  There was a low growl from Slaughterhouse. More of those fleshy tendrils were snaking out from the dust before lashing out at the ground.

  And then, came Slaughterhouse herself. Her right arm had morphed again just like before, unfolded into that mad tangle of blood-red lashing tendrils. She swung her arm like a whip, the tendrils crashing down onto Glory like a wave.

  Each one slammed into Glory, and each one bounced off harmlessly, the golden light pinging every single one away from her.

  Slaughterhouse reared back as she landed, both feet planted in a puddle of blood, the tendrils retracting back into her arm again.

  Glory was just floating there about a foot off of the ground, hand on one hip, yawning, still glowing with that golden light.

  “So are you going to actually, like, try?” Glory said mockingly. It felt like this was a game to her, despite the mess of blood and body parts scattered around us.

  Slaughterhouse swung again.

  This time, Glory seemed to disappear, zipping about three feet to the left, deftly dodging the tendril. Another crash, another zip away.

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  She’s fast. I realised, dumbstruck.

  Suddenly, Slaughterhouse dropped down, disappearing into the puddle of blood she’d landed in, like she’d dived underground.

  I felt myself tense up, my eyes darting. I could feel Elena doing the same.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” Elena cursed, scrambling. She got on top of a nearby car, pulling me up with her.

  Glory was now hovering about ten feet in the air, looking around, keeping watch for-

  Something erupted from beneath Glory, emerging from the scattered blood she’d been floating above.

  It was Slaughterhouse, shooting upwards like a rocket, coated in blood.

  She launched herself at Glory, cackling. She got enough air to meet her in the air before grasping out, trying to slam Glory in the neck.

  She made contact. But not with Glory, with the golden light around her.

  It's a forcefield? I thought. It’d make sense, given how it seemed to be bouncing off anything that hit her.

  As Slaughterhouse realised that her grapple wasn’t doing anything, Glory then grabbed her neck in return. Then, she suddenly slammed into the ground, taking Slaughterhouse with her.

  Dust kicked up where the two hit the ground, but we could hear the aftermath as it settled: Glory was punching the living daylights out of Slaughterhouse.

  It almost sounded like violent CPR, a strange rhythm to the beatdown she was giving her. We could hear every thump, every crack of bone, every spray of blood.

  Until it suddenly stopped.

  There was a pause. A silence hung in the air until-

  “Let- let go!”

  That was Glory. It wasn’t full of the bravado we’d been hearing either.

  She sounded worried, even scared.

  Then, Glory launched off of the ground, shooting into the sky. We watched the golden trail follow her as she flew, Slaughterhouse still attached.

  “Does it look like she’s flying…weird to you?” Elena asked me.

  I looked up.

  Glory was flying in a strange, erratic pattern. A straight line up, then down to the side, then up again, then in a more jagged circle.

  A scream, loud and agonised, echoed from the sky.

  My stomach dropped.

  That was Glory.

  As if to prove me right, she suddenly dropped from the sky. Within seconds, she came crashing to a halt a ways down the street from where she’d taken off.

  She was screaming, howling in agony. It was blood-curdling, like someone whose entire body was on fire.

  I looked over, and saw her writhing on the ground, clearly in immense amounts of pain, her face almost looking contorted, her eyes wide open and bloodshot.

  Slaughterhouse kneeled on top of her, one hand grasping Glory’s right hand, the other wrapped tight around her neck. That golden glow was gone, leaving Glory looking almost exposed.

  I could hear Slaughterhouse laugh, deep and guttural.

  “Well, where’d all that bravado go?!” She howled. “You were talking all that good shit a few minutes ago!”

  Glory’s screams intensified, and she sounded almost like she was gasping for air. It sounded like she was dying.

  I heard Elena back away in fear.

  I was frozen, transfixed. I couldn’t look away, no matter how much I wanted to.

  Then, I felt a small voice whisper in my mind.

  Do something.

  I could not tell you why I did what I did next.

  Despite my stomach feeling like it was about to drop out of my ass, I stood up.

  Despite my mind screaming at me to stay where I was, I ran towards Slaughterhouse and Glory.

  I heard Elena scream my name, but I didn’t turn to look at her.

  No one else is going to do it, it might as well be you.

  My heart felt like it was about to explode in my chest as I ran.

  Despite every survival instinct screaming at me to run away, my power infused into the bones in my left arm.

  Power surged through me, infusing into my skin bones like nothing I’d ever felt before. I had no idea what it was doing. No idea what I was doing.

  I felt the tattered remains of my arm swell and grow, the jagged and broken bones that were left expanding and growing beneath my skin, becoming larger, heavier, and denser. Pressure built in my arm as bone pushed its way out, shaping into the full length of the arm, the hands and the fingers. The newly-regrown fingers stretched and tightened, the knuckles jutting into jagged spikes.

  But the bones kept growing, widening and expanding until they made up the shape of what had been the flesh of my arm, now bone-white.

  The whole arm had bulked out, looking like a grotesque gauntlet, white and speckled with red.

  But it didn’t matter.

  All I could think was, Get her off of her. That’s all you have to do!

  “Sing for me, Glory!” Slaughterhouse shouted. “SING!”

  Slaughterhouse must have heard me running, because she stopped.

  Her head snapped to look at me.

  I can’t imagine what she saw. A tall, thin girl wearing a shitty costume made of patched up and painted motorcycle gear, a red scarf flapping behind her, face hidden by a painted helmet.

  That same girl running up to her with one bulked up and jagged bone-covered arm, cocked back like the hammer of a gun.

  I swung with all the strength I could muster.

  And punched Slaughterhouse in the face.

  I don’t know how hard I hit her, but I could feel her jaw crack. It was enough to send her sailing through the air, hard enough to make her roll a good ten feet down the road before collapsing in a heap.

  As she came to a stop, I stood there, panting.

  I looked down at Glory, who had stopped screaming. She was panting, dazed and drained.

  She looked up at me, and my eyes met. I don’t know why, but I was almost expecting her to look thankful.

  But she didn’t. She looked relieved, but there was something else.

  Disdain.

  Almost like she was mad that I’d saved her.