I stared down at Glory.

  Why did I do that? The rational part of my brain suddenly came to life in my head.

  I turned to look at Slaughterhouse, who still lay crumpled in a heap down the road.

  Do I have a death wish?

  I blinked, realising Glory was still just…staring up at me, while Slaughterhouse slowly stirred at the other end of the street.

  “A-are you ok?” I asked, looking down at Glory. A stupid question, clearly she wasn’t.

  Her face twisted, the lingering pain she’d been experiencing fading away and being replaced with something hotter, angrier.

  “Are you nuts?!” She screamed, glaring at me. Her voice was ragged and hoarse.

  “Y-you didn’t- she was- I-” I stammered, still trying to process what exactly I’d done.

  She shot up to her feet. “What, you get rejected and think you can fuck with that crazy bitch?!”

  Regardless, what she said stung, like getting punched in the stomach. Any words I had felt like they’d died in my mouth.

  We heard Slaughterhouse pull herself up, shaking herself like a dog trying to dry itself off. Glory and I turned to look at her. Her face was exposed; turns out I’d knocked her helmet clean off, which had skipped further down the road.

  She looked up, glaring straight at us. Her long, dark, matted hair covered her face, but even so I could see she looked rough; her misshapen face was covered in a network of scars and bumps, like someone whose face had been broken over and over but never quite healed right.

  But her eyes, a deep red, had locked onto us. A deep, horrifying grin spread across her face, revealing a mouth of razor-sharp teeth like some kind of predator.

  Glory looked apprehensive. But even so, she stepped forward, in front of me.

  “Ready for round two, asshole?” She shouted across the street, bracing herself for another fight. But her voice sounded shaky, a small but noticeable pang of fear.

  “I’ve called in backup. There’ll be more heroes in a few minutes, but I need to hold her off. You two need to go, now!” She said, her voice low.

  I felt Elena come up from behind me, grabbing me. “Skye, let's go!”

  I looked at Elena. She looked terrified, desperate to get as far away from here as possible.

  But my eyes kept looking past her, towards the sea of carnage that Slaughterhouse had made. Dozens of people laying dead or dying, blood and viscera caking the roads, the walls, the sidewalks, and each other.

  I turned back to look at Glory. She was looking at me like I was brain-dead.

  Seeing all this carnage, all this death, it flashed a memory in my head.

  Of mom.

  Of how I felt on that night seven years back.

  I took a breath, standing upright. “N-no.”

  Elena looked up at me, her mouth agape.

  “What-”

  “I c-can’t-” I stammered. I knew how insane this sounded, I could feel every instinct in my brain telling me to go with Elena, to run as fast as I can and never look back.

  “If you stay she’s going to kill you!”

  “I can’t just leave people to die!” I yelled. “W-what kind of hero would I be if I just walked away?!”

  Elena stopped, dumbfounded.

  “I-if you want to run, then g-go. I won’t blame you.” I said, my voice firm for what felt like the first time in years. “But I can’t, not now.”

  Elena just stared up at me, emotions clearly running wild on her face. She looked horrified, confused, even a little bit angry.

  She let out a frustrated yell, before bolting away, clambering on top of an empty truck. She looked terrified; hard not to be, even I felt like I was one bad move away from shitting myself.

  “You’re serious?” Glory said, turning to me, equally baffled as Slaughterhouse began stepping towards us.

  “A-as s-serious as I’ll ever be…” I muttered back, wincing.

  She sighed. “Fine, whatever. Just try not to get in my way. Or die.”

  The two of us stood side by side. Despite Glory’s bravado, there was a shakiness to her voice; whatever Slaughterhouse had done to her before had clearly rattled her more than she was letting on.

  I turned to Elena. She was frantically picking out packets of food from inside her costume, cramming them into her mouth.

  As for me?

  I was standing pretty much completely still. It was taking every fiber of self-restraint I had to not collapse.

  I glanced down at this strange, all-bone gauntlet that had taken the place of what had been my mangled left arm.

  Before, I was making blades, claws, and maces. Simple things.

  But this?

  It was intricate, like armour. The bones in my arm had expanded and separated, ripped through the skin and formed a kind of armour around the muscle.

  I had no idea how I even did it. Could I do it again?

  I didn’t get a chance to think about that much more, as I suddenly heard Slaughterhouse yell as she bounded towards us, almost like a wild animal.

  Glory took off like a rocket from my right, flying fast to meet Slaughterhouse. Just like before, Glory flew over Slaughterhouse who ducked under her strike, barely breaking stride as she bolted towards us.

  I held up my right arm - the normal one - and tried to morph the bones into a shield, something to protect me.

  Unlike last time, my arm didn’t rip itself to shreds as the bones unfolded. Instead, the bones simply shot out from under my skin before quickly reforming into a bone-white buckler.

  Just in time to catch Slaughterhouse’s strike.

  She slammed her fist into the shield, and I felt the impact shoot through my body.

  She was strong, way stronger than I expected; it was like being hit by a truck, and I could feel my arm breaking at the shoulder before the bones knitted back together.

  I let out a scream, pushing back with the shield-arm before I reared back, swinging my left arm to punch her again.

  She caught it with her free hand.

  She looked at me, grinning.

  Her eyes flashed a jet black as dark sparks raced across her hands before-

  Something splattered across her face, thick and red, like jelly.

  It was jelly.

  I stepped back, running from Slaughterhouse, turning to look back at Elena.

  I gave her a thumbs up before turning back to Slaughterhouse, who was clawing the jelly off her face. Almost as soon as she had, Glory slammed into her, spin-kicking her down the street where she slammed into a moving car, bouncing down the road.

  “She’s tough as shit!” Glory said, clearly worn out.

  I didn’t look at her, my focus was locked on to Slaughterhouse.

  “Think she’s got a mix of powers, like all the ones of the old Slaughterhouses, then whatever she has.” She explained.

  “So that’s-”

  “At least twelve different powers, yeah.” Glory said, grimacing.

  It explained a lot. Most supers had one or two primary powers, and a very small percentage - about point-five percent, last I’d heard - had three. No wonder she was as lethal as she was with that many powers in her system.

  I watched as Slaughterhouse picked herself up from where she’d landed, throwing aside the car she’d been launched into.

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  “A-any we need to watch out for?”

  “Clearly super-strength, that weird fleshy tendril-thing. Diving down into the ground.”

  Glory winced a little bit, shaking.

  “Don’t let her touch you.” She continued. “She gets on your skin, it hurts. Worst pain I’ve ever felt. I don’t know how she even touched me.”

  I nodded, slowly. I realised that playing solely defense might not be a good idea anymore. I focused on my left arm, reshaping the white gauntlet it had become into something sharper. Immediately, it warped, changing into a long, slender, razor-sharp blade.

  Just in time for Slaughterhouse to come barrelling towards us again.

  Both of her arms had unraveled, a mad tangle of red tendrils now spiralling around her.

  She was cackling, swinging both arms down towards Glory and I. So we swung back.

  I swung my left arm in a wide arc, catching and slicing through the tendrils as they bared down on us. Chunks of red meat plopped around me, and I just kept swinging again and again.

  Next to me, Glory was grabbing handfuls of the tendrils, ripping them away from her while others bounced off of that golden shield that covered her body.

  I could see chunks of starch and meat shooting past me, clearly trying to knock whatever tendrils we couldn’t cut away from us. It was relentless, this storm of whirling red meat around us, and all I could do was just swing away and cut them down.

  Then, it stopped, before they suddenly began retracting fast. I tried to duck down, but felt a few wrap around my chest and arms.

  Shit!

  Immediately, I was ripped off of the ground, flying right towards Slaughterhouse. I started panicking, flailing in mid-air and trying to cut it away. I glanced up to see Slaughterhouse, a mad grin full of razor-sharp teeth bearing down on me, a clenched fist reared back to strike.

  SHIT!

  I held up both arms in front of my face to-

  CRACK!

  Too late.

  My vision went white as Slaughterhouse’s fist hammered into the side of the head, a ringing sound beaming around my skull. I felt my helmet bend inwards, the metal denting and pounding my head while the visor cracked on the left side.

  I dropped, tumbling to the ground in a heap and landing flat on my back. Twice in one night I’d been knocked down like this, but this felt so much worse. My vision blurred and swam, my legs felt weak and numb. I could feel bile rising up in my throat.

  I had to get away, I had to-

  Slaughterhouse grabbed onto my right leg, hard. Pure, ice-cold dread shot through my chest in the instant before she yanked me up by the leg; pain shot up my hip and back as I was whipped around like a flail, my arms uselessly trailing behind me. I didn’t have time to process what was happening before the world blurred into a smear. A flash of pain shot through my back and chest, an impact in my torso echoed with a sickening crack as I was slammed into a flying Glory.

  She cursed as she was sent flying back, and I heard Elena scream my name from where she was perched.

  The world spun again. Slaughterhouse wasn’t done with me. She twisted her grip rapidly, with enough force that I felt my right leg snap like a dry twig.

  I screamed, crying out in pain.

  It didn’t matter. Slaughterhouse reared back, before slamming me into the concrete like I was a wound-up towel. I hit the ground with a crunch, hard enough to crack the ground. I felt my ribs crack in my chest.

  I screamed again.

  Then she yanked me up.

  And slammed me down again.

  The ground cratered. Pain shot up my spine like fireworks. I tried to scream again, and all that came out was a wet gurgling gasp.

  Up. Then down again.

  My right arm bent the wrong way as it cracked against the ground again. Something popped in my back. Blood pooled in my mouth. I felt some of my teeth shake loose.

  Up. Then down again.

  The visor of my helmet cracked open, splintering off as I was driven deeper into the pavement like a nail.

  Up. Then down again.

  My lower jaw cracked loose. Asphalt and concrete embedded into my face. Shards of my visor sliced my cheeks.

  I couldn’t see. I could barely think.

  She finally let go of me, dumping me there like a broken toy. I could hear her gravelly laughter as she stepped away from me, slowly.

  I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Taking even a small breath felt like my chest was being crushed in a vice. I could taste blood in my mouth, could feel teeth that were knocked free.

  I heard Elena scream again in the distance, while Glory cursed. Glory had clearly started assaulting Slaughterhouse again, because I could feel the impact of Glory duking it out with her, each punch sounding like a bomb going off.

  I coughed weakly, blood and loose teeth spilling from my mouth. I realised, in faint and slightly-delirious horror, that I couldn’t feel my legs. As much as that would have scared me, what I was feeling was even worse.

  Glory was screaming, a battle cry as she punched Slaughterhouse, each punch reverberating through the ground, vibrating through me as I laid there.

  It stopped.

  Then, a whooshing sound. I heard something crash into a building; or more accurately, someone. Glory.

  Slaughterhouse chuckled.

  “Two down.” She snarled, turning away from me. “Let’s see what sounds you make when you break!”

  As I lay there, lying in my own blood and broken bones, something twitched inside me.

  Deep inside my mangled body, a low heat felt like it was rising from the pit of my bones.

  My body was moving on its own.

  I felt my body writhe, like something crawling beneath my skin, fibres of muscle pulling tight. Ligaments knitting together with a slow meaty tug, causing my body to jerk again. I hissed in pain through the blood left in my mouth as pain set in; I wanted to scream, wanted it to stop. My shattered ribs groaned as they pulled themselves together in my chest, scraping against each other like stone against stone as they were forced together.

  My back clicked and popped back into place. Immediately I became acutely aware of the pain in my right leg, snapped in two.

  Then it twitched once. Then again.

  Then it jerked back, like it was trying to push itself back together.

  Unsuccessfully.

  Stabbing pain shot through my hip, and I screamed through gritted teeth - what was left of them. The leg twisted again, causing me to scream again, but the joint still hung loose like it wasn’t sure how to fit itself.

  My jaw clicked once. Then again. Then there was a low, wet pop as it set itself. Mostly, anyway.

  I wheezed. It was pathetic, weak, and gurgling, but it was quite literally all I could muster.

  My body was trying to fix itself but everything just hurt. Even then, it wasn’t enough. I knew I could heal quicker than a normal person, but that had only been cuts and scrapes, or when my bones tore through my skin. In the state I was in, it was like trying to put a broken jigsaw together, piece by agonising piece.

  As I laid there, agonised as my body pulled itself together, thoughts crawled through my head.

  I should have stayed home.

  How did I let Elena talk me into this?

  Why did I stay and fight her?

  But I knew why.

  I couldn’t just sit and run away while people. Not while I had the power to do something.

  I could hear Elena spitting, yelling my name, terrified.

  My head swam. Staying conscious was getting harder by the second, I could feel the world spinning. It felt so easy to just drift off.

  Until I heard Elena scream.

  Elena Vargas was about to die.

  That was the only reality that made sense to her right now.

  She was standing, hunched down and perched on the top of an abandoned truck in the middle of this broken and bloodstained street, watching in horror as Slaughterhouse - this nightmarish murder-machine of a supervillain - slammed Skye into the ground like an angry child with a toy.

  The first impact was bad enough. But then Slaughterhouse kept going, slamming Skye again and again until she just tossed her aside.

  Elena stared in horror, hands covering her mouth as Skye just lay there. Broken, bloodied, and unmoving.

  Glory had flown at Slaughterhouse next, arms and legs glowing like miniature suns and striking with the force of a cannon. Slaughterhouse, for her part, barely reacted and just tossed Glory through a nearby building.

  But now there was nobody else standing.

  Except for Elena.

  And Elena was suddenly very, very conscious of how normal she was physically. She wasn’t like Glory with her glowing golden forcefield (for all the good that was doing her). Nor was she like Skye with her regeneration (which clearly wasn’t doing her any good either).

  Physically, Elena was a normal 17-year old. Not especially athletic - a decent run would wear out her pretty quickly - and with no enhanced durability.

  Just the power to chew things up and spit them out.

  And now Slaughterhouse - someone who not even five minutes ago she had seen rip people in half like it was an accident - was closing in on her.

  What the fuck had happened in her life to bring it to this?

  Oh right, she thought, dryly, This vigilante shit was my idea.

  “Two down.” Slaughterhouse snarled her head slowly turning to look at Elena. “Let’s see what sounds you make when you break, Spitter!”

  Elena’s breath caught. “Skye?! SK-SKYE?!”

  No response. Skye just laid there, unmoving.

  Panicking, Elena cycled through whatever was in her stomach, trying to think of a mixture that could buy her some time. That was a weird quirk of her power that she hadn’t really put too much thought into, being able to know what was sitting in her stomach at all times.

  She needed something solid, something that could buy her time.

  Whatever meat was left? Clearly wasn’t doing much already.

  Sugar? Maybe, if she condensed it enough.

  Shaking, she reared her head back, the sugar in her stomach quickly compressing before rocketing up to her expanding throat.

  Then, she spat. Not one large lump of foodstuff like she normally did, but a bunch of small pellets of condensed sugar. They launched out of her mouth like a shotgun, shooting towards the approaching Slaughterhouse.

  They slammed into her chest and head. She didn’t even break her stride.

  Elena’s stomach dropped. She felt like she was about to vomit.

  She screamed and spun on her heel, trying to run as far away as she could from Slaughterhouse. But as she jumped from the top of the truck, her ankle rolled and she landed on her side with enough force to knock the wind out of her.

  As she turned to look behind her, the truck flipped over as Slaughterhouse lifted it away with one hand.

  “N-No!” Elena yelled, scrambling, tears stinging her eyes. “Stay away, get the fuck away from me!!”

  Slaughterhouse just chuckled, her right hand unravelling into those red tendrils. They snaked towards Elena, slowly, almost playfully.

  Elena tried to get up to run, but in her panic her feet kept slipping.

  Then she felt a tendril wrap tight around one leg. Then the other.

  She screamed, trying desperately to grab at the ground for some kind of safety as she was dragged across the road, her nails grinding against the asphalt.

  Another tendril wrapped around her waist, then one around her neck, as she was hoisted into the air, helpless and restrained by Slaughterhouse.

  “The other two made such sounds when they screamed,” Slaughterhouse said, almost wistful as she pulled Elena closer towards her. “I wonder what song you’ll sing?”

  Elena struggled frantically, writhing and flailing. But for all that struggling, it felt like the tendrils were just pulling themselves tighter.

  She gasped for air, before she screamed desperately.

  “Somebody, please!” She yelled, her voice sounding croaky as a tendril tightened around it.

  Slaughterhouse raised her left hand, jet black sparks dancing across it as she laughed.

  Elena started hyperventilating, as best as she could as her throat was pulled tighter and tighter by the tendril wrapped around her neck. She clenched her eyes shut, as if not seeing it would make it go away.

  She screamed.

  Then, there was a sound. A wet, meaty sound. She felt something splash across her face.

  The tendrils around her body loosened ever so slightly.

  She gingerly opened one eye, looking at Slaughterhouse. Slaughterhouse looked…shocked, her head slowly turning to look down at her chest.

  Elena’s eyes followed hers.

  There, jutting out from the centre of Slaughterhouse’s chest, were three long and thin bone-white points, like needles.

  Wait, Elena thought, Bone?

  She glanced up, past Slaughterhouse’s shoulder.

  There, in the middle of the road, crouched on one knee with her left arm outstretched - the one that had become this strange white gauntlet of bone - was Skye. She looked awful, her helmet dented and the visor broken in half, the one visible eye almost swollen shut with blood caking her face and a good chunk of her body. She looked like she could barely even stay upright.

  But jutting from her left arm were three long bone-white points like spears, each one shot straight through Slaughterhouse’s chest.

  Then, Skye’s voice broke out. She sounded ragged and hoarse, like just speaking was agonising. But it cut through the nighttime air like a knife.

  “Hands. Off. My. Friend!”