Chapter 3: Choose


Taylor

I sniffled and hugged my legs tighter.

The sun had set some time ago. Each moment blurred together. I was barely managing to keep balancing on the balls of my feet.

Here I was, feeling sorry for myself despite all the terrible things I had done. I'd known what the cost would be. I didn't have the right to pity myself for this.

No regret for having won, but so much guilt for how I did it.

Besides, it wasn't the time or place for this… Hopefully, it wouldn't ever be.

I felt better after crying and hated that I did.

I tried to stand, bones creaking, but wobbled and fell. My arm shot out to stop my fall—my missing arm.

I rolled over, my side stinging from where it had met the floor, and I stared up at the roof. My muscles savored the relief from escaping the cramped position I had been in.

Lack of food, water, sleep. Running till sweat dripped from my nose and salt sat on my skin. Exerting myself after… weeks? I wasn't sure. After a long period in bed, recovering. No idea what to do, where I was, who I could trust.

Every memory felt fresh and raw despite the time that had passed, like the battle with Scion had been yesterday. Maybe it was because I had only really woken up today, the haze over my mind only just having lifted completely.

My nose crinkled from my odor. Old sweat and river water, even after my impromptu bath—which I also forgot to drink from. Fuck.

The world shined with a tint of gray as I called the glow to surround me. It was the only reason I hadn't passed out. I wasn't sure if it was just suppressing my pains and exhaustion or actively healing me. The enhanced strength was nice too.

Silence and stillness trickled on. My previous episode had warded off any chance of sleep, at least for a while.

Now there was nothing.

This warehouse would be used at some point in the future, most likely in the morning. I couldn't stay.

I… I wasn't sure what to do. No plans, nowhere to go. Aimless and alone.

Why did Contessa leave me alive? Why drop me off in another world at all?

She would have needed Glaistig Uaine to use Doormaker's power to open a portal to here… but I arrived right as I was shot, right?

No. I couldn't be sure of how long it had been. I could have been frozen or preserved somehow for who knew how long.

My sigh filled the warehouse but didn't seem to let anything else out.

There wasn't going to be a happy ending, but there was supposed to at least be an ending. Not this.

And why this world? A world that somehow restored my powers. What if they reverted back to controlling people again?

I choked on something that might have been a panicked scream or manic laughter.

Fucking damn it! I wouldn't have to deal with all this if they had just killed me like I—

I stopped, a perfect stillness that made vivid every moment of my tears, dragged out by panic.

In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.

I couldn't think like that. Yes, I had accepted death, had even asked for it, and Contessa had answered with two bullets.

But I was alive now, and I could still do something. Death wouldn't give anyone anything or make up for what I did, even if it was the least I owed.

There was nothing that could do that.

What mattered was that the rest of the impact I would make needed to be for the better. It was a chance I wasn't worthy of, one I didn't deserve, but it was the least I could—should do.

I just didn't know how to do it.

Standing up was easier than I expected; the glow had proven its worth once more.

I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and quickly changed back into my hanging clothes. They weren't completely dry and the air had chilled them, but it would have to do.

Maybe I should take my chances with whoever or whatever runs the city?

They might be willing to help an illegal immigrant with little to no knowledge of the world and customs, who smelled like a waterlogged rat that had run a marathon…

Perhaps I could try and teach?

Without any formal education, documentation, or basic knowledge of this world… From just a glance, I could tell the divergence was much greater than between Bet and Aleph. Citywide tinkertech, a shattered moon, monsters in the woods that could survive thousands of bee stings equivalent to shallow stabbings.

Also, I wasn't sure if I was ready to go down a road that would lead me to being in charge of others. My decision-making was… I would have done things better, if I could.

I pulled out my mask. The spider silk was stained from blood, rips and tatters lined the seams, and two bullet holes were so close they overlapped slightly.

I held it in my teeth and pulled at the band that held the lenses in place. My new strength tore the already ruined mask to free the lenses and their strap. I now had an improvised pair of googles.

At least I'll be able to see now.

The parts with chitin were mostly unusable, but one spread of fabric that had attached around my neck was undamaged enough to use as a facemask. It smelled of smoke and grime. Half of the world came into clarity as I adjusted the lenses—now just goggles, though one lens was completely gone.

I put the safety coat back and left the warehouse.

The smell of the water, a breeze that nipped at the senses, surrounded by docks—if I closed my eyes, I could pretend I was home.

The moon really was shattered. Pixel dots of debris barely stood out from the night sky as they drifted from larger pieces of the broken body. Beautiful in its devastation.

A grumble from my stomach told me what my next step was. No existential ponderings, just a lunchroom.

It was peacefully quiet as I continued along the coastline through the docks. Stray lights hung along the sides of the warehouses lit the way. So far, there had only been more storage, more crates, and—

Two strange things entered my range, both feasting on a bit of rotten food hidden behind a desk, and quickly scampered to where I wanted them.

Eight hairy legs, but a single bulbous body with a carapace shell that covered wings too small for anything besides gliding and short flights. Mandibles of both a spider and a roach—which was also the match-up that best described its appearance… A spider-roach?

No webs but a vicious bite and very durable. Able to eat basically anything, from what my power understood of its biology.

The wildlife had been almost identical to what I knew right until it wasn't. I had flies, butterflies, ants, bees, a small variety of spiders, all very familiar. Then, the larger sword wasps, the bear-thing outside the walls, and this odd amalgamation appeared.

My swarm caught movement skirting on the edge of my range: a group of nine figures moving in a sloppy formation moved toward a warehouse. Small bugs ran along their belts and found swords and guns. Scimitars, I guessed from the shape.

My knowledge of swords was strictly from practicing against bladed weapons to fight Jack Slash.

I followed them as they walked through the docks, keeping a few buildings between us to be safe.

A couple of them had large rifles strapped to their backs, somewhat like a longer submachine gun but more angular and square in design. Metal tubes ran down the gun's length toward a short barrel.

Possibly tinkertech, or at least at the level of advanced tech of this world compared to my own.

They were oddly careful while rolling two sealed trunks, periodically looking back to check on them. Interesting.

Two of them seemed to be scouting ahead while the rest followed behind one that was obviously the leader. The followers held pistols, similar in their blocky design to the rifles, with an awkward confidence—a trait I had seen with gang members who hadn't actually used one before but thought they were invincible because they had one.

The leader was bigger than the rest, overly muscular compared to everyone else, and… was that a giant chainsaw on his back?

My bugs scurried around it again, feeling the weapon's teeth and build. It was almost as big as me. Just him being able to walk unhindered hinted at a Brute rating. Being able to use it effectively would be a whole other story.

I sent in as many bugs as I could via the track the teeth ran through and into the inner workings of the weapon. Sadly, there was no access to anything mechanical. No chance to disable it, and it would be a waste of bugs to try and have them gunk up the weapon with their corpses.

All in all, four with swords, two with rifles, two with pistols, and the leader.

I paused in my pursuit as I registered what my bugs were crawling on.

One of the armed men had horns that jutted out from their hood, and another had a long, furry tail.

Case 53's? Some kind of animal feature implants? Or another species entirely?

I marked their joints and weapons with bugs, moving enough of my swarm onto the surrounding warehouse roofs to eavesdrop. Some had to be pulled away from spinning a… a single dragline of spider-silk? I hadn't remembered ordering my spiders to do that.

Was that you, passenger? Thank you.

It was only one rope, but a welcome gift that I would make full use of.

"It's this one. Open it up and stack the trunks around the corner with the others. Roman will do the rest. Now move." His voice was gravelly and slightly accented. "We have one more shop to hit tonight before we rejoin with the others."

Criminals, then. Storing their stolen goods before they go to rob another place.

Their voices were clearer than what I was used to, the words only slightly distorted rather than chipped and lost. I didn't have to decipher any missed words or fill in any blanks. Odd.

The heavy lock on the warehouse main bay door clicked open—they must have stolen or been given the key in advance—and they moved in.

Do I want to get involved in this?

I didn't want to fight. Not just because I wasn't sure of the criminal culture of the city and the consequences of battling them, but I… I was tired of fighting. So tired…

But then I'd be just letting these criminals get away with what they'd already stolen and allowing them to go off and steal some more. They were too heavily armed to not be willing to use deadly force.

If they killed someone, and I could have stopped them, then how was that being better than I was?

Fuck!

My swarm writhed with my frustration, and the glow surged around me.

I had hoped there would have been more time before something like this happened. Doing nothing was just the extreme opposite of going too far. Was I trading one end of the spectrum for the other?

No way to call the local authorities. More targets than I was comfortable taking on in my condition, without information, and I probably shouldn't be using my powers—not blatantly, at least.

If this world didn't have capes or parahumans, showing off my swarm would bring the attention of groups I couldn't face at the moment.

How would a world without powers react? Dissection? Experimentation? Imprisonment? I wasn't going to end up a lab rat after all this.

The gang members could also have the glow too. It would explain how the leader could use that giant chainsaw for a weapon. I wasn't sure if the glow was something that appeared because someone did something to me, or if it was common across this world.

A group of possibly nine Brutes. The leader definitively had the glow, otherwise, his choice of weapon was just impossible to use.

Or it could be something completely different, because I know nothing about this world!

The gang members had moved a pile of crates to stash their loot behind the other goods stored there. Hidden in plain sight. Another of them was at a desk; it felt like he was writing. Probably fixing the manifest so the crates wouldn't be suspicious.

They were almost finished up, and I was almost out of time to consider my options. As much as I didn't want to face it, there was really only one option, even if it came with regrets.

Resignation came with a hollow sensation of defeat.

I guess I have no choice.

It felt like I had already failed somehow. I wanted to be better, but I was already back in familiar territory. A cruel imitation of my first night out in costume; finding Lung and the ABB talking about killing kids.

It wasn't the night where everything went wrong, but it was a large domino in the line of falling pieces.

History repeated itself; I couldn't just stand by.

I wondered how many times I had used that line of thought to hurt people?

I checked over my equipment as I quietly approached.

My pistol looked intact. One full magazine and a spare, so thirty rounds total. The one rope of spider-silk. The nano-thorn knife was my last resort. My folding baton… wasn't coming out.

I held it up to my eye and saw the slight bend to it, just enough to stop it from sliding out. Useless.

The two pistol-wielders kept watch, the rest staying inside. The leader moved deeper into the warehouse while four of them stood in the mouth of the building.

I called for my glow and it surged readily. The process felt like the mental flex of a muscle. I took a step and the glow flickered and fled back within me.

I brought it out again and held it, waiting to see if it slipped away again. After a few moments, it had stayed, so I focused back on my bugs, and the glow vanished again.

For how easy it was to bring out, it annoyed me that I wasn't holding onto it. Focus was what I needed, and I wouldn't let a lack of concentration be the reason I was unable to do anything.

I tugged and pulled it, trying to bring more out. I'd need it through all of this. If I could only use my bugs inconspicuously, then the glow was my best weapon. It washed over my senses and gripped my very being.

It was everything. It was me. And it was too much.

'Finally, everyone was working together'—a mistake—I rubbed his back, what little comfort I could give—I should have done more—'You made me into one'—another step in the wrong direction—screaming at the wall, wondering what I could do, how I could escape—my escape became my excuse—if there was even the smallest chance, I would use it—a foolish, shortsighted idea—it wasn't perfect, but it was a step forward—it hadn't been—'S-so very small, in the end'—

My eyes shot open and the glow faded, that feeling along with it, slipping away like a dream.

Blood pounded in my ears to the frantic hammering of my heart. My lungs fought to keep up with the rhythm. A line of sweat ran down one of my goggles' lenses.

I curled around myself, holding everything in. I shouldn't have stared into the abyss.

Lesson learned. Don't bring out more of yourself than you can handle… I hoped the glow didn't make you feel like… like who you were, if that was what that was.

That had been… unsettling. All of that, all at once.

I brought out the glow again, measured and cautious but sharper than before.

Distract and attack. Hit them hard enough to go down after one hit. Don't let them group up on me.

I leaned against the wall of the warehouse they were in, around the corner from the two guards.

Four in. Hold for seven. Eight out.

Here we go.

I took the broken baton and threw it in a gentle arc over the guards. It clattered against the concrete. They turned, pistols halfway up but not readied, toward the sound.

"What was that?" I heard from one of them as I burst around the corner, glow at its full might.

They wore puffy black pants tucked into heavy boots and white vests that came down in tailcoats with gray trimming. Black cloth gloves clung tightly to their skin and ended just before the elbow. Black undershirts with hoods obscured their heads while iron-colored masks with slits for eyes covered everything but their mouths.

Very cult-like.

Each step pushed me faster and faster until I swear the world blurred.

Too fast.

I tried to stop, slow down or at least change directions, but I had already reached the guards.

My charge turned into an improvised tackle, and I slammed into one of them with far more force than I had intended.

If the guard had been a normal person, I would have killed her. Instead, she crashed into the other guard, and a green and yellow shimmer respectively flared and shattered around them. Both screamed as they were sent sprawling, in pain and surprise, but they were alive.

I winced from the hit, not from the impact but from guilt. The glow made me even stronger than I thought, far stronger. It also meant that these guards were far stronger and more durable as well. I had torn metal like tinfoil with my new strength, I had to be careful.

My bugs had crawled down from the roof and placed the line of spider-silk along the doorway, tying one end to the track the giant sliding door just in time to scamper out of sight as the gang members turned toward the scuffle.

There was a snarling red animal with three claw marks behind it emblazoned on their backs.

A gang symbol?

For a frozen moment, they stared at me, the sudden intruder in the doorway standing above two of their own, before they scrambled to raise their guns or draw their swords.

One of the two carrying the trunk dropped his end to frantically draw his sword. The other grunt holding on failed to keep his grip as the trunk fell. It bounced on the floor with a metal crack. I saw that one side had a logo of a snowflake as it toppled over.

The trunk's contents spilled across the floor as the lid popped open. Large jewels, not like glass, more like shards of pure color, clattered alongside vials of similarly colored powder. Some spilled across the ground, fine like sand.

Jewel thieves? I've never seen gems that were so opaque before.

"Idiots! Careful with those, or you'll blow us all to hell!" yelled the leader. His voice was gravel and steel that vibrated with his frustration. Those are explosive?! This isn't just petty thievery then. "You two, gather the Dust." Dust? "The rest, kill her."

They turned to murder rather easily.

I dashed out of view and crouched beside the door's opening, one hand on the dragline.

The leader pulled what I guessed was a phone, probably to send out a message. Two of them started carefully shoveling the crystal powder into little containers in the trunk. Two others were knocked out. The last four rushed the door after me in a free-for-all charge.

I pulled the rope taut just as they came through, and two of them tripped, flying forward onto the already downed pair. One of them saw the sprawling pile and jumped over it to avoid slamming into the group.

The last member skidded to a stop to step over the dragline, and I charged at her for a shoulder tackle.

With superhuman speed, she hopped out of reach and aimed her rifle in one fluid motion.

Fuck!

I bolted after her, trying to get to her before she fired. I wasn't fast enough.

Pain like a sledgehammer blow spread across my hip. A part of my glow seemed to vanish.

I forced myself onward, and before she took another shot, my foot met her stomach. The kick sent her off the ground and into the warehouse door frame, rattling the entire building. A shimmer of teal washed over her skin from where I had hit her.

I quickly glanced down at my hip and found no blood or bullet wound.

Enhanced durability too? A forcefield?

Even with the empowered strength behind my attack, she was still awake and was raising her gun to fire again. Only now, she was too far away to try and rush.

So, I raised my gun and fired at her legs, only to watch as the bullets bounced off her teal glow.

I'd felt my own supply of glow trickle away as I strengthened myself, or how it had lessened from the gunshot, so there should be a limit. I remembered the empty sensation of it fading during my hospital stay.

Two more rounds and the teal vibrated and broke along her body, originating from the impact.

She sputtered and gasped, gun dipping from the sudden loss of her glow. It was enough of a window for me to get close.

A swift jab with the butt of my gun sent her to sleep. I hoped I held back enough not to do any serious damage.

The one who had jumped over the pile had made his way around the tangle of limbs and charged at me with a wild two-handed swing of a scimitar meant to cleave me in two.

I pivoted and watched the sword cut the air in front of me with surprising speed, and I fired from my hip into his side.

He stumbled past me from his momentum and the unexpected shot. His footing was terrible; untrained. Super strength didn't mean anything if you couldn't keep your balance to properly hit something.

A brown shimmer shined briefly but didn't cascade across him like the others had. He grunted in pain, but more the amount for a stubbed toe rather than a bullet.

They do all have glows. Do the different colors mean anything?

I would have shot again, but my spin swung my body around with more force than I expected.

The other two guards had found their footing and stood up from the unconscious pair. I caught muttered curses and angry growls from them.

I hopped back in my improvised pirouette to get away as one lunged to impale me. His weapon was a blur through the air.

The blade nicked my side but didn't slice. It hurt, but not in the way a cut should. More like the smack of a baton or a blunt edge grinding across skin.

My attacker pursued, and I dodged back. The other two grunts followed behind, waiting for their chance to strike. I moved so they couldn't surround me, but I needed to change locations.

Sloppy strikes slashed through the air while I tried to bob and weave, but every movement I made was a burst rather than a slide. I was moving too fast to get my balance, overshooting or overcompensating for the speed.

The glow was a layer of protection I couldn't give up even if it was messing with my motions, especially since I wouldn't be able to keep up with the speed of their attacks otherwise.

The wall of the warehouse facing the one the gang members were in was at my back. The two sword users were moving in a pincer formation as the other one raised a rifle.

I took the only path I had, over the two unconscious guards and back into the warehouse.

A gunshot pierced the air, and my leap over the guards was suddenly a tumble. Pain erupted on the shoulder of my maimed arm, but the bullet didn't pierce my glow.

I managed to roll unsteadily to my feet through the doorway but didn't stop moving; my pursuers were right on my tail.

There were crates staircasing to the roof of the warehouse to my left, shelves and trunks to my right.

Need some distance.

One of the guards placing the crystals into the trunk looked up, just in time to see my flying knee shatter his mask as I went through him rather than around. He collapsed under me as I leapt over him.

I dashed to the side and grabbed the edge of a metal crate, my gun pinned under my hand and almost flexing under the force of my grip, and hoisted myself up with amazing ease.

Just in time to hear the screech of blade against steel from a sideways slash where I had just been.

Growls of frustration followed me as I turned and fired before any of them had a chance to pursue.

The grunt who had just attacked dodged with a roll. Another caught two shots in the chest, but their glow didn't break. The one who had shot me had apparently grabbed the sword of the grunt whose mask I shattered, reholstering his rifle on his back. I watched, flabbergasted, as he cut the bullets out of the air with two precise swings.

Enhanced reaction speed as well? Enough to dodge a bullet at that range? To fucking cut a bullet?!

The grunt's roll was awkward, uncoordinated, and left her open, but still… The glow gave them Brute and Thinker ratings? I, on the other hand, was only getting the Brute rating. Maybe there was a trick to it, but I didn't have the time to test things out.

In less than a second, I had followed the path my bugs were taking and fired again into the one who rolled.

My first shot sped in front of her as my arm jerked ahead too fast and overtook her trajectory.

The other two shots caught her side.

The impacts sent her tumbling uncontrollably out of her roll and headfirst into a crate with a hollow clang.

She wobbled, staring at the small dent her face had made, then collapsed.

The gang members suddenly seemed to speed-up. The glow had sunk back within me. I quickly called it back, furious at myself for losing focus, and felt it wrap around me again.

My pause was enough for the grunt who had taken the shots to the chest to reach the crate I was on.

I sidestepped his quick stab at my feet just in time, then smiled as he overextended, and I jumped off the crate and onto his shoulders.

My momentum carried through as he fell onto his back, both my legs stomping down on his shoulders with as much force as I could muster as he connected with the concrete.

Cracks formed from the impact, and he screamed in pain. His bones gave way under my feet, and his glow faded.

I somersaulted off the man, under the sideways slash of the remaining grunt, and rolled back up.

I used the brief distance I had gained from the maneuver to holster my gun and pick up the sword that my last victim had lost.

My bugs moved discreetly to position one of the smaller explosive gems closer and lift it slightly up.

Just enough for when I spun and scooped it up with my sword, the wider end of the blade made it the perfect width for the move, and lacrosse-threw it at my pursuer.

I prayed the impact wouldn't set the gem off, but there hadn't been an explosion from when they fell.

He reared back and carefully cradled the gem with his chest and arm to catch it. He sighed in relief, but my distraction had worked.

I rushed back toward the entrance.

I slammed the hilt of the sword down on the collarbone of the one still pawing the crystals back into the trunk. Then, I kicked the side of her head, and she hit the floor hard. A glimmer of green shined and splintered.

The one whose mask I shattered, he had no nose, just slitted nostrils like a snake.

Huh. Do they all have animal features? Is this common for this world? Or just this gang?

I didn't take the time to observe further, sprinting out of the warehouse.

The bullet-cutting grunt had quickly set down the gem and was on my heels.

He was faster than me, and I skidded to a stop in time for him to launch a precise flurry of slashes, body then neck then leg.

My bugs reading which directions he was preparing to strike was the only reason I wasn't hit.

I wasn't a swordsman, and this person wasn't completely untrained like the others were, but he knew how to move and not lose his balance. How to move from one attack to the next without leaving huge openings.

He thrust forward, aimed to skewer me through my stomach.

I threw up a one-handed rising block but didn't fully divert the blow, and it slid across my shoulder.

An icy pain cut through my senses, and I felt my glow lessen noticeably within myself.

I wasn't sure how much I still had, or how much longer it would last.

With the extra speed from the glow and knowing how not to stumble around from it, he made for a dangerous obstacle.

One that I couldn't let dictate the flow of the battle.

He pushed me back and around the corner from the others.

I ducked under a horizontal slash and tried to poke at his legs, only for him to step out of the way, and he arced his sword up around his head to come down in a vertical strike that forced me to leap into an inelegant roll to escape.

He huffed a grunt of victory and pounced on the opportunity.

In a single stride, he was upon me, a battle cry on his lips as he began a fatal slice that would have cut me from hip to shoulder.

My large wasps had already retrieved my thrown baton and were hovering above us.

"Quick, hit him now!" I hissed, glancing pointedly behind him, just as the baton cracked against the asphalt.

He abandoned his strike and hastily hopped back to intercept the new 'foe'.

"Wha—" he started but was cut off as my charge put him on the back foot.

I sent strong, wild strikes at him, hammering my attacks against his blade, forcing him to block or parry my blows rather than make his own.

A roar like a wild animal erupted from my throat, anything to keep him off-balance or focus on defence.

It was reckless, manic, and left me open, but it made him more afraid of taking a hit than taking advantage of all my openings.

The ringing of blade against blade was almost a single, constant clang. A barrage to prevent him from recovering his stance.

"Pathetic!" I taunted between strikes.

"Fuck you, you—" Just what I wanted.

A fly zoomed into his mouth midway through his sentence.

He stumbled as he choked, arm instinctively reaching for his throat, and swung desperately at me.

I struck his approaching blade with a hard swipe.

Our blades bounced off each other, and I let mine fly from my hand so its backward force wouldn't push me off-balance or throw off my rising knee to his crotch.

The gang member tried to howl in pain, but the choking made it sound like a strangled wheeze instead.

His glow surged but didn't cascade and break. Not yet.

His stagger gave me enough time to step down with my attacking foot and bring the other one up to hit the same spot again, my glow moving in full force to amplify the blow.

A primal screech ripped from his lips through his choking.

He fell to his knees and looked up just in time to watch my fist connect with the center of his face. Once, twice, three times his head flew back.

Still, his glow held.

I brought out my gun and shot his knee. When the bullet was deflected, I shot again.

His glow shattered along his skin and the bullet pierced into the bone. He was still conscious though, a hand desperately pawing toward his sword.

Head blows were dangerous, now that his glow was gone.

I slammed a heel onto the wound. A sickening crunch sounded, punctuated by a gasping scream.

He fainted from the pain.

What made him more resilient? Was he better trained? Do people naturally have different amounts of glow?

I stepped away from him, his blood on my foot leaving prints.

No time to catch my breath, despite my heavy panting.

I pinned the gun against my chest with my chin, pulled the empty magazine free, and reloaded it with my spare one.

That had been brutal, but I didn't want to risk him rejoining the fight.

I stepped back around the corner to see the leader step over the groaning goons still in front of the warehouse.

His unconcerned posture and choice to not hurry filled me with dread.

He stood directly under one of the warehouse's outdoor lights, the weight of the enormous chainsaw held easily—no, comfortably with one hand. He was clearly very familiar with using the massive weapon.

If that one grunt had been head and shoulders above the others, then what about their leader?

Even his appearance was distinct from the others.

A black tribal tattoo snaked around his left arm in curls, breaks, and sharp lines, standing out prominently against his tanned skin. Heavy forearm guards protected the back of his hands up to his elbows and matched the foot and shin guards around his boots. Instead of a hood, his white vest rose up to create a collar around his neck, leaving his short black hair visible.

His mask was what drew my focus.

It was snow-white, red accents curved around the eye holes with slim, cruel trails that came down from the eyes towards his chin. It covered his entire face and had a pointed seam lined vertically down the mask, marking the middle.

My memory of it was off, and the vision I perceived through my bugs was basically unintelligible, but the monster I had seen in the forest was a mass of black fur and white bone with red accents.

The resemblance was uncanny; purposeful.

A desire to be like the monsters? Allied with them in some sense? Or just a method to instill fear?

"This was your chance to prove yourselves worthy to the cause. Why is it that only one of you was able to show the strength of the Faunus?" His voice rose into a shout as he glanced about to the rest of the gang. "No matter. You, girl," he spat the last word like an insult and pointed the chainsaw at me without a hint of strain. "I was wondering if I would get the chance to break anyone during my time here."

The chainsaw started as a vicious growl and built into a guttural roar that filled the air.

The leader stalked forward, chainsaw digging into the ground as he held it pointed down at his side. Sparks bounced menacingly with each sway that brought the tip into contact with the concrete.

I aimed my gun and fired all but one round at him.

He raised his chainsaw like a shield, but several bullets still scored glancing or direct hits.

His black glow shimmered and pulsed strongly. He didn't slow or look affected at all.

A step began a march that shifted into a pounding sprint. Gravel and bits of rubble flew from each impact his feet made.

He hacked at me with a rising slash that forced me to jump over the grinding blade that rushed upwards under me.

He turned with his blow, spinning into a horizontal slash that cut straight through the wall of the warehouse in its wide arc toward me, which slowed it enough for me to dodge.

My feet had barely touched the ground before I was forced to lean back, sliding on my knees under the blow. I felt the sliding scrape through my glow.

The chainsaw must have weighed at least a hundred pounds, yet it sped by fast enough that my hair trailed along with the disruption of wind it made.

There were no second chances with this one. One hit and it was over.

With the fear came a razor focus.

He was slower than the last member I'd fought, but his ungodly strength and the fact that his glow was, judging by his reaction to the bullets, many times more durable than the others made him a scary opponent.

The chainsaw on top of his size gave him far more reach than me. I couldn't slip into range since I knew I couldn't block a hit from him either.

This would either be a fight of attrition where he would have to tire enough that I could move in and chip away at his glow, or I had to figure something else out.

Given his durability, he might just be able to ignore my attacks completely.

I rose up from my slide and ran down the side of the warehouse without facing him.

A light, passing kick to one of the still conscious grunts knocked her out. I wasn't taking the chance on the glow coming back and putting one of them back in the fight.

The leader chased after me, but I was gaining some distance.

My swarm moved, leaving only one bug per fallen grunt to watch if they woke up.

One of them was still struggling, a couple bugs clawing at his sinuses. Too distracted to notice the clouds of insects diving into the piles of spilled explosive powder, bathing in it enough to still be able to fly. The non-fliers built little mounds of it on themselves and were picked up by others.

The colors might mean different effects, but I mostly made out yellow and red blurs from them. I hoped that would do.

Running won't accomplish anything.

I holstered my gun and drew the nano-thorn knife.

I turned back to face him in time to sidestep a massive downwards swing from the chainsaw that ripped up the ground as it made contact, sparks and gravel flying from the rotating instrument of destruction.

A squeeze of the trigger by the hilt, and nothing. No hum or vibration.

Shit.

In prime condition, the activation was instant. After Cauldron's headquarters, it had taken five seconds to warm up. Now, after everything, it might not even start.

The side of the warehouse was my shield. While he could cut through the wall, it would provide enough resistance to slow the strike. Any wide or full swings were crippled.

All I had to do was not get trapped against it.

I hopped and weaved back, staying at the edge of his range.

The leader growled at every miss, but with each thrust and slash he got a little closer.

I dared a feint and was rewarded with a half-second of time extra to step away from a savage slice.

The chainsaw ripped apart any surface it touched, sending bits of debris scattering against my forcefield, whittling its reserves.

The end of the warehouse was approaching. An open area was beyond it, no cover to stop his barrage or prevent a full swing.

My other choice was to continue the chase around the entire warehouse, but that wasn't progress.

One of the grunts was already stirring.

Out of options.

I ducked under a slash meant to bisect me and used my bent position to roll backward just as my powder-covered swarm descended.

A wave of bugs covered him, biting at his neck and trying to enter through his ears. His mask was sealed around his face, preventing my army from entering his mouth, eyes, and nose.

Nothing punctured the skin, and something stopped them from tunneling deeper into his ear.

Does his stronger glow prevent my bugs from attacking him in any sense? Or could the glow be focused to block those kinds of attacks?

The gang leader snarled in annoyance. "Insects? I've never heard of a Semblance as pathetic as insect control." Semblance?

A sudden half-step jerked some of my bugs off him. He whipped his weapon up in a quick slice across the front of his body to bat away my swarm.

Perfect.

As soon as the chainsaw connected with the explosive powder on the bugs, they exploded. A chain reaction of sparks, fire, and electricity burst all around him.

Almost all of my swarm vanished with the wave of heat and light.

Smoke and brimstone flavored the air. Small patches of flames spread across the blackened ground.

It was way more powerful than I thought it would be.

A few flies went to check on him. I hoped he wasn't dead.

I blinked in disbelief and my jaw hung open.

He stepped through the smoke, not a scratch on him, ignoring the flames around him.

He brushed some ash from his mask, then revved up his chainsaw once more. Its murderous song drowned out the crackle of flames and dust.

"Enough tricks, girl," he snarled, and then he was upon me.

No bugs to follow his movements and predict his actions.

My grip was an iron clamp on the trigger of the knife.

He stabbed forward with a one-handed strike, and I was forced to dodge towards the warehouse wall.

Got to move or I'll be pinned—

He sprung his trap.

With a huff of victory, he stepped forward, around the chainsaw, and slammed his palm against the upper part of the weapon's handle. A brutal, forceful reversal of the weapon's forward momentum that redirected it to pin and butcher me against the wall.

My footing was off, buffeted from my back hitting the wall. Nowhere to go.

Trapped.

Dead.

I raised my knife to block. A futile last-ditch act of desperation.

Everyone, I'm sorry. For everything.

The thunderous rumble of the chainsaw couldn't mask the gentle hum of a blade meant to cut through Endbringer flesh whirring to life in my hand.

The blades connected and there was a moment of resistance, the spinning teeth almost ripping the knife from my grip, a single instance where I was sure I was dead.

Then the chainsaw was split in half.

Chainsaw links flew apart, stabbing into my side with a volley of painful stings and embedding themselves into the warehouse wall.

Something rippled and broke.

My glow vanished and twin shocks of agony lanced from my thigh.

I pushed through the pain, and the knife continued forward.

Black glow shimmered and shattered.

His left arm, from the middle of his bicep down, fell and hit the ground with a meaty slap. A thin line that quickly stained red appeared down his side to mark where the blade's tip had gouged him.

A primal howl erupted from the gang leader as he clutched his bloody stump.

Just be glad I didn't burn it off. Hurts way more.

Blood pooled out in heavy slops along with his heartbeat. His cries echoed throughout the docks as he teetered backward.

"You! You human shit! I'll kill you!" he thundered at me.

He lunged to grab me, but a weary swipe separated two of his fingers.

We both staggered away, struggling to stand, each movement haggard and painful.

He persisted and charged once again. A dying rhino lumbering with all it had left.

I didn't have the energy to fully get out of the way.

Instead, I sidestepped and tripped him.

He couldn't correct his footing or direction and fell with a grunt, blood splattering from his wound.

He fought to push himself up, arm trembling as he leveraged himself into a kneel.

The perfect height for me to slam the butt of my dagger into his temple, cracking his white mask.

Finally, he teetered over, unconscious.

I wheezed a few breaths. Two of the chainsaw teeth stuck out from my leg, light trails of blood running from each of them.

The knife's blur visibly slowed until it stopped, its hum ending.

His breathing was slow. I needed cloth to stop his bleeding and for a tourniquet. Then I would check on the others—

My senses lurched as one of the goons in the warehouse, miss face-dent, got to her feet.

Shit.

I holstered my knife and drew my gun. One bullet. Had to make it count.

Bugs that had been watching the perimeter of my range had finally arrived, but my swarm was a fraction of what it had been.

The city was too clean and too industrialized for lots of bugs to propagate, so I hadn't had many to begin with.

My knees almost buckled from a single step. No way to run.

I marked the grunt's slow trod through the warehouse. She swayed and limped, then seemed to straighten slightly, her gait smoother and faster.

She bent over and grabbed something, then again after another couple of steps. She didn't notice the fly skittering down her hand and over the fist-sized explosive gem. Another bug found the rifle in her hands.

Fuck.

I had no more bugs that could bite or sting. My bees, spider-roaches, and giant sword-wasps had been carriers for explosive bugs.

They tried for her eyes and nose, but something blocked them, a similar sensation to the gang leader. She swiped at the bugs but ignored them beyond that.

The refractory period of the glow was that quick? Wait, fuck!

I hadn't seen her glow shimmer, not like the others. There had still been an impact and pain from being hit. Not as much as there should have been, but a muted blow to the head could still knock someone out.

That meant she still had her glow left.

I leveled my gun, ignoring how heavy it seemed.

Her mask was off and hood down, revealing short violet hair. Golden eyes inflamed with rage and winged by reptilian scales aimed at me.

"You should surrender now or—"

"You bitch!" she cut in. Venom seeped in every syllable. "You all just think you can put us down like animals for being Faunus!" Faunus? "Well, not anymore. I am not less than you are! We are not less!"

She positioned for a throw while bugs moved to cling to it.

"Look, I don't—"

"For the White Fang!" She hurled the gem at me.

I lined up the fly at the end of my gun and the ones on the gem.

Time slowed as the red crystal flew through the air.

She was raising her rifle, at me or the gem, I wasn't sure. I couldn't afford either with the glow.

The rest of my swarm formed a buffer between us.

I exhaled and squeezed the trigger.

The bullet clipped the gem mid-flight.

The world went red with flames.

Chapter 3 End


Author's Notes:

Praise be to Juff, Fwee, ccstat, Majigah, and Breakingamber for making this pretty.

So, the White Fang grunts have Aura. Why? This is more of the White Fang unlocking the Aura of their members, so they can be used as soldiers. No training, just a general enhancement.

As for the White Fang 'Lieutenant'—the fans refer to him as 'Banesaw'—the reason he didn't annihilate Taylor was because of how slow and crude his fighting style was. If he had gotten a hand on her, it was game over. She's pretty weak compared to… all the main characters, minor ones too.

RWBY fighting is difficult to translate to paper, but I hope this did some justice.