Amy's things were reduced to a torn, mud-splattered backpack. She removed what was left of her t-shirt, throwing the rags on the ground, and slung her belongings across her back. In the seconds she had taken to do so, Grue and Hellhound had arrived on their own dinosaur dogs. Grue startled ever so slightly at seeing her and Amy wondered if it was because she was shirtless or if she looked far worse than what she'd thought. She supposed her slapdash patching up would look gruesome to somebody not used to hospitals.
"What's going on?" he asked Skitter.
The villainess, already on her mount, gave a succinct, almost strained response. "Mannequin is attacking me."
"Genesis?" Amy recognized that name, but she couldn't tell which group he belonged to. Or had he been an independent? He was a villain if he was working with the Undersiders, but she really was out of touch with the happenings in Brockton Bay's cape scene. She kept an ear out for the conversation as she strode towards the fourth and smallest dog.
"Down."
The cloud of insects had receded, Amy noticed. Somewhen between turning her back to Skitter and returning with her backpack, the mass of bugs that had darkened the sky even more than it was and scurried over the ground and walls like a moving, living carpet had dispersed.
"Fuck."
There were still more bugs than it was even remotely sanitary, but one could almost trick themselves into passing those as normal in the flooded city. Amy, who had spent weeks being completely paranoid, waiting for the sign that would bring down the house of cards, easily spotted the controlled lines that the insects followed. For example, there was a thin layer of flies on the muzzle of the monstrosity she was going to ride.
It was a bit different from the others. Smaller but also more streamlined. Where the other monsters of Hellhound's were mismatched, bundles of muscle almost competing to be on top, bone spurs and plates a bit everywhere randomly, this one was more natural, symmetric. It followed her movements with two bloodshot eyes, sunken in the flesh. Amy met it in an unflinching stare and debated holding out her hand for it to smell. It usually worked for the dogs she had known, but besides being under an unholy amount of steroids this guy looked like it was high on PCP. Its tail twitched from one side to the other erratically, tense paws dug ruts in the mud and it pulled on the chain wrapped around its neck to sniff in her direction.
Or like an overeager puppy, a somewhat disturbing attitude for something that more closely resembled a velociraptor than a puppy.
The chain was pulled back harshly. Hellhound glowered menacingly at Amy from atop her own mount. "Get away from him. What the fuck do you want?"
"What does it fucking look like I'm doing?" Amy couldn't resist laying on the sarcasm thickly. She knew Hellhound wasn't completely right in the head but she hadn't thought she was this challenged. "I'm riding him, aren't I?" Why would they have brought a fourth dog if not for that?
"No."
"I'm not heavy." In fact, Amy was probably lighter than most large dogs by now.
"He's not trained."
"That's enough!" Skitter intervened before things got out of control. "We don't have time for this shit! She'll ride with me, Bitch."
Amy and Hellhound shared one last dirty look, but the hero relented and jogged back to where Skitter was. The villain offered her a hand up, keeping her injured arm close to her body. Annoyance welled up in Amy. "You need to get that reset now. The more you wait, the worst it'll become." She gave Skitter a look, half glare, half exasperation, that she'd practiced many times with...
Victoria
"Later." Countered Skitter, knowing how precious time was right now.
Well, if Skitter wanted to cripple herself... "Suit yourself." Amy grabbed a bone spur and jumped behind her in a display of athletic skill she had never possessed before.
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She shook her head clear and poked Skitter's shoulder, making the villain flinch ever so slightly. "But don't tell me I didn't warn you."
The dogs sprang forward in response, and Amy decided Skitter was crazy. It was nothing like being flown or, she suspected, riding a horse. Every step the beast gave jostled them, enough that Amy had to grab on to make sure she wasn't accidentally thrown off, and neither the pace they were setting nor the state of the streets made it any better. Upturned cars, holes, fences, glass and even bodies laying about. There were obstacles everywhere and, while the dog was more than capable of going over them, doing so strongly rattled its riders. The girl in front of her was clinging to the mount like her life depended on it, legs pressing hard against its body and injured hand with a death grip on a spur. Forget extension of recovery time. If Skitter kept this up, she'd lose function on her arm. Amy wasn't seeing how did the villain expect to fight Mannequin in her condition. Close as she was to Skitter, she could hear her attempting to breathe regularly. Not willing to have the person holding the reins pass out in her, the brown-haired girl moved to grip a couple of spikes in front of Skitter, her arms around the villainess.
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Looking down, she saw several familiar red hourglass abdomens moving over Skitter's costume, looping around her torso and arm. They were spinning web, realized Amy, spinnerets working furiously, dying from exhaustion and being torn away by the wind and rain. Trying to bind her arm, to little success.
"Mannequin." The bug-controller started abruptly, and it took Amy a second to understand she was talking to her. "What did he have. Weapons, tools, tinker bullshit."
Mannequin was a tinker. It was something people forgot, and it had completely skipped Amy's mind. Like all tinkers he modified his equipment, Mannequin's own body in his particular case, which made him a resourceful, unpredictable foe, no matter what the circumstances. He'd caught her by surprise with the guns, for one. Mannequin probably changed his loadout for every confrontation, but between the crews' meeting point and Skitter's claimed territory he wouldn't have time to make any significant changes.
"He had guns. Two shotguns, in his arms." Amy recalled the fight under the rain, every step an exercise in balance, walking on a razor-sharp tightrope. "Blades. From his hands and wrists, and on his feet to get a grip on the ground. His body is connected by chains. You can't get a solid hit in, he just… bends into it."
"That's-" Another car in the middle of the road. "- it?"
"It's all he used against me." Who knew what else Mannequin had in store.
Skitter grunted and urged the dog faster, spurring it on with cries. Amy barely caught herself as they lurched forward, stopping her face from hitting Skitter's back, and cursed quietly. The dog underneath her was tiring, the pace too hard and fast. No, perhaps it had something to do with Hellhound's power. She shot a look over her shoulder to check if the other Undersiders were keeping up. They were, but the distance between them and the others had begun to grow.
"What's the plan?" She asked Skitter.
"No time for plans. We're almost there. Just need to drive him off. Kill him if we can."
Reckless. Amy could get behind that. She had nothing to fear after all. On the other hand, it would be rather pointless if they just died before bringing down at least some the members of the Nine. Amy had no illusions of being able to destroy them, no matter how many dubious allies she fought alongside. Jack Slash had survived being the leader of a band of maniac mass murderers for years and Crawler, most glaringly, was nigh unkillable. The Siberian didn't even enter her thoughts. But it was possible to kill members of the Nine. More fragile, vulnerable members, like Shatterbird…
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Suddenly Skitter stiffened and growled. "Motherfucker!" The villainess jerked the chains that served as reins with her good arm. They jumped, using the walls of the building to their left as a platform to jump again, turning at a right angle. Behind them, bricks fell, the water damaged walls unable to withstand the monstrous dog's strength. They splashed down on a puddle the size of a small lake, going from wet to absolutely waterlogged. "Go Lucy! Go!" The dog's paws scrambled against the sand and gravel, flexible un-canine fingers digging footholds and hauling out its mass from the water.
Amy didn't need to ask what had happened. Another dizzying curve later, the two other Undersiders right on their heels, she saw what Skitter had sensed. In an instant, she took in the scene.
A long street, quite likely an avenue before, stretched out in front of them. It was clear somebody had been clearing it out, sand and glass partially swept aside, holes and windows boarded up. And in a slightly higher patch of ground, more visible and dramatic, Mannequin had built them a welcoming monument. A small pyramid, broken bodies huddled together into a rough geometric shape. From there blood was being washed away in pink streams, running down and pooling on broken asphalt. Like a macabre fountain. Mannequin stood in front of the mound of corpses, awaiting them with a foot pressing down on a body. They locked gazes in the rain, the eyeless face regarding them contemptuously, almost disappointed.
Then, he laughed.
The dog didn't break pace, if anything running faster, paws thundering against the pavement as it charged. Skitter's dark clouds of insects were visible even under the rain, swirling around Mannequin and forming a black wall behind him, cutting off escape. Mannequin straightened and opened his arms, a toreador ready to take the bull by the horns. Amy knew the tackle would have little to no effect on him, no matter how strong the transformed dog they rode on was. He would just let it hit him and disperse the impact, like water or foam. Maybe if the dog managed to get its jaws on him and bite, but she doubted he would let that happen. And that was if the fangs weren't useless against his white shell.
Amy let go of Skitter, grabbing mismatched bone plates situated behind the villain and pulling her legs up, to crouch on top the monster dog. Her fingers slipped but she changed them, sharpening them into black talons, just long enough that she could hold on despite the water and motion. Her balance was precarious but she didn't intend to stay mounted. Amy was a melee fighter. Riding the dog gave her some mobility and protection but prevented her from actually doing anything. She just needed to get a bit closer, then she would jump and be able to grab a hold of him. The same tactic as last time.
They were nearly upon him when Skitter reeled back, pulling on the chain around the dog's muzzle and cursing violently. Amy almost fell as the dog, ever obedient, slammed its paws down in an attempt to slow down. Was Skitter only now thinking about her effective range?
Fuck! Who cared? That wasn't going to stop Amy. For her, the distance had always been touch range.
Amy leapt as ride and rider unbalanced and skidded a few meters down the road in a heap.
She sailed in the air almost in a straight line. The dog's momentum, added to the strong muscles and light body she had crafted, carried her the last twenty meters of the charge in a flash. And she slammed into the pile of bodies as Mannequin dodged with a mechanical hiss, jumping up and out of danger himself.
Flesh and blood enveloped her with the sounds of breaking bones and meaty thunks. Half-buried in dead bodies, Amy was suddenly struggling, trying to free herself without damaging the corpses.
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She had to get away and rejoin the battle, but she didn't want to rip her way out of the pyramid, the warm blood reminding her that just minutes ago these people had been alive.
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Next to her ear, a weak moan made itself heard and Amy found a sinking feeling once again settling on her gut.
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She twisted herself and watched as a glassy eye blinked quizzically at her. The owner was clearly suffering from blood loss.
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The bodies weren't just corpses. They were still alive.
Amy froze. Behind her she could hear Skitter's ragged voice but the words didn't register in her conscious mind. Paradoxically, she was aware that something was clearly wrong. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Skitter's swarm was pulling back, and she wasn't breathing air right… No, she was breathing right, the air was what wasn't right.
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The world exploded.