It was Squealer inside, Taylor was certain of that. It wasn't just the fact that a dealer gave her this location, that Skidmark had been outside, or even the fact that the woman was dressed up, no, she was certain this was the Tinker villain entirely because of the vehicle they were working on.
In a rundown area like this, the door hinges would probably creak if she tried to slowly open it, so she decided to observe everything she could see before she barged in. Even if the sounds of a rap song on full volume was almost fully masked by Squealer's work, she didn't want to risk losing the element of surprise.
The warehouse was lit up by a few large metal pendant lights hanging from the ceiling, the gleaming underside of the curved metal plates were shining bright cones that illuminated nearly every corner.
Junk, was probably the best word to describe it, was lining every inch of the walls and floors. It was only the immediate area around the vehicle and a pathway through the large doors that was clear-ish. Puddles of grease and oil littering the ground were shining vibrant bright hues as they reflected light.
The warehouse was pretty large, so the fact that it could be this cluttered was actually impressive. Though, once she examined the junk a bit closer, Taylor was able to see that there were actually machinery and industrial tools mixed in.
Everything was a mess, but the more she looked over everything the more she could see that technically it was an organized mess. The piles of materials were sorted, granted it was in an arbitrary manner but still. A thick grid of girders was spanning the interior, and hanging from it were chains and more junk.
And the centerpiece of everything, the vehicle that seemed to embody the warehouse itself. Taylor couldn't pinpoint if the ride had been a car or truck, the frame was a bulky bulging uniformed mess. The windows were mostly metal with small patches of glass covered in metal shades, and the tires followed a similar pattern to the windows, as dark rubber was barely visible between the gaps of the metal casing.
Of course, she could only see the rear end and one side of the vehicle, so she couldn't be certain that the front was better or worse off. Nevertheless, what she could see was something that probably wouldn't drive if it had been assembled by a normal person. If a normal person got behind the wheel and did manage to start it without it stalling, they probably wouldn't be able to steer it.
An amalgamated melted and mashed together mess, a chaotic mockery of engineering.
Taylor didn't know much about cars, she didn't really even have the inkling to be driving anytime soon. When she envisioned herself behind the steering wheel, her palms started to sweat and she wanted to vomit. The details behind the car accident that took her mother's life wasn't clear.
Not because the facts were ambiguous or hidden, but simply because the mention of how exactly her mother died wasn't shared with her young self. There was no court case or anything like that, so it obviously wasn't a legal issue, no drunk driver or any other party involved. Annette simply died because she was on her phone while driving.
She had seen car crashes in action shows or movies, but those people always survived, her mother had died. She had nightmares after, of her mom screaming and shouting as metal crunched around her. She knew her mother had probably died quickly, her father had said she didn't suffer for all that meant.
Her heart was pounding, her palms were sweating, this was a bit more intense than imagining herself behind a wheel, she was dealing with a villain. She had examined all that she could see, there was no reason to hesitate. A simple wooden door, which just by existing caused her to stop, to stall.
Skidmark had been exposed, out in the open with no cover, he probably could have noticed her approach and attacked her back, but he didn't. Still, she had walked right up to a villain and took him down, and now because of a flimsy obstacle, she had to rework up her nerve.
She gently opened the door. Any sort of noise was completely drowned out by the deafening sound of metal screeching and of fridge sized speakers blaring a rap song. The floor was vibrating slightly in sync with the music, small loose scraps were bouncing along as if they were dancing.
Each step inwards, closer to the villain, required twice as much resolve as the previous one. Disorientating, seemed to be the most suitable word for the atmosphere inside, the sounds were drowning out her thoughts and the air was itching her nose and throat.
The air, the thin smoke in the air, more of it was clinging to her mask with each breath. The urge to cough was building up, which only made her act faster.
The metal junk everywhere would probably attract most of the electricity from her stun gun if she wasn't close enough.
Taylor gulped, swallowing her saliva and smothering her desire to cough, her gaze was on the ground ensuring her footing didn't disturb anything. Her path brought her slightly around the back of the woman, and she could see exactly what she was doing.
The bright orange sparks were blinding, leaving behind dark blue specks in her sight, as Squealer was seemingly focusing the nozzle of the blowtorch against the hole she was drilling. The power drill wasn't merely a handheld, no it was as bulky as a toaster, and it was connected by a thick cable to a large canister.
She could see what the woman was doing, intended to do, as along the body of the vehicle were warped circles seemingly welding the plates of metal in place. Heating the metal and then drilling into it would probably only damage the metal if a Non-Tinker was doing it. But for some inexplicable reason, physics seemed to gloss over whatever Tinkers built.
Taking in a deep breath to calm her nerves would probably make her cough, so instead she held her breath as she raised her left arm and aimed at the Tinker villain. She clicked the button, the new sounds couldn't overpower the old sounds to make themselves heard, but she could feel the vibration in her grip.
Buzzing, cracking, sizzling, popping. Electricity sparked as smoke poured off the small weapon, the plastic casing melted and clung to her gloves. She didn't feel much pain, from the electricity or melted plastic, her costume had protected her.
It had also probably protected her from the heat, as in the overheated weapon in her grip, the warning signal that her stun gun couldn't handle any more stress had been ignored.
Earlier, she had fired it down from a rooftop to the two people below her. The most optimal range of her stun gun was just two feet, but she had overcharged it to reach the men. It had probably cooled down enough for another shot at Skidmark, but she couldn't remember if that was also an overcharged shot.
Regardless, her stun gun broke. The sounds hadn't been too loud, barely even audible, but Squealer stopped working and lifted her head up.
Another rush of adrenaline, fight or flight, but this time her ranged weapon wouldn't work and a hurdle of junk would block any attempt to rush up close. She didn't have another weapon to take down a person, she didn't know know to fight barehanded.
She couldn't fight, she was powerless. Flight had won, she had no choice, she had to run. A single blind step backwards, retreating, had caused her boot to dislodge something as a pile of junk collapsed.
Squealer swerved around instantly to face her.
Almost reflexively, Taylor withdrew her flashlight and attempted to blind the villain, instead she saw a blur as it swam through the cone of light. The heavy gas tank end of a blowtorch smashed into her forehead. Her brain jolted and her thoughts skipped around as the world spun.
"Who the fuck do you think you are!?" Squealer screamed, her voice squeaky and a bit muffled by the welder's mask she wore so bright sparks didn't blind her.
After the hit to the head, she stumbled a bit but she didn't collapse, although she did trip over junk while trying to stay upright. Taylor fell down hard on sharp edges, fortunately her costume absorbed most of the force and it didn't give way to the pointy ends. Still, she was positioned awkwardly and a bit dazed as she tried to get up.
Any attempt to grip something for leverage, or step on something, only made this junk give way. She was failing about as if she was drowning, unable to pick herself up in her panic. The sound of heavy steps out of sync with the music caught her attention.
Squealer was rushing over, having apparently leapt over a pile of junk and was stomping as she lugged a thick sledgehammer behind her.
The world seemed to slow down to Taylor, she couldn't escape, not in time to avoid being hit. And if she was hit, she would probably be stunned with pain and then she wouldn't escape the next hit and so on, she would probably die if she tried to escape. Flight had lost, fleeing was impossible. She couldn't fight, but struggling was her only choice.
Her left glove was stuck in place by the melted plastic clinging to it, and she had dropped her flashlight after being hit, it was still shining brightly nearby. She felt around desperately, for something small enough to fit in her hand and heavy enough to do some damage, she found a metal elbow pipe.
She didn't have any leverage, no wiggle room to use her entire body, so she could only throw with the strength of her right arm. It wasn't the best throw, but it was good enough. It smashed into Squealer's face, it didn't do any damage but it did dislodge the mask.
"Bitch!" The villain stumbled and stopped, the visor portion of the mask wasn't over her eyes and she probably stopped because running blindly in here was dangerous. She didn't give it a second thought as she ripped the mask away.
Taylor had rolled while her opponent had paused, allowing her body to fall along the path of least resistance and she landed on the ground closer to Squealer. After her world stopped spinning she was kneeling down a few feet away from the villain.
Squealer was almost pretty, her facial structure and features weren't too bad but poor hygiene and drug abuse had a way of changing a person. It probably wasn't the best time to be criticizing her enemy's face, not when they were running again and raising a sledgehammer into the air.
The path behind and to her sides was blocked, and she probably couldn't leap over them to safety, not far enough to out pace the woman who would chase her. Her only option was a frontal charge, stopping the woman before she swung down the sledgehammer.
Taylor didn't know what she would do next, she barely knew what she was doing as she kicked off the ground in a sprint and dove towards the woman.
The weight behind her head, of the raised weapon, and the force of a teenage girl slamming into her, had caused Squealer to fall backwards. Fortunately for her, she didn't land on her sharp junk, but instead on the flat ground behind her. Small pieces of junk didn't make the landing comfortable, but it wasn't deadly.
Taylor tried to find her footing, in an attempt to kick off the ground again and run off, but an arm reached up and her neck was caught in the crook of an elbow.
Squealer rolled over, dragging the teenager and then pinning her to the ground. "You messed with the wrong bitch, dumbass!" She screamed, her voice still squeaky but not muffled any longer. And she retrieved a hammer from her toolbelt.
There wasn't enough time between Taylor recognizing the weapon and her being hit on the side of her temple with it. Her eyes did swim a bit as her head jerked, but her costume had redirected most of the blow so it didn't do as much damage as it should've.
Before she could be hit again, Taylor's knees tried throwing the woman off balance as her right arm tried wrestling herself free. Unfortunately, she was an unathletic teenage girl, and the fully grown woman on top of her was probably familiar with lifting heavy materials, so her struggle was fruitless.
"Hahahaha! Dumb fucking bastard! What kind of moron are you!? Attacking me in my warehouse is just asking for trouble." Her laugh was grating, and her mockery wasn't any better. "Skidmark! Skidmark! Skidmark, I've caught a rat spurring about! Get inside!"
When silence was the only response, the woman used both hands to grip Taylor's head and smash the back of it against the ground multiple times. Again, it didn't do as much damage as it would have if she wasn't wearing her costume, but it still disoriented her something fierce.
"What the fuck did you do to him!?" Squealer screamed, mostly with anger and a hint of worry. Then she stood up and kicked the dizzy girl between the legs. Without wasting a second after the hit, she dragged a hanging chain off a girder and looped it around the struggling girl's neck before she hooked it into a pulley and yanked it harshly.
Taylor almost screamed, yelped really, as she was strung up by her neck with a metal chain. Her costume did have some metal bits inserted along her neck, mostly to guard her arteries, but now they were pushing against them. Her legs kicked out desperately, the toe end of her boots just barely finding ground as her struggling caused her to sway.
Her left hand still had usable fingers, but her right hand clawed at the chain to relieve the pressure around her neck. With both hands full, she couldn't even attempt to free herself. She hadn't seen how the chain was warped around, and she couldn't feel around it without risking passing out and then probably dying.
As she calmed down, no longer in a dizzy panic and blind struggle, Taylor noticed she was all alone in the warehouse. One foot at a time reached out trying to find something she could use for leverage, if the chain had a bit of slack she could probably escape, but there was nothing in reach. Dread was rising in her mind as her adrenaline was fading.
The music had stopped, so the sounds of an angry man approaching rapidly from outside as he swore and cussed was very audible.