Armory 4.3

Victoria was practically vibrating with excitement as she followed Amy into her room without even asking.

Amy just didn't have the energy to protest. The after-action debrief was inevitable, and Vicky was pretty much a force of nature when she wanted something.

Even though Amy really didn't want to talk about it, right now. She was tired, and the idea of trying to come up with a whole fake evening of events sounded exhausting.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Vicky whirled around to face her with an expectant expression.

"So, how'd it go?" She asked eagerly.

Amy groaned and flopped down onto her unmade bed.

"I don't know what you want from me, Vicky. I told you that we're not together, however you're thinking," Amy grumbled.

Even though I-

No. Shut up. Not going there.

"Look, we just… talked, okay? And she showed me her projects. She's doing research for school, and it's some pretty neat biology," Amy said, trying to find a safe way to talk about her evening without telling too many obvious lies.

"You went back to her place?" Vicky said shrewdly.

Damn.

"Yeah. But get your head out of the gutter. I know what you get up to with your unnecessarily talkative ATM," Amy hoped she could distract Vicky again. It had worked last time.

"You're getting repetitive. I think you used that one last month," Vicky rolled her eyes. "Does she have her own place or did you meet her parents?"

Amy knew that Taylor didn't have parents, plural, and she hadn't mentioned her dad.

"She has her own place," Amy cringed, knowing that would set off more questions.

"Ooooh, she's older, then? I know she's tall, and she does have a kind of-" Vicky cut off and bobbed in the air as she changed tracks. "Wait, what the fuck was with the scars? She likes to draw, what, old runes on her face with a branding iron? That's some seriously messed up shit, Ames."

That, at least, Amy could handle. She also didn't know what to make of Taylor's fascination with the rune and her scars.

Not that it wasn't a striking look, but still.

"I don't know what to tell you," Amy sat up and shrugged. "I guess she's just cooler than you."

Victoria's face twitched and she frowned.

"Are you sure? Because that seems like some kind of Empire shit or something. They do the old Norse thing, right?"

Amy laughed. She just couldn't help it.

Taylor would get a kick out of that when she got a chance to tell her. Hunter, Carpenter, the murderous Nazi wood-chipping machine, was actually an Empire recruit in her civilian identity. Brilliant.

"Yeah, Vicky, you caught me. I'm secretly dating one of the Valkyrie twins," sarcasm dripped from her tone.

"Ha! So you are dating her," Vicky crowed triumphantly, all accusations of racist fascism forgotten.

Shit.

She wasn't. She really, really wasn't.

"Sarcasm, Vicky. It's not the highest form of wit, but it's all I've got," Amy sighed.

"Hmmmm. No, I think the sarcastic part of that statement was the Valkyrie bit, and I do believe you there. I don't believe the other bit for a second," Victoria was insufferably smug.

"Well, if we are dating, someone might want to let her know," Amy said without thinking.

Fuck. Why did I say that? Shit, shit…

That wasn't even remotely fair to Taylor, and Amy knew it. Taylor had no idea what a tangled knot of bullshit Amy was, even with everything they had talked about.

Now it was Vicky's turn to shrug, except midair.

"Ohhh, now I get it. Well, maybe. Sorta. Boys might be annoying about the whole communication thing, but they're also a bit stupid, so it's never that hard to figure out. I have no idea how to handle it with girls. That sounds… complicated," her sister said.

Amy just glared at her.

Vicky didn't get it at all, and while that was probably a good thing, it was also infuriating.

She couldn't… do this again. Couldn't end up pining for the only other decent person in her entire fucking life. Especially because said person was a villain. Who lived in an abandoned hospital. And killed people.

It was like she was cursed to end up wanting anyone who gave a shit about her. Or maybe it was just that the only people who did were problematic, unavailable, annoyingly attractive-

Fuck!

No, no, she could manage this. She could be friends with Hunter, enjoy her company and her strange blood concoctions, without becoming an overdramatic, desperate, needy sack of shit-

Yeah, right.

Amy ran her hands over her face in frustration, ignoring Victoria's concerned look.

"Yeah. You have no idea," Amy's voice came out in a broken whisper.

Taylor even offered to let me improve her-

Shut the fuck up.

She could do this. She wasn't giving up what she currently had with either Vicky or Taylor, even if her stupid bullshit brain wouldn't stop whispering to her. With Taylor's tinkering to take the edge off of her power problems, she could make it work.

It would be enough, for her.

It has to be.

Taylor did her best not to scratch the epoxy as she carefully set the ridiculously heavy block of gray granite on an unoccupied lab table.

Even with her strength, it took two hands.

She grabbed her stool and her tools and dragged them over to the workbench with a spring in her step.

Amy hadn't run to New Wave or the PRT even when confronted with her villain lair!

There was a part of her that actually worried about that, now. When they first met, she hadn't really cared if Panacea decided to try to turn her in. Worst case scenario, she could just die.

Now, that would mean losing Amy, which was… unpleasant, to imagine.

When had that happened?

Taylor could still feel her soft skin and delicate bones under her fingertips.

Shrugging to herself and prepping a large flat tray, Taylor moved the block of granite over and into it so she could get to work.

She didn't really understand why this part worked, but she knew that it would as long as she did it right.

Using a chisel and a small mallet, she began to chip precise, controlled lines into the stone.

After each glyph was done, she stopped and washed the stone with blood gathered from her guests in the corner. With every mark, she could feel the conceptual weight of the hammerhead growing.

Over and over she chipped eldritch symbols into her weapon, cleaning and tempering it with the blood of her prey. The crimson fluid seemed to cling to the glyphs, leaving them dull ruby compared to the surrounding stone.

It took over an hour, but she finally finished preparing the block.

Standing up from her stool and stretching, Taylor grabbed a water bottle and checked her watch.

Just after two in the morning.

Plenty of time.

Taylor walked over to see how her other ongoing project was coming along, carefully pulling one of the fragile blades out of the soaking solution.

Still sitting suspended in a mixture of spinal fluid and blood, the other two bone blades glistened with an eerie green sheen.

These were by far her most questionable creation to date. All of her other weapons would merely kill her enemies.

The eldritch bone blades would Master them.

She was glad that Amy hadn't asked about them. She wouldn't have lied, but Taylor didn't want to see the horrified condemnation in those dark chocolate eyes.

The bone blades were designed to break off inside a target, and the victim would remain under her thrall until the bone was removed, or they died. Whichever came first.

And with her blood vials, she could ensure they stayed alive. Not only to answer her questions, but to return to their former master as if nothing was wrong.

She couldn't think of any other way to find out who was stalking her father without tipping them off.

Still, it worried her. She could see the darkness encroaching, and wondered if this wasn't how monsters were made.

One necessity at a time. One compromise at a time. One convenience at a time.

For better or worse, the blades were difficult and costly to make. She barely had enough parahuman spinal fluid for three. Hopefully there weren't four enemies in the car.

She would double check before she played her hand.

Taylor placed the blade back in the cloudy fluid.

Almost ready.

The hammerhead was finally done.

Taylor checked the time.

Not even seven o'clock yet.

She usually went to bed around ten in the morning, give or take an hour.

Taylor looked down at her creation.

The alternate form of her newest weapon was a brutal thing. Roughly rectangular, a foot and a half long and almost a foot wide, the head of her great hammer would strike with the physical and conceptual weight of a truck. Filled with bowling balls.

All that remained was to see if the docking mechanism worked correctly.

On the top of the hammerhead, a sheath jutted out an extra two feet. Between the sheath and the block of granite, it was the same length as her silver sword's blade.

Taylor grabbed her masterpiece off the wall and swung it experimentally. Her lips curved into an unconscious smile.

Amy was right. Swords were definitely cool.

So were giant fucking hammers, though.

Taylor drove the sword downward into the sheath at an angle, then slid the blade forward until it clicked into place with a very satisfying snap.

She hefted the unwieldy weapon and spun it in two hands.

Fuck. Yes.

This was going to be fun.

Taylor crouched on the roof of one of the many failing businesses along the surveillance car's route, clad in her classic Hunter uniform.

It was just after sunset. She didn't want to wait too long, but she also didn't want anyone to see her attack.

The car only had two passengers, unless there was a hidden agent lying in the backseat or something.

Not impossible, but it was worth the risk.

She probably wouldn't get a better shot at this.

Despite her misgivings, she had left her standard tools of violence at the workshop. In the tight space of the car's interior, her usual weapons would all be a hindrance. Besides, her goal wasn't to kill these enemies.

She did palm a fist sized rock, though. She wasn't entirely sure how much momentum was required to break a car window, and she didn't want to err on the side of 'not enough'. That would just be embarrassing.

The car stopped at a stop sign with a burnt out streetlight, and she made her move.

Taylor took three long strides and pushed off the edge of the building with all of her considerable strength, rocketing through the cold night air towards the surveillance car.

As she flew, she flung the rock at the back window as hard as she could and drew two cursed bone blades, one in each hand.

The rock punched straight through the back window, sending a fine milky spider-web across the safety glass.

Taylor followed the rock feet first within the same second.

The men in the car were already reacting. They were professionally trained, and fast.

But she was faster.

Taylor crashed into the back seat of the car, her knees hitting the backs of the front seats hard enough to crack her kneecaps and bend the metal under the fabric. Despite the pain, she lunged forward and stabbed both men in the chest simultaneously, the brittle bone blades breaking off inside their bodies.

Before they could die on her, she whipped out her quick injector and slammed a blood vial into each of them. She also went ahead and took one herself to fix her knees and the multitude of abrasions from her rough entry.

The car was quiet after the sudden surge of violence.

"Drive," Taylor commanded, handing the driver a slip of paper with an address on it. "Here."

The car pulled smoothly away from the stop sign.

Taylor turned her attention to the man in the passenger seat. He stared straight out the front windshield with dead eyes.

Well, not technically dead, although he may wish that he was.

She honestly didn't know if the bone blade's victims were still conscious under the madness. She didn't know if she wanted to know.

"Who do you work for?" Taylor asked. She didn't know how much time she would have to question them.

"Coil."

Coil?

She hadn't even considered him. All she knew about his organization was that he employed mercenaries and technically controlled a chunk of territory downtown, but he hadn't been on her radar as a hunting target. From what she could tell, it was barely a gang. More like a private army or something.

"Why are you watching Daniel Hebert?" Taylor demanded.

"We aren't. We are the bait," the man said.

Taylor's blood ran cold.

"Explain."

"Coil has already identified you arriving and leaving the temporary residence of Daniel Hebert. He is aware that you are Taylor Hebert, the supposedly dead daughter of Daniel. The only thing he is uncertain of is whether you are also Carpenter," the mercenary said tonelessly. "He is no longer uncertain. The primary surveillance team was monitoring our route and is undoubtedly aware of your intervention."

Fuck.

But, at least she knew, now. If this Coil had already seen her in her civilian identity, then she hadn't lost anything of true value yet tonight.

And he had no way of knowing that she could Master his men.

"Why would you agree to a mission like this? Doesn't he know that I would kill you?" she asked.

"Coil has the power to alter probability. He promised to utilize this ability to ensure that we survived our encounter," the man said.

That was… actually feasible. She didn't plan on killing these men. It was possible that Coil's power didn't take potential Mastering into account.

"And you believed him?"

"No. I was confident that I could kill or escape from you. Also, the pay is excellent."

Taylor snorted involuntarily.

The car pulled into the empty parking garage at the address she had provided.

"What other plans of Coil's are you aware of?" Taylor asked.

"The car is rigged to explode. There is a dead man's switch linked to the heart rate monitors under our clothes. Insurance, in case his power failed or we betrayed him."

Holy shit.

She had gotten lucky. If she had messed up any step of her plan, she might have woken up at her grave again.

She still might. Coil would probably detonate the explosives remotely if he got too suspicious.

"What were you supposed to tell me if questioned?" She asked quickly.

"We are to pretend to be Empire members who suspect your father is a parahuman. Coil benefits from the destabilization of the other criminal organizations within the city. He also wants to gather as much information on you as possible. He is content with either outcome. We either provide you with false information and report back to him, or we die along with you."

Taylor wracked her brain for anything else she needed. She needed to get out of this death trap as quickly as possible.

"What does Coil want with Daniel Hebert and I?"

"He wants you to work exclusively for him as either a Tinker or a soldier. If he cannot convince you by diplomatic means, he will kidnap your father to enforce your compliance. If that does not work, he will kidnap you and attempt to directly force your subservience."

God dammit.

She had been expecting that, but it still sucked.

"Return to Coil. Act exactly as you would normally if the mission were a success. You fed me the Empire line, and I bought it. Tell him that I am planning to attack an Empire gathering tonight as a result. Do not tell him anything else about me aside from what he already expects to hear," Taylor rattled off quickly.

Taylor pulled out another sheet of paper and scribbled her phone number on it.

"When you are able to contact me discreetly, without any chance that Coil can track the communication, call me at this number. If Coil moves to murder or kidnap Daniel Hebert or myself, inform me immediately as long as there is a way to do so without blowing your cover. If there isn't, try to get me a message as soon as possible afterwards."

Taylor took another long three seconds to think of anything else she could possibly require from her unwilling servants. It was hard to think while sitting on a live bomb, even for someone who could come back from the dead.

"Give no indication of your new allegiance and act in my best interests to the best of your ability," she said, just to cover her bases.

"Yes, Hunter," they said in unison.

Okay. That's seriously creepy. Fuck.

Taylor got out of the car and watched them drive out of the parking garage.

Am I a monster?

She wasn't quite sure anymore.

But she had bigger things to worry about. Her father was in danger, and she still didn't know what to do about it.

What would Coil expect her to do?

She sprinted for Kurt and Lacey's house.

"Well… damn," her father said when she finished relaying the events of the evening in a low hiss.

Taylor specifically didn't mention exactly how she got the information, just in case. She didn't know how sensitive Coil's monitoring equipment was.

She wasn't even entirely sure she trusted Kurt and Lacey, anymore. It hadn't escaped her that the one piece of information Coil hadn't known was also the one she had hidden from them.

They sat in the office that also served as her dad's temporary bedroom, talking in low voices with the door closed.

"What do we do?" Taylor whispered. For once, she didn't have a good answer. Maybe he would think of something she hadn't.

Aside from bringing him to live 24/7 at her workshop, she couldn't think of any way to keep him safe.

Her stomach churned with worry.

If Coil had seen this, what else had he seen?

She needed to bring his whole organization down around his ears as quickly as possible. And she needed to do it quietly, or he might decide to kill her dad just to spite her.

But until then…

Her father took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt thoughtfully.

"I don't think there's anything we can do, short of putting me in a deep dark hole somewhere. I don't exactly like the idea of becoming a prisoner in order to avoid becoming a prisoner," he grinned at her with morbid humor.

"There has to be something," Taylor muttered.

Danny shrugged.

"I'll buy a pistol, and some pepper spray. I'm pretty handy with a tire iron. You said this Coil guy uses mercenaries, right? If they come for me, I'll do my best to buy time until you get there," he said. "Until you finish dismantling his gang, I can't really think of anything else. I do know that there's a reason we don't negotiate with terrorists. Hostage situations have no good answers."

"I don't like this," Taylor said.

"I don't either, kiddo. We'll figure it out," her father said with a tired smile. "But, if he does get a hold of me, don't you dare give in to anything he demands. I don't care what he does to me. You bring the hammer of God down on him, and don't stop until he's in the ground."

Taylor hugged him tightly and nodded into his chest.

She pulled back and gave him a watery smile.

"It's funny you should mention hammers…"

Taylor landed heavily in the designated alleyway.

Heavy due to the massive slab of granite strapped to her back.

"The fuck is that?"

Bitch was already here.

"Kirkhammer," Taylor said.

The other villain just shrugged. Her dogs were already massive, sitting patiently on the cracked pavement like breathing mountains of spikes and meat.

Taylor had to admit that she was intrigued by the idea of… hunting hounds.

Perhaps Bitch would be open to a longer-term alliance, if this went well.

The tall, muscular woman had a gruff attitude, but Taylor appreciated her straightforward approach. It was refreshing, especially after dealing with Coil's bullshit machinations.

She was definitely ready to blow off some steam.

Plus, it worked into her other plans nicely. This would sell the ruse that she was targeting the Empire.

Well, it wasn't really a ruse. She was targeting the Empire. Just not because of Coil. She didn't need an excuse. They were fucking Nazis.

"Plan?" Taylor asked.

"Bust down the wall. Kill the assholes. Take the dogs."

See? Refreshingly simple.

"Want to go first or second?" Taylor asked.

Bitch looked at her for a long moment.

"Second. Go," she barked.

Taylor smiled and the other villain tensed. She really didn't like Taylor's smiles, for some reason.

And then Taylor was running.

At the end of the road, an enormous warehouse was lit up with flickering orange light from within.

One of Hookwolf's dog fighting rings. A big one.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Adrenaline flooded her veins.

This was exactly what she needed.

No more hiding. No more worrying. No games. It was time to hunt.

Just her, a big-ass hammer, and a bunch of animal-abusing Nazis who deserved her wrath.

The pavement shook under her.

Oh. And a bunch of giant monster dogs, too. Even better.

The Empire thug on lookout screamed in alarm and ran through the door.

Taylor reached back and slid her sword into the hammerhead, locking it into place with the ever-satisfying metallic click.

Time to go to work.

She leapt forward and swung the massive stone mallet in a full counterclockwise rotation horizontally, spinning with it as the weight of the hammerhead threw her body through the air.

The Kirkhammer hit the side of the warehouse with meteoric force, buckling the wall and sending a huge chunk of sheet metal bouncing through the crowd of Empire members, leaving a bloody path of screaming bodies in its wake.

That's the good stuff.

The dogs barreled into the crowd around her even as she landed in the midst of the chaos.

She could feel the blood calling to her.

Terrified Nazis scrambled in every direction. They were like ants. Or rats.

Her smile was wide and terrifying.

Beasts all over the shop.

Taylor leapt into the fray, sweet crimson washing over her.

It was glorious.

She brought the hammer down in a wide, brutal arc, crushing two fleeing Nazis in one swing.

More.

With a wild uppercut, the remains of another beast flew through the air over the crowd and rained down in bloody pieces.

More!

The hammer was too slow and her prey too weak. She unsheathed her sword and put the hammerhead onto her back, her blade making quick work of the surrounding Nazis before she moved on.

Blood ran in rivers off of the silver sword.

Slash, bleed, stab, scream, more, more, MORE!

She lost count of how many she ended. She wouldn't be able to keep her tally going.

A lot of Nazis. Four rapists. One Ward.

The thought made Taylor laugh.

For some reason, that just made the Empire scum run faster.

"CARPENTER!"

Taylor looked up at the challenge, a booming voice emanating from the catwalk over the arena.

A shirtless man in a crude wolf mask held his arms wide to her.

Hookwolf.

Fuck yes.

Taylor re-sheathed her sword and drew forth the Kirkhammer once again. Behind Hookwolf, another costumed villain waited in the shadows. Taylor could just make out a cage mask with her enhanced perception. Cricket was here, too. Excellent.

"My name is Hunter!" She yelled up to him.

He gave a deep, thunderous laugh. She thought he might be genuinely enjoying this.

"Alright then, Hunter," he called down to her. "You and me. No bullshit. Like fucking warriors of old."

Bitch arrived next to her, astride her largest beast. Taylor hadn't even realized that the warehouse floor was empty except for her and the corpses. She could hear the caged dogs howling from a doorway on the far wall.

"Get the dogs," Taylor said lowly.

Bitch hesitated for a moment, then nodded and bounded away.

"Nazi blood runs just as red as everyone else's, Hookwolf," she yelled up to him, her voice echoing in the crimson arena as she ran her tongue over her lips. "But it tastes a whole lot fucking sweeter."

He laughed again, even louder and more manic.

"Then make me bleed, little Hunter, if you can!"

Taylor leapt for the catwalk and Hookwolf exploded into a giant mass of raging metal.

She didn't bother aiming for him at first, instead striking the walkway itself and crumpling it like tissue paper. Taylor used the momentum from the impact to throw herself free of the collapsing wreckage, dodging a jagged spear of hooks and barbs that shot out of her enemy's center mass.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Cricket jump free and land on a raised portion of the spectator stands.

Hookwolf tumbled into the arena itself, no worse for wear.

That was fine. She just wanted to fight him on the ground, where there was less risk of getting caught in the cables and grates of the catwalk.

Taylor skidded to a stop amongst the empty chairs, slamming her hammer into the ground to slow her momentum in an explosion of shattered wood and concrete.

Then, pulling on the handle and pushing with her legs, she vaulted over her weapon and sent the Kirkhammer spinning up and around in a wide vertical circle with her body as the fulcrum.

Not a moment too soon, either.

A massive claw of metal barbs raked through the spot she had just been standing, but she was already gone.

Her smile tugged at her cheeks as she flipped up and over her enemy and brought her hammer down into his center mass with all of her strength.

The screaming metal against stone and the Nazi beast's roars of agony were sweet music to her ears.

Hookwolf's hulking canine form left a cracked crater in the concrete under the physical and metaphorical weight of the Kirkhammer. Unfortunately, he recovered quickly and his malleable body shifted to capitalize on her proximity.

Fuck.

Taylor ripped the hammer free and tried to leap backwards, but she was pushing off of Hookwolf's 'shoulder', for lack of a better equivalent, and the metal under her foot became a crushing whirlwind of spinning blades.

By attempting to jump away, Taylor accidentally shoved her foot into the blender.

Holy fuck, that hurts.

It turns out, having one's left foot reduced to a fine red paste is exactly as painful as it sounds. Go figure.

Luckily, her other leg was still free. As she fell backwards, Taylor was able to find purchase on the nearest concrete step and shove herself away wildly, hammer in tow and one foot left behind.

She didn't land neatly. It was pretty fucking difficult to land on her feet when she only had one, so she ended up bouncing through the chairs and broken bodies until she came to a stop sprawled on the damp ground.

Hard to land on her foot. Ha.

Taylor injected herself with a blood vial. It healed her leg, but didn't bring back her wayward foot. Her left leg now ended halfway down her shin.

Unfortunate. She would have to figure out a better solution for that in the future.

She idly wondered if she was about to die.

Taylor braced her hammer against the ground and used it to pull herself upright.

Hookwolf bared his metal teeth at her, his writhing canine form hunkered on the concrete risers across the arena from her. A significant section of his back was still bent out of shape, so that was something.

Taylor loaded her injector with a new experimental stimulant. If there was ever a time to push her limits, it was now.

She brought the needle down.

Her vision sharpened. Her mind accelerated.

I forgot that I can quickstep.

What the fuck was wrong with her? She could have quickstepped out of range and not gotten her foot eaten by a giant Nazi garbage disposal.

Hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

Hookwolf charged.

Taylor swung her hammer as if she were aiming to clock him in a golf-swing when he reached her.

He dodged to the side as he ran, digging his multitude of hooks into the ground. He redirected his charge with practiced precision until his trajectory would avoid the incoming blow and still shred her into table scraps.

Mid swing, Taylor quickstepped towards him at an angle. When she returned from the shadow, she braced her remaining foot against the nearest stair and heaved on the handle of her Kirkhammer with all the momentum she could muster. She brought the stone block singing upwards in a powerful uppercut that hit right under the monster's front legs.

Hookwolf let out a strange, metallic cough as the impact bent him in half and launched his broken body clear through the roof.

A skylight is exactly what this place needed. Bring in some natural light.

Maybe she was actually going insane, like Amy had suggested.

Through the new hole in the ceiling, the moon called to her.

Her enhanced perception flashed with danger and she stumbled backwards just as a curved blade passed through where her head had been a split second earlier.

Cricket was cheating.

The woman wielded two scythe-like weapons. They probably had an official name, but Taylor didn't know what it was.

Oh. Victor did. Kamas.

Interesting, but not exactly relevant.

Taylor had learned a valuable lesson from fighting Sophia.

Most people didn't expect an enemy to let an attack hit them, but she could afford to take the hit. She could even afford to die, if she messed up badly enough. Not everyone had that luxury.

She could use that to her advantage. Especially since she didn't have time to dance with Cricket properly. Hookwolf could be back any second.

The Empire fighter was supernaturally agile, and there was a strange ringing in Taylor's ears that threw her off balance. Well, more off balance than she already was, due to only having one foot. She braced her hammer on the ground with one hand to stay upright.

Her other hand held her pistol, under her bloody coat.

Cricket spun and closed the gap between them, blades flying with perfect speed and accuracy.

Taylor shifted just enough that the Kamas buried themselves in her chest without piercing her heart. As it was, the impact drove the breath from her lungs and shattered half of her ribcage.

Cricket seemed almost surprised that it worked.

Then Taylor pulled the trigger and shot her through the heart.

The consecrated quicksilver blew a fist sized hole in the villain's chest, sending her stumbling backwards in a heap.

Taylor quickly reloaded a new blood vial, pulled the blades out of her chest, and injected herself with the beautiful concoction.

Ah. That's better.

The euphoria of the sweet blood never got old.

Taylor looked up at the sound of thunderous footfalls, wondering if Hookwolf had returned to finish the job already.

Instead, she saw a plastic dog mask peeking over the edge of a significantly less metallic beast.

"The fuck happened to your leg?" Bitch asked.

"Hookwolf ate it," Taylor grunted. "Can I catch a ride? We should probably go, and I don't think I can hop fast enough."

Bitch stared down at her for a long moment, and Taylor briefly wondered if she was going to kill her.

Do it.

"Fine. Hop on."

Taylor reached down and threw Cricket's corpse over her shoulder, then leapt off of her good leg and landed behind Bitch on the back of her monster dog.

Bitch didn't even question the dead body. That was pretty cool of her.

With a whistle, Bitch, the dogs, Cricket's body, and most of Taylor sped away into the night.

Taylor liked to imagine she could hear Hookwolf's screams of rage behind them, but she was probably imagining it.