A/N: Disclaimer, do not do any of the things described in this chapter, at home or otherwise.
Ignition 3.1
The booming gunshot reverberated in the cramped basement.
Taylor threw herself forward and to her left, even as she fired. The incoming crossbow bolt cut a deep gash into her right cheekbone and clipped her ear on the way past, but she was fast enough to avoid being impaled.
Sophia turned to smoke, the bullet passing straight through her and hitting one of Taylor's burettes with a crash and a shower of shattered glass.
Damn.
Part of her had been hoping that the consecrated quicksilver would harm Sophia in her shadow state, but that would apparently be too easy.
It was a vain hope, but Taylor swung her cleaver at the mist anyway.
That, too, passed straight through, but as Taylor's momentum carried her to the other side of the shadow, Sophia reformed with a strangled cough.
"What the fuck-" Sophia growled. Taylor pivoted on her heel and refused to give her any respite.
She swung again, unfolding the cleaver as she spun to reach her enemy's now solid body.
Unfortunately, Sophia was fast. Even while recovering from whatever interaction the blood-quenched sawblade had with her Breaker state, she dove forward and turned back to smoke, the barely visible cloud sliding along the ground.
Taylor used the opportunity to reload her pistol.
The distraction proved to be a mistake.
Her senses flared and Taylor twitched to the side, but the intangible crossbow bolt still hit her chest and reformed inside her body.
Without thinking, Taylor tried to tug the bolt free so she could use a blood vial. Agony flared across her ribcage and exploded behind her eyes in a burst of stars. The bolt didn't budge.
Fuck.
That hurt more than getting shot with a sniper rifle. What the fuck was that?
Luckily, the bolt hit just to the right of center and missed her heart, but the downside was that it seemed to have fused with her sternum. She would have to figure out how the hell to repair that later. Would a blood vial even fix weird Breaker molecular fusion?
Taylor gritted her teeth. Sophia was going to die, even if it killed her.
Her enemy resolidified on the other side of the basement, moving to reload her crossbow.
Rough hands gripping her neck and shoving her into the reeking-
Flipping the sawblade closed, Taylor ignored the excruciating tugging in her chest and leapt across her workshop table, crashing through the glass and swinging her cleaver wildly.
Sophia threw herself sideways and turned to shadow again. Taylor tracked the floating smoke as it flew through the dark.
Momentum seemed to work strangely for Sophia's breaker state. She needed to push off before becoming incorporeal.
Interesting, but not especially useful. Taylor needed to find a way to keep her solid so she could rip her to pieces.
Sophia reformed and landed in a crouch on top of one of the workbenches, crossbow raised.
"Is that all you got, Hunter?" Sophia called mockingly.
Taylor hurled a heavy jar containing Victor's liver at her head.
Sophia turned to shadow and fired again, Taylor's organic projectile passing through her and smashing against the wall.
Taylor dodged the intangible bolt. As it reformed, she caught a brief glimpse of Sophia flickering back to reality for just a moment when the bolt struck the workbench behind her.
That's something.
Diving low behind the table, Taylor rolled and kicked upwards with as much force as her legs could muster, pushing off the dusty concrete and tossing the heavy wooden table covered in lab equipment across the basement. Sophia turned back into mist to avoid it.
The crash echoed in the dark, all too loud but somehow strangely muted at the same time.
Sophia solidified and reloaded, even as Taylor pushed herself back to her feet and rushed towards her again.
Taylor relied on Victor's hand-to-hand training as best she could against an enemy that could become intangible. She slashed through the smoke with her cleaver and threw an elbow towards where she hoped Sophia's head would be.
Sophia reformed just in time to catch a bony elbow to the hockey mask.
Progress.
And fuck if that wasn't satisfying. All those times being pushed in the hallways, tripped and kicked and pinned-
Cursing and returning to shadow, Sophia drifted backwards towards the stairs.
"Running away so soon?" Taylor coughed around the bolt in her chest. Sophia could probably escape anytime she wanted, but Taylor would find her. She knew where the monster lived, and she wouldn't stay in the ground for long even if Sophia got the better of her. She would keep coming back, wearing her down, until she got her satisfaction.
Sophia resolidified and stared at her, expression unreadable behind the mask.
"You wish," she ground out before raising the crossbow again.
Luckily, Sophia was also easy to manipulate. Whatever drove her to come here and wait for Taylor would also keep her here until it was too late.
Taylor dove aside as Sophia turned to shadow and fired, but it was difficult to see the ghostly projectiles in the dark and Sophia led her shot this time.
Her enemy flickered back into existence and the bolt re-solidified inside Taylor's leg, just above her left knee.
Shit, fuck, that burns.
Taylor didn't bother trying to remove it, this time. Whatever Sophia's power did to her bolts, it caused strange things to happen when they reformed inside a target.
But Taylor couldn't help the savage smile that spread across her face.
Sophia could fire the bolts while in her Breaker state, but she needed to switch back in order to have them solidify inside her target. Otherwise, they would just fly straight through as smoke.
Taylor knew what she had to do now. It was just a matter of pulling off the timing.
And possibly getting shot again.
Taylor pushed off her good leg and threw herself towards her enemy, alternating swings with the cleaver and her elbows.
She winced as the motions pulled at the bolts bonded with her bones.
Sophia was good, far better at fighting than Taylor would have been without Victor's skills, but she was also predictable.
Swing, smoke, counter.
Taylor swayed sideways to avoid a punch and threw another elbow, which Sophia turned to shadow to avoid.
Swing, smoke, counter.
Sophia reformed and kicked at Taylor's wounded leg, but Taylor spun despite the wrenching agony and slashed horizontally with the cleaver.
Swing, smoke, counter.
Her enemy returned to intangibility to avoid it, although the consecrated metal still seemed to distract her with every pass. It wasn't enough to predictably force her back into corporeality, but it was better than nothing. She reformed and Taylor tried to throw another elbow, but Sophia knocked the attack aside and head-butted her in the nose.
Taylor's world flashed white for a moment from the impact and Sophia pushed herself out of melee range.
The timing would be crucial.
Sophia reloaded.
Taylor pretended to stumble sideways, as if her bad leg and the blow to the head had disoriented her.
Sophia raised her crossbow and turned to shadow.
Swing, smoke, counter.
Sophia fired.
Taylor raised her pistol.
The intangible crossbow bolt hit Taylor in the stomach.
Sophia and the bolt returned to tangibility and the bolt fused with Taylor's internal organs, lodged in her spine.
Taylor pulled the trigger and Sophia's head exploded.
Ahhh, the sweet blood… it sings to me.
Taylor fell to one knee at the same time that Sophia's headless corpse slumped to the concrete.
Pain radiated throughout her body, burning and blinding her with the intensity.
Shattered glass cut her palms as she landed on her hands and knees. The multiple bolts stuck within her didn't bleed, but she could feel them tearing at her insides and disrupting her body's natural processes with every heartbeat.
Taylor began to laugh. The choking cackles hurt so fucking much, but she couldn't stop.
Sophia was dead.
I did that.
Emma was cruel, but she could only use her words. Sophia was the backbone, the one who made sure Taylor couldn't just walk away.
And now she was dead.
Taylor's smile was wide and manic, even while blood dripped from her lips.
Twelve Nazis, and one Ward.
Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out everything else.
Should I die, now?
Return to my dream, to be reborn anew?
She could feel the presence of her rune, branded into her mind and body.
She could do it. Focus on the rune and slip away, to reform fresh at the next full moon.
Taylor clenched her fists around the jagged glass shards and set her jaw.
That felt like giving up.
Sophia was dead.
And she was alive.
Taylor dragged her good leg under her, the pain spiking as the movement jostled the bolt in her belly.
She needed to find her father. She needed to hide Sophia's body so she could harvest her blood later.
Taylor hauled herself to her feet, vision flickering and body protesting. The metal bolts stuck out of her at odd angles like a macabre pincushion.
The light flicked on, overwhelmingly bright after focusing so hard to see the smoke in the dark.
"Taylor, what's- oh God, Taylor!"
Her father rushed down the stairs, pushing aside the overturned table to get to her.
"What the- who- Taylor, are you alright?" He stammered, catching sight of Sophia's body on the ruined, bloodstained floor.
She took a step forward and stumbled, catching herself on his shoulder.
"-'m glad you're okay," she mumbled through the haze. "Thought she might've gotten you first."
"No, I was asleep," he said distractedly "Jesus, what… Taylor, what happened?"
"Sophia happened," Taylor said.
"Sophia, from school? What-"
"She's Shadow Stalker. The Ward. I got murdered by a superhero," Taylor said deliriously. "Well, she was Shadow Stalker…"
This didn't feel like it was important. There was something else…
Lucidity returned for a brief moment.
"Dad! We need… the cops are probably on their way. Someone would have heard the gunshots. We need…"
They both looked around at the blood-splattered remnants of her lab, organs in jars lining the walls. Victor's liver was flopped on one of the workbenches where it fell after its brief flight.
And, of course, the dead body of her tormentor.
How the fuck did they fix this?
Unfortunately (or fortunately, for those who weren't murderous blood Tinkers), their house was in the part of the Docks that the police still responded to. The response time might be a bit lacking compared to the nicer areas, but they weren't abandoned to the gangs. The gunshots would have certainly drawn attention.
Which meant that they were on a timer, and their options were limited. Her power provided a potential solution, but it was… extreme.
"Dad… Dad, you have to decide now," Taylor wheezed around the bolt in her chest. "Come clean to the PRT, and blame me for everything, I forced you, you had no choice… or…"
She ran out of breath.
"Or?" He asked, bewildered.
"We burn it. We burn it all, and I stay dead."
He looked confused for a moment before he caught up with her.
His eyes hardened.
"It's just a house," he said.
Good enough for her.
"Grab the gasoline and any flammable or pressurized cleaning supplies you can find. And hand me Victor's leg," Taylor said, stumbling over to her workbench and grabbing the angle grinder.
"What?"
"Big leg bone. The femur. No time to explain."
At least he moved quickly once he made up his mind.
She began grinding the bone to dust and shards, every vibration sending spiderwebs of pain from the metal lodged inside her. Bone marrow ash was designed to enhance the effect of her quicksilver bullets, but it also worked just fine on explosives.
And Victor knew quite a bit about improvised explosives.
She was also on a different kind of timer. She didn't know how long she would be able to function in this state.
Hopefully long enough.
She quickly injected herself with one of her last blood vials, just in case.
The euphoria helped to distract her from the pain, but it did nothing to fix the bolts bonded with her bones and organs. It did fix her face and her ear, though. She had honestly forgotten about those cuts.
Taylor gathered the shards of bone and moved them to her mortar and pestle.
She heard the sound of splashing liquid as Danny poured the gasoline usually reserved for the lawnmower over the floor and along the walls.
He was taking initiative. That was nice.
"Save some for me. Also, fertilizer," she coughed. "And aluminum foil."
He ran to fetch her the supplies.
When he got back, she ground the necessary ingredients in with the bone powder, along with some of her blood. For seasoning.
"Microwave," she wheezed. "And wrap Sophia's body in garbage bags, please."
He didn't question her, just ran upstairs then got to work packaging the corpse.
Taylor ripped open the back of the microwave and removed the surge inhibitor.
"Duct tape."
She loaded the bone marrow ash, the cleaning supplies, crumpled up aluminum foil, and the remaining fertilizer mix into the microwave.
Her father handed her the tape.
She duct taped the microwave shut, wrapping several loops around the metal box.
"You ready to go?" Taylor asked, grabbing the surviving syringes and anything else she could salvage and shoving them in her coat pockets.
She also picked up Sophia's corpse. The motion tugged at her wounds and she winced, new drips of crimson staining her sweater.
"Ready as I'll ever be," Danny said, glancing around the blood and gasoline soaked basement.
"Go. I'll be right behind you," Taylor said.
He took the stairs two at a time.
Taylor plugged the microwave in and hit the Popcorn button.
She flew up the stairs after him, stumbling under the weight of Sophia's body and her wounds. Danny grabbed the back of her coat and helped haul them both down the front steps and out towards the street.
They made it about thirty feet before the house exploded.
The force of the blast knocked them both to the pavement, pushing against the bolts and making Taylor hiss in pain as Sophia's corpse tumbled across the ground.
Danny rolled to cover her as burning chunks of wood and plaster rained down around them. It was a sweet gesture, but it also drove the metal bolts deeper and set off another round of spasms.
After a long moment, the night finally went quiet again, except for the dull roar of the fire.
Taylor and Danny both dragged themselves back to their feet. Taylor turned to look at the broken remains of the house she grew up in.
She felt her father's hand on her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.
"It's just a house," she said, mostly to herself.
"I wonder if the insurance will cover it," Danny said. "Maybe I can convince them it was an accident."
It hurt to laugh. A lot. But she couldn't help herself.
"My cape career is destined to be funded by insurance fraud," Taylor coughed.
And now Danny was laughing too.
Sirens approached, in the distance.
"Go," Danny said. "I'll stay with Kurt and Lacey for a while. You know where to find me if you need anything, or when you… come back."
"Okay. I'm going to try to find a solution to… all of this," Taylor gestured to the crossbow bolts sticking out of her. "But if I don't, I'll see you in a couple weeks."
Danny chuckled sadly.
"Sounds like a plan, kiddo."
Taylor hefted Sophia's headless corpse onto her shoulder, and ran towards the Trainyards as quickly as her broken body could manage.
…
The trip back to the Hospital felt much longer than it had on her way home.
Was that really only thirty minutes ago?
Thirty minutes felt like a lot longer while dying.
Fucking Sophia. Fucking Emma. Fucking crossbow bolts fused with her-
She hadn't even gotten to sleep yet. The weariness dragged at her bones.
Although that might have been the metal. Or the blood loss.
Taylor sighed heavily and winced as she dropped Sophia's body on the floor of the research lab in the abandoned hospital.
The majority of her equipment was gone. She had the centrifuge and other bits and pieces from Medhall, plus the surviving needles and some metal parts from her original lab, but most of the beakers, flasks, burettes, and vials were shattered. She only had a couple blood vials left.
She leaned backwards against one of the cabinets and slid down until she was sitting on the ground, legs splayed so she didn't jostle any of the bolts lodged in her body.
Everything hurt.
Maybe dying would be a mercy, at this point.
Taylor took a deep breath and immediately regretted it.
She had three options available to her, as far as she could tell.
She could die, and hope that her power worked the way she thought it did. In theory, she should come back at her grave, on the next full moon. Hopefully without the metal bolts in her organs.
Although, they seemed to have fused with her. Would they stick around and show back up when she returned?
Wouldn't that be a kick in the teeth.
Okay. Dying was her last resort. If she died while trying to fix herself, that was that, but she wouldn't give up. Yet.
Option 2: fixing herself.
The blood vials could heal almost anything, but they clearly didn't work well with whatever Sophia's power did to the bolts. They didn't register as injuries, even as they killed her.
She would have to cut them out, somehow.
That was… problematic, at best. The bolt in her chest was bonded with her ribcage, and she could feel it scraping against her lungs with every breath. She would need to break her ribs and remove her sternum before using the blood vial.
Not exactly appealing.
The bolt lodged in her gut was worse. She had no idea what organs it had bonded with, and its tip was buried in her spine. Luckily, it didn't seem to have severed any nerves, but it was fused into the bone.
Luckily. Ha.
Taylor honestly didn't think she could cut them out and use a blood vial before she died from… well, everything. The only tool she had that could cut bone was her cleaver, and it was not exactly designed for surgery.
Which only left option three.
Find Panacea.
Not that she knew where the healer lived. And she definitely wouldn't appreciate a house call.
But, the only alternatives were death, or horrific self-surgery, followed immediately by death.
So it was worth a try.
Maybe she could break into a house and Google her address? New Wave was public, right?
Taylor pulled herself to her feet with a groan.
As she turned to leave, something out of place caught her eye.
Tucked in between the centrifuge and the spectrophotometer she stole from Medhall was a folded piece of heavy, high-quality paper.
You've got to be shitting me.
Taylor grabbed it and unfolded it.
There was an address written in perfect black script.
If this isn't Panacea's house, I am never following your shady hints again, Hat-Giver.
…
Taylor really hoped that this was Panacea's house, considering that the alternative was peaking in a random person's windows.
She was also getting more delirious by the second. The world seemed to be turning gray around the edges. She had used her last blood vial two blocks ago to stave off the internal bleeding.
The bolt in her leg was also starting to grind at the joint with every step, on top of the pain in her chest and the burning acid in her guts.
It would be incredibly ironic, but also hilarious, if she died on Panacea's front porch. She could just imagine the healer's horror in the morning.
It also begged the question: what happened to her body when she came back? Was there another version of her still dead in her grave, or did her alive body replace the dead one?
Depending on how the next five minutes went, she might just find out.
The house was nice without being overly grand. Bigger than the Barnes', but not obscene. The lawns were neatly kept, and sparkled with frost in the moonlight.
Taylor took a similar approach to her last round of stalking, limping up the side yard and making her way to the back windows to peek in.
Climbing the brick exterior was much more difficult with a bad leg and two bolts sticking out of her front, but she managed.
First bedroom…
Nope, blonde hair. Panacea's sister was blonde though, right?
Second bedroom…
Red and white robe on the floor, check. Frizzy brown hair poking out from under a mountain of blankets and pillows, check.
Fantastic.
Hopefully Panacea forgave her for the intrusion.
She knocked on the window.
…
Amy woke up slowly, shaking off the comforting dreams of the moon and the lake of blood.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
It was still dark outside, the moonlight throwing strange patterns on the walls.
There was a knock at the window.
Amy jumped and got tangled in the blankets. She frantically tried to both look at the window and get away from it at the same time, and ended up falling off the bed.
If this was just Vicky out for a midnight flight or something, she was going to kill her.
Probably not, but still.
What time is it?
The clock on her desk said 4:12
And the figure in the window…
That fucking hat…
What the hell was Hunter doing here? How? Why?
Anger and anxiety curdled in her gut as she got to her feet.
There had better be a damn good reason for this, or she was going to sic the PRT on the blood-obsessed menace for sure. She might even yell for Carol.
Amy opened the window.
"What are you doing?" She hissed. "You can't be here! Why…"
Hunter was perched on the half-inch lip by the tips of her toes, fingers reaching up to grip the brick above the window. She looked ridiculous, honestly.
Except for all the arrows stuck in her, of course.
"Hey, Doc, I know I'm early for my appointment," Hunter said, a bit slurred and muddled. "But there've been some… complications."
Then she collapsed into the room, dead weight falling onto Amy and knocking them both back to the floor.
…