by wildbow
Butcher approached the pair, and Citrine abandoned her assault, letting up.
As Tattletale had warned Grue, she’d warned Citrine as well. Butcher’s power was too dangerous to muck with. Grue risked absorbing the consciousness of the prior Butchers, and Citrine risked striking on the right ‘attunement’ and accidentally killing Butcher.
But Citrine was still a leader, didn’t waste a moment. She gave the signal, shouted something I couldn’t make out, and her followers opened fire. Jacklight and Codex lobbed their attacks towards Butcher, and the leader of the Teeth teleported away before either could do any real damage. Ligeia produced a geyser of water that sent duplicates flying ten or twelve feet in the air. Othello, for his part, was standing by, his hands in his pockets, his two-tone mask expressionless.
Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t contributing. Hemorrhagia was enduring an assault from an invisible, immaterial foe. I could feel him, feel the movement against my bugs, but the bugs didn’t settle on him, simply passed through. He was only partially there, focusing on allowing certain aspects of himself, his weapon, to affect our world.
Shallow cuts appeared on Hemmorhagia’s face, chest and arms as she tried ineffectually to shield herself, and those same cuts exploded violently as she used her power to draw her blood from her body and turn it into hard, physical, cutting weapons. More blood congealed into broad scabs that protected her and reduced the damage of the continuous slashes.
A distance away, Imp appeared, electrocuting Spree with a jab of her taser and bringing an end to the stream of duplicates. Not that the duplicates were doing as much damage as they had been. Like lemmings running off a cliff, many were scaling the piles of fallen clones and promptly running into Vex’s forcefields, only adding more corpses to the virtual hill of corpses that separated us from the other members of the Teeth.
Our two strangers were doing much of the work in dealing with the back line. That left us to deal with Butcher.
Bentley had recovered and charged her. She responded by hitting him with a wave of pain, putting him off his guard so she could strike him aside.
Butcher one. Inflicted agony at range.
Bentley was quick to recover, quick to push past the pain that she was inflicting and attack. She prepared to strike him again.
Regent knocked her off-balance, and she was caught off guard as Bentley struck her with one paw.
She teleported out of Bentley’s way before he could follow through with the attack, appeared in between Regent and I, surrounded by our capes. We staggered back as flame washed over us.
I felt my focus begin to slip, thoughts of violence filling my mind. I itched to attack, to hurt her.
I sent my bugs in, but that was the one gesture that set the others in motion. Without realizing it, I found myself charging her.
Biter and Regent were among those caught in her spell. We attacked her as mindlessly as Spree duplicates had attacked us.
My knife stabbed at her armor, doing too little damage. I stabbed again, found a vulnerable spot at the back of her neck, just below her hairline. I dragged the knife through her flesh.
Without even turning to face me, she elbowed me, and all the strength I had went out of me. I careened a distance away, tumbled, landed amidst Spree clones.
They clutched feebly at me while I reeled.
Lizardtail’s power pressed even harder against me. I could feel the edges of my injuries tingling, the wounds slowly knitting closed. Far slower than they should have been, given the earlier demonstration of Lizardtail’s power. Either he was weaker, or her ability to inflict wounds that progressively got worse over time was taking away from the power of his regeneration.
Butcher had a grip on Regent, threw him into Biter with enough strength to take the two of them out of the fight.
Possibly enough strength to kill one, if Lizardtail’s power wasn’t able to outpace the internal damage done.
Induces mindless rage. Power from Butcher Nine. Very low range.
Inflicts wounds that fester. Power from Butcher Four. Less effect than Four had. Far shorter duration.
She teleported. I could sense where she’d arrived as my bugs died en-masse. She was going after Rachel.
I had lines of silk prepared, did what I could to bind Butcher. She struggled briefly, then teleported free of them.
Codex and Ligeia directed attacks her way, and again, Butcher disappeared before either could really affect her.
I felt something shift inside me, and the pain dropped to a fraction of what it had been. I got to my feet.
“Go!” I shouted. “Get the wounded!”
Rachel whistled, and the dogs converged on our location. Butcher had appeared in the midst of the Ambassadors, but the variety and ferocity of their attacks had her teleporting from moment to moment, doing more damage with the flames that appeared around her than through any action she could carry out.
It seemed that even though Codex’s attack hadn’t connected full force, Butcher wasn’t keen on giving her an opportunity to deliver any more grazing hits.
Rachel stopped next to me, offered me a hand up.
“Fetch Codex,” I said. “The Ambassador in white. Butcher’s going after her. It might mean Codex is doing the most damage.”
Rachel gave me a curt nod, and we charged, leaving Grue to help Regent.
Butcher teleported away as Bentley hurtled at her. I reached for Codex, took her hand. She looked at Citrine, as if asking permission.
“Go,” Citrine said.
I helped Codex up onto Bentley’s back. She had to sit sidesaddle. Those ridiculous dresses. They weren’t meant for fighting.
But, then, I suspected that Accord was used to ‘shock and awe’ tactics, when he had to engage in a direct assault. How many of his enemies were as tough, versatile or persistent as Butcher?
She’d teleported away, effectively leaving her team to fend for themselves. Only Reaver, Vex and, to a lesser degree, Hemorrhagia, were in fighting shape. Butcher was interested only in the fight. She was the central pillar of the Teeth, and stopping her would stop them, and for much that reason, her team was a secondary concern to us as well.
“Run!” I told Rachel. “Codex, hit her where you can.”
I was versed in fighting teleporting foes, had engaged in a similar conflict against Oni Lee. Butcher wasn’t him. She didn’t obsessively use knives.
No, she was drawing a configuration of metal rods and panels from her back. Her gun abandoned in the course of the fighting, she was unfolding the device into a different weapon.
A compound bow.
I already knew which power she was using next. Imp had sabotaged the gun, jamming the ammo feed, but she hadn’t been able to get at the bow. It was massive when fully unfolded, nearly six feet long, not counting the extra length as part of the curve. Large enough that it required superhuman strength to draw.
Less than a year ago, Butcher had been known as Quarrel, and as Tattletale told it, Quarrel had used a much smaller version of that same bow to kill Butcher Thirteen in a drawn-out fight in New York.
Regent wasn’t in fighting shape. My bugs weren’t able to move fast enough to reach her. Ligeia wasn’t in a position to hit her with water, and Jacklight’s orbs didn’t reach nearly that far.
If she started shooting, we’d drop like flies.
“Hit her,” I said. “Codex!”
Codex reached out to use her brain-drain attack. It was visible only by the effects it had, but I’d seen it move through the Spree clones. It was slow.
Butcher had time to string her bow before she had to teleport out of the way, appearing on top of a building with a vantage point of the battlefield. She knelt, touching the rooftop, and reformed the stone into arrows.
That power was Butcher Eight’s, except he’d had more reach, was faster.
Bugs clustered at her eyes, but she barely seemed to notice. Nearly blind, she drew her string, pointed the arrow at us.
Before I could r
eact, shout a warning, Codex hit me with enough force to nearly unseat me, despite how I was sitting astride Bentley. Something else struck my shoulder with enough force to tear half the armor away.
The new villain slumped and fell, joined by the piece of my armor that had been shorn off. An arrow neatly penetrated her neck.
Butcher drew her bow again.
She didn’t miss. She did something to warp space or adjust the very fabric of reality, so her shots always struck the intended target.
She aimed towards my teammates, paused, lowered her weapon a second as if momentarily confused.
The bow swept in the Ambassador’s direction.
Then she turned, her body rotating, the massive bow and long arrow pointing at us. Rachel and I.
“Go!” I shouted. “Go, go!”
We could only get out of range.
How far could a bow like that send an arrow flying?
Apparently Butcher didn’t think it would be this far. She teleported, paused, then teleported again. A small fire erupted at each destination point.
Another teleport, and she killed a swarm of bugs I’d left lying in wait. I’d hoped she would fall short, and that I could bind her weapon with silk. No such luck.
“She’s following!” I shouted.
Rachel grunted a response, kicked Bentley to drive him to run faster, then whistled.
Her dogs broke away from the rest of the Ambassadors and Undersiders, trailing after us. Butcher had to teleport as one spry, smaller dog noticed her and ascended to the rooftop to give chase.
Buying time, but she was closing the distance.
I drew from the silk I had stored in my utility compartment. Coils of it, braided together into lines strong enough to suspend a grown man.
Hopefully strong enough to hold Butcher.
We had a plan, I just hadn’t counted on her being quite as tenacious as she was. I’d looked at the teleportation power, had failed to account for what it meant in conjunction with her danger sense.
I formed the silk into nets. I could guess at her next destination, track her possible arrival points.
Again, she teleported right on top of a net. The flames destroyed it.
One net left.
We’d reached the edge of the city. There were fewer buildings, fewer rooftops. Wet clumps of sand flew behind Bentley’s feet as he dug deep to find traction.
Butcher appeared on one of the last remaining rooftops, killing a cloud of bugs. Other ambient bugs clustered on her, biting and stinging, doing ineffectual damage. Too tough, courtesy of Butcher number… fuck it. Didn’t matter, really.
She deemed herself close enough to take a shot, drew her arrow back, raising the bow so it pointed nearly at the sky.
The net closed around her, unseated her arrow from its mount.
Bugs wound more strands around her knees. The wind pushed at her, and she tried to extend one foot to catch her balance, succeeded only in tipping herself over. She fell from the roof of the five-story building.
She teleported herself right to the ground, cutting the height of her fall in half and freeing herself of the net.
It was still a hard landing.
“Get her! Fetch her!”
Rachel nodded, whistled three times, pointed.
The dogs that trailed after us were quick to follow the order, snatching up Butcher.
She’d heal, was probably healing the brain damage Codex had inflicted. Butcher was tough enough that the dogs probably wouldn’t do enough damage before she regained her senses.
I might have been wrong in that assumption, but we couldn’t afford to think otherwise.
“Go!” I shouted.
We ran. Rachel and I on Bentley, a pack of her dogs following behind.
There was no telling how much time we had.
We’d gone into this with one plan. One solid way of putting an end to Butcher. It was why we weren’t hiding in the safety of Grue’s darkness.
Though we were in less danger than we’d been since the battle started, my heart was pounding harder than ever.
“Stop!” I called out, to be heard over the wind.
Rachel pulled Bentley to a stop. She knew what came next, gave a hand signal. “Dogs, stop! Rat-dog, forward!’
The dog that had Butcher ran on a little further, passing over a line of stones in the wet sand.
“Shake!”
Rat-dog shook Butcher like she was a chew toy.
“Good dog,” Rachel said. “Drop her.”
Rat-dog dropped Butcher.
“Come.”
Rat-dog whimpered.
“Good boy, come.”
Tail between his legs, Rat-dog approached, passing over the line of stones in the wet sand.
Long seconds passed. Bentley virtually heaved with the exertion of the run.
My eyes didn’t leave Butcher.
Butcher roused, and it wasn’t a slow affair. One instant she was lying prone, the next she’d teleported, appeared next to the narrow, light-bodied dog and bludgeoned it, sending it flying.
“Dakota, go! Bear, go!”
Two more dogs charged Butcher, drove her back.
“Stop,” I warned Rachel. I lowered my voice, “She has that rage aura.”
It didn’t matter. Butcher dispatched the two dogs just as easily, eyed us warily as Rachel commanded them to retreat.
“Good dogs,” Rachel said, as they hurried to her side.
My eyes still didn’t leave Butcher. I watched, waited.
She didn’t understand what was going on, why we weren’t pressing the attack.
But she wasn’t confident either.
She strung her bow, as if testing us. She started to create an arrow out of sand, condensing it into a more solid form.
Then she gave up, stepped back. The hardened rod of sand crumbled.
“Stop it,” she said.
I shook my head.
She lashed out, hit us with raw pain.
In the agony, the feeling of fire running through my veins, I toppled from Bentley’s back.
I’d anticipated this, or something like it, knew it was temporary. I could only grit my teeth and tell myself it was almost the best case scenario, even when it didn’t quite feel like it.
Rachel’s dogs bristled, but the pain dissipated, and she found herself free to command them to stand down.
It didn’t matter. Butcher was on her knees now, face turned toward the ground.
“Don’t say anything,” I murmured.
With more focus than before, Butcher formed a spike out of hard sand.
She was murmuring to herself now. Conversing under her breath with the voices in her head. She sounded oddly insistent, plaintive in a very childish manner.
When the weapon was formed, she glanced skyward, murmured something indistinct.
Then teleported a distance into the air, directly above the spike.
There was a wet sound, a pause.
“Nothing?” I asked Rachel. “You… don’t feel her powers?”
She shook her head.
“Then let’s go.”
We began our long journey back to the others, leaving Butcher with a spike through her heart.
No rush. The fight was over. One more foe taken down.
If the PRT happened to wonder if any of the Undersiders or Ambassadors had acquired Butcher’s powers, all the better.
“Mind if I come by tonight?” I asked, my voice low.
Rachel shot me a glower over her shoulder, “Why?”
“To talk.”
“We can talk now.”
“And so I can see how you’re coping with your minions.”
“Whatever,” she said.
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a whatever,” she said. “Do whatever you want.”
“Okay,” I said.
There was no more conversation as we closed the distance to the others.
They were more or less in ship-shape when we arrived. Regent was p
ropped up against a wall, but he wasn’t pulverized. The only one we’d lost was Codex.
“Success?” Grue asked.
“Success,” I said.
The entire group, even the straight-backed Ambassadors, seemed to react with relief.
“Guess my sister has one more kill under her belt,” Regent commented. “Fourteen voices in Cherish’s head to keep her company as she spends the next few centuries alone at the bottom of the bay.”
* * *
“Daddy!” a toddler squealed. No older than three, the small child waded past a pack of dogs to her father, the tall, large-bellied man who I’d seen handling some of Rachel’s dogs.
Rachel ignored the reunion, greeted the dogs who milled around her, barking and whining in joy as their master returned.
“Food?” she asked me, almost as if it were an afterthought.
“Sure.”
“Someone make food,” she declared.
“I will!” a darker-skinned teenage girl declared. She looked to be of mixed race, with brilliant blue eyes that didn’t match up with her brown, coarse hair and skin.
“Hamburger,” Rachel said.
“Okay,” the kid said. “Anything else?”
“No.”
“Vegetables,” I cut in. “Something healthier.”
Rachel shrugged. “That grilled crap you made before, with the… long green vegetables.”
“The asparagus?”
“Yeah. That was good.”
The kid looked like she’d just won the lottery, almost bursting with joy.
Barker, Biter and the veterinarian all set to basic chores around the place, as if it were routine. No one seemed to begrudge the fact that Bitch was taking it easy while they worked, not even Barker, who had been somewhat prickly the last time I’d run across him.
Either she’d earned their respect, or they’d learned how stubborn she was.
“I wanted to talk to you about the future,” I said.
“Mm,” Rachel said, reclining. The dogs were clustered around her feet, the larger ones laying their heads in her lap.
“It’s… problematic, having you patrolling the area out here, scaring the locals. You know that, right?”