Chapter Text
Amy ran like she'd never run before. With a determined sense of purpose more at home on the face of a soldier than a teenage girl. With as many liberties as had been taken with her physiology, she really wasn't capable of any other expression. Her body was well beyond human ability right now. She could have fought most parahumans. If not to victory, then at least she could have forced them to work for it. If it were any other opponent, she would have turned and fought.
But she wasn't 'most parahumans'. She was running from the Siberian. Not something one could actually fight against. Even powerhouses like the Triumvirate could do little more than slow her down and retreat. Amy was a lot of things packed into a small package right now. She was not the Triumvirate. It would be insane to believe she could win. She wasn't trying to. She was trying to flee. A goal that was looking less and less likely as the fight continued.
Still, she had a few advantages to let her at least try to escape. Brute... three, maybe? With a healthy amount of Mover. Even a bit of Stranger, in the form of stealth camouflage not terribly different than that of certain species of Cephalopods. She needed every advantage that could be wedged into a human body. And more.
Siberian lunged, passing through the concrete wall of a building like it was little more than tissue paper. Amy rolled to the side before leaping hard. She had boosted senses, too, of a sort. Probably worth Thinker 2. Not enough for this fight, as Siberian grasped her ankle, arresting her movement. Then tugging down- not even pulling, simple an effortless wrist motion that slammed Amy to the ground. The madwoman smiled at the girl who struggled to break the grip. If you could call the hungry look on her face a smile.
It was an exercise in futility, really, her attempts to break Siberian's grip. To imagine such a thing was possible would have been insanity. Siberian held the girl by the arm. Amy was already missing two fingers. She held her hand almost gently as she pried the middle finger straight, using the same casual, absolute strength that allowed her to walk through buildings with no difficulty.
Amy snarled- and it was a snarl. Animalistic and enraged. No longer human. She started punching Siberian in the side of the head repeatedly with her free hand. Bonelike protrusions extended from her knuckles, sharper than shark teeth. Enough force to shatter bone. To crack concrete. Perhaps even leave dents in steel. Not enough to make the monster let go. Or even distract her a little.
The nude woman slowly parted her lips and took Amy's middle finger into her mouth. It was an almost sensual movement. The actions of someone savoring a delicacy. It could have been mistaken for erotic, even, had the circumstances been different. Very different. She bit down on the finger, severing it.
The flesh carried a deadly organic compound that had never even bee name. A poison that likely never existed on earth naturally, although it did have some similarity to Botulinum. The Siberian just swallowed enough to kill every nonpowered human being on the planet twice over.
Then she simply paused and let Amy go. It wasn't because of the poison. No, I thought. That would be too damn easy. It was part of her fucking game. A twisted form of cat and mouse. Three captures so far, and absolutely no way of knowing how many more until the bitch just killed her for failing the test. She leapt up again while the monster simply stood and watched. If it were anything like the last times, she'd have thirty seconds before the chase began again. She used that time to get to the top of the small office complex.
Her lungs were far superior to anything human, but they were struggling to pull in enough oxygen to keep her body moving at this speed. She even breathed through her skin. A fun little mod stolen from Aegis. Most of her physiology was at least indirectly copied from the bizarre twist of an Alexandria package. Amy wasn't tired. Could go for days without getting tired. But, then, so could her pursuer. And even if Amy wasn't tired, her body was losing efficiency. Organic systems, however close to perfect they might be, had limits. Siberian seemingly did not.
She watched as her pursuer started climbing up the building after her. Not flying, I decided. That's a good sign. Not in any real rush, I added. That's a bad sign. At least if the bitch seemed to be in a hurry, it would suggest they were near the time limit for this test. How long until they decided she'd won this match?
Siberian paused on a ledge, crouching, even shifting her hips like a cat as she looked straight up at Amy's position atop the building. Then she leapt, clearing several stories in seconds.
Amy was saved only by superhuman reflexive instincts built into her, falling away from Siberian and leaping off the roof backwards- traveling horizontally. Only to be followed a half second later. Then Amy's shirt exploded into ribbons as a pair of pterodactyl like wings spread out and allowed her to veer off course. Siberian might even have been slightly annoyed at having to spend several seconds traveling the wrong direction before she slammed into the side of an abandoned warehouse.
Of course, that was probably just wishful thinking.
Amy didn't have much time to worry about it. Or consider her (lack of) modesty, for that matter. Not that there'd be anything to consider immodest. Her body was basically sexless. Every organ or gland that wasn't necessary had been removed. That mass and area instead being used for the vastly more important function of staying alive as long as possible in this fight.
She flapped the wings a few times, angling toward another roof. Her body was still inhibited by the laws of physics, if not the conventions of biochemistry. And winged flight just wasn't possible for something the size of a human. Especially one who happened to weight about 300 pounds after everything was factored. At best, they were useful to help control her fall.
And then the rocks started coming. She avoided most of the barrage, but Siberian was simply digging her hands into the concrete and flinging chunks of it at her. The first one that hit tore through her left wing, leaving her more or less screwed as she plummeted. The wing was already restitching itself. Some others collided with the layer of scales which functioned as her organic body armor. Easily bulletproof. But these rocks were a lot heavier than most bullets, and traveling just as fast. They left dents, even actual cracks, in the protection.
Siberian moved toward her. With the damage that had been done to her body, she had no chance of evading the unstoppable force masquerading as a woman. She resigned herself to losing another finger- it's not like she could feel pain right now. And put her effort into repairing as much damage to her important parts instead.
And then the cloud formed around her, blanketing the area. Except... too dark to be a cloud. And it moved, was alive... bugs? Skitter is here!? Amy's camouflage kicked in, mottled blacks and browns and grays. Blending with the swarm.
In spite of myself, I smiled.