Derry’s Deli, Meritas City. September 22nd, 2014, 22:15

  Most people I knew had a list of supervillains; the most dangerous, the most powerful, and the ones you’d want to meet the least.

  There were a lot of common names on those lists: Darwin, Zero, Sphere, Hiroshima, they were some of the most common ones, but they were all S-Classes, walking one-man apocalypses; obviously they’d be on the list.

  Slaughterhouse was different. She wasn’t the strongest of supervillains, not by a mile; and yet, she had a body count that would have made armies blush.

  There had been twelve different people with the mantle of Slaughterhouse, and never more than one at a time. All of them had varied assortment of weird and visceral powers, and a fondness for ritualistic mass violence.

  The current Slaughterhouse - Slaughterhouse Twelve - was a woman, and she’d been operating for about five years; apparently one of the longest-lasting Slaughterhouses, she’d racked up a body count that some believed numbered in the thousands.

  So hearing the police scanner say that Slaughterhouse wasn’t just in Meritas City, but only about a dozen blocks away from where Elena sat, made my stomach drop like a ten-ton weight.

  “Please tell me I didn’t hear that.” Elena said quietly, staring up at me. I hadn’t looked away from my phone, still staring at it like I was trying to change reality.

  “Nope, t-that’s…y-you heard that right. Slaughterhouse…” I stammered.

  “We gotta go, Skye. Now.” Elena said, her voice becoming firm.

  I nodded, grabbing what was left of my sandwich and stuffing it in my bag.

  We got onto the sidewalk and I looked towards where we’d heard the bang, seeing plumes of smoke billowing in the distance from the Rustbank.

  A couple of cop cars raced past, sirens blaring.

  I stared at the smoke in the distance; it felt like I couldn’t look away from it.

  My mind flew back to when I was younger, almost ten years ago, back to my mom.

  I couldn’t tell you why that image came into my mind. Maybe the idea of a “mass casualty” set it off, I don’t know.

  But, despite everything, despite every logical part of my brain telling me otherwise, I felt a need to see if people needed help.

  I took a step towards the smoke, when I felt Elena grab onto my wrist.

  “Skye, what are you doing? We gotta go, now.” She said, her voice firm.

  I turned to look at her. I must have looked tense, because I remember her eyes widening as she saw my face.

  “I…I can’t just…” I said, struggling to get the words out. “I can’t just walk away. I know I should, I know that I should head back home and be safe but I-“

  “Are you nuts?!” Elena said, sounding both angry and worried. “We just got into a scrap with some two-bit crook and a few goons. Yeah we kicked ass, but you’re down an arm!” She said, pointing to my bandaged arm. “And you think we can come anywhere close to fucking with Slaughterhouse?!”

  I knew she was right, that was the worst thing. I was down an arm, and there was no logical reason why I felt so compelled to go after her.

  “I just…I don’t like the idea that I could be leaving people to die.” I finally said, barely a whisper.

  Elena let out a breath and put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re not letting people die, Skye. We’d be mulched if we got anywhere near her.”

  There was a sudden rushing sound from above. We looked up to see a golden streak flying through the sky, fast, and headed straight for the Rustbank.

  “Besides, looks like somebody’s here to kick her ass for us.” Elena said, pointing up.

  I sighed. “Y-you’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just-”

  “Don’t be, I get it. You want to help people, but sometimes things ain’t our problem.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  I nodded, though in truth I didn’t feel good about it.

  We started walking, heading back in the direction of mine and dad’s apartment. The streets were packed all of a sudden; nighttime in Meritas was always busy, but it looked like everyone was trying to get as far away from the Rustbank as possible.

  People looked panicked and scared; some were running but most were just walking fast.

  Me and Elena tried to blend into the crowd, keeping a low profile.

  We got about a block away before we heard the next bang.

  It was loud, and as we turned around we saw a flash of golden light from the Rustbank.

  Elena stared, mouth agape. “What in the fu-”

  SKRSH.

  Something smashed into the side of a nearby building, dust and debris bursting out from where they impacted. I heard people scream, ducking away and running.

  We ducked, coughing and shielding our faces.

  When the dust cleared, we saw something embedded in the wall.

  It was a person, one leg bent awkwardly behind them at a bad angle, blood smeared down the side of the building. Their chest rose and fell slowly, but they were moving - very much still alive.

  We heard something, a strained, low feminine voice. “That little…cheap-shotting bitch…”

  She pried herself from the building that she had cratered into, growling as she dropped and hit the ground. There was a cacophony of loud crunches as her left leg - the one that had been bent and cracked at a bad angle - bent itself back into shape.

  She shook her head like she was trying to wake herself up, before she looked up at us, at the large crowd that had started to circle around her.

  We couldn’t see her eyes behind the black voids of the wolf helmet she was wearing. But we could see her smile, a wide smile of razor-sharp teeth.

  A smile that looked almost hungry.

  She was tall, a couple of inches taller than me but much more broad. She was dressed in what looked like a grey butcher’s apron which was absolutely caked in blood, worn over a dark red shirt. On the centre of the apron was some kind of bright sigil, looking like a clawed, grasping hand.

  The eyes of her wolf’s helmet obscured much of her face, but I swear I could see faint red pinpricks of light from the eye sockets, burning holes into our souls. Her hair - long, dark, matted like a wild mane - flowed from the back of that helmet

  I felt my stomach drop as I realised who this was.

  Slaughterhouse.

  People screamed and ran, fanning out in every direction.

  I couldn’t move, until Elena grabbed my hand and yanked me forward. We ran.

  “So noisy…” I heard Slaughterhouse growl.

  I glanced back as we ran; she was holding her right arm out, before the palm of her hand unfurled like a blooming flower.

  Then there was the sound: a wet, meaty cracking squelch.

  Strands of thick red tendrils like fleshy wires extended from her unfurling hand, before she swung her hand in a wide arc.

  I screamed, diving to the ground and taking Elena with me.

  Those red coiling tendrils barely breezed over us.

  Then came the sounds.

  The thuds and cracks of bodies being struck, before hitting the ground.

  Screams of pain, many just going silent.

  Several people didn’t even fall. They just came apart, like ragdolls filled with meat, as peoples’ limbs broke and scattered across the street.

  It was absolute carnage.

  Within seconds, the entire street we’d been standing on was caked in blood and bodies; some people were crying out and screaming, but so many bodies laid motionless on the ground.

  Elena was still holding on to me like a vice, both of us lying on the road. Neither of us wanted to let go, as if that would somehow stop her.

  Slaughterhouse looked around, like she was admiring her handiwork. A quick rushing slurp, and the tendrils had retracted back into her hand, which sealed itself shit like nothing happened.

  Her eyes scanned the surroundings before her eyes locked.

  Onto us.

  I swear I could hear a low chuckle as she took another step towards us. I heard myself whimper and Elena curse, as we shuffled back, terrified.

  Then, another boom cracked the ground between us and her, a glowing golden silhouette landing.

  It took a second for my eyes to focus as the glow dissipated and this figure stood to her full height.

  She was probably a couple of years older than me, with long blonde hair that cascaded down her back. She was wearing a black and gold armoured dress with a golden star on the chest, as well as a golden visor over the eyes.

  It was Glory.

  Fuck.

  She straightened her shoulders, cracked her neck, and turned her head to look over her shoulder at us.

  I was panicking, fumbling with getting my helmet back on from my bag, trying to hide my face.

  Why did she have to be here the same night I decided to be a vigilante?!

  “You two, get to safety, it’s not-!”

  She stopped as she saw me.

  I stopped, halfway through finally slotting my helmet around my head.

  She looked me dead in the eyes.

  I watched the recognition spread across her face, the shift in her body language.

  She’d seen me.

  Now she recognised me.

  “Bone girl?” She asked. “From the tryouts?”

  I didn’t respond, or rather, I couldn’t. Every word I could’ve said just died in my brain. I could see her looking me and Elena up and down, noticing my bandaged arm.

  I just pushed the helmet down around my head.

  She didn’t say anything else, rolling her eyes as Slaughterhouse took a few steps towards her.

  Glory took a step towards her in turn, interposing herself between us and Slaughterhouse. “Alright psycho-bitch”, she shouted, her voice brash and loud. “Union’s best are on the way, but for now you’re stuck with me. Stand down now and I won’t rock your shit across the city again!”

  She slammed her right fist into the palm of her left hand, the golden glow around her flashing as if to punctuate her words.

  There was a pause, before I realised that Slaughterhouse’s shoulders were shaking.

  She was laughing.

  “You?” She said, practically chortling with laughter. Her voice was ragged, she sounded almost like a growling dog. “Do you honestly think I have anything to fear from you? Anyone can pull a sucker-punch, you’re not special.”

  Glory noticeably bristled, that golden aura intensifying.

  “We’ll see.” She said, “We’ll see how you feel when I kick your head off your shoulders.”