76

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Elias lunges forward, his bear claws slashing at my face, and I barely have time to think “oh shit” before I’m ducking out of the way. The claws whistle over my head, close enough that I can feel the wind of their passage ruffling my hair. The scent of his fur, musky and wild, fills my nostrils. I don’t waste the opening, driving a tooth-studded fist right into his gut.

The impact jars up my arm, the sensation of armadillo plates grinding against my knuckles, against the raw teeth connected to spontaneous nerves and old joints. Elias grunts, but those damn scales absorb most of the hit. Figures. Can’t make this easy on me, can he? He swings his other arm in a haymaker that probably would’ve taken my head clean off my shoulders if it connected.

But Derek’s there, intercepting the blow with a brass-knuckled punch of his own. I didn’t even realize he brought anything with him – I just assumed he was going to sit this out, but he’s punched a bear paw mid-swipe. “Derek, be careful!” I hiss under my teeth, getting in close while Derek’s other hand comes to bear, straining against Elias’s palm.

I capitalize on the opening, launching a flurry of jabs at Elias’s muzzle. My own sharp, fanged knuckles split against his teeth, blood spattering across his fur. I can see his pulse quicken, his orange blood rushing to the surface, and in an instant, his whole vascular system is on display to me, warped and twisted across his new anatomy and fizzy like soda.

Elias’s head snaps back, fluorescent blood spraying from his nostrils, painting my face in a garish display. But before I can press the advantage, his alligator tail whips around, surprisingly flexible, smacking a computer monitor into me. Not enough to hurt, but enough to get me away.

“You’re not the only one here, Sam!” Derek hisses back, only to get swatted by Elias’s other hand, grabbed with fingers that lack the flexibility of human joints but more than make up for it in size and strength. Pinched by the back of his leather jacket and flung like a frisbee, tumbling ass-over-heels.

I throw the computer off of me, only to be met by another alligator tail smack, this time complete with a full-body… I don’t know, a pirouette? Either way, I can feel the rattle, the way his scales rasp against my padding and catch on cloth, friction overcome by momentum.

I go flying, crashing into a nearby desk. The cheap particle board shatters under the impact, sending splinters of wood and bits of paper flying. The metallic tang of my own blood fills my mouth. For a second, I just lay there amidst the wreckage, trying to remember how to breathe. Everything hurts, but I can already feel my regeneration kicking in, knitting together the cuts and bruises.

I grin, full-mouth, teeth interlocking. It’s been so long – months – since I’ve been in a real scrape. Ricochet was just an appetizer. Now I’m remembering just how good it feels.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, half-frustration, half-satisfaction, spitting out a mouthful of blood. It splatters on the carpet, mingling with the orange stains left by Elias. I think I bit my tongue when I hit the desk, but my tongue is super tough anyway, so that’s not a huge issue.

Derek’s at my side in an instant, hauling me to my feet. I can see his own blood pumping beneath his skin, the adrenaline of the fight visible through scratches of wood and broken cables. “Don’t die on me yet, Sam.”

“It’ll take more than that to put me down,” I say, flashing him a red-stained grin. “Barely even felt it.”

That’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. I roll my shoulders, feeling the joints pop back into place, the ache of bruised muscle and mending bone. Elias is already recovering, shaking off the hits like they were nothing. His orange blood is starting to dry, turning a sickly, fluorescent yellow on his fur and scales.

This is gonna be a long fight. The coppery scent of blood, both mine and his, hangs heavy in the air. But I’m not backing down. Not until Elias is brought to heel, one way or another.

Derek presses the attack, throwing a series of hooks and uppercuts, targeting the few unarmored spots on Elias’s body. But even with the brass knuckles, it’s like punching a tractor trailer for all the good it’s doing. I can see the way his knuckles are starting to bruise, the skin splitting against the metal.

“Derek, get back!” I shout, trying to shepherd him out of the fight. I know I can heal, but he can’t. If Elias gets a good hit in…

But Derek’s not listening. He’s got that stubborn set to his jaw, the one that says he’s not backing down no matter what. Elias weathers the blows, his animal resilience shrugging off the impacts like they’re nothing. He lashes out with a sweeping claw strike, the bear paw whistling through the air.

Derek barely evades, the claws tearing through his jacket like it’s made of tissue paper. I catch a glimpse of something metallic in his hand – is that a switchblade? Where the hell did he get that? Oh, who am I kidding, he’s the kind of person that wears leather jackets. Of course he has a switchblade.

He stabs forward, aiming for Elias’s side, but the blade just skates off the armadillo plates, leaving a thin scratch. Elias counters with a skull-rattling headbutt, his fox muzzle slamming into Derek’s forehead.

Derek staggers back, blood streaming from a gash above his eyebrow. His vascular system is going haywire, blood pumping fast and furious. I can’t let this go on.

I catch my breath. I surge back into the fray, leaping onto Elias’s back. My fingers scrabble for purchase on his fur, teeth popping out of my palms for extra grip. I sink my fangs into his shoulder, feeling the hot gush of blood in my mouth, scraping my tiny little shark teeth against bone and nerves.

Elias roars in pain, the sound reverberating through his body and mine. He starts thrashing and bucking, trying to dislodge me. It’s like riding a mechanical bull set to “murder”. I just clench my jaw tighter, my shark teeth digging deeper into his flesh.

Derek takes advantage of the distraction, hammering punches into Elias’s ribs and kidneys. I can hear the impact of brass on bone, the grunts of pain and effort. But Elias is too strong, too resilient.

His alligator tail coils around my waist, the scales rubbing up against my armor. It starts to tighten, crushing my hip bones. I can feel my skeleton starting to creak. Orange stains across my mouth are mixed with spittle as something gets forced up my mouth – I think it’s bile. My vision starts to go white with pain. The coppery taste of blood, both mine and Elias’s, coats my tongue. I can feel my grip starting to loosen, my muscles going slack.

“Sam!” Derek shouts, his voice sounding distant and muffled. He grabs onto the tail, trying to pry it off me, but it’s like trying to bend a steel beam.

I’m forcing myself. Forcing. Forcing. I have to stay awake. Sleep is the enemy. Blessed sleep is the killer. I can’t give up. Not now. Not when Derek’s life is on the line. I force my jaws to open wider. With a muffled roar of my own, I bite down with all my might, severing muscle and tendon, and I pull, ripping out something useful.

The tail spasms. With a mighty heave, Elias flings me across the room like I’m nothing more than a rag doll. I smash through a flimsy cubicle wall, the thin plasterboard shattering around me. For a moment, I’m airborne, suspended in a haze of dust and debris.

Then I hit the ground, hard. The impact drives the breath from my lungs, my vision swimming. I can taste blood in my mouth, feel it dripping down my face from a gash on my forehead. Through the ringing in my ears, I hear Derek cry out in pain. I force myself up, blinking away the double vision. Elias has him in a crushing grip, his bear claws digging into Derek’s shoulder. I can hear bones grinding, see the agony etched on Derek’s face.

I stagger forward, my legs threatening to give out under me. But I can’t stop. I won’t. Derek needs me.

Elias swings wildly at Derek with his free hand, bear claws gouging deep furrows in the wall behind him as Derek barely ducks out of the way. Derek retaliates with a swift kick to Elias’s knee, hoping to hobble him. But Elias’s bear leg absorbs the blow like it’s nothing. He counters by tightening his grip on Derek’s shoulder, claws sinking deeper. Derek screams, the sound raw and primal.

I charge forward, throwing all my weight behind a tooth-enhanced punch aimed at Elias’s jaw. I can feel teeth pushing out of my knuckles, through my fingers, eager for blood. The blow connects with a sickening crunch, teeth shattering against bone. Elias’s head snaps back, fluorescent blood spraying from his mouth. For a second, I think I’ve done it, that I’ve brought him down.

But he’s still standing, still fighting. His grip on Derek loosens just a fraction, but it’s enough. Derek wrenches free, his shoulder screaming in protest. He slashes at Elias with his switchblade, the small blade looking pitiful against Elias’s bulk. The knife finds a gap in the armadillo plates, sinking into the flesh beneath. Elias roars, more in frustration than pain, and backhands Derek across the face.

Derek goes flying, smashing into a desk. He lies there, stunned, blood streaming from his nose. I can see his veins and arteries pulsing erratically, his heart hammering in his chest.

I don’t give Elias a chance to follow up. I’m on him in an instant, my fists flying, teeth shredding. I aim for his eyes, his throat, any vulnerable spot I can find. But it’s like fighting a tank. He shrugs off my blows, his animal features contorting in rage. His alligator tail lashes out, catching me in the gut and doubling me over.

I taste bile in the back of my throat, my stomach clenching. But I swallow it down, force myself to straighten up. I can feel my regeneration kicking into overdrive, trying to keep pace with the damage. My teeth are already growing, pushing out of my gums, my arms, my palms. An arsenal of fangs, ready to tear and rend.

Elias is panting now, his orange blood staining his fur and dripping onto the carpet. But he’s not slowing down, not giving an inch. “Just stay down,” he growls, his voice barely recognizable through his animal muzzle. “I don’t want to hurt you, hero.”

“Bit late for that,” I spit back, wiping blood from my chin. “You lost the right to pull your punches when you threw the first one.”

I can see Derek struggling to his feet behind Elias, his face a mask of pain and determination. He meets my eyes, gives me a nod. He’s not out of this fight yet. Derek stumbles back to his feet, his switchblade glinting in his hand, a sharp, dangerous light in the dim, lights-out office. Red and blue flashing lights from below just barely glaze his visage, touching his feet with all the strength of a newborn mole rat. There’s a determined set to his jaw, despite the pain etched across his features.

He lunges at Elias’s exposed back, the blade seeking a gap in the chimera’s defenses.

The knife sinks deep into Elias’s shoulder, just above the armadillo plates. Orange blood wells up around the hilt, vivid against the dark fur. Elias roars in pain and fury, whirling to face this new threat.

His other arm swings in a crushing backhand, the bear claws shrieking through the air like missiles, or bullets. The blow catches Derek square in the face, his nose shattering under the impact with a sickening crunch. I can see it instantly. Every part of it getting injured all at once, the way the veins crumple and rip and shred.

Derek reels back, blood streaming down his face, his eyes glazed with shock. He crumples to the ground, the switchblade falling from his limp fingers.

I’m back on my feet in an instant, swallowing a mouthful of blood. My own injuries are forgotten, overridden by the surge of adrenaline and the need to protect my friend. My friend? My friend.

I launch myself at Elias, tackling him around the waist. My weight isn’t enough to bowl him over, but I cling on like a stubborn cat, my teeth and claws scrabbling for purchase on his fur and scales.

“Elias, please!” I beg, my voice muffled against his bulk. “You don’t have to do this! We can help you! Turn yourself in and we’ll… figure something out!”

But he’s not listening. He’s too far gone, consumed by the animal instincts and the rage coursing through his Fly-altered veins. This fight is too intense for negotiation. His jaws snap at my throat, his hot breath washing over my face. “Leave me alone!” he snarls, his voice a guttural rasp. “I don’t need your help! I don’t need anyone! Just leave and let me do what I came here for!”

His voice is high-pitched, raspy, hissing, squeaking. It sounds wrong coming out of such a monstrous physique, almost cute.

He squeezes me tight. I can feel his claws pinching at my back, his teeth grazing my skin. But I don’t let go. I can’t.

Derek staggers after us, one hand clutching his ruined nose, the other gripping his switchblade. His steps are unsteady, his breathing labored, but there’s a fierce light in his eyes. He knows what’s at stake here. Not just our lives, but Elias’s humanity. If we can’t bring him back from the brink, if we can’t reach the person beneath the monster…

Elias gains the upper hand, his greater size and strength bearing me down. He pins me beneath his bulk, his fox muzzle inches from my face. I can see the madness swirling in his yellow eyes, the fury and the pain. His sclera have this… piss-colored glaze to them. His jaws snap at my throat, razor-sharp teeth grazing my skin. I twist my head away, feeling the hot rush of his breath on my neck, dampening my costume, which is already soaked in a mixture of our blood. My own teeth are bared in a snarl, ready to fight to the last.

But I know I can’t match him like this. He’s too strong, too big If I’m going to save him, if I’m going to save any of us, I need to change tactics. I go limp beneath him, my body relaxing into submission. He swings in, constantly pressing forward from an expectation of resistance. He overshoots.

With a burst of strength, I wrench my arm free and grab his muzzle, forcing his jaws shut. He thrashes against my grip, but I hold on tight, my fingers digging into his fur.

“Elias, listen to me,” I hiss, my voice low and urgent. “This isn’t you. The Fly, the powers, they’re messing with your head. But you’re stronger than them. You’re still in there, I know it.”

He snarls, and yanks his jaw open, hissing in pain. He wrenches free of my grip, his claws raking across my face, carving a gash into my mask and the skin below, driving folded layers of… I don’t know, materials, into the wound. I cry out in pain, feeling the hot gush of blood. But I don’t back down. I can’t.

It rips across my lip, and he shoves his hand down, grabbing me by the throat. Even if his bear paws aren’t flexible enough to grasp things like a human being, his sheer weight and size makes it easy for him to simply crush the life out of me. His eyes are glimmering with tears, but they don’t look like sadness or regret. Just pain. Just anger.

“Does this look like a fucking anime to you, superhero?” Elias snarls, his voice squeaking through his pointed fox teeth. “I’m lucid. I’m aware. I know what I’m doing. This isn’t a possession requiring exorcism. There’s nothing new here.”

Derek’s breath comes in wheezing, haggard gasps. “Man… I wish you told me.”

Elias whips around, dragging me across the carpet, ripping what exposed skin I have across pieces of office equipment and destroyed furniture. My costume is padded and cut resistant but not impenetrable. Enough force, and it tears, like it does now, digging sharp scratches across my exposed cheeks and chin, my upper arms and forearms where the padding is thinner and not armored. “Oh, you wish I told you? Was mentioning to you every other week how they denied my claim, denied it, denied it, denied it, that not enough for you?”

His arms twitch. His legs shake. His fingers spasm against my neck, and I suck in what little air I can get. “They won’t even pay for my diapers, dawg. Can you even… Can you even fathom how miserable my life is?”

Derek wheezes, unconvinced. “You promised… We’d never… Play misery olympics…”

“Look what you made me do, Derek,” Elias growls, his voice a mixture of anger and anguish. His bear paw tightens around my throat, cutting off my air. I claw at his arm, desperate for breath, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. “You just had to get involved, didn’t you? Couldn’t let me handle this my way. No, you had to be the hero, bring in your little superhero friend here.” He jerks his head towards me, his fox muzzle wrinkling in a snarl.

I can feel my vision starting to tunnel, darkness creeping in at the edges. My lungs are burning, screaming for oxygen. But Elias barely seems to notice, his attention fixed on Derek.

Derek staggers forward, his face a bloody mess. “Elias, please,” he rasps, his words slurred by his shattered nose. “This isn’t right… You’re hurting her… You’re hurting yourself.”

Elias barks out a harsh laugh, the sound grating and unhinged. “Hurting myself? Derek, I’ve been hurting for years. Every day, every goddamn minute, I’ve been in pain. And nobody cared. Nobody did a fucking thing to help me.”

His grip loosens just a fraction, enough for me to suck in a desperate gasp of air. It’s like knives in my throat, but it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. “But now, with these powers, I can finally do something about it. I can make them pay. Make them all pay for what they’ve done to me, to people like me.”

Derek shakes his head, a look of profound sadness in his eyes. Something beyond snark. “This isn’t you, Elias,” he squeaks through his broken nose, his voice nasal, wet. “My best friend, he wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t hurt innocent people.”

For a moment, just a fleeting second, I see something flicker in Elias’s eyes. A hint of doubt, of remorse. But then it’s gone, swallowed up by the rage and the pain.

“Maybe you never really knew me at all, Derek,” he says, his voice cold and hollow. “Maybe this is who I’ve always been, deep down. Maybe this is what anyone would do if you took the limiters off.” He turns his gaze back to me, his yellow eyes boring into mine. “I’m sorry, hero. I didn’t want to hurt you. But I can’t let you stop me. I won’t let anyone stop me. Not anymore.”

His paw tightens again, and I feel myself slipping away, my body going limp. Dimly, as if from a great distance, I hear Derek shouting, pleading. But it’s too late. The darkness is closing in, and I’m falling, falling into the void. All I can see is the red in my mind’s eye. See Derek’s hand tightening around something, raised up to his throat.

“Let her go, Elias,” he says, his voice calm and steady despite the fear pulsing through him. “Let her go, or I’ll do it. I swear to God, I’ll do it.”

Elias freezes, his bear paw still tight around my neck. For a moment, I think he’s going to call Derek’s bluff, call his bet and raise him a crushed windpipe. But then, slowly, his grip loosens. I look up to see Derek with his switchblade raised to his own throat, hand trembling, the tip of the knife digging into his skin just enough to draw a tiny pinprick of blood. Holding himself hostage.

I suck in a frantic gasp of air, my lungs burning with the sudden influx of oxygen. But I don’t move, don’t try to wriggle out from under his paw. I can feel the tension in the room, the hair-trigger balance that could snap at any moment.

Derek doesn’t lower the blade. Instead, he presses it harder against his skin, a thin line of blood welling up beneath the edge. I can see it in my blood sense, a bright, vivid thread of crimson against the pulsing map of his veins.

“Where did you get it, Elias?” Derek asks, his voice still unnervingly calm. “The super-drugs. Where did you get it?”

Elias stares at him, his yellow eyes wide with disbelief. “Why the fuck would you want to know? What are you, a cop?”

“A trade,” Derek says, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You tell us where you got the super-drugs from, and let Bloodhound go, and I won’t slit my own throat.”

He sounds almost cocky. I don’t like that he’s willing to gamble my life on his friends’ willingness to not see him kill himself, but at this point, I don’t exactly have much of a choice. I can feel my body struggling, straining to re-knit itself together. Thin, shallow cuts are already scabbing over. The deeper ones fill with… you know, gunk. White threads. Bruises… un-bruise. Blood vessels reach for each other like lovers reaching over a cliffside.

The seconds tick by, each one an eternity. I can hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, feel the rasp of Elias’s rough, shaggy fur against my skin with each labored breath. Even I don’t understand why Derek wants to know. What difference does it make, in the end?

But Derek doesn’t waver, doesn’t back down. He just keeps staring at Elias, the switchblade steady against his throat.

Finally, Elias relents. He’s already done his damage, already made his point.

“You really want to know so bad?” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Just some guy. I was rolling out of physical therapy, I got caught on the shitty, underfunded Philadelphia sidewalks, that are always at an angle so I have to wheel my wheelchair weirdly so I don’t roll into the street, and some guy helped me get to the bus stop. And then he asked me if I wanted to walk again. And I told him that I had never been able to walk to begin with.”

As he speaks, tears begin to stream down Elias’s face, mixing with the blood and snot. It’s a vile, heartbreaking sight, a glimpse of the pain and despair that’s driven him to this point.

“He said he could fix me,” Elias continues, his voice cracking. “I obviously missed the bus interrogating him. You know all the fucking acupuncturists and chiropractors that think they can fix me. But then, you know, he made lightning jump from between his fingers, and I knew he had powers. Just some guy. White. Bald. Boring. Convinced me.”

He’s sobbing now, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. The bear paw on my throat goes slack as he brings his other hand up to cover his face, smearing the blood and tears across his fur.

Slowly, carefully, I wriggle out from under his grip, my eyes never leaving Derek. He’s still got the switchblade at his throat, still holding himself hostage. But there’s a softness in his eyes now, a glimmer of understanding.

“It’s okay, Elias,” he says gently. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out, together. Just like we always have.”

Derek sucks up a mixture of clotting blood and snot up into his nose. At some point, he’s ripped up strips of his own shirt and stuffed it into his nostrils, but he spits out a glob of, you know, mixed something onto the carpet.

With a convulsive effort, Elias’s form shifts, his bear and alligator features melting away like wax under a flame. In their place, the sleek fur and powerful haunches of a deer emerge, his body streamlining itself for escape.

“Elias, wait!” Derek calls out, his hand outstretched. But it’s too late.

In a flash, Elias is bounding away, his hooves finding easy purchase on the debris-strewn floor. He moves with a grace that belies his bulk, a liquid fluidity that’s almost beautiful to behold. And then he’s gone, smashing through the seventh-story window in a cascade of shattered glass. I catch a glimpse of his form shifting in mid-air, but I can’t make out what he’s becoming. Something built for speed, for fleeing the scene of his crimes, for surviving the fall.

I start to give chase, my muscles tensing for the leap. But as I take my first step, my legs buckle beneath me, the adrenaline that’s been keeping me going draining away like water through a sieve.

I stumble, my vision swimming. I’m dimly aware of Derek lunging forward, his arms wrapping around me before I can hit the ground. He’s holding me up, supporting my weight, even though I can feel him trembling with exhaustion and pain. “Are you alright?” I ask him, wheezing.

“Shut the fuck up,” he replies. “You think I haven’t broken my nose before?”

Together, we stagger to the shattered window, leaning against the jagged frame for support. The night air is cool on my face, carrying with it the distant wail of sirens.

We barely catch Elias hauling ass around the corner, in some new, unknown form, police cars chasing behind but continually losing ground. Leaving only a trail of blood and broken glass in his wake. A part of me wants to follow him, to chase him down and drag him back. But I know it’s futile. He’s too fast, too far gone.

For a long moment, we simply stand there, leaning on each other, the weight of our failure hanging heavy in the air. We had him. We had a chance to end this, to bring him in and get him the help he needs. And we blew it.

“We’ll find him,” I say at last, my voice a ragged whisper. It hurts to speak, my throat raw from Elias’s chokehold. “We’ll find him, and we’ll make this right.”

Derek nods, his jaw set in a grim line. There’s a haunted look in his eyes, a pain that goes beyond the physical. I know he’s thinking of Elias, of the friend he once knew, now twisted into something monstrous.

“And… we need to check that lead with the drugs,” he says raspily. “If someone’s selling this stuff, we-“

He breaks off into a coughing fit, his body wracked with spasms. I hold him steady, my own pain forgotten in my concern for him. I can see his blood vessels pulsing beneath his skin, bruised and battered but still strong. Still fighting. “Let me worry about the superhero shit, man. Don’t you,” I start, breaking out into a coughing fit of my own. “Don’t you have werewolf stuff to worry about?”

In the distance, the sirens grow louder, the blue and red flashes of police lights painting the walls in shifting colors. I can hear the thump of boots on stairs, the crackle of radios. They’ll be here soon, with their questions and their suspicions.

“Yeah. You mind if I bounce?” He says, not letting go of me.

Together, we limp towards the stairs, every step an agony. But we keep going, leaning on each other for support. We’re battered and bloodied, but we’re not broken. Not yet.

“Do whatever you need to, man,” I reply.

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