She looked away, down at the ground, scowling.

“Take it or leave it.”

I think Rachel on one level wants to take it, but on another, more conscious level wants to say “fuck your deals”.

She decided to leave it, apparently.  Bitch stomped away, slamming the door the moment Bentley passed through it, leaving the rest of us standing there in the rubbish-strewn apartment building.

Close enough. Kinda hard to say “fuck your deals” when your jaw is barely functional.

Grue sighed audibly and looked over our group, “We’d better go.  We should decide what we’re going to do with Shadow Stalker, now.”

Ah, yeah. Sure.

I stood, removing the baton from her mouth and stepping away, to give her room to stand.  Leaning against the wall, I pressed the button and collapsed the baton into the handle.  I stared at her.

What is Bitch going to say now?

What does anyone say after something like that?

Is she just going to stay silent, perhaps, defeated?

Working her jaw, she stood and glared at me.  She either didn’t have a response for me, or she did and her jaw hurt too much for her to try giving it.  None of the others were jumping into the middle of this.

It seems they all recognize that they really don’t want to get between these two right now. That feeling would probably be tripled if they’d heard what Skitter just said to Bitch.

In the face of the silence, I offered one final comment, “I think I’ve already covered what happens if you want to continue this vendetta.  Now I’m going to offer you a deal.  Number three, I think, and my deals with you are usually pretty fair, if I may say so myself.”

Oh boy.

Her eyes narrowed.

“I fucked up, you fucked up, whatever.  Insult for insult, blow for blow, I’d like to think we’re even.

I suppose they are, for the most part.

So now I’m going to trust you to have my back.  I’m going to put myself in more situations where you have a prime chance at fucking me over, backstabbing me, catching me at my most vulnerable.  Because we can’t function as a team any other way.

“Try harder if you want to fuck me over, also I’m going to make it easier for you by explicitly trusting you.”

“I’m going to treat you like a damned teammate, Rachel, but I’ll go one step further.  You think you can put this behind you and satisfy yourself with what you tried to pull earlier tonight?  Cool.  Because if you’re willing, I’ll come with you to help take care of your dogs.  I’ll bring fucking lunch, if you want it.  That’s the deal I’m offering you, pissed as I am right now.  I’ll be your damn friend.”

Honestly? At this point, I have a hard time seeing that as something Rachel deserves from Taylor. Cod knows Taylor has given her enough chances by now. But then again, it doesn’t seem like Taylor sees it that way either – she’s giving Rachel another chance to be friends not because Rachel deserves that chance, but because she wants to give it to her regardless.

I love how this story handles Taylor’s darker, more vicious moments.

The way they always make sense in context, the way they’re infrequent and sometimes abrupt but never seem to come out of nowhere. The way her personality doesn’t seem to change, just show another side of itself that doesn’t usually come out in full force but has been there in the background ever since 1.1. The way she’s damn scary when it happens.

It’s really good writing of a fantastic character.

You guys were waiting for that one, weren’t you.

“I’m in a position to hurt you now, and I’m pissed enough to do it,” I spoke, my voice low.  “But I won’t.  This vendetta against me ends, now.  You got your shot at me, you fucked it up.  If you’re still mad at me, you fucking better cope, got it!?”

I love this. 😀

She snarled out two muffled words.  I suspected they were rude.

Yeah, probably.

When I spoke next, I bent low and whispered the words for her and her alone, “When you’re tossing and turning and trying to sleep, remembering what I did and said here and getting pissed off about it?  Remember that you were the weak one.  You embarrassed yourself, fucked up, you were the weakling, the wuss who couldn’t even confront me face to face.  And knowing you like I do?  I’m betting it’s going to gnaw at you.  That’s as much a punishment as I could inflict, I think.  That’s on you, not me.

Hooooly shit, Taylor.

Holy shit.

You know who this is reminding me of? Sophia.

“You said it yourself, a while back.  It’s a mistake to underestimate me.  You want another shot at it, it had better be really damn good.  Because if it isn’t, I’m going to survive, I’m going to get away.  And then I might break your jaw for real.  For starters.”

Just… holy shit.

“Bitch,” I pulled on the bar, eliciting more struggling from Bitch, “Just tried to fuck me over in the fight with Dragon.  Shoved me into the foam.” 

Assuming the others believe Skitter, it’s not too far-fetched that Bitch could get kicked off the team for this. I kinda doubt that’s going to happen, though.

Bitch made a muffled noise, then jabbed me in the side, where I’d been grazed by Miss Militia’s shotgun.  It hurt, and in the interest of keeping her from doing it again, I shifted my position so I could force Bitch onto her back against the ground, her head pinned down by my baton.

Ouch.

She could still hit me and jab me, but my shins could take a lot more abuse than her jaw could.  I belatedly realized I’d taken my eyes off Bentley, but he didn’t maul me.  When I looked up, I saw Tattletale had a grip on his chains.

Nice work, Tattle! Good to know there’s some support to be found.

“You’re a coward, Rachel,” I spoke, “You just did the very same thing you hate me for almost doing.  You stabbed me in the back.  You fucked over your own teammate.”

…ah, yes, the hypocrisy of it all is so concrete you can taste it, and then spit it out because hypocrisy doesn’t taste very good.

She mumbled something around the bar.  The look in her eyes made me seriously worry she would kill me when I let her go.

Solution: Stay like this forever.

What do you mean that’s not a solution?

Grue glanced down at Bitch, who was rubbing her chin, opening her jaw wide, as if testing it.

“Does this thing still work…?”

I dropped down to a crouch so quickly that my knee slammed into the ground.  I grabbed the upper end of the baton and pulled it over Bitch’s head, forcing the bar between her teeth, pulling back hard.

Eesh. If Taylor keeps it up like this, it might not.

Grue moved to stop me once more, and I shook my head.  He hesitated, then stopped.

He seems to trust Taylor enough that he figures this is justified in some way and sees that Taylor needs to take out her anger… that or he just doesn’t want to get caught in the crossfire for trying to intervene.

Bentley was pacing towards me, snarling at the attack on his owner.  I met his gaze with my own, unflinching, and he didn’t lunge to attack, maybe because he didn’t want to hurt his master in the process.  I didn’t break eye contact with the dog as I spoke with the swarm buzzing in accompaniment, “Regent, this isn’t for Shadow Stalker’s ears.”

I wonder if Taylor ever got around to buying a book on dog psychology after all. Maybe during the two weeks after the Leviathan attack?

Then again, she’s spent enough time with Rachel to start picking up some of these things naturally, on top of online research.

“Got it,” Regent spoke.  Shadow Stalker moved to the bench by the elevators, sat down, and buried her face in her arms, covering her ears.

Regent informed me, “She can’t hear much of anything, now.”

Shadow Stalker, internally: “Fuck, I was curious…”

I was already standing, barely feeling the hurt from where I’d been grazed.  Blood pounded in my ears, and I could feel the buzz of my insects.

You really shouldn’t fight right now.

“How-” she started.  I didn’t let her finish.  My baton held in both hands, I struck her in the upper thigh.  When she didn’t fall, I let go of the baton and backhanded her.  She toppled, and protests and shouts echoed around me.

Well, here we go.

And of course Regent, Imp and Grue have no idea where that came from.

Also I thought she just said the baton was stuck to the glove? I guess she spent the ten minutes peeling it loose.

It hurt.  Damn it, I’d never really hit someone with my hands before.  I wondered if I’d managed to break something.

Ouch.

There were still bugs on some of my teammates.  I could sense them approaching, Grue and Imp moving to stop me.  I ducked out of the way of their hands before they could grab me, and then held up my baton, menacing them.

“Uh-uh! Don’t you dare stop me now.”

I cast a momentary glance towards Shadow Stalker, then augmented my voice with the buzzing and chirping of my swarm, “Don’t.”

It’s worth noting that Regent and his puppet already don’t seem to be trying to do anything. Maybe Regent has a sort of understanding that there’s probably a good reason for this?

“What the hell are you doing!?” Grue roared.

“Ask her,” my response was barely above a growl.

So, Bitch, what do you have to say for yourself?

“No.  Your gun thing there saved my skin.  The real problem was…” I trailed off.  I still had the baton in my hand – the residual containment foam meant I’d probably have to peel the glove away from the weapon.  I clenched the weapon tight.

Whoops.

The real problem was Bitch, right?

We sat in silence for nearly ten minutes before the rest arrived as a massed group.

I guess Taylor decided she didn’t want or need to finish that sentence, and Lisa decided not to push Taylor on it.

Shadow Stalker was limping, and two of the dogs were their normal size, draped across Bentley’s back, but everyone was more or less intact.

I like that they’re still taking Shadow Stalker with them. She can continue to be an advantage for as long as Regent can sustain control… which seems like it might be indefinitely, but I wouldn’t be surprised if sleeping (or getting knocked out) cuts the bond. Maybe they’ll have Shadow Stalker locked up somewhere (electrified, naturally) while Regent sleeps, or something.

Bitch’s eyes widened fractionally as she saw me.

What’s up, Bitch? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. 😉

Tattletale and I made our escape.  We got three blocks away before we found a spot to hide.  Tattletale got out her phone and began sending messages, presumably to Grue and Coil.

Grue seems a bit preoccupied at the moment, though maybe he managed to get the others out by the time they’d ran three blocks.

Our hiding place was the lobby of an apartment building.  Boards had been placed over the windows, and there were signs that some people had camped out here, not long ago.  It was otherwise similar to Grue’s apartment complex.  Less tidy, obviously.

Heh, yeah, abandonment tends to do that to a place.

“You okay?” Tattletale asked me.

“That question seems to come up a lot.”

Hearing that is an occupational hazard. 😛

“I’m sorry.  I knew the gun would inevitably overheat, and what little I could read off of Dragon told me she’d deal with that above anything else.  I didn’t think you’d be stuck there, too.”

Makes sense.

That said… I’m beginning to notice what might be a habit of Tattletale’s: to take risks that affect others without asking or informing them. See for example her gamble on Taylor not betraying them, in which she voluntarily put the other Undersiders at great risk of having a lot of information about them volunteered to the Protectorate, without informing them of a tidbit that massively increased that risk.

Then again, I can’t actually think of other instances of this off the top of my head, and this instance is excusable by way of limited time, hostile ears and that she apparently didn’t think of the possibility that Taylor would be stuck there. So maybe it’s way too early to call “pattern!” on this one.