I cut the threads with my bugs and let the arm fall from the ceiling.  More than one person was startled at the sudden drop and impact.

Heh.

“Throw the head and the arm into the ocean,” I said, to nobody in particular.  “If you can find a boat, drop it somewhere deep.”

Come on, Amethyst, don’t drop those limbs in the sea like tha– oh, oh right, this isn’t Steven Universe.

“Okay,” Charlotte said, her voice quiet.

“I’m going to go.  I’ll be using my bugs to watch for more trouble,” I said, as I began limping toward the door.

…where? You could use a patch up yourself after that battle. I understand why you don’t want to be here right now, but it seems like the place you should be.

I’d won.  So to speak.

Taylor… please. Yes, four people got killed. That was not your fault, and once you found out about the threat, you did your darnedest to keep him from killing anyone else. This would’ve been an all-out massacre if you hadn’t been there. You did great, you won against all odds, and you really shouldn’t feel guilty about this one.

(Of course, Mannequin made your relief efforts out to be the reason he was doing it, but I honestly don’t know if I believe that at all.)

With Charlotte’s help, I stood.  I shook my head at her offer for support standing.  Moving slowly and carefully, not wanting to embarrass myself, I walked over to the dismembered head.

Oh right, he didn’t get that with him. Trophy time!

Heh, that reminds me of my first ever D&D session, where I ruined the DM’s plans for a character to return by chopping his head off to take as a trophy. A couple months later I finally listened to the song the session was based on and found out that decapitation was the only way to keep Shivo the Buff down. :p

It was miniscule, but there was a drop of black fluid beading at the seam in the neck where the chain had been threaded.  Apparently that was enough of a flaw for Mannequin to abandon it.  I left it where it was.

Huh. Gotta be a perfectionist with his specialty, I guess.

Then I hobbled over to the body of the gray-haired doctor.  Getting onto my knees was painful, but I did.  I gently turned her head and stared into her open eyes.  Light blue, surprised.

Surprised? Sounds like she was the first victim inside, then.

“I’m sorry,” I told her.

I couldn’t think of anything more to add or say.  A minute or two passed before I gave up on it.  I left her eyes open; using my fingertips to close her eyes seemed presumptuous and trite.

And here you thought Trickster was weird for talking to a corpse just four Arcs ago, Taylor. 😉

I watched him leave with my bugs.  Felt him get three, four, then five blocks away with my power, before he was out of my range.  The second he was gone, all the strength went out of my legs.  I collapsed onto my knees in the center of the room.

…I was just wrong about who was about to collapse one last time. :p

I hurt all over.  If Mannequin hadn’t broken something in my ribs or collarbone, he’d fractured something.  But pain was only part of it.  Physically, I was exhausted.  Emotionally?  Doubly so.

Yeeah. You just fought one of the most dangerous people in the United States.

And won.

Charlotte appeared at my side and offered me a hand.

Oh, hey!

The murmurs of conversation started to sound around me.  I tuned it out.  I couldn’t take the criticism, and I didn’t deserve any praise.  How many people had been hurt while I fought Mannequin?  How many people had died because I hadn’t been on the alert?

Aaaand we’re back to guilt.

The answer, Taylor, is “many fewer than would’ve died if you hadn’t done all of this”.

“Want to keep going?” I asked his fallen form, my heart in my throat.  I stood ready to jump and react at a moment’s notice.

“I’ll bite yer legs off!”

“You don’t have a mouth.”

Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet again.  Twice, he used the knife to slash at the silk.  On the second attempt, I hit him with the formation of bugs for an eighth sweep of the silk net, hoping to throw him off-balance enough that he’d stab himself.  No such luck.

It was worth a try.

Standing straight, Mannequin shifted his grip on his knife and then raised one finger.  Wagged it left and right, that same gesture of disapproval, condemnation.

Heh. Back where we began.

And then he collapses one last time?

Then he turned to leave, striding for the door.  I didn’t try to stop him.  I didn’t have it in me.

Or that. Fair enough.

The man hefted the cinder block again, saw Mannequin approaching, and changed his mind.  He dropped the block onto the head and then ran.

Yes, good. I like this guy, I don’t want him to die from having too much bravery and too few survival instincts.

Mannequin didn’t give chase to his attacker.  Instead, he stooped down to pick up his head, then stood straight.  I stopped where I was.

With any luck, he’s got enough in there to at least give him a minor headache.

For long moments, Mannequin held the head at arm’s length.  Then it fell to the ground.

“Ehh, screw it, I don’t need a head. Maybe this way I can at least join the Headless Hunt when I’m dead.”

Seconds stretched on as his arm flopped its way towards him.  My spiders swarmed it, surrounding it in silk.  Only the blade was really allowing it to move, now, the fingers struggling around the silk to move it into position for the next sudden thrust of the blade.

And it’s not like she can silk up the blade, either.

Mannequin turned his attention to his arm, and I set my swarm on it.  A thousand threads of silk, each held by as many flying insects as I could grip it with, all carrying the arm aloft.  I brought it up to the ceiling, and began fixing it in place, building a cocoon around it.

Hah, nice!

My enemy turned his attention to me, his shoulders facing me square-on.  As he no longer had a head, I found his body language doubly hard to read.  Had I irritated him, doing that?

Probably.

He stepped forward, as if to lunge, and the silk that wreathed him hampered his full range of movement.  His leg didn’t move as far as he intended, and his missing arm displaced his sense of balance.  He collapsed.

I think Taylor’s won this. Now it’s just a matter of how much Mannequin can take before he officially gives up.

He stepped forward, and I stepped back.  Behind me, the arm jumped.  Mannequin was using the telescoping blade to help push it in the right direction.  It was trying to take a circuitous route around me.

What, to attempt to slowly stab Taylor in the back? Or is he going for the crowd?

My bugs made their eighth sweep past the headless Mannequin.

He lunged for me once again.  This time, there was no blocking the hit, no letting my armor absorb it.  His movements were ungainly, unbalanced by his lack of an arm, but he stood nine feet tall, usually, and that meant he had reach, no matter the type of weapon he was wielding.

And that’s before you let his arms extend to ridiculous lengths.

I backed off, rapidly stepping away, all too aware that my spiders weren’t working fast enough to stop him before he landed a hit.  I was swiftly running out of room to retreat.

Well, this took a bit of a turn, huh.

Nice last ditch effort, Mannequin. Gonna have to give you that one.

There was a sound, a heavy impact followed by the noise of ringing metal.  Mannequin stopped and whirled on the spot, striding back the way he’d come.

What?

The sound came again.  I chased, trying not to limp, knowing there was little I could do to stop the monster.  I crossed half the factory floor before I saw what had earned Mannequin’s attention.

The man who’d helped me with Mannequin had the concrete block in his hand, and for the third time, be brought it down on Mannequin’s head.

Oh damn. He literally picked up what Skitter was putting down, and now he’s a prime target.

The head came free of the chain and fell to the ground, rolling briefly.

Tonight, heads will roll!

The moment I realized what he was after, I redirected a portion of my web-spinning swarm to the hand.  Then I limped to my left to put myself between him and his target.  My swarm passed over him.  The seventh strafing run.  He slashed at it as it passed in a surprising display of emotion.

What? What is it going for?

He reached into the hole where his neck and head were supposed to be and withdrew a small knife.

Ohh. A detached weapon, as a last ditch effort.

I adjusted my posture.  He was a tinker, and that knife could be anything.

That is a very good point.

He pressed a switch, and it was soon surrounded with a gray blur.  I recognized it as Armsmaster’s tech.

Well, fuck.

So he ran off with that knife. That’s probably not good.

Oh yeah, he used it to carve his exit, didn’t he.

A weapon with that exact same visual effect had done horrendous damage to Leviathan.

Yep. Your armor’s not going to save you from this one.