#chapter 11.2

“Then stab me!” I raised my voice, shouted at him.  “Or are you just a bully, getting weak in the knees when you’re facing someone that stands up to you!?”

Either way, not the kind of person we want in Skitterville.

He made a motion as if he was going to lunge for me, then stopped.

“Pathetic,” I snarled.  Not for the crowd.  I said it for him and him alone.

Much like what she said to Bitch, although here it seems more like a matter of who she meant to draw meaning from it than whom she made it audible to.

He lunged, holding the knife with both hands to drive it into my stomach, just beside where I had the armor.  I resisted the urge to bend over, but I did have to step back for balance, and I had to put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself.

Time to tango!

I clutched his shoulders, digging my nails in for grip.  I could feel pain radiate from my stomach and into my lower abdomen and chest.  That was despite the fact that the fabric of my costume had kept it from piercing my flesh.

I suppose the pressure and possible small cut is bad enough.

I forced myself to stand straighter, still holding his shoulders.  He stabbed again, but it was ineffectual.  

Big Man used Stab!

It’s not very effective...

Knocking one of my hands from his shoulder, he used the space that gave him to slash at my throat.  The first hit had hurt because of the force of the charge behind it, I could almost ignore these follow-up strikes.

Good thing we’ve established that throat slashing doesn’t work all that well with this costume.

He stepped back and looked at his knife, confused.  I hadn’t gone down.

In addition to the Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff comic I linked, Taylor calling the knife guy “big man” reminded me of one of my favorite exchanges in Homestuck.

But really cool.

I was banking on the fact that the swarm I had blocking out most of the sun and the whole dramatic lead-up would help sell the illusion.

Heh.

Whatever image I conveyed, whether it was in the role of a leader or as a potentially dangerous villain, it had given me elbow room.  Coil’s employees had chosen to sit, cramped together, closer to the rear of the truck.  I sat atop a crate with my back to the truck’s cab, watching the road behind us.

It’s pretty clear that this whole individual base thing is functionally a promotion for each of the Undersiders. I doubt it’s random that this happened so soon after Extermination, from a metatextual perspective - after Leviathan’s attack as a climax for a supposed part 1 of the story (it’ll be easier to see if that’s an accurate description in retrospect), it makes a whole lot of sense to start shaking up the status quo a bit, by first adding Imp to the group, then revealing the true extent of Regent’s power, and now having Skitter and the rest sort of “graduate” from the Undersiders. I know they’re still a team and will be working together again, but they’re much looser-knit all of a sudden and now can start leading their own groups under the Undersider umbrella and Coil.

Sweet. I guess this could act as protection for the Hive?

As Coil’s men got back in the truck, my swarm-sense told me that one person had stayed behind.  I turned to get a better look at her.

Hm, what’s up? Battery stick around out of costume or something?

She was twenty or so, and her red hair had been set into long dreadlocks that she must have been growing for years.  I wasn’t sure on the effect – white people didn’t grow good dreadlocks.

True. I’m no dreadlock expert, but I seem to recall hearing about that having something to do with genetics and white people having to do something to their hair for dreadlocks to be possible at all, something that doesn’t go well with water (resulting in the stereotype that black people with dreadlocks don’t wash their hair) and doesn’t look as good as black people’s dreadlocks. Something like that.

I do like red hair, though.

She wore rain boots, a calf-length skirt, and had a colorful bandanna around her forehead.  She was pale, and she fidgeted nervously, not making eye contact.  High or afraid?

Y’know, I really like this sort of upfront conversation between hero and villain-with-good-intentions.

“Do I have to have one?”

“Yes.  Your kind always has an agenda.”

That’s a bit alignmentist, but not unjustified.

“Maybe I’m unique.”

“No, knowing what you tried to pull with pretending to be a villain?  Or pretending to be a hero that’s pretending to be a villain?

Heh, yeah, figures there’d be a bit of uncertainty around that. She either tricked the Undersiders into thinking she was a villain or she tricked Armsmaster into thinking she was trying to be a hero. Either way, she had a facade and a plan.

You’re more likely to have some scheme at play than anyone else.”

Ah, shit. Heroes, Merchants, desperate person who didn’t get a box?

Either way, this sounds like trouble.

It was one of the men who’d had a weapon.  He’d drawn and swung a crude knife to ward people off and grinned maniacally at the reaction he was getting.

Of course one of these guys ended up causing trouble. No real surprise there.

The scruff of beard on his chin was white, but it seemed rather premature given his apparent age.  He was shirtless, with a long sleeve shirt tied around his waist, and scratches crisscrossing his upper body.  His buddies stood back, smirking and grinning.

Huh, interesting design.

At least it’s not Jack Slash, unless he’s got a pretty good disguise.

It was a bad judgement call to pull this right in front of me, but I supposed people were at a point where they weren’t at their most rational.  That, or he was high on something.  I could see him as a member of the Merchants, either way.