OnAHiatus
patreon
(AV) THE MISUNDERSTANDING GROWS
🕑 Added 2025-09-03 05:00:06 +0000 UTCGrue narrowed his eyes behind the full-face visor, the girl’s words lingering in the air long after it was said, carrying with them a certain weight that had him reconsidering their decision to meet her in the first place:
“If you want him, you’ll have to go through me.”
It wasn't a pledge of protection, or a noble deflation, at least not the kind a hero would’ve made. No, this sounded more like a threat, colder and possessive, and said in the way a villain would warn you off before making an example out of you.
Could she be staking her claim?
His gaze slid behind his shoulder. Tattletale leaned slightly against him, arms crossed around his waist. When she caught his look, she gave him nothing but a small shrug.
It wasn't an answer, but it seemed almost indicative of how messy of a situation this could potentially be. After all, Lisa always had an answer.
But he already knew why she didn’t. Earlier, he’d noticed the glazed look in her eyes on the ride over, and the way she pressed her palm to her temple, muttering under her breath like she could will the headache away. She’d pushed herself again, up all night for several days in a row pouring everything she had into wringing every last scrap of information from the seemingly endless files their ‘benefactor’ had provided. Whoever the hell they were, they gave her enough information to burn her brain out three times over, and Lisa had pushed herself to wring every last drop of insight from it.
Now? She was unable to use her powers. There would be no clever cues whispered in his ear tonight, and no smug little tells to guide them through this encounter. Just him, his instincts, and a teammate who looked about ready to keel over.
Which left him with a problem.
They already knew plenty about the bug girl, or rather, what Lisa had decided to share with them. And with Lisa that wasn't everything. She was stingy with information when it suited her—which certainly made this situation more dicey than it should have been—when it played to her arrogance, or when the truth itself was deemed too valuable to hand out freely, but he’d picked up the broad strokes:
She’d killed Lung because she’d given him an order, and he hadn’t listened. And now there was nothing left of him but his corpse.
Grue didn’t know if that order had been something as simple as stop attacking me, or something broader, like stop acting this way or stop doing this thing. In the end, whatever it had been didn't really matter. The point was, Lung hadn’t listened, and she had ended him for it.
That told him two things.
First: she was ruthless. Cruel, even. You didn’t put down someone like Lung unless you were the type who didn’t flinch at the thought of killing.
Second: she didn’t tolerate being ignored.
And now, standing over Shielder like a wolf guarding its meal, she was making the same kind of declaration. He’s mine.
Maybe she meant to kill the hero herself. Maybe she wanted him alive for leverage. Hell, maybe she was just flexing her muscles, and staking her territory the way the gangs would. It didn't matter which one it was, only that the message was the same: get in her way, and you end up like Lung.
Grue shifted on his mount, fingers tightening on its bony ridge. He didn’t like this, and didn’t like her, but he didn’t have to like someone to recognize when it was smarter to back off.
Better as a friend than an enemy, he thought. Always.
He leaned down, pitching his voice so only his teammates would hear. “We’re leaving.”
Regent let out a scoff. “What, after riding all the way out here? We’re just gonna bail because bug girl’s throwing a tantrum?”
Grue snapped his head toward him, shooting him a glare Regent couldn’t actually see but hopefully felt. His teammate’s posture didn’t change, but at least he wasn't twirling that damn scepter again.
“Yeah,” Grue said flatly. “We are. Don’t argue.”
Bitch gave a sharp whistle, and the beasts stirred in response, claws scraping tar. Thankfully, she didn’t question it, or complain. She knew when a fight wasn’t worth it.
Tattletale finally pushed off his shoulder, moving with a sluggishness that made Grue want to tie her to the dog before she fainted. She gave him another shrug, looser this time, but there was a faint trace of approval in it.
It would have to be enough.
Grue turned back to the rooftop one last time. The bug girl stood there with her fists clenched at her sides, as if she thought she could scare them off. Maybe she had.
Behind her, Shielder wheezed, still trying to get his bearings.
Grue didn’t envy him. Not if she really meant to stake her claim.
Another whistle, and the dog beneath him tensed its muscles, leaping off from the rooftop. The others followed soon after, growls trailing in their wake.
Only when the wind tore past his helmet, blocking out all sounds but his own, did Grue let out the breath he’d been holding. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this was nothing more than a misunderstanding, and the bug girl was just another rookie cape in way over her head.
Maybe.
But, if he was being honest with himself, it didn't really matter. His team was safe, the rooftop was behind them, and the bug girl was someone else’s problem.
For now.
