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A Better Master
🕑 Added 2024-12-02 04:20:14 +0000 UTCTaylor’s PoV
“Help!”
Violent coughs racked through Taylor‘s body, each jarring inhalation bringing with it a surge of that foul odor.
Taylor’s voice was hoarse between the combination of throwing up and yelling. The horrendous smell, combined with claustrophobia, made it hard to breathe. She had long since become light headed, and her vision was spinning.
How long had she been in the locker for? An hour? Two? She’d lost track after the first panic attack.
“Please! Let me out!”
Taylor slammed her fists into the locker door, in an attempt to do something. Why? What compelled Emma and Sophia to escalate to this degree? Was the regular bullying truly not enough for them?
Flies buzzed around her, while bugs creeped all over her skin. There wasn’t enough space to do anything about it though. She was standing in something absolutely gross and was seeping through her shoes, and knew it was only partially vomit.
“Help!” Taylor called out, the hopelessness audible to even herself. “Please, just… Please help me.”
There used to be noise on the other side. Laughing and mocking at first, followed by the regular sounds of people moving about.
They heard her. They knew she was there, begging for help! Why didn’t they do anything?!
The halls were quiet now, yet Taylor continued her attempts. Surely there was somebody still here? A janitor? A teacher?
She couldn’t break out of here on her own, so Taylor kept on banging on the door in front of her. Because it was her only hope.
A hope that was dwindling by the second.
“Please…” Taylor begged. “Somebody… Anybody.”
Time blurred, her fists ached, and her thoughts grew fuzzy.
It… It was hopeless, wasn’t it? There was nobody out there. Nobody that would save her. She was alone.
Just like she’d always been.
And with that, Taylor fell unconscious.
Destination.
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Jack Slash’s POV, in another city
“You know, I think I’ve seen this one before.” Jack mused, a mocking glint in his eye as he stared at the bloody mess of a woman being pinned by a black and white striped woman. “But you misread the script. The cat attacks the mouse, and the mouse is supposed to beat the cat with humor and plot armor! Not get caught.”
Mouse Protector tried to spit at him, but the Siberian just slammed her into the ground again.
Ah. This whole trip had been one well earned vacation. Some brave, stupid soul had actually hired the Slaughterhouse Nine to kill a singular hero. And, well, it wasn’t like they had anything going on that weekend, so why not?
Still, it would have been unfair had they all attacked. And boring. Mostly boring. Instead, Jack had proposed a competition. They had an entire town to play in after all - so which of the Nine would be the first to find the little mouse?
He’d been right - it was hilarious.
Jack had heard Mouse Protector’s reputation for being rather silly, humiliating the villains she fought against, and she hadn’t disappointed.
Hatchet Face was still trying to get the pink sparkly paint off of himself. Mannequin was down a foot that he refused to reattach until a thorough cleaning (Jack was waiting for him to realize that she’d drawn a smiley face on his ‘face’ in marker). Crawler discovered that his regeneration hadn’t yet accounted for a dumpster full of Tinker made itching powder. And Shatterbird, the poor dear, refused to show her face after Mouse Protector stole her panties.
It was a good thing a large portion of the town was killed off by now. If there had been witnesses who knows how big a hit their reputation would take?
Alas, things were beginning to wind down, as all good things must.
“Oh! Oh! I bet it’s ‘cause she doesn’t look like a mouse!” Bonesaw, his little murder-munchkin, piped up with an excited look. “I can help her with that, Mr. Jack!”
Jack clapped his hands together with a delighted smile, “A perfect idea poppet! So long as she’s alive by the end of it of course - I have something truly special in mind.” He smirked in delight at the flash of fear.
He was about to say more when the Siberian perked up, looking around in confusion.
“Everything alright?” Jack asked lazily, instantly on guard. as he looked around.
Only for the Siberian vanished.
Jack blinked.
Mouse Protector looked confused for all of a fraction of a second before a flash of hope spread across her face. She scrambled to a counter and pulled something from a hidden drawer (How exactly did she have stuff here?). Bonesaw’s spiders darted forward, and Jack extended his knife.
He was a fraction slower than her. She hissed as he got her arm, but gave him a smirk as she threw whatever she grabbed. “For the forces of gouda!”
Jack cursed and dodged - he knew instinctively it wasn’t something lethal, but still - Only for the object to blow up and cover him in yellow liquid.
“Mr. Jack!” Bonesaw shrieked and made her way over to him.
“I’m fine, poppet!” Jack coughed and spat out the, if his tongue was correct, cheese flavored containment foam.
Ah, was this frustration what the others felt?
Several of Bonesaw’s spiders wasted no time in devouring the foam under Bonesaw’s direction. Jack, however, was staring at the spot The Siberian had vanished.
What just happened?
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Taylor’s PoV, sometime later
Taylor jolted awake, promptly banging her head and arms against the back of the locker, the fading memories of a dream drifting away as reality made itself known once more. She immediately gagged at the smell, which had grown stronger. Her thoughts were still fuzzy and jumbled, her entire body felt ill and feverish.
How long has it been?
Taylor stirred at a faint shuffling outside the locker before dimly dismissing it as a hallucination.
This meant she was completely caught off guard when the locker door was torn open - ripped completely off its hinges - Taylor let out a hoarse shriek as she stumbled forward into somebody’s arms.
Those arms immediately shifted to hold her more gently, hands gently roving over her body. Taylor heard an inquisitive huff, but she was too busy clutching the arms to care. She still felt extreme levels of nausea, her head was hurting…
But she was out.
Was she crying? She was probably crying. Her whole body refused to stop shaking.
It wasn’t till the person growled that Taylor managed to lift her head up, and she was pretty sure she was right about the hallucinating idea.
First off, the woman holding her was completely naked. Completely. Had Taylor not felt as horrible she did she’d have probably gotten horrifically embarrassed, but she was past that.
Second, the woman had extremely unusual skin. As in, her entire body, hair included, had black and white stripes. The only other color on her was her eyes, which were a deep yellow.
Eye’s that were currently looking over Taylor intently.
This couldn't be real, but Taylor didn’t care. After what she just went through, this woman could be neon green and Taylor would consider her a Saint. So long as she never had to go back into that horrible, dark, crawley space…
The woman growled as Taylor began shaking. She could feel herself hovering on the edge of a panic attack at just the thought of the locker.
The next moment Taylor’s thoughts were completely derailed as she was swept into secure arms, her stomach roiling as her head spun.
Then they were moving.
The sudden amount of wind (glorious fresh air) going by from the speed they were running out nearly convinced Taylor that maybe this wasn’t a hallucination.
And then the woman ran straight through a wall without stopping, and Taylor was back in the hallucination camp.
They were going too fast for Taylor’s fevered mind to pick up, especially without her glasses. Just a blur of color and wind. She heard multiple more crashes as well as screaming, but they felt almost distant, safe as she was in her savior’s arms. Not a jolt made it to her.
Taylor stirred briefly as a door smashed open, and they were inside a building. The wind slowed, but the screams and panic seemed to increase. Taylor winced as the cacophony aggravated her headache even more.
Time seemed to blur as she hid until her sanctuary lowered her into a bed, the soft surface completely unexpected. A pair of hands pressed down on her, but they were wrong.
Small. Smaller than her savior’s hands. Too small.
Taylor panicked, eyes snapping open, and through bleary eyes she saw a shaking brunette wearing white robes and a very pale face, her hands being forced onto Taylor by the striped woman.
Taylor felt herself calm down once she confirmed her savior was there.
Said woman growled at the robed girl. “Heal her.”
“W-what - “ The robed girl shook as stared at the woman. “What are you?”
The woman snarled, pressing her hands more firmly. “Heal.”
The girl gulped and closed her eyes, and Taylor gasped as the accumulated pain, and even some she hadn’t realized, alleviated. Her body began cooling down from its feverish state, and her nausea finally subsided.
As her body finally relaxed, Taylor felt the exhaustion hit full force, and even confused she allowed herself to fall asleep, tears of gratitude slipping free as she stared at the black and white striped lady.
Somebody actually came for her.
Comments
Adam Costello
Siberian called by Taylor!? What an idea..keep going.
