Chum

I reach them just as one of the thugs grabs the mom by the arm, pulling her back.

"Let go of her!" I shout, swinging my fist toward his face. He dodges, but barely. The mom stumbles backward, clutching her kid, and I position myself between them and the thugs. "You don't want to do this," I say, my voice low, trying to keep it steady. "Let them go."

The thug grins, his teeth blindingly straight and white. "Or what? You gonna stop us, kid?"

I don't answer. I don't have time to. I lunge forward, grabbing the guy by the collar and yanking him down into the snow. He struggles, but I've got the leverage, and I bring my knee up into his stomach. He wheezes, the air knocked out of him, but before I can finish the move, one of the other thugs grabs me from behind, his arm wrapping around my neck.

"Little hero thinks she can play with the big boys," the guy behind me sneers, tightening his grip.

"Don't look down on me," I hiss, sinking my fingertips into his arm and raking.

He lets go with a loud, angry yelp as teeth jut out from my fingertips, cutting through his skin like butter. I can feel the warm pulse of his blood spreading under his skin, his whole circulatory system lighting up in my mind's eye like a neon sign. He's trying to pull away, but I know exactly where he's moving before he even makes the decision.

I twist my arm free, spinning around to face him, and he stumbles back, clutching at the shallow wounds I left on his arm. I can see the panic in his eyes now, the way he's trying to mask it with bravado, but it's not working. Not when I'm already thinking about where to strike next.

"You think I'm just some kid?" I snap, my voice low and cold as I flex my knuckles, more teeth pushing out just beneath the surface. They're not for show, and he knows it. "I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast. You don't want this."

He hesitates, his eyes darting toward his buddy, but I don't give him a chance to regroup. I throw a punch, fast and hard, the teeth jutting out from my knuckles as they connect with his chest. I don't drive them in deep--just enough for him to feel the sharp edges biting into his skin, ripping through his clothes, exposing slivers of skin to the air. Just enough to make him realize how much worse it could be.

"Get off!" he gasps, trying to shove me back, but I'm already moving, twisting out of his reach and shoving him down into the snow.

His friend, the one with the baton, swings at me again, but I see it coming before he even raises his arm, out of the corner of my eye. He's already bleeding - from what, I don't know, maybe a scab, maybe another fight. His heart is hammering in his chest, too fast, too panicked. He's already on the back foot, and he knows it.

I duck under his swing, jabbing upward with my elbow. More teeth, smaller this time, jut out from my joint as it makes contact with his ribs. He staggers back, clutching his side, and I see the flash of recognition in his eyes. He knows who I am.

"Bloodhound," he mutters, his voice thick with pain. "It's her."

"Yeah, it's me," I say, not giving him a chance to recover. "So what are you gonna do about it?"

He takes a step back, eyes flicking to the guy I've already taken down, then to the chaos erupting around us. "You know how much money--" he starts saying to the other guy.

Not a smart move. Don't gab in a fight unless you have the space for it.

I close the distance between us in a second, my fist launching out and catching him in the ribs. I'm in peak human condition for a 15 year old girl and I know how to box - he's a stumpy criminal with no training. He coughts up blood. "You came here thinking you'd just walk out with hostages, huh?" My knuckles press into his chest, the teeth grazing his skin, threatening to go deeper. "Guess again."

He groans, his breath ragged, but I don't let up. I can feel his blood, the way it pulses beneath his skin, slow and uneven now. "You're going to walk out of here empty-handed, or you're not walking out at all. Your choice."

He doesn't answer right away, his eyes darting around, looking for help. There's none. At some point, the other guys around us fled like pussies. It's just him, me, and the sound of his blood pounding in his veins.

And then, as if realizing he's got no other option, he nods, his body slumping in defeat. "Okay, okay… I'm done." He raises his hands in surrender, his voice barely a whisper.

"Give me your shit," I say, ripping his weapons out of his hands. "All of it, or I will stab you in the throat."

He dumps out stuff from his coat - another collapsible baton, a flip phone, car keys, just general assorted junk. I step on his phone and press down with my heel until it snaps. Then, I stare at him, my eyes just barely visible through my helmet.

I don't know how in G-d's name this is intimidating to anyone, even with my unnaturally sharp teeth bared. But it works, and I don't question it. I quickly zip tie his hands together and then haul him like a bag of garbage over to one of the public restrooms, dumping him down on the ground. I'm sure one of his criminal buddies will rescue him at some point, but judging by the chaos around me, I don't have the time to dwell, to frog-march him to the police sirens I hear in the distance.

I glance down at my hands, frowning at the blood left on my gloves. I hate the mess these things make, but there's no time to think about it now. I flex my fingers, pushing the leftover teeth all the way out like empty bullet casings. They hit the snow with a soft thud, leaving me with nothing but the dull ache in my knuckles and the buzzing in the back of my head from all the adrenaline.

But then I feel it--the air shifts, like someone's moving behind me. It's fast, faster than I expect, and for a second, I don't react. I can't feel him. No heartbeat, no blood trail lighting him up in my mind's eye. He's not bleeding. I barely have time to register that before I feel his arm snake around my throat from behind, squeezing hard.

I gasp, clawing at his arm, but he's strong. Stronger than I expected. He yanks me backward, my boots slipping on the icy ground. His grip tightens, cutting off my air, and the world starts to tilt sideways.

"Dumb bitch," he growls, his breath hot on the back of my neck. "I'm gonna--"

He doesn't get to finish.

A figure crashes into him from the side, the impact sending both of us sprawling into the snow. I gasp for air, rolling to my knees, coughing as I try to catch my breath. When I look up, I see Multiplex, one of them, standing over the guy who grabbed me. His fists are clenched, his expression hard. I don't even see the moment he gets zip tied into uselessness. It's all over too fast to catch - I only hear the clicking noise.

"You alright?" he asks, not looking at me, his eyes still locked on the thug groaning in the snow.

I nod, even though my throat feels raw and my chest is still tight. "Yeah. Thanks."

Multiplex glances down at the guy for a second, then back at me, his jaw tight. "You shouldn't even be here."

I bristle, pulling myself to my feet, even though my legs feel shaky. "I'm fine. You don't need to--"

"You disobeyed orders," he snaps, cutting me off. His voice is low, but there's a sharp edge to it. "You were told to leave this to the adults. To us."

"I'm not a kid," I shoot back, wiping the snow off my gloves. "I knew what I was doing."

"This isn't a game, Bloodhound!" he hisses, stepping toward me, his eyes blazing. "This is serious. You're going to get yourself killed. Don't you hear the gunfire?"

I bite back the immediate anger rising in my throat. "So ground me, then."

For a second, I think he's going to yell at me again, but then he just lets out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "Later," he mutters, turning away. "We'll talk about this later."

"Where are the others?" I ask him, trying to center myself, scanning the chaos for any sign of backup, watching people scatter in the distance. I know the Delaware Valley Defenders are on their way, but we need them now. We need them ten minutes ago. We need them yesterday. This isn't just a fight anymore. This is a full-blown disaster.

"Two minutes," Multiplex says, a fresh duplicate casually checking his phone before running off to who-knows-where to handle more of the crowd.

Two minutes. We just need to hold out for two minutes.

Easier said than done.

"Kid!" comes a voice from behind me, getting closer with loud, heavy footfalls.

"Mack!" I shout, turning back to him. "You need to get out of here. Get as many people as you can to safety."

"I'm not leaving you here," he snaps, shaking his head. "I'm not--"

"I'm fine," I say, my voice firmer than I feel. "But you need to go. You're not going to be able to fight these guys off with pepper spray. You need to get people out of here."

He hesitates, glancing around at the chaos, but finally, he nods. "Alright. But you better be right behind me, kid."

"I will," I lie, turning away before he can argue. I watch him run toward the fleeing crowd, his broad shoulders cutting through the panic, guiding people toward the exits. He'll be fine.

I turn back to the fight, my heart pounding. The zoo is a war zone. Mr. T-Rex is still rampaging, his massive form crashing through fences and barriers, while the goons swarm the paths, grabbing anyone they can. I see a Multiplex going toe-to-toe with two thugs at once, but even he's struggling to keep up. There's only so many of him to go around

I spot another group of hostiles heading toward the kiddie playground, where a group of kids are huddled with their parents. There's no way I'm letting them get anywhere near those kids. I sprint toward them, my boots slipping in the snow, but I don't slow down.

One of the goons sees me coming and raises his gun, but before he can fire, I slide under him, my legs taking out his balance. He crashes to the ground, and I'm back on my feet in a second, swinging my elbow into the second guy's face. He goes down, clutching his nose, blood pouring between his fingers.

The third guy pulls a knife, but I'm ready for him. I duck under his swing and grab his wrist, twisting it until the knife falls into the snow. He yelps in pain, and I shove him backward, sending him sprawling.

I don't have time to catch my breath. More are coming. Always more.

There's a sound a bit like cannonfire, something loud enough that it makes all of us jump at once. I catch a glimpse of Mr. T-Rex over the tree-line, and then I see the source of the noise, as Captain Plasma accelerates past the sound barrier and slams into Mr. T-Rex hard enough to send him completely on his side.

I hear an engine roar behind me, an ATV cramming its way through the emptied, snow-wet pathways, Fury Forge and Crossroads in tow.

Finally. I can breathe.