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She went after the second of the puppets and this time whipped the rope around its human legs, dropping the creature to the ground. She ran up on it, twisted the rest of the rope around its waist, cinched a knot, held on tight, and gave it a burst of speed. The meat puppet split apart, two pieces falling with wet sandbag sounds.
Two more of the meat puppets closed on her, recognizing that she was the immediate danger. One Shade dispatched by hurling a section of steel mast like a javelin. It skewered the foul creature, but then something struck Shade’s neck.
She jerked away with speed that saved her life, but barely. The place where the tendril had touched felt like someone had jabbed a cattle prod deep into her neck.
Shade bolted, ran, then . . . slowed. Her limbs had gone heavy. Her insectoid legs had lost their spring. The world around her sped up as she slowed.
Poison!
She began to de-morph, but instinct warned her not to, and she stopped, fearing that the poison within her would not be eliminated by resuming her human form. Suspecting that out of morph, the poison would kill her.
She folded her legs beneath her and sat hard on the dock. Breathing was coming hard. Her vision blurred and her head swam, as the dock turned beneath her. Nausea rose in a wave.
A meat puppet advanced, and it was all Shade could do to keep it in sight as the whole world went sideways and slanted and prismatic.
Tendrils whipped the air and in seconds would stab her again and again, filling her body with enough poison to kill any living thing.
Water. She had to reach the water. Get away.
Her legs were as awkward as stilts badly attached to her body. Her hands were better and she clawed at the dock, hauling herself inch by inch . . . but there, just before her, a pool of liquid fire.
Too weary. Stop right here.
The meat puppet advanced, as all around Shade Darby raged a battle like nothing the world had ever seen.
So much for being a superhero, Shade thought as the meat puppet and its flails loomed closer.
CHAPTER 26
Innocent Bystander
ONE PERSON ON that dock had ever been in many a fight to the death. Only one had come near to death so many times that she and death were practically on friendly terms. Shade had fought, but only Dekka was a true combat veteran.
Her eyes surveyed the scene. Armo, morphed again, stood wet at her side. The Shade Darby person had knocked out two of the meat puppets, then fallen.
The shape-shifter or whatever she was, Cruz, was human once more, crouching in fear.
The simple fact was that they did not have the power to beat Napalm, and they certainly did not have the power to beat the incredible beast tearing itself free of the ship like a man fighting his way out of a paper bag.
“Armo,” Dekka said, “I suggest retreat.”
The white-furred berserker glared at her through slitted eyes and made an animal roar. But then, in a more human voice, he said, “Let them fight it out?”
“Shade!” Cruz cried, pointing.
Dekka trotted down the dock, aimed, howled, and fired. The meat puppet flew apart as if it had swallowed a bomb. Cruz ran to Shade, and Dekka rejoined Armo.
“Where were we?” Dekka wondered aloud.
“Thinking about running away,” Armo said.
Dekka nodded. “Let them fight it out and we take on the winner.”
Yes, that was the logical thing. It was the unemotional thing. Two vastly powerful enemies were fighting each other. She had a vague memory of a quote, something about not interfering with your enemy when he’s making a mistake.
But logic was not everything. There was also . . . hate.
Dekka turned toward Drake, who seemed transfixed by the great red beast now grappling with Napalm, and shouted, “You! You and me, Drake. You and me!”
