"I still don't think you have to tag along," Polaroid sighed while stealthily traversing the shadowed alleys of West Point Docks. It was well past midnight, the occasional lonely lamp post illuminating sharp corners and stacked crates. The city ambiance and flickering, static lights were dull in the hero's ears, and any chance they had in catching her attention were foiled by her wife's insistent grumbling.

"Well tough shit," Marrow replied, her pace matching Polaroid step for step. "You don't just up and tell me you're gonna bust a fucking nest full of thugs and not expect me to flip shit. Of course I'm coming along."

Despite the annoyance, Polaroid couldn't help the hidden smirk that accompanied her eye roll. "Fine, fine. Fair point, I guess. Besides, I've always wanted to see how we work together, you know?"

Marrow scoffed. "Dream Team. Fucking obviously."

"I guess we'll find out." Polaroid capped the conversation with a playful nudge before throwing an arm out to halt Marrow. She pressed a single finger over the mouthpiece of her mask before pointing ahead.

A clear path bisected two long rows of crates and led up to a massive warehouse. Three shadowy figures roamed the entrance, the vague outline of weapons held firmly in their grasps. Their attires were common clothing, varied combinations of tank tops, wife beaters, beanies, skewed caps, baggie jeans and boots.

"On my call..." Polaroid held up one finger. "One"

Long, wispy needles of bone crawled along Marrow's skin, congealing in her palm to form a javelin.

"Two."

"I've got big boy."

Polaroid raised the final finger. "Three!"

Marrow cleared the distance in the blink of an eye, her javelin poised to strike. The men out front jolted in surprise, before three unleashed a hailstorm of bullets on the hero. She raised her javelin to deflect the first rounds, sharp tings! piercing the air. She slid into the closest thug's space and shoved the tip of her javelin deep into his abdomen, crimson spurting from the wound and splattering her armor. She ripped the blade free and immediately spun around to smack a second thug in the temple with a loud whack! He stumbled from the blow, seeing double and swaying on his feet.

Seeing that the first thug had yet to faint from blood loss, Polaroid sprinted around to his right, deftly dodging a wild swing, before ramming her fist into his nose. There was a solid crunch, followed by him flopping over and setting off his AR-15 into a short round of shots.

"Heads up!" Marrow's voice drew Polaroid's attention to a sloppy hook grazing overhead. She ducked and rocketed up to drive an uppercut into the thug's jaw. There was an audible clacking of his teeth smashing together as his head snapped back. The man's eyes rolled as he collapsed at the feet of three other crooks.

All armed.

All dangerous.

The third thug, though trembling at the sight of Marrow and Polaroid, let loose a round and managed to rip a few holes through Marrow's left thigh. The hero grunted and stumbled, cradling her wound with a wince.

"Fucking bag of shit," she growled. Meanwhile, two more rifles shattered the atmosphere but missed their targets completely, the fear ruining their aim beyond comparison.

Flipping her javelin, Marrow swung the pole up in an arc and struck her opponent vertically along the torso. Using the momentum, she bared down on her good leg and lifted the man off his feet to cartwheel him overhead to slam his body into concrete. The wind rushed from his lungs as he rolled onto his side and coughed violently.

Polaroid nearly faltered at the sight of bullet holes tearing through Marrow's leg, but forced herself to focus on handling these thugs as quickly as possible. All of the noise and gunshots must have alerted the others from inside by now; they didn't have much time.

Swiftly, she spun on her heel to ram a punch into the thug's ribs, hearing a muffled snap! The criminal wheezed and keeled over--big mistake. Polaroid smashed her knee into his face, sending the man flying onto his back and completely unconscious. Just as she turned around to help Marrow, she caught sight of a fallen thug barely hanging onto a string of consciousness.

He shakily raised his gun to aim at the bone bender.

"Marrow! Behind you!" Polaroid yelled.

Luckily, the warning reached Marrow's ears, who jumped aside at the last moment to dodge the bullet. Another cluster of shells raced past her face, warming the mask covering her cheeks.

In her shock, Marrow's javelin dissipated and retreated through the pores of her skin.

"Fuck!" she cursed before gripping the barrel of the thug's rifle and snapping it back to smack into his face. A lonely drop of blood rolled past his lips, but he had yet to budge nor release the weapon.

Polaroid's heart still raced from the sight of bullets nearly missing her wife's skull. Her blazing eyes zeroed in on the cowardly thug, who was attempting to crawl away to safety. However, he released a gurgling scream as his shoulder snapped under the hero's mighty stomp, before fainting from the pain. She then sprinted after Marrow and the final thug, shouting, "Duck!"

Marrow didn't need to hear another word. She dropped down just in time to see Polaroid sail overhead and flatten with thug's chest with a flying kick. He stumbled and fell back from the force, one hand slapped over his sternum as his dry coughs and heaves ripped from his throat.

In his desperation, the thug blindly unloaded another round and succeeded in tearing a gash through Polaroid's side. The hero yelped and covered the wound with shaky hands.

"You son of a..." Marrow punt kicked him in the jaw, watching as a thick whip of blood and saliva jetted from his lips. He was no longer moving. "Bitch!"

"Cookie? C-Cookie, your leg," Polaroid stuttered while kneeling down to inspect Marrow's wound, fighting the pain blossoming in her side. It was merely a flesh wound and nothing terrible; she would rather focus on the holes in her partner's leg. However, Marrow waved her off before gently pulling her to her feet.

"Fuck that, I'm fine. What about you? Can you move okay? You feeling faint?"

Polaroid nodded. "I'm okay... Think you can still go on?"

"Babe, we don't have much of a fucking choice right now--"

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT HERE!"

The warehouse doors violently swung open to reveal at least eight more lackeys. Some were armed with more AR-15 rifles, while others brandished knives, metal bats, and crowbars.

"...Fuck"

"R-run!"

The heroes took off into the maze of crates, criminals hot on their heels.

The pair, though reluctant to do so, split up. Marrow headed east, while Polaroid ran west. The thugs were quick to split as well, four men hunting down each woman with their weapons at the ready. The group tailing Marrow somewhat struggled to match her pace, but managed to keep her within sight despite the shadowy night. On the other hand, Polaroid wasn't as fast as her wife and neither was the group hot in pursuit of her, their steps uncertain and slow.

}:{

Marrow maneuvered through the complex network of pathways and corners as quickly as she could, annoyed to hear several footsteps not far behind. Fuck! What do these assholes have--eagle eyes?! Gritting her teeth, she suddenly leaped at the peak of her running and spun around, shooting an arm out to summon her bone javelin.

Mid-air, the skeletal fibers came together to form her trusty weapon once more, elongating until the blade pushed its way into the first thug's shoulder, just barely sliding past the shaft of his crowbar. He released a blood-curdling scream and bent back from the pain, his body trying to retract. She kicked the man free of her javelin as she landed and whipped around to face the others.

Two of them flanked Marrow, both grasping metal bats, and swung out violently. Crushing impact was made with her ribs and wounded thigh, pushing through the gaps of her armor and rocking her nerves with pain. Marrow crumbled onto her side, her leg giving out and just missing a stray bullet. The shell lodged itself into a crate.

Marrow pushed through the agony biting at her leg and ribs, and forced herself to her feet. She batted aside another swing from one of the bats and gripped fistfuls of the man's wife beater. He was whipped around until his back slammed into the slick metal of a crate, leaving behind a sizable dent.

She jammed her javelin forward to skewer the man alive. However, he wiggled free of her grasp and just barely escaped with the side of his top ripped open and the tip of her weapon piercing the crate.

"Fucking keep still already!" Marrow raged before yanking her javelin free. The crater peeled back and widened even more, creating a ring of jagged metal.

Her arm shot out to catch a crowbar mid-swing, while the other blocked a baseball bat with the shaft of her javelin. She and the pair of thugs were stuck in a war of strength until another bat cracked against her torso.

The bone bender wheezed, but oxygen fled from her system entirely as two bursts of crimson exploded from her shoulder. There was a round of cackles, the man withholding his rifle closing in on Marrow.

It hurt.

Everything fucking hurt.

Marrow's entire body throbbed like an erratic heartbeat, out of sync and angry. And yet, the rage building within overwhelmed her senses and her lips peeled apart to reveal a bloody snarl. She was sick of this bullshit. The more time she wasted with these low life fuckers, the more danger her wife was in.

"Get. Out. OF MY WAY!" Suddenly, one thug dropped his weapon and wailed in pure agony, his body contorting in unnatural angles as he crumbled to the ground. He writhed and squirmed pathetically until his will broke and succumbed to unconsciousness. She severed her connection to the man's skeletal system with a clipped breath, the backlash of her abilities already sending a faint ache to her temples.

The others took several steps back.

Marrow loomed forward like a demon summoned straight out of Hell. The men were a quivering mess, their mind's eyes replaying their partner's horrific demise over and over. One shot forward with an overhead swing of his crowbar, only for a skeleton hand to seize it in a fisted grip and yank him closer, pulling him off balance. He stumbled past the hero clumsily.

The second attempted to quickly circle around into Marrow's blind spot and whack her in the back of her skull. The swing made solid contact... and yet she didn't recoil from the impact. Slowly, she turned around to pin him down with a glare that promised an early death.

He gulped.

The last thug proved to be of no help. His trigger finger was barely able to cooperate, and the choppy round he was able to release sailed wide and far off target.

Suddenly, both hands seized his face, preventing him from escaping--

Crack!

Marrow's mask smashed into his forehead with bone-rattling impact. Blood streamed down his face and painted the front of his wife beater as absolute dizziness overtook him. And then it happened again, the blow more devastating than the last, and his feet gave out. He fell onto his haunches, extremely dazed.

Taking advantage of the distraction, the thug who was tossed aside attempted to pop Marrow's knee out of its joint with a swing.

Ting!

...

"...Ouch," Marrow drawled dryly.

The dazed crook remained dizzy and unstable on the ground, his eyes swimming in his head. And once again, the gunman failed to land any shots on her person, which earned a low cackle from the hero.

In retaliation, Marrow snapped his kneecap out of place with a precise kick and silenced his scream with a swift punch to the jaw. Before he could flop unconscious, she caught him by the scruff of his tank top and dragged him towards his discombobulated partner. With a scoff, Marrow chucked him like a dead weight projectile and watched as they collided with a loud wham!

Three down.

One more small fry to go.

"Shoot me, chickenshit," Marrow growled as she slowly closed the distance between her and the final thug. Not a single iota of his being was left unshaken; his fearful quivers rivaled that of a low scale earthquake, beads of sweat rolling down his tan visage. He found himself rooted in spot, eyes wide upon realizing that his trigger finger wouldn't listen to his commands.

Marrow grabbed the barrel with one hand and shoved it against her chest, eyes icy cold. "Pull the trigger... chickenshit."

Nothing.

He still couldn't bring himself to move.

"Come on, chickenshit!"

Still nothing.

Schlick!

The javelin buried itself deeply into the man's stomach, his body curving and hunching into the weapon as blood spilled past his lips. Pure shock overwhelmed his system--

And then it lengthened, skewering him completely. He fell limp. Marrow kicked him off and, without missing a beat, sprinted the way from which she came and headed straight for Polaroid. 

"Hang in there," she rushed out, "Hang in there!"

}:{

Polaroid pumped her legs as fast as she could.

The thugs were trailing behind, nearly as slow as she was. No, they had slowed down even more; she could only thank God that her wife made her train with her. Without that extra boost in stamina and endurance, those goons would've caught up to her by now.

And yet, just as the thought trailed through her mind, the wind was promptly knocked out of her. 

Impact was made with her chest, fast and hard, and her back smashed into gravel. Wheezing, she tried to scramble away from the thug and put space between them. There was a cacophony of foot falls, the remaining three thugs soon catching up and circling the hero.

Demi... P-please hurry.

Smiles, wide and oozing with something vile, slithered across the thugs' visages. Two of them raised their rifles and unleashed a handful of rounds.

"Shit!" Polaroid lunged to the left, only to release a yelp as two bullets ripped through her calf, a shower of crimson staining the ground behind her. She flopped onto her side, nails curling shakily into dirt and grime. It took every drop of willpower not to let her lungs heave with a whimper.

Pack!

Further oxygen fled from her as a kick smashed into her stomach, spit jumping up the back of her throat. Polaroid rolled away while clutching her abdomen.

"Hah! She's not all that!" One thug sneered as he loomed over her with a bat. "You think you're tough shit? Huh? You're outnumbered! It's one against four!" Just as he said this, he swung his arms out to gesture to her situation, only to wince as his bat smacked into one of his comrades.

"OW! FUCK YOU IDIOT WATCH WHERE YOU'RE SWINGING THAT!"

"...My bad."

If Polaroid wasn't wearing a mask, then her glare, harsher and icier than a frozen tundra, would be on full display. These punks were seriously underestimating her. It hurt. She was shot, steadily bleeding, and endured spikes of pain with every inhale. She was scared. But if she was anything else, above all that, above being Polaroid, above being a hero...

I am the wife of Demi. Elona. Locklear.

Taking advantage of the gang's distraction, a shaky hand lifted, ever so slightly, just enough to avoid their attention, and in the next instant--

Sirens. Loud, looping, piercing the air and ears of her assailants. Then came the shining lights of red and blue peeking over the tops of crates.

"Sh-shit! Fuzz are here too?!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"D-dammit! They've surrounded us!"

As three of the thugs proceeded to lose their composure, one of them grimaced. This was... This wasn't real at all. These idiots couldn't see through that? "Oi, dumbasses! Look alive, it's just--!"

Just as he drew his next breath, it turned out to be his last. His body seized up as Polaroid's mind prison enveloped him. Pure shock and sensory overload filled his brain, pounding against the interior of his skull, and before anyone could blink, his conscience was yanked into the inky pits of his subconscious. He flopped over, immobile and no different than a vegetable.

Polaroid staggered to her feet, breathing labored as her hands curled into fists at her side. "Who's... next," she rasped.

"H-hey, look! We don't want any trouble, alright?!" The trio scrambled away from Polaroid, though they couldn't travel far with the giant crates and threat of authorities looming behind them. Sweat rolled down their faces, stained the collars of their already dirtied clothing. "We give! We give! Let's just go our s-separate ways, alright?!"

Polaroid ignored their pleas and advanced on them. There was no telling when they would see through her illusion, so she had to utilize whatever time she had left.

"Okay," she said, "If you give up, then this'll make my job way easier."

Polaroid pounced on the nearest thug with a right hook, her fist meeting his jaw with a solid smack! He stumbled back from the hit while scrambling to right himself, grip tight on the crowbar. Another thug tried to attack from behind, only for ribbons of blood to roll down his face as the hero smashed an elbow into his nose.

She twisted around and seized him by the shoulders, forcing him back while hooking a leg around the back of his own. Gritting her teeth, she poured all her strength into slamming the man onto his back. The groan that met her ears was light, likely not as hard of a landing as she hoped.

Unfortunately, the fall didn't do much to faze the man. Grunting, he blinked up at the hero before snarling like a wild animal. He raised his rifle. "Sick of you, fucking bitch!" Just as he spat the last word, more steaming copper sliced through the short space between him and Polaroid, cutting through the sensitive flesh of her side. The hero winced and slapped a hand over the wound--

Pack!

Her ribs rattled, a boot smashing into the center of her back and sending her to the ground. She fell to her hands and knees, trembling. Visibly. Near violently. She was losing too much blood far too quickly. At this rate, she wouldn't hold up for long.

A click of the trigger. Something cold and hard jammed into the back of her skull.

"You're done, psychic bitch."

No... No, no, no. She was not done.

Not by a long shot.

Muscles coiling and adrenaline spiking, pain took an abrupt backseat. In the blink of an eye, Polaroid swung backwards to knock the gun free of the thug's grasp. She rolled aside with the momentum of her move, coming to a stop next to the fallen weapon and quickly raising it. However, he was already on top of her, preparing to descend upon her with the wrath of a gnarly beast.

It was all instinct. Nothing else. Nothing but the nerves fluttering about in her gut and the pounding playing a chaotic beat in her skull. Nothing but a stiff fist arching into his chin with a powerful uppercut.

His teeth audibly clacked from the hit, head snapping back. Eyes rolling. Conscience... fading...

He collapsed. Two down. Two more.

"You..." A goon sprinted forward with his bat raised. "YOU SONUVA--"

Bang! Bang!

He crumbled.

One thug to go.

It was him. Only him. It had all happened so fast--one moment, he and his buddies were overpowering this no named hero. They were going to take care of her like it was nothing. A quick job. Like tossing out the trash. But now... Now his odds weren't looking so hot.

But he was a hot head. And he'd rather chew off his own fucking foot than bow down to a wannabe Darth Vader bitch.

His chest ballooned before a war cry exploded from him. He dashed forward to whack Polaroid in the temple, but she merely ducked and delivered a strike of her own to his stomach, quickly snapping a knee into his face after.

He bounced back from the blows quickly. Flashing crimson-stained teeth, he rammed his shoulders into her gut and pressed forward like a bulldozer, carrying her along with him until her back slammed into metal. The crate caved under the impact, curling around Polaroid's thin, beaten form.

Polaroid was yanked down to her feet by the thug, his fingers clawing away at her arms as she tried to shield herself. He was restless. Merciless. Ruthless. All forms of inhibition and logic abandoned, clouded by the rage surging through his hot veins. Just a step below frantic. It made it near impossible for the hero to spot an opening, forcing her to endure the onslaught while wondering how many seconds she had left before exhaustion would knock her unconscious.

He rammed her into the crate over and over, shoving and slamming and pushing and pulling and growling. Over and over and over... Polaroid was growing dizzier.

Wham! Wham! Whack!

Dizzier.

Crack! Bam! Wham!

And dizzier still.

Pack! Crack! Thwack!

She slammed her heel into his gut.

The thug sputtered in surprise, stumbling back several steps as shock and imbalance crashed over him. Polaroid curled five fingers into a single, solid, vengeance-seeking fist. Steeling her nerves and soul, she advanced on the man, trained on her target like a seasoned predator. She leapt off her hind leg and, with a strained cry, descended her fist upon the back of his skull.

CRACK!

He smashed face-first into gravel. Silent. Unconscious.

Polaroid remained where she was. Frozen. Struggling to soak in her surroundings. To comprehend what just happened.

...She did it. She was alive. She managed to take on four people and come out unsca...

Her balance swayed.

However, something solid and warm caught her before she could smack into asphalt. The hero blinked wearily, vision adjusting slowly until a familiar skull mask came into view. A natural yet exhausted smile pulled at Polaroid's lips. "H... H-hey, baby. You're l-late..."

"Fuck, Pen," Marrow hissed while looking over her wife. She was bleeding from her leg and abdomen, scratches and tears decorated her arms, and she even spotted a few gashes marring her back. To see her wife in such a condition... Marrow nearly forgot how to breathe. Voice shaky, she growled, "I-I should've got here sooner... Fuck... Fuck!"

"D-don't." Polaroid cupped a bony cheek. "Don't under... underestimate me, now. I'm... I-I'm your wife, remember? I c-can be... can be tough t-too."

"You're the damn toughest," Marrow rasped, a hand falling over the one cradling her face. "Fuck the warehouse. We took care of the heavy load. Let's get you patched up and come back later."

Polaroid parted her lips to protest--

"Don't you fucking dare."

She snapped her mouth shut.

Marrow grunted. "That's what I thought... Come're." With another grunt, she easily lifted Polaroid into her arms and navigated her way back out under the cloak of night.