To Skitter In Sin: Falling (Patreon)

A rewrite of an old story I didn't really care for. This will be updated as I finish working on the chapters between other stuff!

[Falling]

I wasn't sure when it started, but for a long time, I could only ever see things ending one way for me.

Ever since I lost sight of that wide-eyed girl with dreams of heroism and started to focus on the bigger picture, that “greater good” that had been the cause of so much pain, I couldn't imagine my story ever having a happy ending. The best I could hope for was a quick death to Scion's rays or maybe just a bullet in my blindspot by one of my allies who thought I was too far gone to save.

Maybe I had Lisa to thank for that odd spark of clairvoyance.

Two shots to the back of the head. I didn’t even hear the first, didn't feel the second. As I fell forward and the buzzing agony in my brain slowed to a crawl, I tried to mouth the words that I knew I couldn’t speak, but my lips failed to move. Even so, my fading mind buzzed with gratitude and two simple words.

Thank you. 

Thank you for stopping me from becoming a monster. Thank you for putting me out of my misery. Thank you for delivering justice upon me where nobody else could. There were many things to thank Contessa for, but nowhere near enough time to say it. The black was creeping in, a slow-motion shutter that was darkening the world, and I accepted it fully, closing my eyes and plunging into the eternal rest that had been provided to me.

Only… it wasn't quite the rest I expected. Almost as soon as I closed my eyes, they snapped open again. 

No… not quite snapped. It was more like my vision flickered in, as if my sight had been a dying flame and someone had provided me just enough fuel to reignite the fire. My mind came back to me in fragments, pieces of a puzzle put back together in the wrong ways, begging to be sorted properly. I tried to breath, but all I could produce was a clicking gasp as I stared at an unfamiliar sky.

Red filled my vision. A deep, bloody sheet of crimson and black was draped over the world, casting the stone walls around me in its shadow. At first I thought it was a prison, but that couldn’t be possible. I died….

Didn’t I?

I could feel my power buzzing in the back of my head, but it felt different. The screaming of my Shard, which had once drowned out everything but the basest thoughts, had quietened to nothing but a whisper. A momentary sense of panic overcame me before I pushed it down, focusing on the moment.

Move, old instincts ordered me. Assess your situation; don’t stay here.

My mind felt stitched together but I scrambled to my hands and knees. My hands—both of them? How?—scraped roughly against the ground and I glanced down at the sound. Eight clawed fingers of jet-black chitin stared up at me, claws carving deep furrows into the concrete underneath me with barely any resistance.

I lifted one hand to my face, barely understanding what I was seeing. Glossy exoskeleton caught the light, unporous and unyielding. I pressed my fingers to my cheek, freezing at the light click of chitin on chitin instead of the soft thumping of skin. My face had changed too?

Suppressing another surge of panic, I stood on shaky legs. The action was more difficult than it should have been.  My center of gravity had shifted to somewhere in my chest, and a quick glance down revealed why.

My whole body had changed. My legs were long and thin, and ended in sharp stubs, like the tips of a spider’s legs. My torso was armored but shrunken to the point of being almost emaciated apart from a swell where my breasts once were, while a leathery cape curled softly around my ankles.

Only it wasn’t a cape, I realized as I focused on it. I could feel it, connected to my back and twitching every time I took a breath. I had wings.

“What’s going on?” I tried to say. The word didn't come out as a normal, but as a hollow, buzzing rasp, vibrating through my face and chest. I reached up again and ran my hand across my face. There was no or mouth or even eyes; it was completely smooth.

My hand dropped to my side and I stared off into space, unsure how I was even managing it without eyes. 

So, not only was I alive, but I’d been turned into some kind of insect Case 53. Had my Shard mutated after being modified so drastically? Or was Contessa somehow responsible for this too?

Seeking answers, I stumbled from the alley. My gait was strange; my new legs punched into the concrete rather than resting on it, and I had to lift my knees higher to compensate. I held onto the wall for balance, and my claws carved into stone like it was butter.

I emerged from the alleyway and was met with a street unlike any other I had seen. The crimson sky spread outward above a world of twisted metal and garish neon, a mishmash of so many colors and cultures that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Victorian boutiques sat beside eighties gas stations, and the people—id you could even call them that—might have been the strangest of all.

A man wearing a suit with a plunger for a head walked by clutching a leash attached to a sentient, snarling cannonball. A few feet in the opposite direction, a scantily clad woman with four arms and blue skin was arguing with a burning skeleton in a tank top who seemed mostly unconcerned with whatever vitriol she was spitting at him. Even more impossible creatures lined the streets behind them, doing any number of random things.

Despite their deformities, they acted remarkably human. A few of them were smoking cigarettes and I even saw one with a bottle that simply read “BOOZE”, though he didn't seem very happy with its contents as he tossed it in the street after just a few sips.

An alternate Earth, I theorized as I stumbled forward. A containment zone, maybe. They dump their failures here and let them sort it out among themselves.

Even as I though it, I knew it wasn't Cauldron’s MO. They’d been pretty intent on making sure their sins had been hidden away. Dumping your failed experiments on an alternate Earth and hoping they wouldn’t come back to bite you wasn’t very forward thinking. More importantly, why would they send me here?

I strode into the chaos in search of answers, my clicking footsteps lost in the cacophony of the city. Screams, laughter, and the thrum of heavy bass music filled the air. Somewhere far off, I heard the distant pop of explosions, but nobody else seemed concerned so I kept my head down, pulling my shoulders in, for all the good it did me. I was taller than most of the mutants walking the street, and that was drawing eyes.

I needed information. I needed to know which Earth this was so I could find a way back or at least figure out if all my efforts were even worth it. Was Lisa okay? Or Dinah? What happened to the world that I doomed myself to save? The questions swirled around my mind, a confusing cacophony that left a knot of anxiety sitting in my chest.

I spotted a sign flickering in neon purple: “THE POUR HOUSE” Despite being so far away, I could smell the alcohol wafting down the street. Bars had people, and people talked. A good place to get some info.

I ducked my head to enter the doorway. The interior was dim and hazy, the air filled with a faint purple smoke. Some kind of plant-man sat in a booth and a cyclops was wiping down a table. Both of them looked bored out of their minds, and both were the only people in here other than the bartender.

Said bartender was a massive, furry creature with goat horns and a nose ring. He was wiping the wood down with a rag that looked dirtier than the counter, moving it back and forth like it was doing anything. He looked up as I approached and scowled.

“We don't serve bugs,” he grunted. “Go find a lamp to stare at.”

I gripped the edge of the bar. My claws left deep gouges in the wood and the bartender scowled at me until I let it go.

“Where...” My voice came out as a gravely echo, and it took a moment to get my bearings. “Where am I? Which Earth is this?”

The bartender raised a brow. “Earth? You hit your head on the fall down?”

“The location,” I rasped. “Is this a containment zone? Earth Shin?”

He chuckled, realization lighting his eyes. “You sound like one of those sci-fi nerds.” He leaned over the counter. "You’re fresh, aren’t you? Just dropped?”

I tilted my head, confused, and he pointed a thumb upward, toward the crimson sky just beyond the roof.

“You died, toots. Kicked the bucket, bought the farm and moved right in, just like the rest of us.” He grinned, revealing yellow, jagged teeth. “Welcome to Hell.”

I froze, almost unable to believe what I was believing.

 Hell. I was in Hell.

My mind raced to reject it but deep down, the answer rang as the truth. My last moments flashed through my mind like the gunshots that tore through my grey matter and, apparently, sent me spiralling down here

“Hell,” I repeated softly, and the bartender snorted.

“Yeah, kid. Hell. The bad place, whatever you wanna call this shit-heap melting pot of sin.” the bartender grunted. “Now that we’re done playing twenty questions, get out. I already said I don’t serve bugs.”

I stood there for a second longer, processing, then slowly turned and walked away.

The street was almost deafeningly loud compared to the empty bar. With the revelations spinning around in my head, it was hard to focus on anything besides putting one foot in front of the other, so I didn’t.

So I was in Hell... It wasn’t the lake of fire and endless suffering that I’d expected it to be, but it was still a punishment. I had saved the world. I had sacrificed my humanity, my body, and my mind to stop Scion, and this was the reward? More suffering?

It wasn’t that I didn’t think I deserved it; there wasn’t a single point in time after Aster that I thought I still had a chance at being sent to Heaven or any other good place but… I guess I thought it’d at least be over. I could rest.

I glanced up, gazing at a neon sign promoting an energy drink. The tag simply read: “No Rest For The Wicked!” and had a man with two heads chugging the most obnoxiously colored beverage I’d ever seen in my life.

I stared at it, then kept walking.

I wandered aimlessly for minutes, or maybe hours. I found myself back in a quiet, dark alley, away from the noise. I needed to think. I wouldn't get the peace I wanted, however. I took less than three steps into the alley when a chittering sound to my left made me freeze.

My head snapped toward the noise just in time to watch as figures emerged from the shadows of a dumpster. They were small, hunched creatures with red skin and white horns, holding rusted knives and broken bottles and looked hungry.

“Ooh, lookie here,” one of them hissed with a voice like gravel. “Fresh meat. I haven't had bug in a while.”

“Think she's got any cash?” the second one asked, tapping a pipe against his palm.

I stood up straight. My confusion evaporated, replaced instantly by a mental calm that had become almost instinctual to me since I fought Mannequin.

This may have been Hell, but the rules hadn’t changed. If I wanted to survive long enough to figure out what I was going to do, I had to stay alive.

“Walk away,” I warned, voice low and threatening.

“Or what?” The leader sneered, before lunging at me.

He swung the knife and I moved almost before the thought even crossed my mind. Unnatural awareness of the world around me flooded in and I sidestepped, lashing out with a clawed hand as the demon’s knife passed me by.

The chitinous claws sheared through the demon's wrist like it was wet paper. The knife continued moving alongside his severed hand, landing on the alley floor with a wet thud.

Everyone froze. He stared at his stump for a second, watching as blood spurted from the wound with the beating of his heart. Then, he started screaming. 

“AAAH! HOLY SHIT! MY HAND! SHE CUT OFF MY FUCKING HAND—”

I silenced him with a backhand that sent him flying into the brick wall with a wet crunch. He slid down and slumped over, mouth agape in unconscious or death.

The other two stared at their friend’s body, completely flabbergasted. I didn’t wait for them to recover, stalking towards them and grabbing the second demon by his throat, squeezing roughly.

I didn’t know how strong this body was, but it was clear that it had some Brute capabilities. The demon tried to pry me off, but his fingers slipped against my skin as I lifted him off of the ground with one hand, continuing to apply the pressure. After a moment, there was a wet pop as cartilage gave way, and I dropped him as he went limp.

The third one turned to run, bolting towards the edge of the alley. I swiveled to face him, focusing on the low buzz in the back of my head and the presence laying just on the other side.

Attack, I pushed the thought out, and something responded with an eager growl.

In the dumpster, the trash shifted. A swarm of massive, fist-sized things with glowing red eyes and spiked shells erupted from the filth.

They swarmed the fleeing demon. He shrieked as they bit into his ankles and tripped, falling face-first into the grime. I felt their desire to set upon him and feast on his flesh, but I held them back, looming over him as the creatures nibbled at his skin.

“Leave and don't come back,” I rasped. He nodded fearfully, scrambling at the ground as the creatures bit him over and over again. I let him write for a few seconds to drive the point home, before releasing him

The demon scrambled to his, sobbing, and sprinted into the night.

“Very nice,” an oily voice came from above, and I slowly turned, lifting my gaze to the fire escape.

Another demon watched from on high. He was slender, wearing a green pinstripe suit, with a head reminiscent of a shark, teeth and all. I knew he was there. I felt him come in after I took care of the first demon, waiting and watching.

“Most sinners spend their first hour crying in a gutter,” he said, hopping down to the street level. “You, on the other hand, woke up, walked around a bit, and murdered two locals. I appreciate a woman with initiative.”

I analyzed him. He had no weapons but it was clear he wasn't scared of me. He proved just that as he sauntered up fearlessly, an easy smile on his face.

The bugs that I took control of skittered to me through the darkness, their minds eager and filled with desire to feast. They were smarter than the bugs on earth, smarter than Atlas had been, but not quite human. They eyed the shark eagerly, and he eyed them in turn.

“Relax, doll. I’m not gonna try anything. I got a feeling that’d be a bad idea.” he chuckled, stepping past me and over to the hand that I’d cut off the first demon. He picked it up and popped it into his mouth without a second thought, gulping it down in a few short crunches.

He licked blood from his chops. “Imp meat always tastes like it’s been cooked for a little too long. Word of advise: if you’re ever in the mood for something fresh, I’d stay away from Hellborn.”

“What do you want?” I asked. He chuckled, still seeming completely unthreatened.

“Not one for small talk, are ya? That's fine, I've worked with worse.” He turned to face me, flashing a smile that was all teeth. “Here's the deal: you look like you could use someone to show you how things work around here, and I could use a little extra help in my business ventures. You ever take up mercenary work back when that heart was still beating?”

I thought back to my days as Skitter. “Once or twice.”

“Well now's as good a time as any to dust off an old hat. You work for me for a little while, and I'll show you all the ins and outs of our little slice of the afterlife. A little quid pro quo, as they say.”

I stared at him, taking in his sharp suit and slimy grin. Everything about him was completely untrustworthy, but the offer seemed genuine, at least at face value. Still, I had no intention of being roped into another unfavorable deal so soon after being reborn. I had been taken advantage of enough while alive.

“What sort of work are you talking about?”.

“Sales.” he laughed, the sound petering off as I stared at him. His smile wavered just a bit, before it was back in full force. “You are just a ray of sunshine, aren't you, chérie?”

I stared harder. The bugs chittered, reacting to my impatience. His eyes flicked to them, and then back to me and he adjusted his collar.

Clearing his throat, he tried to lighten his voice back into that easy pitch and mostly succeeded. “Well, I'm what you could call an entrepreneur. I've got my own little slice of heaven down here in this pit, and I'm looking to expand, if you catch my drift. Thing is, there's some real nasty folks who would love to see my head rolling for trying just that, so I can't exactly start buying up property without some… assurances.”

I read between the lines and recognized a familiar pattern. “You're a warlord.”

His eyes widened, before a sharp laugh escaped him. “I ain't quite stupid enough to give myself that title just yet. No doll, I'm not. ‘Least not yet. Right now, I'm just looking to run a successful business, and I need some competent employees to do that.”

Though confused by his reaction, I understood the core of his statement. I relaxed just a small bit, reigning in my bugs and making them stalk back into the darkness where they waited just out of sight.

The shark seemed to take their disappearance as a good sign and relaxed, his shoulder drooping just a tad. His smile became a little more genuine. “So we’ve got a deal then?”

“For now,” I nodded. I needed information, and he was willing to provide it. Though practically everything about him rubbed me the wrong way, I couldn’t afford to be picky right now.

“Wonderful!” he said, holding his hand out to shake. “The name’s Carx. And I think you and I are gonna do some great things together.”

I grabbed his hand.