Bain rolled off the chunk of rubble he'd gone to sleep on and crashed into the ground with a dull thud.

Lifting his head, Bain blinked back the sleep threatening the corners of his vision. It happened too fast for him to try and retain the comfortable dream-like feeling of being half-asleep, but at least he was awake now. He rolled his neck, popping the joints and pushing himself to his feet. Grabbing his own head, he carefully twisted it until the very last pop was worked out of his system, and he shook his head, fully waking up.

Rubbing at his eyes, he looked around and... something was different.

He walked over to Stitches, who was knocked out cold in a rather uncomfortable-looking position on a slab of concrete, small shards surrounding him. Bain shook him gently. "Stitches? I think something's wrong."

Waking up with a start, a barely visible vibration sprang into existence at the tips of Stitches' fingers. Bain wouldn't have noticed it if he didn't know what Stitches' power was, and even then it was hard to make out. Blinking blearily, Stitches asked dimly, "Whazz... whassup? What's... rung. Wrong. What's wrong?" He shook his head, waking up a lot slower than Bain had. "What's going on?"

Bain indicated the floor, morning light streaming in through the empty windows. His claw slowly slid up to aim at the intact door, and the lack of any holes in the ceiling. Stitches' eyes widened as he realized the problem. "We need to get outside."

Throwing the door open, Bain flexed his claws. He was ready for anything. Vengeful villains, an alternate dimension, maybe even an attack from Firepower. He wasn't really sure what to expect, but he was confident he could fight it off if Stitches was helping. He squinted, his eyes rapidly adjusting to the light, and then his jaw dropped.

Every single building, every piece of indecipherable graffiti, the cracks in the road, all of it was fixed. Repaired as if by magic. It would have taken Bain and Stitches a long, long time to get even a small amount of this work done, but whatever it was that had done this had done so in a single night.

Stepping out some more, he noticed a rat probably fifteen feet long, very dead, sitting in the middle of the road. Its skin had been punctured repeatedly, and smelled absolutely delicious. A short poison-checking sniff later, Bain yanked the rat next to the cube. No use wasting food, even if he didn't know where it came from. Although...

Looking closer, he realized that the buildings weren't perfectly repaired. Rather than the faintly patterned cement and concrete they'd been composed of when they'd entered, the walls were... rippling.

Bain relaxed suddenly, exhaling in relief. "Oh, it's you guys. You startled me."

Stitches raised an eyebrow at him. "Eh, Bain? Who are you... oh." His sentence was ended as the walls came alive with centipedes, several thousand of them staring at Bain. The creatures simply shimmered into existence, as though they'd been there to start with.

A particularly large centipede crawled down the walls. It was a greenish-blue shade, and there was a chitinous V of bone on its forehead. It approached Bain with what could only be called a smug swagger. He hadn't known centipedes could do that.

Bain's face split in a grin, the center of his head separating slightly to reveal the black maw of teeth inside. "Gren! I haven't seen you in forever, how are you doing?"

The shedding - Gren - preened slightly. "I am doing well, Bain. We noticed you wanted to repair your area and wanted to help." The army of centipedes behind him, covering the walls and floor, bobbed their heads in obvious agreement, a faint murmur of excitement spreading through them.

Stitches tapped Bain on the upper shoulder, and the centipedes bristled. He ignored them. "Bain, since when could sheddings camouflage?"

Bain looked at him curiously. "They've always been able to do that. I thought you knew about that."

Gren interjected. The shedding's voice was low and a little rough. "Of course they didn't know. What would the point of sneaking be if no one was fooled? Humans are so easy to fool, after all."

Stitches frowned. "What are you talking about? Humans have been sticking around since well before Nahma rose to power, I'm sure of it. We would have noticed."

Gren and Bain exchanged a look, then broke into laughter. Stitches was more than a little taken aback. "What? What'd I say?"

Bain was clearly trying not to laugh at Stitches, but it didn't look as though he could stop. "Stitches, Nahma's been around for thousands of years. I don't think anyone is better at staying unnoticed than he is."

Gren agreed, shaking his head and still laughing in a broken stutter. "Ehehehehe, yes. The Begi- Nahma has thrived underground since before your species even learned how to fly. You humans can't even adapt your insides! How would you see us if we didn't want you to? We are far superior."

Stitches was feeling a little hurt. More so by the fact that Bain fully agreed with Gren, and mostly because the shedding had just insulted the entire species of humanity. "Well, we've got superpowers. Nahma might be freakin' huge, and tough, and strong as all get out, and he might be able to spawn however many of you things there are-"

Gren cut in amusedly. "Were you attempting to insult us? You are quite bad at it." The sheddings coating the walls of the buildings began laughing as well, a cacophonous sound that probably echoed throughout the entire territory.

Continuing on blithely, Stitches said insistently, "He might have all of that, but he can't teleport, he can't breathe fire, he can't - why are you laughing again!?" He ordinarily prided himself on his taciturn, untouchable personality, but having literally thousands of laughs directed his way would rattle anybody.

Bain shook his head, wiping the acid away and rubbing it into his carapace so as not to ruin the now-perfectly flat road. "Stitches. Ohhh, boy. I thought you fought Nahma! How could you possibly say he doesn't have powers?"

The horrendous sensation of Stitches' stomach dropping hit him. "Wha - he didn't! He used his antennae to strike bluntly, and I could barely block those! It took me, Chops, and Gazer working together to even scratch him, and not once during that fight did he use powers - we had the best heroes in Centropolis fighting him! Those were powerhouses you don't see around anymore!"

Tilting his head, Bain looked at him curiously. "Blunt impacts? Wouldn't he just-"

Gren interrupted, still chuckling. "That was Nahma's full shed. It can't use his powers, and it dies after a few days. It's simply too big."

Stitches' eyes widened. "We were going all-out on a shedding!?"

There was sudden and absolute silence as every centipede stared at him, Bain included. He physically flinched from the sudden drop in volume, and asked defensively, "What?"

Gren's voice was deadly serious. "That fight with the full shed... those were your best efforts? Nahma thought that you were trying to annoy him. It was the only reason he could think of for you not to go further down and attempt to annihilate him. That's the only reason Nahma has stayed underground for so long."

Stitches' mouth opened in a small O. "Huh."

There was a long silence, one that continued on and on for an uncomfortable amount of time. Finally, Bain said, "Thank you so much for helping with the territory! I really appreciate it." The assorted sheddings seized the subject change in stride and accepted his happiness, crawling down the walls before flickering out of view.

Stitches shivered. How many sheddings were crawling around Centropolis, just out of sight? He decided he didn't really want to know.

Gren tossed his head. "Goodbye, Bain. We will be looking over you, and you will never lose another arm!" As Stitches watched, the shedding simply... slid away. As if Gren had sidestepped, but out of the universe. Another thing Stitches didn't want to put any thought towards.

In less than a minute, Bain and Stitches were left alone in the streets, looking at the immaculate buildings and roads before them.

Stitches raised a question that had been brewing for some time. Nothing related to Nahma - every answer he got bred more uncertainties than it solved. "Why isn't there any color? Everything's just the same pasty white."

Bain smiled. "The sheddings can change rocks with their mandibles. I don't know how it works, but it does. The only problem with it is that it always ends up that color."

Snorting, Stitches commented, "Well, maybe we could paint it sometime."

A noise startled both of them, putting them both on alert instantly. A muffled shriek. Looking at each other, they approached the gap between two buildings, whispering as they did.

"Do you think it's the little monster girl again?"

Stitches shrugged, focusing on the alley. If all the sheddings really had left, then whatever it was in the alley shouldn't be familiar. They turned the corner.

It definitely wasn't anyone they knew. It was an old man, wearing a raggedy shirt and ripped jeans. A surprising amount of wiry muscle was visible, lean and dense under his skin. Everything about him, down to his scraggly white beard and remarkably clean mop of hair, was perfectly still. Not moving even slightly. He looked as though he'd been paused in the middle of recoiling, mouth open in a silent scream.

The grunt came again, and this time they saw his clear blue eyes flick towards them. Stitches blinked. "Holy - this is a stopper power. I didn't think we'd have any villains after last night, but I guess I was wrong. I don't think he'll have his wallet, so let's make sure he's all right."

Bain nodded, picking up the man as if he were a particularly well-made statue and resting him on his shoulder. "I'll put him back at the cube."

Stitches rubbed the back of his head before investigating the area a bit more. Unfortunately, the sheddings had been immaculately perfect in their cleaning efforts, and any evidence he might've gotten from the scant surroundings was long gone. He shook his head. "I'm going to find that guy. And then I'm going to ask him why he didn't cut and run when the sheddings showed up. It's what I would've done."

It was a moment before he realized Bain was still standing at the entrance of the alley, looking at him oddly. "Why are you talking to yourself?"

Stitches blinked. "You're still here?"

Bain stared at him for several seconds, then shook his head, walking away. Stitches frowned. At one point, Bain would've asked him something, probably along the lines of if he had a power that let him talk to himself and get answers that way or something. But then, he reflected, Bain had been through a lot since he'd met him. Given, that hadn't been very long ago at all, but regardless.

He was going to have to keep an eye on him.