Taking a short nap in the cubical base of theirs, Bain was dozing when Stitches threw the door open with a bang. Looking up in surprise, Bain was temporarily surprised at his lack of surprise. At one point he probably would have clawed something up from the shock, but apparently he was past that.

With a proud grin, Stitches walked in, holding a large orb with three rods poking out of it one-handed. "Bain, do you know what this is?"

Looking at it a little closer, Bain asked, "A really fancy ball?"

Stitches almost agreed but recovered. "No. Well," He reconsidered, then continued. "Technically yes. But more importantly, it's a fully encrypted two-way communication hub for all things Tower!"

Bain stared at with quite a bit more interest. "Really? Does it work?"

Nodding, Stitches shoved the rods into the floor, allowing them to support the orb. Bain wondered if it was supposed to maybe go outside, but he could understand Stitches being excited. He was excited too, but also tired.

Pushing a few buttons on the control panel on its side, Stitches stood back as an antenna slowly extended from its top, and then a faint hum filled the air. They waited for several seconds without anything happening.

Frowning, Stitches leaned in. "Isn't it supposed to be-"

A scream filled the air, and this time both of them jumped. "-nells, this is Hotwire at 33rd and Brahms! We need every hero we can get over here, this thing's-" His voice cut out for a moment as several heavy impacts smashed into things in the background, and then returned in a maximum-volume yell that made the sound distort. "irty-third and Brahms! SEND HELP NOW!!!"

The signal went dead.

Bain and Stitches looked at each other. "That sounds bad."

Bain was concerned. "We should go help!"

Stitches reluctantly rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, it's pretty far, and we don't want to leave our territory undefended."

Turning to a window, Bain poked his head out. "Hey, guys?"

The whole territory lit up in sheddings staring at him, and Bain continued. "Can you keep an eye on the territory while we're gone? Remember, no killing people."

The sheddings winked out like a light, leaving the unblemished walls uncovered. Pulling his head back, Bain grinned somewhat maliciously at Stitches. "There, the territory's protected. Let's go."

Stitches threw his hands in the air. "Fine, we'll go." Holding a button down on the communicator, he spoke into it clearly. "We're on our way."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They knew something was really wrong when they saw the wall.

Tinker's drones were collecting pieces of rubble and dropping them on an ever-increasing wall stretching from one side to the other. A small crowd of people was waiting outside, shouting at the newer heroes holding them back. A hero was waiting at the base, dressed in a skin-tight outfit with white disks covering it. He looked incredibly nervous, his eyes flicking back and forth behind his plain white mask. When he saw Stitches and Bain, he gestured them over, mild panic in his eyes. "What took you so long!?" His voice cracked as he said it, the pitch of his voice rising sharply.

Stitches shrugged. "Traffic. You know how it is."

Bain had to admit, Stitches was acting rather cavalier considering the chaos he'd been hearing over the communicator, but maybe it was because he'd saved the world.

Waving a hand, Stitches asked, "Let's go and see what we're dealing with, all right?"

Glancing anxiously at Bain's looming height, the hero made a small circle with his fingers, white light tracing behind them, and then touched the ground. A massive disc perfectly matching his design appeared on the ground, replacing dirt and dust. Lifting off the ground, the hero took them to the top of the wall, and they got a good look at what was going on.

Every few seconds, explosions of dust and fire would erupt from the distant territories, small specks flitting around the largest dust cloud. The wall they were standing on stretched for a stunningly far distance, in a rough circle around the assorted territories.

A hero walked up to them, a visage of shadow. They recognized him instantly.

"Stitches. It's good to see you."

Hallow somehow looked perturbed despite the fact no one could see his face, but Stitches' eyes narrowed regardless. "If you're worried it's gotta be bad. What's going on?"

Indicating the battle far away with a sweeping gesture of an arm, Hallow said, "The Tower's given it the designation Meatbag for now. It's some sort of flesh-based power, or maybe a monster. From what we can tell, it can reshape itself at will and increase its size and strength by absorbing blood, muscle, and bone. It's reformatting the bone into blades, reinforcing its flesh to make hammers, using blood like a pressurized water hose. Every time we hit it, it just fixes itself and keeps going."

Stitches whistled. "That sounds tough."

Bain cocked his head. "Why aren't you fighting it?"

Hallow directed his shadowy gaze at him levelly. "Because my abilities cannot do anything except postpone it."

Bain's jaw almost dropped. "Wait, you could be helping and you're not?"

The shadows around Hallow's head lashed in fury. "Do not lecture me on morals, monster."

Stitches cut in. "All right, let's just stop right there. This isn't going to help anyone."

Bain wasn't listening at that point. Turning, he bent down, focused, and launched himself forward, keeping his race against Boom Mike in mind. Maximize traction, minimize friction, push speed to the limit, and keep movements fluid. Mike didn't even touch the ground, so he had a natural advantage when racing, but Bain was still plenty fast without Mike's explosive power.

Within moments, he arrived at the scene. Meatbag was a terrifying sight, an eighty-foot shapeless mass of flesh with a truly monstrous number of toothy maws across its body. It had two thick, stumpy legs and far too many arms, ranging from an absurdly muscular one the size of a semi-truck to a tangle of thin, long ones with razor-sharp bone claws.

Roaring in fury, it swung the giant arm and demolished an apartment building, flying heroes scattering out of the way. Bain's eyes widened. He could see civilians in the chaos!

"Gren!"

A shedding materialized next to him. Not Gren, but Bain gave his request to it regardless. "I know you don't like humans, but you guys have to save all the humans that don't have powers, all right? Get them somewhere safe - as safe as you can find! Please!"

The shedding nodded, antennae twitching, and the entire territory suddenly swarmed to life as literally thousands of centipedes of different sizes and shapes began forcing their way into buildings. The heroes nearly started attacking the sheddings, but Bain inhaled deeply, then shouted, "THE CENTIPEDES ARE FRIENDLY! DON'T HURT THEM!"

The yell caught the attention of Meatbag, and it slowly turned to face Bain. His eyes widened as he saw it. "Oh, crap."

Raising a ropy arm that didn't seem to have any elbows, it whipped it in Bain's direction, the end spreading into a razor-sharp semicircle of ridged bone. Forcing himself down, Bain bent his knees and fell flat. The blade shot over him horizontally, then dissolved into blood and bone. Blinking the materials out of his eyes, Bain shook his head to see the flesh crawling across the ground to reform into Meatbag's overall shape.

He could see why they needed help. Even now, looking at it in person, he couldn't really see how to beat it, and as it killed more heroes and people, it kept getting bigger.

The smell of bread filled the air.

Turning, Bain saw a series of lightly buttered rolls the size of houses expanding midair, a familiar figure bouncing across them at remarkable speed. Shooting past Bain and over his head, Yeastley screamed, "THAT'S MY HOUSE, YOU-"

Whatever he said was drowned out by the colossal baguette he threw. Growing larger and larger as it spiralled midair, one end crashed into the road and the other tilted up until it was upright, a straight chunk of bread easily four hundred feet tall. Meatbag looked up at it and roared with all of its mouths, reaching dozens of arms up to catch it.

Jumping towards it, Yeastley flipped over and threw a car-sized hardtack biscuit as the top end of the baguette. With an ear-shattering creaking noise, the baguette tilted over, crushing the sides of apartments as it did. Meatbag howled, its form liquidating and crawling up the walls, but it was too late.

The baguette crashed into the street, sending a shockwave of homebaked-bread-smelling air through the area and blasting the remainder of the blood coating Bain off.

From right next to him, Stitches commented, "Dang. We really gotta improve his threat rating."

Standing on the baguette, Yeastley's chest was heaving as he stared down. Heroes started clapping, ignoring the fact he was technically a villain, and then the ground shook.

Yeastley was literally tossed into a building as the baguette was shoved aside, crashing through a row of houses. Meatbag was now much smaller and denser, probably twenty feet tall. TIghtly packed bone and muscle condensed into a much stronger appearance, blood draining into the street and rising to foot level.

Bain lunged forward. This was his chance - he might not be able to deal any damage to a liquid enemy, but a bone one could be-

Meatbag's back erupted in eyes and arms, and it snatched Bain out of the air. It held him there, squeezing him tighter and tighter for a moment as its body rotated on its axis, until it was facing him. It had a misshapen, tilted mouth, two bulging eyes, and a crooked slit where the nose should be. Bain's carapace cracked with a sharp breaking sound, and he croaked in pain.

Snarling, Meatbag raised Bain in the air, ready to slam him into the ground.

Stitches launched himself from the roof, one finger out as he poked Meatbag in the chest. Skidding backward, Meatbag dropped Bain, who picked himself up and stood next to his mentor. Rubbing his carapace, Bain commented sorely, "He's a lot tougher than he looks."

Stitches shook the hand he'd hit Meatbag with. "Yeah, I can tell. This is gonna be a brutal fight. You ready?"

Bain lowered his body, placing his arms on the ground. His stump was just barely not yet grown, but he had a feeling it would be good to go by the next day. "Yup. Let's do this."

They tensed, but before they got any further, a shape resembling a freight train slammed into Meatbag's side, physically hurling him away, accompanied by a ground-shaking roar.

"THAT'S MY SON!!!"

Nahma had arrived.