The Vespidian

Arc 2: Me, Myself, and Neon Nurse

Chapter 2

The clack of claws resounded across the roof, and I lept at the next, taller building. I crashed into the side, gouging holes and ripping my way up the brick wall. All six limbs worked in tangent. It felt sort of like being my own rowing team. Sirens blared from below; they were chasing me. A spotlight turned on, revealing me as I shimmied up.

“Stop! Stop where you are!” Yelled some guy down there.

Fuck that. I pulled myself over the edge and lay there, breathing heavily.

It took a few moments to gather my thoughts. This was bad. I was cornered so soon. These guys don’t dick around. I gazed over the sides, red and blue flashing lights and sirens spilling all through the streets. Yup surrounded. My tongue clicked. Acha! With this kind of reception, I would expect a Super Villain. Not the friendly neighborhood wasp... ok, ok. Maybe not so friendly and not so neighborhood. I mean, it is not like I mauled somebody, for fuck’s sake.

At the least, a Super had not shown up. So I could still get out of this. The real question was how. The longer I wasted here, the more likely one of those Heroes or even one of the cyborg swat teams was going to show up to kick my ass. The worst-case would be if Molotov got wind of this and came for me. There really was only one option, and I did not like it one bit. I glanced at the orange flappies hanging from my back. I got wings. I should use them, right? What is the worst that could happen?

My wings vibrated, spreading wide. They undulated, sending dust scattering away, closed my eyes, and concentrated on flapping. The membranes moved faster and faster until a high-pitched buzz filled the air. Slowly I rose up off of the ground, only a few inches, though. They were not strong enough for sustained flights.

I vented with frustration. Pondering how to get the hell out of this. I could not fly, which seriously fucked me here. For some reason, I thought that I could perform under pressure. Ugh, can’t limp dick this, gotta go balls deep. Then it hit me. Maybe I could glide? They did catch the wind pretty well and were very sturdy. I did not have to actually fly, just slowly fall. It was the same principle as not having to outrun a bear, just not be the slowest person in the group. There was only one way to find out.

Uneasily, I gazed over the ledge. Though not scared of heights, it did not make me feel any better about making a leap of faith. I bit the bullet and threw myself forward, wings spread wide. At worst, I would break my legs and get caught; best case, I soar away.

The wind whistled by, and it was working. They held fast, keeping me aloft, granted I was going down rapidly. My limbs spread out to gain even more lift and air resistance. I needed it.

A giant doughnut sign loomed in front of me. It flickered with lights glaring at the night. The damned thing ended up acting as a beacon, and I was a moth to the flame, slamming into it.

The doughnut lurched, the supports creaked, groaning. Wires snapped, and it rolled with me, clinging to the center. It felt like a hamster wheel. Uneasily, I padded about keeping up with the rotation. This was not at all a good thing. I bailed, throwing myself to the side. Unfortunately, it banked over, falling to the street crushing a parked car.

Oh shit.

It started rolling down the street, and the police poured out of the woodwork, chasing it. Red and blue sirens wailed as I sat there, taking in the scene. Vaguely, I wanted to laugh about that, but most of me felt somewhat worried. I hope nobody gets hurt. Oh man, it was picking up speed, and there goes another car. Something hit the sign. The air had sort of blurred, and a chunk exploded off of the donut, stopping it.

A high-pitched sound vibrated the air, and a particular hoverbike that I was relatively familiar with rode into view. It was Captain Metal. That chromed-out helmet leaving his jaw exposed. So damned cool, he just stopped that thing like it was nothing. A real-life hero.

My excitement rose. I will admit I had the hots for him. On more than a few occasions, I had stirred my honey pot to him. Just remembering it made the vents creep open. He must have noticed the heated mist because the bike veered in my direction. I stood there like an idiot, for some reason thinking this guy was going to save me. The hoverbike roared up and stopped about five feet away. The sound was almost ear-splitting and made me cringe. He shined a bright light down on me. Squinting at the bright light, I put a hand up to block it.

His mouth was creased into a stern frown. “What the hell are you?”

I smiled, not even realizing that it severely hurt my case, racking my brain for a response. My shyness reared its ugly head, and I stopped myself several times from answering. No one wants to sound like a dork or come off weird in front of the person they liked.

Eventually, I settled and blurted out. “I am Vespidian. Captain Metal could- could I get your autograph?”

Shit, I sounded like some lame assed fan girl.

He was looking me over and raised his sonic rifle, pointing it at me. My eyes gaped. “Wait, what are you doing?!”

“You are one of Glitter Kitten’s gang, aren’t you.”

That was not a question. He was asserting that I was some criminal scum. I know who Glitter Kitten is. Everyone knows who she is. She is bad news bears. The queen of the slums and leader of the Mad Dogs.

“No, I am not. Please listen to me.” I pleaded with a rather desperate tone. “You have to take me in. I am running away from some crazy people.”

“So you pissed off the Mad Dogs and got kicked out. Well, too fucking bad you know the rules. No sub-humans are allowed outside of the slums.” He motioned with the gun, and I trembled. “You going to come quietly, or am I going to have to get rough?”

I raised my hands. Getting shot by his sonic gun did not sound very appealing. “Where are you going to take me?”

“Back to the slums. Where did you think?”

“Wait!” I screeched. He winced, shit; now he looks mad. “I did not come from the slums.”

He grimaced and snarled at me. “Does it look like I give a fuck about your situation? Come on, you filthy animal, back to the slums with you.”

I growled back. “I am not an animal!”

There was a low whine, then a pop, and it felt like Molotov socked me in the chest. The air in my lungs had been knocked out. Wearily I looked down and saw the cracked shell over my boob, yellow gushing out. He... he shot me? What the fuck he shot me! My mind reeled in disbelief. Why would he do that? Captain Metal was my hero. He was supposed to save me.

I clutched the wound and crouched, trying to breathe. Tears fell down my face. Why was it like this? It is not like I was delusional enough to expect some prince on a white horse to swoop in and save me from all my problems. I thought he was supposed to be a good guy. Was Molotov right all along? No, no, no, she can’t be right. She is evil.

“Why? I have not done anything wrong.” I cried.

“You knocked that sign over, destroy public property, assaulted some homeless, and led police on a chase. What do you mean you did nothing.”

“They attacked me!” I yelled at him. “The only reason that I even ran was that I am scared.”

He smiled, and my blood ran cold. That whine went off again, my body lurched backward from the blow. It hurt; my side ached. Yellow blood spilled out as I crawled away. Why is everyone crazy? What did I ever do to deserve all of this?

Captain Metal stepped off of his bike. The crunch of little pebbles underfoot resounded like the snaps of bones. He approached, firing the gun every couple of steps. He was playing with me. One out of every three would graze an arm.

“Hey Panther, get over here. I caught that freak that we were getting calls about. You have gotta see this fucking thing. It is so ugly I think I got cancer just from looking at it.” He laughed over a radio or something. That is fucked up. Fuck, man, you gotta rub salt in my wounds here?

I can’t believe I ever liked you.

Did I ever like him?

Something in my head did not feel right. It was foggy. Were those really my memories? It felt vague, like a cat kneading the back of my brain. Feels pretty good, actually.

My mandibles clenched when he kicked me over. I rolled and wheezed; the bastard had shot me in the lung. His gloved hand grabbed my head, lifting it up. Things moved slowly when he reached back his fist and sent it careening for my face. Instinct took hold.

My mouth gaped wide, unhinging to monstrous proportions, and I bit down on his hand. The mandibles chewed at the metal, thrashing my head back and forth like a rottweiler. He screamed as my arms restrained him and started punching at his face.

Hero, my ass, I will fucking kill you!

My head hurt from the thought. The rage almost didn’t feel like my own. A throbbing pain that made me twitch. The abdomen rose up, and the stinger emerged, thrusting down. It stabbed into his leg. The pulsing, throbbing of the venom gland squeezing inside sent shivers up my spine. It felt good to inject my venom. I gave him lots and lots.

I hope he dies.

My grin grew so wide. His struggling subsided rather quickly. My venom must be potent. I spat out his hand, regrettably unable to chew it off. The metal was too thick.

Antenna squirmed; vibrations in the air sent tingles down my spine. My wasp senses were tingling! Something was coming and very quickly. Oh shit, it must be Panther. He had super speed and was Captain Metal’s partner.

I scurried away, hoping to get some distance before he arrived. I had hardly leapt to the next building when the heavy footsteps stopped back there behind me. I glanced back and regretted it instantly.

Panther was a rather tall man with thick, powerful legs. His form-fitting suit was blue and black. He had milk chocolate skin, what little of it I could see anyway. The upper body was sleek and fit. The face shrouded under a helmet, much like Captain Metal’s though I could see his scowl. Oh man, he looked furious. I scrabbled for purchase and dragged myself up, away from him.

He crouched over Captain Metal, looking his wounds over. Things were looking rather grim. Poor guy, it looked like he was about to start crying. “Captain Metal, come on, man. Speak to me, will you?!”

I made the mistake of trying to get a better position. He looked up at me. I could not see his eyes, but I could feel his blood thirst. He reeked of it. His body tensed, and he was tight like a tiger before lunging. In two steps, he closed the distance between us.

Slowly I looked up and found an anaconda running down the blue and black striped suit. It was hard to look away from his junk. Get your mind out of the gutter, Vesper! This guy could kill me. I just mauled his partner. I need to reason with him. Tell him my side of the story.

“I know what it looks like, but you have to believe me-” I started before his foot kicked my face like a comet. My whole head twisted backward, and I felt the neck snap in eight different places. Bits of bone scattered across the roof from my shattered face.

The world shifted in all the wrong ways. My body went numb, and I fell, staring at the ground as it came to meet me. Oh great, a fucking manhole. I splatted on the pavement, not sure, but I think I broke a few arms. I drooped, falling into the sewer.

A green glow filled my eyes. What the fuck are the sewers filled with Mutigene or something!? I splashed into it and bobbed back up to the surface. Gross. Gonna be sick, gonna be sick! Oh god. I can taste it! It was like a dead dog that got left out in the summer sun for a week, on top of the chilly night at the lodge, and the toilet was broken. That about sums up the vile reek of this dank hell hole I found myself drifting in.

Hmm. That is an oddly specific example. Have I ever experienced something like that before? or was it just an exaggerated tangent my addled brain spawned? Probably the latter; who knows what this glowing green water is doing to me. My head hurt thinking about that.

I was in the shit, literally, floating down the river of glowing filth. It was everywhere, everywhere! I hope there are no crocodiles down here, though somehow I doubt they could survive the stench and disease. Rats were doing fine, though. A whole pack of dog-sized ones was chasing along the sides of the tunnel. They looked rather hungry, and I could only assume I was on the menu.

Giant rats... glowing water. Who the hell has been dumping nuclear waste into the sewers? This is why we can’t have nice things! You want mutants because this is how you get mutants! How much cancer am I going to get out of this? Wait, can I even get cancer anymore? My neck twisted back into place, and I pulled myself out of the muck. It took a moment to realize that my head could pull an exorcist and spin around now neet.

I wonder if Panther thought he killed me with that? Isn’t there a law against killing or something? Although I suppose I did... I killed Captain Metal, didn’t I? Oh shit. What the hell have I done? I am a fucking murderer. I really am just a monster. Maybe I should just go back to Molotov and give in to my fate. Where else am I going to go? Although I could live down here in the sewer... yeah fuck that. This place sucks more ass than that lab, and I fucking hate that place. Panther might come down here to confirm my death, so I should probably vacate the vicinity.

A barrel with the nuclear hazard logo and BAI, Bronson Atomic Industries, emblazoned on the side, lay with a little still pooled inside. Am I going to grow even more arms or something? The green glow is kinda eerie. I feel as though there were rumors about some gang living down here? What was it... the Atomic Apostles, right? Yeah, that was them. A bunch of weirdo cultists that worshiped atomic power. That would certainly explain the nuclear material. Dollars to dough nuts that there is some freaky deeky alter down here somewhere. Seems like the crazy crap religious wackos would do. They are probably drinking this stuff like cool-aid.

A Geiger counter would be going nuts. I wonder if there are some turtles down here who would let me hang with them and eat pizza. Who am I kidding? If there are any down here, they are monsters that would rather eat me. This isn’t some comic book, and I certainly am not going to learn martial arts and the meaning of life from some mutant rat-man down here. Look at those fucking rats, though, their beady little eyes.

“What, you got a problem with me!” I yelled at the rats.

They circled where I sat moping. Their hissing and squeals grated against my antenna. The fangs glinting sharply in the green glow. Soggy fur bristled with anticipation. Then the king of the rats appeared. It was different than the others; it had a horn growing out of its head.

Am I lucky? I did just find the unicorn of rats. Somehow I was getting the feeling that I was very unlucky. It might be how they were looking at me as food. He was old, gnarled, half an ear was bitten off and missing a couple of toes, but it was more significant than the others by about a third. If I had to guess, it was the size of a Doberman.

What is this an RPG?! Did I just clear the tutorial prologue and now have been thrown out into the world to defeat the evil demon king, or did I walk out into the tall grass without my Swolomon? I could almost see the floating text, ‘A wild Giant Horny Rat appeared!’ The only thing missing would be some catchy, fast-paced fighting music.

It lunged, and I grappled with all four arms. Oh man, it was pissed. The rat was snapping those teeth at me while the others were closing in. I rolled on my back and flung it away with a plunk as it landed into the green goo. Splashes echoed, and it scurried right back up the slight embankment.

Peace was never an option, and things quickly devolved into a struggle of life or death.

My claws raked through one of the snarling rat dogs, and blood scattered while it squealed in terror. Another bounded towards me, and I broke it in half showering blood across the floor. I threw the pieces at the rest of the pack. The big one came from behind, sinking its teeth into my ass. It was like a switch got flipped in my head. That primal feeling of fight or flight took over. I chose to fight.

Howling in rage, I wrestled the beast across the floor. The others shrunk away in fear. It was just their leader and me now. It would be really pathetic to be devoured by vermin. Back and forth we went. This thing was strong despite how it looked, though I suppose a dog-sized rat seems reasonably robust. My clawed fingers gouged out its eyes, and I bit off an ear. It squealed, bucking and thrashing, trying to stab me with the horn. My taloned toes grasped at its back, piercing clear through its mangy fur and flesh.

It screamed, and I snarled, using my last free hand to strangle the bastard. Foam poured out of its mouth when I snapped the neck. Heaving the beast up, I screamed in triumph. I am the alpha predator! No fucking rats are going to stop me!

The horned rat fell to the floor, and I panted. I felt eyes watching and spiders crawling up my back. Wearily I turned, seeing the beady-eyed horde. They swarmed in from all around. How many of these fucking things are there?! I jumped up like a surprised cat, latching onto the ceiling, dodging another horned rat. Seems the hunter has become the hunted once again.

We were at an impasse, they circled below, and I scurried along the roof out of reach. The frisky ones would leap up like crocodiles nipping at me. There must be a nest or colony nearby. Thirty of them followed along as I crept through the tunnels. At the least, there were no homeless in the sewers. The rats had either chased them off or eaten them. What the fuck Bronson? I never knew you were so messed up. I guess this is the ugly underbelly.

This was not a nice place, and I wanted out. Escape routes were few and far between. Various pipes led off into the distance. Many of them were too small to accommodate me, and what ones were large enough already had occupants. The rats were breeding like crazy down here. Thankfully they were savagely territorial and descended into tribal warfare.

Squeaks and screams rose, a tooth and nail frenzied turf war followed in my wake. These damned things are monsters. Alone they were a problem but in groups downright terror-inducing. What I saw in this hellish pit would give me nightmares. The Atomic Apostles must be intense if they can thrive down here.

I crept along, leaving the screeches far behind. The long passageway came to an end at a junction. Above lay my salvation. A ladder led to a covered entrance. It took a few moments to shimmy up the sides, and I eagerly opened up the manhole. My antenna waved about, listening to the area as I prairie dogged my head up for a moment, glancing around. I could not smell anything. A bad case of nose blindness had set in. The surroundings seemed safe enough, relatively quiet. Cautiously I slunk out, sticking to the shadows.

Where the hell am I?

It was dark here, but the city lights glared in through the trees and off the dew-coated grass just on the outskirts. This was Brawny Park. I recognized the bronze statue of the veterans arm wrestling. It was a sailor and a marine locked forever in a struggle to see who was more manly. Both were rocking some smoking guns, and it looked like they had been through hell. The sailor had a heart mom tattoo on his shoulder, and the marine had a pinup girl on his. I always thought it was kinda weird since this is a public park where kids play. Personally, I like it. I mean those man muscles, though.

The park itself was rather significant, with almost a lake in the center. It bordered the center of the city, the market district, and downtown. There were three-bathroom buildings and a little dock to rent swan boats. The grass was always green here, and the trees were well-groomed. Some were even shaped like animals. Schools come out here for field trips.

At one point, there had been a petting zoo, but that was put to an end when the Atomic Apostles worked together with the Mad Dogs to saturate the corral with radiation. All the creatures had to be euthanized. Have you ever seen a rabbit eat a man’s face off? It had to be done. It was pretty big news at the time, five years ago, I believe. I think it happened right after I went to college. Kinda scary since I went there a few times during middle school. Dodged that bullet, thankfully. There were security patrols that kept the riff-raff from establishing shanty towns and fouling the place up.

First thing first, I needed to be cleansed of this filth. Unfortunately, there were no showers, but there was soap. Granted, I highly doubt it would get rid of radiation. It was a long and unpleasant process of scrubbing down the carapace. The soap lathered, and I got the antenna and my head first. Got soap in my eyes; shit burned like hell! The sink poured water full blast and washed my eyes out. I could smell again! Although everything was piney now. Footsteps drew near, and I scurried up the wall making myself flat on the ceiling over the door. Two guards walked in; they wore light blue shirts and navy blue pants.

The moment the duo set foot in, they clutched their faces. “Fuck man, what smells so bad?! Somebody left a floater for sure.”

“God!” Groaned the other guy. He doubled over, gagging and almost puking. “No kidding. What the hell did they eat?”

“I don’t know, but it smells like a dying animal crawled up some guy’s ass died, came back to life just long enough to shit itself, died again, and marinated for a week in its own juices.”

“No fucking kidding! Let’s leave this bomb for somebody else to deal with.”

They bailed, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought it was about that bad. I continued sloughing off the grime that had accumulated on me. By the time I was finished, there was a glowing blackish-green sludge clogging the sinks. I did not think that I would ever truly feel clean again, but this was a start. A tiny twinge of guilt welled up for leaving this for whoever had to clean that shit up. I am no plumber, and this needs some professional help. They can handle it, not my problem anymore.

I snuck through the underbrush. The guards were not exactly the brightest bulbs on the tree. They were easy to dodge, and soon the city lay before me once again. Now I had a real problem. What the hell was I going to do? Thoughts of Molotov kept creeping into my mind. Little voices were whispering to go back and beg for forgiveness. It would only be worse if I prolonged it. Maybe she would be benevolent... who the fuck am I kidding? Certainly not myself.

Molotov is a monster, and I betrayed her. She will destroy me if she gets her hands on me. Only a fool would run back crying. I needed help; I needed people in power. There was only one natural choice, and it had not changed the Hero League. They had laws. They had principles. Surely they would not torture me or perform a live autopsy. I will likely go to jail for murder, but it would still be better than going back. Sure, Captain Metal may have been a complete ass, but they were not all like that. I can hope anyway.

My mind calmed, and I sat there gazing out over the streets. The plan had not changed. I would find a phone and call them. Turn myself in. A patrol car drove by, and I was tempted to reveal myself, but I was too scared. Getting shot more was not appealing. Not that mugging somebody was much better. Molotov had planted plentiful doubts in my head, and the visit to my parents backed up a lot of what she was saying. I need some sort of insurance. I had nothing to leverage, though.

After wrestling with my thoughts for a little bit, I made up my mind. I would show myself to the police and talk it out with them.

If it was just handguns, I had a feeling I could handle it, but if it was a Super... well, I had a bad feeling about that. It was not hard to track down where that patrol car had gone. I followed it. How was I going to get their attention without meeting resistance?

It meandered along the road but then stopped. The police got out and made their way over to an abandoned-looking building. It was all tagged up, like something that a gang would use. The idea that I could just sit in the backseat of the armored patrol car for when they came back was thrown out when I realized how they might react to finding me there.

Cautiously I made my way over and peered into a broken window. They were talking to somebody. There were about ten people in there, as far as I could smell and see. They did not reek of sweat and garbage, so they were not homeless, those bastards. What I did smell were gunpowder and blood. This was not a nice place at all. Voices were rising, and it sounded like some sort of dispute. It was looking bad for the officers. If I saved them, then that would be my ticket in. They would vouch for me. I would hope anyway. Maybe if I did this right, I could even get out of going to jail! I could barely contain myself. Superhero, here I come!