Saphirus was dressed in all black, metal plates resting comfortably amongst spider silk weave armor. It was a familiar, if long absent, feeling against his skin. Tonight was going to be dangerous. His gut told him that more than anything else, and he trusted that part of him. He reached up to press the communicator on his ear.

"Moose, that's the place..." He sighed a bit as he eyed the scene of a burnt down warehouse from a distance, at height. All he really saw was a large quantity of burnt rubble. It was like they hadn't touched the place in a year since he and Megan had torched it. "It's still in ruins... Damn... I could have sworn this would have been the place... Do you see anything from your vantage points?" He looked away for a moment, scanning the area for his daughter and partner vigilante.

She really was getting good. He couldn't see her at all. Movement in the rubble called his attention. Was that? He lifted his nocs and eyed the shifting figure in the dark... It looked...

Was that?

"Moose... Go home."

Without much thought he dove off the roof, and focused his senses, feeling out the shape of his body falling, and catching himself in the air to glide down from his position right toward his target.

It had only been for a fraction of a second, but he'd seen it among the rocks and sheet metal... A blur in the dark. Skittering, shifty... Buglike.

It had to be him. The Judge clutched his hammer, ready as ever to bring down the call of justice.

She wasn't dressed nearly as superhero-y as him. Whereas all of his stuff was fancy and high-tech and junk, hers had been bought or pilfered from various sports goods stores. Her armor was most certainly not bullet proof, and her weapons were much smaller. Still, she didn't feel like she was at that much of a disadvantage.... she had numbers.

The weird little ear piece thing he had given her crackled in her ear. "... Buncha junk, mostly." She pulled back from the binoculars he had given her and fiddled with them again. Another fancy newfangled thing. The teen settled them back against the bridge of her nose and realigned them on the area. Her sisters were chiming in as well... some kinda movement.

"Wait. Probably someone down there. Lemme-"

"Moose... Go home."

"What?!" She hiss-whispered, trying to pack as much venom into her voice as her volume would allow. "We just @#$%in' got here!"[/font]

She paused another complaint as pain raced up her left arm, and turned in the direction one of her clones had gone. Something was attacking it, and from what she could tell it was something that hurt a lot. She hauled herself down from her perch as fast as she could, heading after her clone.

"Red Bird's fighting something. I'm heading over there." She'd given her clones nicknames to make it easier for them to figure out who was who. It helped that she'd also color coordinated their face paint to the colors they had been assigned, so even the idiots couldn't forget their own names. Elke, who's black makeup stretched from ear to ear and across the bride of her nose, and all the way up her for head, left herself without color to make it easier.

He came out of his tunnel vision when he was above the ruin, allowing himself to drop as he heard Elke reply. He allowed his right leg to catch the fall effortlessly as he turned and scanned the area quickly, bringing a hand to his ear. "Dammit Elke, get out of here! It's Roach! Its too dangero-" POP! He cursed as he felt a projectile coming in and let it skid off of his armor; it was a grazing shot across his chest. He slid into cover and eyed the direction of the attack. A skittering shadow retreated further into the rubble.

"Son of a $%&*&..." He was here. This was it. This was his chance to free Shelby from this monster. "Moose, you have to... Moose?" He only heard static. Something was jamming them? How was that even- Realization dawned on him. This was a trap. How could he have planned for this? His fists clenched the hammer tightly once more... It didn't matter. Trap, or no trap, Roach found his death here today. He wouldn't let that monster stop him. He continued into the rubble, smacking his leg with each hobbled step. Beasts and criminals of the highest caliber had tried to stop him. While in this form, all had failed. The bug wouldn't stop judgement from coming his way. Not tonight.

He heard an echoing voice... a chittering laugh followed by a taunt. "The Masochist! Saphirus, was it? Silly name... You know... You cannot save her." He burst forward, glancing down the way just in time to avoid a gunshot, a bullet aimed for his head. His reflex caught it mid-air. The skittering figure disappeared around the corner once more, and he followed confidently. "I know it's a trap, Roach. It won't save you. Nothing will." He spoke in a dark, gritty voice as he progressed steadily.

Seemingly undaunted by his response, the voice spoke from around the next corner, sounding as if it were being masked by distance and a metallic tinge... "You will die here, Saphirus. It will hurt her even more. I cannot wait to see the look on her face when I serve you to her for lunch!" He quickly rounded the corner as a cellar-style door slammed shut before him.

He looked it over for a moment... Damnit, there had been a basement level this whole time... This must have been where the recent human trafficking ring was running out of... And Roach was running it? He cursed. They'd failed. Megan and he had destroyed what they'd thought was all of Roach's business, but here he was, crawling up again.

"No more." With a confident swing, and a dose of added kinetic force, he shattered the locked door before him with his hammer. The material might as well have been paper as he carved through and descended the stairs.

This is where the ambush would be. How many men had he hired? How many prisoners were here, too? There had been a lot of kidnappings.

The answers would only be in one place. He forged onward.

The native missed out on most of the dramatic hammer time Saph was having over there, considering she'd stumbled upon one of her clones pretty much fending off a 3 foot tall cockroach who was trying to eat her. The teen let out a piercing whistle to call her other sisters to her location dove into the fight.

She'd never fought a bug as big as this one before... nor one flailing about as randomly as this. Two of it's many arms were clutching switch blades from what she could tell. Ignoring the absurdity of it, she sprinted in, turning and twisting when she was just close enough, and let the hard heel of her boot slam down directly on the crown of the bugs head. It made the weirdest sound when it connected, jolting both the bugs head and her foot, before it toppled over sideways.

Her twin took that moment to scramble out and away, clutching a bloodied forearm that was freely bleeding. She looked worse for wear with a few gashes here and there, but she was standing.

As her other sisters joined her, they set about de-arming the bug... literally. Elke passed off the knives to two of the clones, just as skittering reached their ears. On alert, she rounded the three up and faced outward, tense and ready for whatever came next.

--

Ten.

There were ten bugs total. One had been incapacitated before the others showed up, but that still left nine of the bastards to deal with. And two of them had @#$%in' firearms!

Her clones managed to get rid of three of them on their own. Elke was able to take down two of them, snapping the neck of one after an intense struggle that had earned her a decently deep gash on her right thigh, and the second had been downed with help from the firsts blade of choice, a machete.

She'd thought that only her freakin' dad thought using machetes as a scare tactic was cool. Turns out she was wrong.

Also, they hurt like a @#%$&.

By the time the next roach came scuttling at her, she was seriously considering making a break for the torn open hatch in the ground, and regrouping with Saph. She wasn't 100% against taking on all of the little Roaches by herself, but she'd already lost one clone to three of them, and two others were faring just as well as she was.

"REGROUP!" She screamed for the tenth time, urging her slightly stupid clones to return tightly back to her side. It was easier fending off the attacks from the four remaining bugs when her back wasn't open.

The basement was silent. The sound of his metal laced boot was dominant for some time as he turned down a hallway. This was where it was important to pay close attention. He readied his reflex... What would it be? A hail of bullets? A rocket? Flamethrowers? He had a plan for all of it. Anything the bug could throw at him. He came to a large, dark room... Shifting movement. The hammer was up and out. He cursed his lack of foresight; he should have brought that night vision headset he'd bought on MROmazon.

The Judge went for the next best option, pulling his MAG light and holding it in his off hand as he clicked it on. A figure shied away, and he jumped into a defensive stance... Wait... it was a person. Tied... Several people. Jesus, they looked pretty bad; how long had they been down here?

"It makes sense, doesn't it? You want to find a do-gooder who seems to want to hide... You make a crime. You make sure he's paying attention. You steer it to his usual hang outs, maybe where his fake daughter is playing hero? I must admit, I was surprised when I heard you point out this location so quickly. I thought you two would get some quality time playing detective. Oh well... All it did was escalate my plans a little bit." The voice seemed to echo from everywhere. He shined the light around trying to find the source... the room was too big, and there were some many tied up people squirming. Jesus, what was that smell?

"Mister Masochist, I must apologize. I imagine you came all of this way to see me-" CRACK! The bright lights burst on, causing him to cover his eyes for a second. "And if everything played out right... I was forced to let you down..."

He took in the scene quickly. A large bug holding an old style breaker switch, large, but not Roach large. To its chest, a large recorder was duct taped on, the tape spinning. "Mother @#^$er.." In it's hand... A detonator.

"I feel simply dreadful about it...To make you feel better... A parting gift?"

Saphirus dove for cover.

---

KRRRRRAKOW!

The blast burst the door to the basement out from its bashed-in state. Seconds later the door collapsed in on itself, a product of the ground rumbling explosion.

Gregory Samson was silent as he drove his van down the streets of New York. It was a bitter sweet experience, knowing you were sending one or more of your children to their deaths.

They sacrifice wasn't in vain, though. His was a plot that required a few sacrificial pawns in order to capture the queen. He allowed himself a meditative breath as he turned off main street toward the road that led to Greymalkin. He would see her soon. He would tell her about his trap... His art. He would sit her down and make her paint him something special. He would tell her how her mother tasted, how satisfying it was to kill her. Oh, he had so many beautiful things to do! The first trick would be getting in, of course, but he had some ideas. To start, he'd arranged for the closing security staff to have a nasty bout of food poisoning...

He hoped to do much of his work outside; he would have to get in, grab her, and get out to his closest safehouse; Dear Megan's spiders hadn't found that one. He noticed something at the corner, and slowed the van to a stop... One of his bugs had a message to deliver. His antennae perked up straight as he listened to the little bug.

"Speak of the spider..."

He mused as he pressed on the gas, moving steadily toward his destination.

More to the party only meant more fun, right? It all just meant he could get revenge, and then enjoy the rest of the night on top of it!

A few streets ahead of the moving van a sleek black motorcycle screeched around a corner. Her spiders had been scouting for the whereabouts of the giant bug practically all day. She'd caught onto the plan too late to save Saph from the apparent trap, but she'd also gotten a tip that the hero hadn't been his intended target. She was planning on intercepting the roach before he could get to the girl, and she hoped she was prepared to succeed.

Her identity was hidden from most with a dark full helmet and a thick black leather jacket and pants. Roach would know, however. She was sure of it. She'd armed herself with her favorite silver finish .45 pistol and a few extra magazines, her favorite knife strapped to her other thigh, and a newer semiautomatic shotgun secured around one shoulder by a sturdy strap. She wasn't as familiar with the larger weapon, having only used it a few times in practice.... but she was sure as hell going to use it tonight to try and disable Roach's ride. If she could cripple the van, she would be able to give the cops enough time to swing by and collect Shelby from the school, before Roach could regroup.

Ignoring the rest of the drivers who were unlucky enough to be on the road at the same time, Megan cranked up her speed in order to pass the van and U-turn, intent on pulling up alongside the back right wheel.

She reached back while stabilizing her bike with the other hand, and secured her newer gun with the other. Then, she hefted the big gun up, focusing aiming while keeping her bike going straight with no hands.

As if on cue the traitor arrived. The giant bug heard her before he'd seen her, The screech of tires prompted a glance to the end of the street. She rocketed past him prompting an odd shrug as he tracked her with his head, looked back at the road, an then at her in his rear view as she caught up. He rolled down the manual window to wave out, as if he were telling her to go around, but then quickly rolled it back up when he saw the shotgun over her shoulder.

"Goodness, Megan, my girl! Such a violent weapon! Someone could get hurt!" He squealed merrily as he waited for her to get close enough to try and use the shotgun effectively against his vehicle. As he'd thought, she aimed to use it on his tires. That simply would not do. The Roach watched for a traffic sign coming up on her side, and timed a swerve and a slam on the breaks for it's passing to make it harder for her to fully swerve out of the way. He was rewarded with the sound of a crash behind him.

He was far past sparing her any pain. She'd hurt him too badly. As the van skid to a halt, he pulled his old revolver from his shell. He'd hoped he would run into her with it in hand... It was the perfect tool for putting someone so broken and pitifully lost out of their misery.

His heart both relished, and dreaded the thought of killing her. Still, Shelby was the main goal tonight; he had to remind himself of that. She was where his art would sing! Megan was simply old news. Slowly he opened the door, and danced on out of the driver's seat. "Megan! I do hope that didn't do you in... I have something for you!"

She got a bead on the back tire just as he plotted to run her off the road. Her finger jerked on the trigger, discharging a close range spray of buckshot into the metal of the back, just above and behind the tire. She didn't have time to recoup and try again, as the vehicle jerked towards her suddenly.

She dropped her grip on the gun, booth hands latching onto the handle bars of her bike as she jerked the front wheel to the side and tried to prevent herself from fully crashing. The bike fishtailed and wobbled threateningly before ultimately pitching over onto its side. The shriek of metal and plastic on asphalt filled the air, and she let the bike go. A swift roll in combination with her leather safety gear prevented her from losing any flesh to the accident, but... she still had Roach to worry about.

Megan ignored the way her right hip protested, and how something popped painfully in her neck just under her skull. She could worry about that later. Right now she needed to get up and prepare herself. she jerked her helmet off as she struggled to stand, and reached for the pistol at her hip.

... only to find the strap broken, and the gun gone. She must have lost it when skidding.

"I really must say I appreciate you all! It's like you are trying to make this the best night of my life! First, I get to kill that stupid imbecile of a man, and now you... And then, my little artist!" He squealed with joy, betraying the sophisticated English accent he loved to layer upon his own for a moment. He held up his revolver, barely aiming as he fired off a round in her direction. If it hit or not, it would get her attention as she tried to stand back up.

"Megan, Megan, Megan... Did you cut your hair?" He eyed her for a moment... She did look a little different. "I liked it more before." He aimed again, this time more carefully... The heart? The head? He couldn't decide... Maybe between the eyes, he could watch them lose the light of life quickly. Yes... He centered the sights.... and then hesitated.

"One last chance, Megan... Give this up. Come home with me... We can live like how we used to, in that tiny little apartment. I can try and rule the world... You can cook for me, tell me i'm crazy, but live more recklessly than I could even imagine. One last chance." He stared blankly with his one good eye as he waited for her response, the gun aimed steadily right between her eyes. She had no side arm; he could see it a good twenty feet away resting harmlessly on the pavement. He knew the answer... It had been the same for years. But she was defenseless, alone, and about to die... Maybe she would say yes?

She had barely turned after he started rambling when a shot fired and pain blossomed in her left upper arm. The spider mutant hissed and stumbled back slightly.

An exploratory squeeze told her it was mostly likely a wound though a slight bit of muscle and fatty tissue. It didn't feel deep. She'd live. She refocused on the big bug when he started talking again, icy blue eyes narrowed behind longer black bangs that were scattered across her forehead. Her left hand twitched slightly above the knife sheath on her left thigh... but she made no move for it.

""One last chance, Megan... Give this up. Come home with me... We can live like how we used to, in that tiny little apartment. I can try and rule the world... You can cook for me, tell me i'm crazy, but live more recklessly than I could even imagine. One last chance."

He waited mutely, staring her down. She chuckled humorlessly, and when she opened her mouth dark, gleaming fangs sat nestled in front of her teeth. "....No such thing as home with you anymore."

With practiced speed she had her knife out and pinched between her fingers. Hard fought instinct helped her guide the blade toward the claw of his holding the revolver. She wasn't sure if it would connect or not, but she'd use opportunity it presented to go for one of her other weapons if possible... or his if she hit.

He watched with baited breath as she bared her fangs. "That, I like more..." She really was beautiful when she wanted to be.

A knife came seemingly out of nowhere and embedded itself in his wrist. He gasped as he dropped his gun. Pulling the knife out. "RRRHHH! Uncalled for! I was only going to kill you! WHY CAN'T YOU EVER LET ME HAVE MY WAY, MEGAN?!" He growled as he tossed the knife to the side. He didn't have time for this, the now damaged wrist watch he'd had on was stuck five minutes away from his Shelby interception deadline.

"I'm not done with you... I'll see you later tonight you traitorous wench!" He clenched his wrist as he charged back to the van, hopped in and slammed the door shit. "YOU'RE A TERRIBLE ROOMMATE!" He spoke almost nonsensically as he backed the van up, running over the front of the skid out bike. He then moved forward over the same area, and sped off toward his objective.

He would be there soon. He still clenched his wrist as he drove with his chest arms. Soon this would all be over. A deep breath and a growl of frustration followed as he punched out the van side window with his left hand. He took that release as cue to calm himself. "Settle down, Roachie boy... You have much work to do; It's not the night to lose focus." Yes, nothing was lost... He would find Megan and put her down later. The real prize was so close!

He clacked his mandibles in anticipation once more... He'd made it. The van skid to a stop, and he popped out of the back door, a massive swarm of cockroaches departing with him.

He sent them in first to create a path to her, and cut off the danger room this time. He couldn't have that debacle repeat itself. Not on this night.

The poor artist that had been mentioned many times tonight was blissfully unaware of what had happened to saph, or who was literally coming for her. Why? Because she was four months pregnant and dead to the world with exhaustion. It didn't help that she woke up at god awful hours in the morning to puke her guts out if she so much as dreamed about the wrong kind of food.

Earlier that night she had taken her midwife approved sleep aid, dozed off with Saph still in the room with her, and had yet to even stir. While the school was being passive aggressively invaded for a second time because of her, she was snuggled up in the blankets of Saph's bed, as comfortable as she could get in a tank-top and sweats, with calming music quietly droning away in the background.

She was dreaming about kittens too. Giant, bobbly headed kittens chasing after her and saph in hilarious Flintstones style car, down some kind of mountain terrain in the middle of nowhere.

... pregnancy dreams were weird.

The path was clear, and he skipped down like some sort of Wonka-esque figure, ignoring his bleeding, disgusting wrist, and how it made his hand hang a little limp. He had a few more hands to rely on, after all, and Shelby wasn't exactly challenging prey alone, provided he didn't let his guard down. His eye was a good reminder of that stipulation. His bugs went pretty much everywhere else, crowding cameras, distracting the few denizens of the school who were awake at this late hour. He came to the side wall of the dorms, and effortlessly scaled the wall, relying on a few roaches to unlock the window.

Once that was done, he slid in silently, a black fog rolling into the room containing the softly snoring pink haired artist. Awww, how cute. She had no idea... He methodically grabbed one end of the bet sheets, tugged them from their tucked position, walked over to the next corner, repeated the process, and moved on until all four corners were slack. He then gathered them up, tugging sharply at the sides in an action that would almost certainly awaken her. He then closed all of the ends over her, and lifted the makeshift Shelby sheet sack he'd made. "Wakey wakey, darling. I do hope you slept well! We have much work to do!" He then gave where he guessed her head to be a good solid punch, aiming to put out her lights for a bit.

He couldn't have her alerting the other mansionites away from their bug exterminations to her kidnapping. He went out the same way he came in, climbing down with her over shoulder, and then dragging the sheet across the grass into the van. Before he shut the door behind him, he took a deep breath, and then gasped out the word: "Victory."

Thirty minutes or so later, Shelby would awaken in a dark room. "You're at a safe house... Well... for me. It's definitely not safe for you, here." He was wrapping his wrist.

"You and your baby are going to die tonight. I'm not sure which will be first." He spoke frankly, finishing up quickly, and standing to hand her a paint brush. She was in a chair, but evidently not restrained. A quick investigation would show she was chained to the chair by her foot, given a few feet of slack. The chair itself was bolted to the floor.

"I need you to do something before you die... how well you do will decide whether or not I kill you first... And whether I hunt down everyone else you love after I'm done here. You see, I couldn't take everything from you, could I? I didn't want to run out of bargaining chips here." He nodded factually as he dug out an A frame easel, and set it up before her.

"I need one last work... Something... Amazing. Something that reflects how this moment makes you feel." He pulled out a bucket full of paint tubes. He had tried his hand at replicating her art, but had failed horribly. These paints were better used by her. "Oh, how rude of me... Let me give you some light!" He disappeared into a darker corner, and flicked on a light switch, revealing a small room filled with he paintings... It had to be at least 75% of the works she'd sold thus far.

He'd been collecting them.

"I love your work. Every time I hurt you it develops even more! Yes... These are your works of art, but I really must say... You are my art... My greatest work yet." He marveled at her for a moment, and then the pieces. "Take your time. No one is coming. Saphirus is dead, Megan is broken, and doesn't know this safe house... All you have left is this." He pulled out a plain white canvas, and plopped it onto the frame. "Your swan song... Make it your best!" He walked over to sit in a small chair in the corner and watch. Quietly. With baited breath.

The shifting of the sheets didn't wake her right aft first. She would have figured it was Saph anyway, had her meds not been strong enough for her to ignore them. It wasn't until the sheets were jerked together and she woke with that awful falling out of bed feeling that she really came too.

It took only a moment to figure out that it was not a nightmare, but very real. But, alas, she didn't have much time to make a fuss before something hard clocked her across the noggin and she blacked out again.

--

Her head was pounding when she woke back up. With a soft groan, she lifted a hand and felt the giant knot that had formed above one temple. Next, she jolted into alertness and pressed a hand to her belly in a panic. It was fine... the baby was fine. Roaches voice jolted her out of her panic, and into sheer terror... enough so she didn't really hear much of what he said right at first, not before he outright threatened her and her unborn child.

Her very blood chilled in her veins and she found herself watching him with wide eyes, slightly unfocused because her glasses were probably still sitting on her nightstand at the school. Or, maybe that was from the bump on the head. She couldn't tell.

He rambled on, something about everyone she loved, and started digging out painting supplies. She could feel her heartbeat in her hands and feel, it was pounding so hard. This was it, wasn't it? He had finally gotten tired of his own demented game and he was going to get rid of her. What was he gonna do with the easel? Paint with her blood?


""I need one last work... Something... Amazing. Something that reflects how this moment makes you feel. Oh, how rude of me... Let me give you some light!"

The light stung her eyes. It took a moment to adjust, and when she did she found herself surrounded in a room full of macabre paintings, both of her own volition and ones that had been requested of her. She'd known that Roach had been the one buying a lot of her work... but she hadn't thought that he was actually keeping it. She swallowed thickly as he continued on.

"I love your work. Every time I hurt you it develops even more! Yes... These are your works of art, but I really must say... You are my art... My greatest work yet. Take your time. No one is coming. Saphirus is dead, Megan is broken, and doesn't know this safe house... All you have left is this. Your swan song... Make it your best!"

There were a lot of things that came to mind right then.

First, there was no way he had managed to kill Saph... no way, right? He'd been right there when she had gone to.... sleep. Shelby slowly connected some dots internally, trying not to let her worry show on her face. Saph had been right next to her when she had gone to sleep. Where was he now? Had he left? Had he been in a different area of the school? No... no he would have created too much of a fuss for Roach to get in and out unscathed, let alone with Shelby.

What if something had happened to him?

She tried not to think of that and turned to her second realization. Roach didn't know about her power. Either that, or he didn't think there was anything she could do with it that would possibly interrupt his plan. She stared around her at the numerous paintings she had created. Would any of them work with her power? She hadn't been able to test a whole lot of her older paintings.

Would she even want to attempt to use them? The last time she had traversed into a painting with an intentionally hostile creature as the subject, she'd barely made it back out with all of her limbs still attached. No... she would need a new one. Something she could mold to her needs. But first...

"...If you've already killed Saph, and no one else is coming for me... and you are going to kill me anyway, why should I do what you want? How can I put any faith in you not killing anyone else I care about after I am gone?"

Her voice trembled, but she had to keep it up. It always seemed to drive him mad when she spoke back to him or went against what he wanted. Meanwhile, she stared straight ahead at the white canvas, trying to envision what she would paint there. What would be most effective for her to use against him?