Bain was covered in red liquid.

The splatters of it were all over his claws, extending down his forearms and coating his bulging stump where his arm should be, which he felt would soon be back to a full-sized arm. It was even sprayed on his head in massive splotches, some of it dried just above his eye. It was beginning to stick, there was so much of it.

Granting the exact right amount of power to his legs, Bain leaped upwards, and at the apex of his jump, slashed with the tool in his hand, leaving a bright red streak across his target. Landing, he twisted one foot awkwardly and fell down, landing with a splash in more of the liquid.

Stitches stumbled back, snorting loudly and waving his arms. "Bain! How am I supposed to get this much paint off my clothes? You gotta watch out where you're landing, we don't have the Tower's washing machines out here!"

Bain grinned at him, then picked up the paint tray full of Barn Red and pitched it at Stitches. He yelled in response and grabbed a paint can, chasing Bain down. He took off, zipping around the corner of the building.

The army of sheddings had fully repaired every building in the territory. It'd been a staggering amount of work done in an unbelievably short time, but...

Apparently, most sheddings were color blind.

The monochromatic gray stone the sheddings had used to fix the buildings stood out like a sore thumb against the weather-stained blackened bricks and peeling paint, so Bain had decided to give everything a new coat of paint. Stitches had a feeling that the job would be 'mysteriously' finished overnight by tomorrow, but Bain was throwing himself into the job with a single-minded focus and Stitches had missed that side of him. It was... nostalgic, really. He knew his relationship with Bain had changed. It'd gotten a little darker, a little more serious, a little more distant and somehow closer at the same time. It was a strange feeling for a person who hadn't had many close friends.

He managed to catch up to Bain, who clearly wasn't trying, and dumped the can over his head. Closing his eyes, Bain shook himself off, spraying paint all over the road and walls. He got down on all five of his limbs and increased the intensity, and paint went flying.

Stitches turned around, covering his head and laughing. When was the last time he'd laughed? Really laughed, without worrying about what the person he was around was thinking? Wondering if they were going to stab him in the back? Ironic, he reflected, considering what he'd done. Ironic and more than a little painful.

Getting back to his feet, Bain shivered one last time and smiled, his teeth tinted red from the paint. "I'm going to go find a hose or something. I'll be right back."

Stitches fumbled around for his small rag-towel, waving him away. "Yeah, you do that. And then we're starting round two, got it?" He applied the towel to his face, rubbing most of the paint away. Taking his clothes into account, he ruefully realized he'd probably have to get a new suit.

Bain headed to the back of the apartment building, searching for a faucet he could use. Ducking, he kept an eye close to the ground, inspecting the base of it closely.

"Bain?"

He looked up, startled, and saw Gren holding onto the wall. He grinned widely. "Hey! How are you doing? Thanks again for all the help, by the way. I really appreciate it!"

The shedding's head tilted. "What are you doing and why are you covered in false blood? We can find plenty of things for you to bathe in blood with. You don't need fake stuff."

Bain opened his mouth, tried to think of an appropriate way to respond to the sentence without hurting Gren's feelings, and failed, closing his mouth. Finally, he decided to go for the straight truth. "It's just red paint. Stitches and I were... applying color to the buildings."

Gren nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, the corpse. Do the buildings need many colors or just one?"

Thinking for a moment, Bain said carefully, "They need several colors. We're still figuring out which ones."

The shedding nodded again, probably filing the information away for later. His eyes lit up as he remembered his reason for looking for Bain. "Ah yes, there are some brutes in your territory. We think they are about to cause a..." Gren frowned as he strove to come up with a good word for it. "...ruckus, I think. They look very suspicious, and the last time we saw them, they broke many things."

Bain's eyes narrowed. "So, like a gang?"

Gren successfully recognized the word and nodded. "Yes. There are three of them. They are not being nice."

Rolling his shoulders, Bain said, "Well, I wouldn't be much of a hero if I didn't stop crimes. Where are they?"

Undulating across the wall, Gren began crawling away. "I will lead you. And I will ask the family to find you some fresher blood. Paint does not smell nearly as good."

Bain coughed politely. "Actually..."

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

Dressed in tight-fitting black spandex and wielding a matching mace, Spike Punch walked into the alley, his friends close behind. "Yo, Teepee, do the thing already. I wanna get this started."

The young man behind him had curly brown hair rising from behind his oval mask, which featured only two eye-slits and no other decoration. He wore a long beige trench coat with the edges curled up, a simple black T-shirt, and jeans. Although none of them could see it, he glared at Spike. "Dude. For the last time, it's Warp! C'mon, man, get it right!"

At six foot eight and just shy of three hundred and fifty pounds, the giant of a man following Warp grunted sympathetically. A simple matte-black domino mask covered his eyes, sitting above his crooked nose and scraggly beard, and his outfit consisted of a tanktop, straining at his muscular shoulders, and cargo pants. The pockets were mostly empty, aside from his hands shoved in them, which were the approximate size and shape of spades. Spike glared at him. "Are you challenging my authority?"

He hefted the mace threateningly, and Warp backed off into Bull's sizable chest, hands raised. "Okay, okay, I'll do it. Just give me a sec, it's hard to work my magic when I don't know where she is." Crouching, he began to trace a circle on the ground, thin bands of white light filling the lines he drew. 

Removing a thick cigar from one of his pockets, Bull lit it, leaning against a wall and crossing his legs as he poked it into the corner of his mouth. Spike's nose wrinkled as the smell hit him, and he backed away with a frown. "Yo, d'you really have to smoke that thing? I swear, I lose a month every time you light one of those." 

Bull looked at him evenly, raising an eyebrow, and Spike shut up. He had no illusions about how powerful he was, and how strong his mace was, but it was never a good idea to argue with the mild-mannered Bull. It took quite a bit to anger the man, but one couldn't be too safe.

Trying to find something to change the subject, he indicated the walls with a thumb. "Hey, they've really fixed this place up, eh?" Bull grunted noncommittally, slouching and cupping his cigar with one hand, and Spike shrugged. Now that his attention had been drawn to it, he took a closer look at the walls, frowning. "Wait... how'd they fix it up so fast? This place was a dump like two days ago."

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He was distracted by Warp yelling, "Right, got it!" 

Grinning, Spike retracted the spikes on his mace and skillfully flicked it around his wrist, waiting as the circle of light glowed, erupting into a familiar shape. The small green girl with the tentacle hair looked up, the half-eaten rat falling out her mouth as she shrieked. 

She didn't have the time to do much else. Spike's mace slammed into her face with a blunt impact, and she was launched into the back of the clean alley, bouncing off the walls and crashing into the floor without making a sound. Mere moments later, she began wrapping tentacles around herself in a ball, tucking her limbs in.

Spike gestured at her with the mace, growling to Bull, "Stop her! I'm not done with my fun!"

Sighing, Bull approached the monster, seized the thick wraps of rubbery flesh, and pulled. Some of the tentacles tore from the force, and she whimpered. Shoving a booted foot into her back, he pushed her down and held the tentacles up two-fisted. 

Spike grinned. "Yeah, that's better. Hold her still for a sec, I wanna try something."

Crouching next to her, he held his mace up next to her head, then slowly started extending the spikes. The sharp rods began to pierce her tentacles, and large drops of liquid began welling up at the corners of her eyes. "...why?" Her voice was so quiet Spike almost thought he'd missed it, and he rolled his eyes.

"Finally! I thought you'd never talk. Now tell me, how does this feel?" He extended the spikes to their maximum length suddenly, stabbing through her hair. Taken by surprise, she screamed, and he closed his eyes in happiness. "Do you know how long I've waited to hear that? I thought the day would never come!" Pulling the mace back, he ripped through the tentacles, tearing several of them off. Some stayed attached to it, and he held it aloft. "Anyone want sushi? Warp, you like sushi, right?" 

Without turning around, he raised the mace. "Bull, don't let her move. We need to get enough of this stuff for everyone, all right?" He brought it down as hard as he could, aiming for the root of her hair. 

Except it didn't go down. It stopped dead, and he almost lost his grip. Turning, he looked up. And up. And up.

Something was standing in front of him, one colossal hand wrapped around the end of his mace. It was monolithic, six glowing red eyes glaring with unrestrained hatred straight into his face. It had three arms and a bulbous stump, and the two that weren't gripping his weapon as if they were made of steel were flexing wicked claws. It growled something at him, and it took his adrenaline-fueled brain a moment to figure out what it was. "Villain."

The monster yanked backward. Spike could have let go. He should have let go. But instead, he tightened his grip and went flying as it tossed him and his weapon aside. 

With a grunt, Bull threw the little tentacle monster away and charged the bigger one, muscles rippling and expanding as his height grew a full foot and a half until he was big enough to stare it in the eyes. Throwing his whole weight into it, he sent a straight punch at the thing, stomping one foot down and twisting his back for maximum power.

It caught his punch one-handed. He stared at it for a moment, then tried to attack with his other hand. It caught that too and began pushing him down. Startled by the force, he lost ground, then pushed back as hard as he could.

It wasn't enough. Inexorably, inevitably, the monster began to loom over him as he literally drove him into the ground, applying more and more pressure as the thing began growling, a sound that slowly built in volume. Warp was long gone. It took him time to teleport others, but he could do himself instantly, and he'd clearly cut and run, the coward.

Spike got to his feet, steadied himself, and shouted, "Eat metal, freakshow!" Spinning, he brought his arm up in a swing, and the end of his mace detached, a chain connecting the ball to the handle. The spiked ball whizzed through the air, heading straight for the monster's back, and-

-it caught that too, its third arm whipping back to clutch the ball in its palm. Briefly stunned, Spike sent his power through the weapon, and spikes erupted out of it, impaling the creature's hand and embedding itself securely. It didn't even flinch. Instead, it simply wrapped its hand around the chain, still crushing Bull into the ground, and tugged sharply. Spike was once again launched into the air, except this time the thing backhanded him in the face. 

He did a perfect full backflip as something crunched, slamming into the ground and driving the air from his lungs. It diverted its attention from him and pummeled Bull in the gut several times with its injured hand, the spiked maceball still stuck in its hand. The protruding spikes punctured Bull's skin several times, and the giant man stumbled. 

It was all the monster needed. Sweeping one leg under both of Bull's, it knocked him off his feet, let go of his hands, and smashed him in the ribcage with its elbow. Gripping his neck, it lifted him fully off the ground, pivoted on one foot, and slammed him into the ground next to Spike, leaving a crater in the fresh cement. Wrapping its spare hand around Spike's throat, it growled into their faces, "This is my territory. I am a hero." It was almost as if it was talking to itself, he realized. 

Gasping for air, he croaked, "You're-you're a hero? But-but we're heroes, too! You-you-you can't kill us, right?"

It stared straight at him for a moment, and then its face split vertically. A maw straight from nightmares screamed in his face, uneven rings of black teeth lining it, and then closed. With a snarl, it roared, "GET OUT!!!"

Still gripping them by the neck, it spun and literally hurled them into the street. Spike rolled to a stop and crashed into a lamppost, and he felt something break. Not the post. Bull wasn't so lucky. He crashed through a wall and didn't make a sound. 

Spike didn't bother checking to see if he was okay. Eyes wide and breathing ragged, he stood up and felt a lance of pain through his arm. Biting down on the scream, he started shambling for the exit to the territory. His legs were warm and wet, his suit was ripped, but all he could think of was I'm so glad I'm still alive.

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

Bain stood, closing his eyes as he got his breathing under control. His massive heart was thumping in his chest like a drum, and his lower right hand still had the villain's spiked ball stuck in it. He pried it out with a brief growl of pain, then tossed it aside. Clenching his hand to make sure it still worked, he turned to the alley and paced inside.

There was a ball of green-purple tentacles waiting for him there, and he sat himself down in front of it. "Are you okay?" he asked softly. 

The ball tightened, compressing further on itself. The pressure forced blood out of the scars on the tentacles, scars slowly and yet visibly closing. He scooted a little closer. "I'm not going to hurt you, and neither are those guys. You're safe, I promise."

Loosening ever so slightly, a gap formed in the ball, and Bain leaned forward. A single golden eye was visible, wide in fear. He could hear the young monster breathing rapidly in terror, but it was looking at him either way. 

He folded his arms, tucking the claws into his hands to appear less intimidating. He smiled as non-threateningly as he could, and said quietly, "I get that you want to hide. When I feel bad or scared I hide too, but I think yours might be better than mine. Can I come in?"

The eye flicked from side to side nervously, but a larger gap formed as the tentacles expanded, making more room for him. He crawled inside, tucking his body in as much as he could. He sat down again once the umbrella of tentacles closed, darkening the small space.

Very softly, barely a whisper, he asked, "When I feel really scared, a hug makes me feel better. I don't know if you need one right now, but do you want one?"

He was honestly blind in here. No light was leaking in, and his hearing and sense of touch were ramped up to ten as a result. He could hear the slight scraping of bone hooks on concrete as her tentacles dragged across the ground slowly, the scuttling of centipede legs somewhere above him, and the sound of Stitches' blissfully unaware whistling far in the distance.

Something tentatively touched him in the shoulder, and he smiled in the dark. "It's okay, I promise I won't hurt you. No one's going to hurt you in here. It's your safe place, remember?"

A small form carefully stepped onto his legs, and he rested one arm on his knee, forming a sort of cradle. He sensed more than saw the young girl stiffen, before relaxing infinitesimally. She delicately stepped into the crook of his arm, supporting her weight with her hair. 

It was a long, long moment before the tension began to drain out of her, but he was happy to wait. He knew from experience how much a kind word meant, but a kind gesture meant so much more than that.

She began trembling, a barely audible sniffling sound. He raised his other arm and wrapped it around her, hugging her snugly to his colossal chest. He could feel small tracks of warm liquid streaming down from her face as she cried into him, and he let her. It took several minutes for her to calm down. He could tell because the roof of tentacles over his head began to retract, slowly shortening until he could see her more visibly. 

He stood up carefully, lifting her into his arms and cradling her securely. She rolled over, settling into a more comfortable position and closing her eyes. He started carrying her back to the cube-shaped building, a thought drifting across his mind.

I wonder if this is how Nahma feels about me.