Cat N Mouse

by BananaDucc

Summary:

Siberian is thwarted and seduced by Mouse Protector, who really wants a cat themed villain to play her comedic straight man.

 

For years Mouse Protector has been looking for her other half, a friendly cat themed villain (read as victim) she can play off of (read as harass). About two months ago she smacked herself on the head after she realized that the solution had been standing right in front of her the whole time. The Siberian!

Notes:

(No Manton AU)
(Siberian just kind of did that)
(They hate to see a girlboss winning)

Chapter 1: Valentines Day

The Siberian

Feb 14th, 2010

 

My smile drops as the front doors of Mississippi's very own Hero High School come crashing to the checkered tile. It's completely empty. No staff at the front desk, no seniors loitering around the stairs, nothing. Nobody. 

My eye twitches at the now apparent presence of the single thing I hate most in the world. Under a mural of Hero, who stares down at my situation mockingly, begins a trail of rose petals leading deeper into the school. 

She is here. 

It was supposed to be a wonderful opening act for the Slaughterhouse Nine. The Siberian killing as many students as she could get her hands on in a school dedicated to her first public kill, all in a recreation of that manner. But the world would have to manage with a dead Mouse dropped at their feet instead.

I walk down the halls of the evacuated school, rose petals taunting me underfoot as I approach someone who’s ruined my fun far too many times. 

I halt outside the door where the path of rose petals ends. I have no doubt in my mind that she's sitting in there, cocky and completely sure that I can't touch her. For a moment I contemplate identifying and destroying a load bearing wall or two of the room she's waiting for me in. I'd like to see if bringing down the building she's prepped and staged would finally kill the cockroach. But after so many failed attempts to do exactly that, it's just not worth it.

So I do something out of character. I turn the door knob.

"Ooooo~," Comes the mocking tone of independent hero and professional thorn in my ass, Mouse Protector.

Immediately I regret my decision.

"Look who learned how to use a dooor~." Her words come out half mumbled from the rose held between her teeth.

Unblinkingly I glare down at her with a look that has killed before. She’s sprawled on top of the teacher's desk, posing like she’s some dame lounging on a loveseat and not a bitch ruining my day.

If my body wasn't an empty void I would spit to get the smells and taste of vanilla out of my mouth. She seems to have had the bright idea to light the dim room with what has to be well over three dozen scented candles.

I step over the papers and office supplies that litter the floor around the desk, thrown aside in her haste to set the scene up for me. She lets me approach, not a drop of fear in her eyes. I lick the lingering blood of my last kill off my lips as I lean over her, "Tell me Rat, are you stupid or just suicidal?"

The rose drops out of her red painted lips in surprise. The shocked look on her face is the greatest thing I've seen all week.

"Fuck," She whispers, "Your voice's pretty."

She’s gone before my strike lands. The desk splintering in the place of the teleporting clown.

I whip my vision behind me, my eyes landing on where she now resides at the back of the room. She pulls herself up into a sitting position to compose herself.

"To be honest, I half expected you to not be able to talk. Was really getting my steps in with solo comedy, wasn't I."

A glass candle shatters where her head was just moments before. I reach for another to throw full force at wherever her stupid head pops up next, but my hand meet nothing but air.

“Oh can't you smell the love in the air, my dear kitten?” Mouse Protector says as she sniffs a candle she practically plucked out of my hand. I lunge for her throat, instead going straight through the wall and into the next room over as she disappears.

Behind me a long sheet of black art paper is rolled over the hole I just made, plunging me into near darkness. Slow jazz starts playing over the intercom. 

I begin stalking around the room in search. She's in here, no doubt about it. She has too much wrong with her to stay away from the show. "Is this sexual? Is this a sick fantasy to you?" I try goading her to announce her presence in the near black of the room, my eyes still yet to adjust. It almost makes me miss the candles. Almost.

"Eh, 50/50. You were the first time I saw a woman naked, great bush by the way-" "Kill yourself!" "-but also I do really love our talks." I can't pin her down, she moves too fast, between sentences; between words.

An old projector kicks on, illuminating the room in red light. She sits with her back to it, the large red heart haloing her form. She looks up, giving me a lingering half lidded gaze.

There was no reason for her to have been looking down in the first place. Lies, misdirection, bullshit. All of this is done purely to piss me off.

"Fine," Like a seasoned predator I stalk forward, moving slowly as not to scare the skittish little rodent. I lean over her, my nails nearly ghosting her cheek. She hums deeply.

I begin in a whisper, "I've heard of our little groupies before. Chasing us around for a taste. I tasted a couple of them too. You want to be eaten? Let me tell you, it won't be so hot once I rip your tits off with my teeth!" My claws meet empty air.

She's halfway across the room, her right side painted red from the projector's light. She crosses her full legs and begins pouring a glass of wine for herself. My lip twitches in agitation.

Mouse Protector takes a sip, "So vulgar. I know it's valentines day but that's above my age rating. And you know damn well uncooked fat tastes horrible! If you're going to eat me, you are going to use a good cut. I've been working very hard on my marbling just for you," the sound of her smacking her thick thighs echoes through the room, "Swear to god, babygirl." 

She pulls herself off the table. Mouse rests a hand on her wide hip and she struts towards me. We begin to dance around each other. Or rather, she dances around me.

"I killed your mentor."

She swirls the red in her glass while dodging a thrown backpack, "We could bond over our memories of him."

"I still remember shoving my hand through his chest."

She sighs wistfully as if I didn't almost nick her throat, "God I wish that were me."

"There is something seriously wrong with you!"

"Damn right. You're not in my arms, honey bun."

I grab my hair in frustration, "I'M LITERALLY A FUCKING CANNIBAL!!"

"I could fix you." Mouse Protector winks at me.

She's genuinely psychotic. She has to be. No other logical explanation.

She moves to a invisible mark between the wall and a kid’s desk next to me. I see the momentary mistake in her positioning and pounce. I grab the back of the connected chair and thrust it forwards in a flash of movement.

The black and white pattern disappears from the desk as I let go. It's left embedded two feet in the back wall, missing the bisected Mouse Protector that it should be adorned with.

For a long blissful moment I’m left alone in silence.

My hackles raise as I hear the door behind me creak open. I turn my head to side eye her with the strength of a thousand suns. Mouse Protector leans against the door, now dressed in a red silk robe.

She's gone before before I’m even half way there. That doesn't stop me from cutting the door in half out of petty anger. "RAAAH!"

"Slight overreaction. Hey, how would you rate the school's decor? Personally I’m not really a fan of all the-" I rip the upper half of the door off its hinges and fling it at her.

"After I'm done with you, your corpse is going to make what I did to Hero look like a cheap copycat failing to imitate me!”

Mouse swoons against the hallway wall, "Chills, literal chills. Now say it while pinning me-"

A buzz knocks her out of her stupid flirtations, she looks down. Instantly I’m dashing towards her silently, banking on the moment of distraction to give me an opening. She pulls out a pager from her pocket and-

I let out a growl of frustration.

-and she's another fifteen feet down the hall, "Oop. There it is. They killed Crawler..." She clicks her tongue, "OK BYEEE!!!" Mouse Protector gives me a two finger salute and pops out of existence.

I hear a whistle from behind me, an attempt to get my attention. When I don't acknowledge the bitch behind me, she whistles louder. I sigh heavily through my nose and reluctantly turn to face her.

She mimes a phone, shaking in next to her ear while mouthing 'call me’.

Mouse Protector disappears for a final time, leaving me in an empty building with nothing but my own wasted time.

Again she was a distraction. She is always their distraction. But I can't stop taking the bait if taking it means I have the slightest sliver of a chance to put that damn woman in her place.

Notes:

THE SIBERIAN BUSH!!!!

THE SIBERIAN BUSH IS REAAAAAL!!!!!!!!

Chapter 2: Just A Routine Tuesday

The Siberian

Feb 16th, 2010

 

The clown's broken body trembles at my feet.

Unfortunately, 'clown' is referring to their profession, not my evaluation of them as a person. I guess their profession would be closer to ‘character actor’ than- Ok, in other words, this sadly isn't Mouse Protector.

I shake my head clear of the thought. 

Even when a situation is completely removed from anything relating to her, I just can't get Mouse Protector out of my head. She's invaded every facet of my mind. I can't seem to escape the thought of her; and the thought of her makes it really hard to enjoy doing what I love.

Even thinking about how much I'm thinking of her is in of itself thinking about her. I shake my head again to focus on what's in front of me. The screaming masses terrified of my presence.

I sigh. So calming.

I lick my lips.

And it’s something to get the lingering memory of vanilla out of my mouth.

I place my foot on the shaking clown's head. I relish in the flowering sobs of mortal terror as I begin to press down. My grin pulls at my eyes are I feel his skull begin to-

Ronald McDonald vanishes from under me with the briefest flicker of a red cloaked figure. Left on the floor beneath me is nothing but a Mouse Protector themed eraser. 

My jaw sets.

The already fleeing civilians are whisked away by the green blur of some no-name hero on rescue duty. I don't bother trying to swat the gnat.

I breathe deeply through my nose.

A wistful sigh comes from the top of the indoor play place. 

I let out a grounding breath of air.

Finally turning behind me I see Mouse Protector laying on the top of the child sized hamster maze that takes up an entire corner of the building. 

"Hey cutie Kitty. Valentine's day was amaaazing~," Mouse Protector props her cheek in her palm and looks into the distance. She sighs wistfully for a second time on her perch, "I still remember it like it was yesterday." 

“It’s been two days," My voice is level.

When she hears me talk Mouse Protector grins like the cat that caught the canary, before catching herself and putting back on her facade. She pulls out a dying rose and twirls it between her grey gloved fingers. She sighs wistfully for a third time, "Like it was yesterday~."

I regret impulsively opening my maw. I dislike talking, but she now seems to be the only person in the world that I just can't shut up around.

Mouse Protector tosses the rose at me, it lands pathetically short of my feet. She calls down, "Hey Romeo, do you have a thing against fast food? A real bone to pick? Because this is the second time I've bumped into you in a McDonalds. Really odd, if you ask me."

I'm a single mom who works two jobs. I’m here in the first place so I could get some steps in and then pick up dinner for Riley after I'm done. I will not be demeaned like an idiot.

I bare my teeth at the woman kicking her legs on top of the McDonald's play place like a school girl, "The only thing that awaits you is death by my hands."

"Completely and totally unrelated to my question! But I do love a girl that's impulsive. Mrrrow." She imitates a cat's pawing. 

I approach the Rat's throne and crouch at its base. My fingers dig through the soft yet grimy padded floor to grip the bottom of the structure. The entire thing turns a monochrome black and white as I spread my power through it. Mouse's wide eyes stare down at me before she disappears behind the lip.

I can't fight off my grin.

In a single fluid motion I stand and throw my arm upwards simultaneously, letting go at the last moment to send the entire plastic mega-structure through the roof and wall of the building at lightning speed. The ceiling behind me begins to crack and buckle under its own weight. 

The play place strikes the ground hundreds of feet from me with enough force to crack the tar of the abandoned road it landed on. On impact the structure flattens into a heap of warped plastic, leaving anybody inside dead on impact.

If anybody was inside, which knowing her-

I blindly strike at my side when a low whistle comes from next to me. The whistle continues from the other side of the room as if unbothered by nearly losing it's head.

"Boy I sure am glad I'm not THAT guy," Comes Mouse’s grinning words as she hikes her thumb out the open wall.

 

---

 

She makes me feel like a mouse being toyed with, battered around by a bored cat with nothing better to do. She shakes the foundation on how I function. I can’t stalk and pounce on someone always a step ahead, I can't use my unending strength on someone always out of reach.

It's invigorating.

I need to sharpen myself against her. I need to learn how to be faster, think smarter, use my environment and powers like I’ve seldom done before.

So far- “HAHAHA I don’t even know how to make a joke about that! What were you even trying!?” -it isn't working. 

I refuse to react as I unbury myself from the person shaped pit in the ground. I throw a broken off tile just to get her stupid round face out of my sight.

The person shaped crater and about an eight foot line of buckled flooring remain as evidence of another failed attempt to snuff the light from her eyes. I can't be too harsh on myself, if Riley was in this position I would even call it a learning experience. Attacking from an angle Mouse Protector can't predict by swimming in the earth beneath her doesn’t work if I don’t know where to attack in the first place, the lack of information goes both ways. 

"Do you picture yourself by my side?" I say as I catch my metaphorical breath, “Deep down, do you want to hurt people? Are you afraid of them knowing what lies in the parts of your mind you try desperately to ignore?” I hold myself from blindly charging at her when I hear her loudly slurp an empty paper cup behind me. 

I need to think before every action. She can only move to a place she has touched before, that’s her weakness. I need to start paying attention, identifying and destroying what she marks as I go. Every second spent in a fixed location is another second for her to place a new mark, another vector of movement. 

"You really aren't the best at this whole 'reading people thing' you've been trying out. But I will say, 'Slaughter Mouse of the Slaughter House' has a great ring to it. I'm in." Mouse Protector taunts from her spot leaning on one of the few remaining pieces of furniture not yet trashed by our fight.

The cup, the table, the floor where she stands.

"No shame in trying to pick your brain-,” -before I eat it, “I think when the time comes, I'll choose a name more fitting for you. Once Bonesaw’s had her fun first, of course.” I dash forward.

The table and chair are pulverized, the cup she tosses to the side is caught and mulched in my fist. I swipe my foot in an arc through the floor to destroy where both of her feet stood. If she can place a mark through her gloves, then I need to act as if she can place a mark through her boots until I can confirm otherwise.

"And you're terrible at selling things. You were this close to flipping a hero to your dubiously defined cause, and you blew it," She shakes her head slowly, “For shame, Sibby. For. Shame.”

I roll my eyes at her and I drag my nails against the wall before I approach, running them through where I remember her leaning her hand against earlier.

"Here," Mouse flicks a Mouse Protector branded pencil at me. I catch it before it hits my eye and crush it in two. "Sell me this pen."

"The next thing you throw at me is going through your-"  

Mouse Protector loudly groans over me, "That's terrible!! I'd never buy it at this rate."

She reaches behind her back to pull out a small booklet. "Ok, I want you to take this self help book-" Oh my god. 

Advance, destroy the book, destroy a chair she leaned on, taunt her to keep her talking. "I want you to take some broken glass and chew it thoroughly." She likes to pause her jumping when talking. I need to keep her movement manageable.

"Wait? How is that going to get me to buy the pen?” She pauses and taps her chin, “Hmmmm. I think you lost the plot. Let's move on. You know what you would look good doing instead?"

"You would look good kneeling broken at my feet." My words cut through the room like a pitbull through a baby shop. A sweet silence greets my ears.

"I- you-", Mouse Protector chokes on her words.

"Sorry, that just came out of nowhere. I don't even remember what I was going to say, to be honest. Give me a moment." She laughs breathily, a warm sound that sends tingles down my spine.

Oh. 

Shutting her up felt good.

 

---

 

With every broken mark I grow closer to my victory. With every sure step the noose around her neck tightens.

Chair, floor, table.

Mouse Protector stumbles to the ground as her foot is caught in rubble and debris. 

I continue my approach, leaving deliberately broken objects and fewer and fewer options in my wake.

Tray, floor, bag.

She backpedals from my advance, crawling on her hands to inch further away from me. Cowering like the vermin she is.

I won't miss this, but I can’t say it wasn’t fun at times either. Still, as this brief era of my life comes to a close, I can’t help but feel unsatisfied, like something is missing.

Oh well. Something to think about on a full stomach.

Trapdoor, counter, register.

My cheshire grin widens as I begin our closing remarks. I tisk, "For all your quips,"

The little Mouse presses herself into the corner of the counter and wall. She grabs some kid’s cast aside jacket and throws it at me in desperation.

"And all your little tricks,"

I strike forward and tear through the blue fabric,

"You're still just-" 

I recoil and make an incoherent noise of surprise when something cold and floppy flattens itself onto my face, "Gack-! "

I stand there for a moment motionless, left a perfect statue as my conscious mind processes what just happened.

I’m going to kill her. There are no words in the english language that can convey how hard I’m going to fucking kill her.

Her putrid, cruel, evil voice comes from behind me. "You didn't answer my question earlier. Do you have something against fast food?” 

She was playing with me again, leading me in circles like a leashed mare. I missed a mark, several likely. She figured out what I was doing ages ago, and I took the bait, like a fool I believed her panic was real and not another act.

I slowly reach up to peel the cold slice of cheese from my grimacing face.

“I mean I get it, but is it the cheese? It's real cheese you-know? People say it isn't, but it is!” Her voice is gratingly peppy. I think I understand now why people shake babies.

My voice comes nearly emotionlessly, "I can't possibly articulate how much I don’t care." 

“To be honest I don't really even like most cheeses. People act like I'm some authority on cheese when really I’m just not. You dress up like a mouse and suddenly everybody sends you cheese for the holidays! Though, even if I’m not actually a ‘cheese authority’ I do stand by the real cheese thing. It just has anti-whatchamacallit added so it melts better. Do you know what they’re called? Because the name is evading me. I think it’s something all chemically like-”

“Oh my god stop talking! ” I turn around to charge at her in a blind rush, “You're so fucking annoying!" Unsurprisingly it gets me nowhere. Meeting open air where soft flesh should have been makes me nearly sob in frustration.

Now sitting on the front counter, Mouse Protector clutches her hand over her heart and smiles gently, "Aw, thanks! I try really hard.”

She weakly flicks her wrist out at me. “Hey but I am curious about your whole diet thing. Have you ever even had a cheese burger?”

I needle at her, just to get under her skin; just to hurt her, "When I can taste the warm flesh of a Hero's still beating heart instead?"

She rolls her eyes. Her tone is utterly bored and dismissive, "Ugh we get it. You peaked in your twenties,” She cups her mouth and loudly whispers to me as if sharing a secret, “If you keep bringing it up, people won't respect you during reunion."

No matter how she shrugs off the death of a mentor by my hand, it has to hurt. Only a psychopath, no, only an unfeeling inhuman monster wouldn’t- 

I blink.

Oh. My words have no effect on this insane bitch.

"Find a bridge-," My words come automatically, but I with my revelation I can't put any effort into them, "You know what? No. I’m done, actually.” 

I walk past her forwards towards the shattered glass door. There is no reason for me to be here, she does not control my life. I step through the door, carelessly breaking its remaining metal frame in the process. 

The Vermin calls after me, “Wait, have you seriously never had a cheese burger?” 

‘Not in this life.’ I quickly shove down the errant thought as I continue down the empty sidewalk that runs alongside the war torn building. The entire time I do my absolute best to ignore the pointless follow up questions shouted after me.

“I'll make you one!” Unfortunately she seems to have taken my silence as an answer.

I glare towards the parking sign she pulls away from. She also seems to have teleported past me. While in the thick of it I didn't even once consider the possibility of pre-existing marks outside the building. I feel so damn sloppy and new blooded around her. 

I drag my eyes away from her and continue ignoring her, dead set on just going home for the day. I’m not the vain stupid type that refuses to admit defeat. I’ve grown more frustrated than amused, and I will not beat my head into a wall without reason.

"Come oooon, let me make you your first real human meal. I could totally do it, I worked at one of these as a ward and the kitchen is even still intact,” she blips away for a beat and returns with a thin smile, “Mostly.”

I continue my silent march along the building.

"Come oooooon, come on come on come on. Indulge me or I’m following you all the way back to the murder police. Come ooon. Come oooooon Come ooooooooon Come ooooooooooooooooooooooooooon meeeeeeeeee~ Taaaaaake meeeeeeeee ooooon~ IIIII’LL BEEEEEEE GOOONE! In a day or TWOOOOOOOOO-”

My hand crumples the hood of a car parked as I grab its engine block. The entire vehicle is swung in an arc behind me to catch the jabbering idiot. 

"Will you shut up?!" My roar is dwarfed by the sound of the side of the crumbling building coming down.

As the air settles in silence Mouse pops back in to give her ultimatum, "As long as you let me make you a burger.” 

Her ‘offer’ hangs heavily in the empty air. But I can make no mistake, this isn’t an offer of goodwill, this is a damn hostage situation. 

I had concluded when she showed up that at least today wouldn't be a total loss. I would just have had to bother Jack into picking something up for Riley instead, seeing as after he killed the last recruit he's the only one willing to do ‘normal people things’ for me.

I grimace. However- he gets something in her order wrong more often than not.

This is for Riley. Do it for Riley.

"With twenty chicken nuggets." I pause for a moment in thought. Riley did all her chores on time this week… "And fries."

Mouse’s sickening grin is ear splitting. "On it mamas," She winks at me, her lashes softly batting, “One freedom loving, artery clogging, god fearing, corporation made, proper cheeseburger comin up.”

I give her nothing but a flat look.

“Ah. Right. Silence.” She mimes zipping her lips while she turns her vulnerable, easy to attack, back to me.

I follow her through the newly opened wall. I stop to lean against the half shattered counter as she gets to work scouting the kitchen. She disappears for a moment before returning in the middle of tying an apron proudly claiming ‘It Ain’t Easy Being Cheesy’ around her armored waist. With no better use of my time, I watch her. 

I track her experienced hands as they relearn long forgotten skills; I watch the care she puts into constructing the cheap meal and the casual disregard of the objects she used after they finish their usefulness to her, spatulas, tongs, and condiment guns all tossed to the debris already littering the floor.

My mind wanders in the tedium. 

I watch the way her apron pulls at her waist as she reaches to grab a tray, my eyes are pulled to her wide hips from how they sway as she walks between stations. Ass. She’s such a thorn in my ass. She's infested every corner of my mind, I can’t even keep my eyes off of her because I hate her with every fiber of my being.

The word 'nemesis' sits heavy in the back of my mind. A shiver runs down my spine. I can't tell if it's from disgust or anticipation.

Finally she slides the finished product in front of me. Mouse wipes invisible sweat from her brow, as if she found the ordeal of constructing a single sandwich far more strenuous than the entire fight we just had together.

I wave my hand at the fries and nuggets on the tray dismissively, “Bag it.”

She points silently at the knocked over yet still intact tip box. I stare at her in silence waiting for her to move. It takes me far too long to realize she's being serious.

I lean my chin against my palm. “Must have left my wallet in my other pants.”

For the briefest of moments her entire body locks up, as if she can’t process the mere possibility that I made something even resembling a joke. I bite the inside of my bottom lip to fight off a laugh. I will not show weakness in front of her.

Mouse Protector composes herself from the shock but does nothing to fight off the grin she wears as she turns to bag Riley’s treat. When she’s done all that's left in the world is the paper wrapped abomination and Mouse’s eager judging eyes.

It’s hard to find humor in the fact she went out of the way to wrap it while staring down my desecration.

Nimble hands well versed in opening many things for Riley—from human skulls, to chip bags—find no difficulty in unwrapping the wax paper. I grimace as I hold the greasy ball of cooked meat and spongy bread. 

Do it for Riley.

My teeth cut through with ease, the bread collapses and the meat severs. All things fall before me. I chew it slowly, as if taking in the heady taste of copper from a fresh kill. The hesitation as I swallow steals the breath of my audience’s lungs, lingering in the moment of silence makes the anticipation in the air a force nearly physical in its weight.

Finally I look Mouse Protector dead in the eye and give her the worst offense I can think of.

I shrug. 

“It’s alright, I guess.” About what I remembered a mediocre burger tasted like. She’s expecting a strong opinion either way, that's her MO, she lives off of peoples reactions. I just have to stop giving her anything to work with. Starve her from the roots

She looks genuinely shocked, if only slightly, at my complete indifference. “Just alright?” I love that look on her face, the way her lips pull into a slight O, the widening of her eyes. I could just eat her up. 

“Literally anything is better than raw meat. I’ve had steak tartare and let me tell you it's not good. I could totally hook you up with some-”

Mouse shuts up as I lean forward over the counter, invading her space. “Didn't you promise to be good and quiet?”

“Good? No, I'm pretty sure it was just the quiet thing,” She remains unbothered, even rolling her eyes at me, “Damn. Oh well, you can't win them all. I, for one, had a good afternoon despite the disappointing lunch. Smell you latter, Sibby," She pops a fry, one of Riley's fries, in her mouth as she leaves, "Ciao.”

Despite her disappearing from the room I refuse to let my guard down, instead I reach down to pick up a palm sized piece of rubble. Because right after she announces her departure she usually has some excuse to pop back in to get one last-

"Oh just one more thing,” There it is-

Before I can throw the chunk of floor fast enough to punch through steel at her, I’m crystallized for the second time today. For the second time in years.

A body, a warm soft body, is wrapped around me. She pulls herself closer with the hands on my hips, my leg is tucked between hers as she presses herself deep against my side. Her soft lips press against my cheeks as- "Mwwah!"

I don’t even get to swat her away in my shock. And now all I can do is imagine the look on my face based on the grin unfolding on her newly painted, and newly smudged, lips. Her face is within inches of my own as she remains clinging onto me. “That's make up for forgetting to give you one on valentines day."

She warps away from my personal space when I finally manage to move. "You kissed me!?!?" I scrub at my cheek like my life depends on it.

It does.

"It was peck ya big baby. Awww, worried about cooties?"

In desperation I throw myself against the wall and scrape the side of my face into the concrete. "It's wet!!! Oh god it's horrible!!!!"

The skin is hot, my entire face is hot, like she found some way to get through my invulnerability.

That monster did something to me.

I want her ass- DEAD.

Notes:

Ewwwww! Mouse has cooties!

 

Siberian while staring at Mouse's ass and calculating its exact volume in her head, “As long as I give her zero reaction to anything she does, I’ll be the victor.”

Chapter 3: Christmas! Just a week away!

The Siberian

Feb 25th, 2010

 

Before the Nine hesitated together at the threshold of the mall, before I saw the state of the parking lot for myself, before I heard the disappointed click of Jack’s tongue from my spot in the back, before our stolen flower truck even rolled into town- I knew how today was going to go just from the feeling in my gut.

The sound of Mouse Protector's voice coming through the propped open front doors of the empty shopping mall sends that nonsensical feeling of falling that rests deeply in my gut into overdrive. "Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas everyone!"

I cover Riley’s ears to protect her from the awful sound of her voice. Only through encountering it before could I tell that it's supposed to be a Santa Claus impression.

Jack Slash takes charge, walking calmly through the open doors. "Now, who do we have here? Oh? Is this the little rat that has our lovely Siberian so-" I step forward, my hand grabbing Jack's chest to stop him in his tracks. I pull down the arm lazily pointing a pocket knife at the hero sitting on a throne of greens and reds. My entire mind recoils at the thought of someone else putting their hands on her.

'Mine'

The word is unspoken between us, but it doesn't have to be voiced. Jack gets me. That's why I like him. In the rare moments where the thought of talking, even to my Riley, seems unbearable, he’s always a rock I can lean on. He understands my declaration of ownership just fine with only a single look. 

Jack tucks his knife into his belt before raising his hands in submission. He gives me a cheeky smile, “Don’t have too much fun.”

I stick my tongue out at him.

A little hand politely tugs mine to catch my attention. I crouch down and I brush a stray lock of hair behind my daughter's ear. Riley merrily pulls out a tightly wound bundle of plastic from her adorable little nurse bag. “Don't worry, I brought it!” 

I lean down and whisper in her ear, "Thank you so much, honey. Go see with your uncles if you can crack open one of the shelters they whisked all the people off to. Be safe. Don’t leave their sides'." 

Riley's gets a kiss on her cute little button nose and I pick her up to place her on Mannequin's shoulders, who kindly accommodates us with the bowing of his nine foot frame. I return the wave goodbye both of them give me.

I turn, making sure to keep Riley’s gift hidden from view behind my back. With the Nine walking back through the mall doors I’m left alone with my beloathed.

A couple dozen feet in front of the entrance to the mall is a series of poorly set up slapdash Christmas decorations surrounding a jolly throne. And sitting on its throne, in full regalia, is Mouse Protector.

I feign disinterest as she starts her whole spiel. 

“Did the rest of the Slaughterhouse Nine decide not to join us? Oh, oops, my mistake. Did the rest of the-” Under her breath she slowly counts on her fingers, “-Slaughterhouse Four decide not to join us? At this rate you should just bite the bullet and get a smart car.”

“It’s truly a shame they aren't joining us. I brought ALL of you presents!” She holds up a soot covered sock that as it moves emanates a distinct clicking sound of rocks shaking against each other.

“Ho Ho Ho!” The large fluffy red suit she’s wearing bounces with the might of her Ho’s, ”Now come, little kitten, sit on my lap and tell Santa-Mouse what you want for Christmas. Don't be scared. Unlike some naughty girls, cough cough, I don't bite.” 

I pointedly looked up from my nails. “Oh you’re done?” 

She nods and speaks normally, “Mostly.”

Fighting back an aneurysm I ask, “What are you wearing?”

She slowly looks down and back up. “Is that a trick question? I thought my whole deal was rather clear, actually.”

"It's February.”

"Exactly! It's our two month anniversary! And when did I first beat your butt, my little nemesis?" That word spilling from the pale pink of her lips sends tingles down my spine.

Nemesis. She’s my nemesis. Mouse Protector has given me more trouble than Eidolon or Alexandria ever had or could ever hope to do. She’s mine.

Mouse Protector leans over and cups her ear to better hear my silence. She’s back to her terrible impression of Saint Nick, "Oh have you forgotten? Let me tell you a tale, little kitten, about a Christmas miracle," She waves her hand across the horizon, echoing herself quietly, "Miracle, miracle, miracle…" 

She pulls out a locket and turns it to me after a moment of gazing at it longingly. But I don't need to see it to know exactly what proudly sits inside. 

I tune out Mouse’s very vivid recap of our first meeting. I was there.

That photo… that damn photo. It has touched every morning paper and news station in America, random people on the street fleeing from the Nine have been wearing it on shirts, I’ve even killed an initiate that showed me it being used as a ‘me-me’. That damn photo is seared into my grey matter. 

Front and center of the photo, in a single second of distraction before it was easily torn through, the Siberian stands covered in tar and feathers while giving an utterly bewildered look. Right besides me, nearly shoving me out of frame with the force she threw herself with, Mouse Protector grins.

It's an unflattering photo for the both of us. The hand she's giving a peace sign with is covered in tar and the tongue she's sticking out is bitten bloody. She's even still wearing half of that fat Santa suit. But still she's grinning like it’s the best day of her life.

With all the time I've spent memorizing every detail of the photo, I can't help but have noticed that her wide cheeks are dusted with a light powder of white glitter left behind from the cheap beard. It highlights her eyes, and the quality of the shot is so professional that you can forever see the expensive camera and lights reflecting in those shining honey brown eyes.

If the thought of her being successful and not a reject fuck up with no prospects or friends outside of what we have together didn't make me fume; I would assume she’s a photographer. A good one.

I have a copy of that photo tucked away in the glovebox of my van. It's covered in holes, of course. I couldn't shake the curiosity of whether or not taping it to a dart board would make me feel better. 

“Now, Kitty,” My attention returns to her now that Mouse’s long winded monologue is over, ”Let's see what my Christmas present is!” 

Mouse pulls out a rectangular box from between the cushions of her throne. She tugs the ribbon loose and she gasps when she sees what's inside. “Oh wow. I promised I would never touch these. But… if Santa says it's ok-”

Mouse pulls out a matte black pistol from the colorful box. “Who am I to judge?”

My jump rope is unveiled from behind my back and unfurled with the sound of shattering tile. The end of the white and black striped wire is embedded in the floor, still leaving me multiple feet of slack.

I’m nearly laughing, “Please.”

I sprint forward, zagging out of the way before she can pull the trigger. There’s no need for me to dodge, but her hesitation to line up a shot gives me time. I swing, my rope cuts through the air, extending my reach to meet her long before I could have reached her on foot.

My momentum propels me forwards despite my halfhearted attempt to stop. I skid through the empty throne, spitting out the bitter taste in my mouth the whole time. Behind me the fiberglass decorations and stone from a support pillar starts to thud against the floor from the wide arc I made with a single flick of my wrist.

It’s a water gun. It’s a water gun painted black and filled with containment foam.

It cannot stop me. It cannot even slow me down. But the taste never leaves the back of my throat, and it forces me to keep moving to not feel the itch of it blooming on my skin.

It’s damn annoying, and unlike most people or things that annoy me in one way or another, Mouse is a nail that refuses to be hammered.

Vestigially I rub at the back of my neck and attempt to crack it. It gives me no relief.

Sure. Practice. It’s practice. I’m learning not just how to use a weapon, but now how to dodge. She’s my rock, my honing stone. Everything she does makes me stronger. It’s all part of my plan.

 

---

 

I am the Siberian.

I am invulnerable. I am immortal.

Just once have I been killed before. Not just a stutter of consciousness from some parahuman who fumbles around with their meager grasp on time or space- No. Only once have I been truly killed. I know I was dead, I can feel it in the absence of my bones. A field had been set, a trap laid, and when over a dozen bombs rigged with some esoteric effect left an entire quarter mile of the state of Utah gone from the map; I reappeared safe and sound.

I am unstoppable. I am Feared. Eidolon, Alexandria, Legend, all of them run from me. I alone remain as the strongest parahuman on the planet-

With an overacted “pweh,” Mouse Protector joins my prone form in watching the stars through the torn open mall roof.

-and I cannot beat her in any way that matters.

I turn my head to gaze daggers at her and her stupid helmet and her stupid ears and her stupid face.

“Hey Mouse?”

She doesn’t turn to look at me, content to prop her hands behind her head and let time fly bye. “Hm?”

“I really don't like you.” 

Mouse Protector props herself up like she's going to be painted. The way she lays accentuate her curves and the dip of her waist. She bats her lashes, “Say it to my face, baby. Or are you still chicken?”

I pull myself up from the floor to approach her. I close the distance in a crawl until I’m nearly on top of her. She pulls herself back to avoid contact, letting me trap her beneath my body as I straddle her. I’m careful not to touch. Touching means she disappears.

My hands are besides the outreach of hers, boxing them in. My hips are nearly brushing against her waist from where I kneel. Her back is pressed against the floor, her head is circled and sequestered from the rest of the world by the monochrome of my hair as I lean over her.

I’m pinning her down, suffocating herself in me. But still unable to close the distance and touch.

“I always leave something, maybe not enough for the body to be identified, but I leave something. I know I’m wasteful, sloppy. I eat and I eat and I eat. Always another to catch and kill. But I don’t like you. The last person-,” Involuntarily I take a shuddering breath. I don't think I’ve ever spoken so long in my entire life, “The last person I hated like you- I consumed. Head to toe. Flesh. Blood. Bone. The hair on his head. The clothes off his back. You will not leave my mind, and I cannot even touch you. You have driven me insane. You have stripped me bare. You have killed people I’ve cared about. You. You. You. I will consume you, Mouse Protector.”

Pinned beneath me with rosy cheeks and far too like self preservation, she just smiles at me. “I've been doing this for longer than you have. During all that time, I've fought and beat people worse than you. They come and go often. The only reason you're still around with so much freedom is that they think you’re easier to deal with when you're not backed into a corner. You’re not exemplary, you are not special. You were a statistic on a spreadsheet, a red line. A calculated yearly loss.” 

"You can't intimidate me," Mouse winks, ”Plus you want to kiss me so bad. It makes you look stupid.”

My inhibition falls to the wayside, nothing in the world could have kept me from biting at her throat.

But now she’s gone, and the moment’s broken. I hear a slow clap coming from my side. I don’t know why the sound makes my eyes burn with the phantom feeling of needing to cry. 

"That's exactly what I wanted from you. Chef's kiss. Your performance for today's little spat was amazing. Although straight men don't really scream about how much they hate their comedic duo, well they do sometimes but-,” She cuts off her own tangent, “Anyways. You are really growing into the role, I'm proud."

I’m blinded by the twitching of my eye. “Do you seriously think we’re doing something even remotely comparable to a comedy routine? I'm trying to kill you. I am actively trying to kill you.”

She snaps her fingers. “Exactly like that! Someone to approach the joke logically. Set up the punchline. Give the audience a grounding point for the absurdity to be built off of. You’re perfect!”

MP gasps. She has to bite her tongue to control her excitement. “Let's do Who's on first!”

“Shut up.”

“No, Shut Up is on the bench this season.”

"Explode."

Notes:

Siberian hyping herself the fuck up: "Michelangelo, Leonardo, Da Vinci, they're all dead. I REMAIN! You understand? I REMAIN, as a performance artist!"

 

Just after this Siberian goes home to her van and eats the photo 'Where the Wild Things Are' style.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Mouse/Siberian