Soaks flung his wriggling arms upwards, sending a vast spray of rainbow-hued acid in my direction. I let myself fall backwards, as if I didn't fear the colossal drop I freely fell into.

I flung an arm forward, and the Slip-suit took care of the rest – the sinew unravelling as separate strands like they had done before, attaching to the tower block wall using the suit's adhesive qualities.

I swung, the sinew having some stretchy, muscly give to it during the swing which was enough for me to run sideways along the tower block wall. More rainbow-hued acid was hurled down at me from above.

I should have been afraid. And I was, to a degree, but above that fear was something worse.

Something I was trying to fight and ignore in equal measure.

And during all this I chanced several glances down to the nearby street below to see where the helicopter had crashed.

There were flames, and a huge trail of black smoke snaking into the air. There were ordinary people down below around the crash site – but I was much too high, and didn't have the presence of mind nor the willpower to spare to slow time or increase my vision to take a better look.

And though I was afraid for Clang and Miss Toontastic, it wasn't fear for their wellbeing which was bearing down on my mind and heart.

SLIP!

I had swung round the corner of the upper tower block onto another side, and then had yanked myself up using all the strength in my body in perfect unison with the Slip-suit.

Soaks had just approached the tower block roof edge by the time I sprung up to bring a soaring knee to his jaw. He fell back enough that he had to use his worm-like limb to support himself, and then he let out a terrible hiss and lunged for me again.

My body was fighting in tandem with the Slip-suit. A part of me was taking in the sensory information of the fight, but it was becoming harder to grasp because my mind was elsewhere to the point I was beginning to dissociate from the present moment:

Dashing hard to the left just in time to avoid Soaks's starfish-limb from reaching me.

Remembering my mother on the night of the evacuation. Her tugging at my shirt as if to stop me from going with the Pied Piper officers.

Landing and then deftly jumping towards Soaks – taking the fight to him. Seeing the surprise in his were-salamander eyes. Driving a fist hard enough into the side of his face to make blood unfurl out of his mouth into the open air like a length of glistening red string.

Remembering talking to Mum on the phone at the Wedder Gorge facility – lying and telling her I was okay.

Soaks hissing out his frustration. His form growing in size in line with his anger, his bones and body shifting to become even more reptilian on the inside. His movements becoming sweeping, smooth, and harder to predict.

Remembering almost drowning as a child, and Mum saving my life, yanking me out of the water and back to safety at the edge of the swimming pool.

Hardly having a moment to watch Soaks begin his sharp round-about turn that moves as if he were a giant eel cutting through water – and he's on me again, huge head and fangs and the inside of his reptilian throat all I can see.

Remembering being fourteen and going to see my little sister's school play – Joseph and the Technicolour Dreamcoat – and how the lead boy playing Joseph had a very strong Chinese accent when he spoke and sang, and how that had caused Mum and me, despite trying our best not to laugh, to struggle to hold in our laughter throughout the rest of the show even as the other family members gave us disapproving looks (and later to be told off by my mortified little sister). A story Mum would talk about a lot and would always have us both giggling about it.

Darting backwards away from Soaks with every ounce of strength I can muster.

SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! HISS!

Narrowly avoiding Soak's fangs sinking into my head several times over – each snap of his jaws closer than the last.

Falling backwards, throwing a kick at Soaks's chest – it lands hard, but I've made a mistake. He's so close it's not a difficult task at all for him to fling his acid straight at my face. The acid soaks the cowl and mask, eating through the bone and sinew in a matter of seconds.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

I blindly kick for Soaks's head, and it lands, just well enough to buy me some time so I can push off the ground with my arms - I soar, but the acidic burning all over the cowl distracts me and obscures my vision. I yank what remains of the Slip-suit mask off before it's too late. I get it off, feeling the crisp cold open air against my exposed hair and face, but in my distraction I land clumsily, rolling over the ground twice

Soaks is already on the attack again. He's not stopping. He won't stop. Because he's fighting not just for himself, but for his mother too.

Imagining Mum sat in a bland room at a desk, her hand held down by Pied Piper officers. Her screaming to know why Robert Hoffman, who is stood coldly watching her, has just given the order to cut one of her fingers off. One of the Pied Piper officers taking out a knife and using it as ordered. Mum screaming.

The disassociating stops. I've made my choice. Clarity follows in its wake. I feel anger, and a sense of righteousness that disgusts me, and for a microsecond I remember back to how it felt to fight back against Tommy - to break his nose. I had played that moment over in my head a thousand times since it had happened to convince myself that he didn't deserve it, that I should have felt bad about fighting back. But Tommy had pressed his luck. He could have stopped, but he didn't. Just like Soaks.

Soaks drew closer again, moving with that hard-to-predict wave-like motion atop his draconic legs.

I ran towards him, and despite myself I started to scream to let out some of the torment inside my mind and body.

We met near the middle of the tower block roof.

SNAP!

He attempted to bite my head again, which I ducked away from just in time. By this point I've realised that the biting is mainly a feint from Soaks to distract from what'll come next – his attacking acid-coated limbs.

The burning from the acid-coated limbs, which were wrapped around my arms, started right away, eating at the sinew. I saw the victory in Soaks's were-salamander face. With me in his grip like I was, all it would take was for the acid to do its work. With me dead or alive he would get the mice victim he needed to ensure his mother's safety for a short while.

But little did he know he had fallen into my trap.

I willed the Slip-suit to do what I had intended for it to do from the very moment I had sprinted head on towards Soaks.

From the waist up the Slip-suit detached from me all over, the sinew itself springing from me onto Soaks. All at once Soaks, under the binding of the encasing sinew, found himself unable to move. The acid from his body and limbs burned at the sinew, and would eat through it quickly over the course of several seconds. But that was all I needed.

I willed strength into my body by coiling up the old fashioned way. I couldn't manage much, since I was so far into the brink of exhaustion. My newly muscled arms reached forwards – Soaks was bound where he was stood by the encasing Slip-suit – and I grabbed Soaks's long fangs and yanked on them hard enough to rip them from his mouth.

Soaks could only desperately try to get free and hiss with hysteric desperation as I held onto both fangs.

I had already decided I was going to kill him. He had to die. It was the only way to keep my family safe.

Playing at being a hero would have to be Clang's thing.

I drove the fangs straight for Soak's neck.

There came a sudden hard yank, and I felt the fangs pierce through Soaks's flesh, drawing blood and what I knew was likely to be his last hysterical hiss of pain.

There were hands on my wrists which didn't belong to Soaks. Hands which had thrown my attempt to stab Soaks through the throat with his own fangs off-course enough to stab into his lower jaw instead.

The fangs were sunk in deep, and blood – shiny, red, copper smelling – leaked busily from the fresh wounds. But it wasn't going to be enough to kill him. It wasn't the killing blow I had intended.

Miss Toontastic was standing to my left. She had her claw-tipped fingers and thumbs gripping my wrists with superhuman strength. It had been her that had thrown off my attempt to murder Soaks off-course.

I could see my reflection in her large, panic-stricken eyes. My face was twisted with anger to the point I hardly recognised myself.

"Stop," said Miss Toontastic – but there was no squeakiness to her voice.

It was calm but uneasy, and sounded just like Xandra.

"Get off!" I spat back.

There was no longer any resonance in my voice. I could have retained it but without the Slip-suit it no longer felt like that resonance belonged to me.

Xandra, though she looked every bit the part of Miss Toontastic with her raccoon-ish face and long dark hair with its many thick curls, and her cream coloured dress, was, in this moment, very much in control of herself in place of Regina.

The sinew trapping Soaks was snapping free bit by bit. Within seconds he was going to break free from the restraints.

"He knows who I am! He's going to give my family over to the Peepers!" I yelled at Xandra.

"Okay!" Xandra said back in a pleading tone, "I understand. But we've already got him beat! Please don't become a killer – I know what it's like – don't do this."

"I'm already a killer!" I spat back, "I've killed others before!"

Swip! Snap!

More strands of sinew were coming away. More of the acid from Soaks was burning sinew too.

Xandra's grip eased on me a little.

"Those were mistakes," said Xandra, "Trust me, I know what it's like to murder and I wish more than anything I could take it back. I promise I'll do whatever it takes to help you from here on out–"

"--I've had enough of promises!" I spat back, tears forming in my eyes.

"Well tough!" said Xandra.

She released her grip entirely from me and kicked Soaks hard in the chest. There was a good deal of springy strength in Xandra's kick, sending Soaks falling hard onto his back. His restraints were almost free, but at the same time between the fresh kick to the chest and the fangs stuck into his jaw, it would take him a while longer before he became a threat again.

"I can't just do nothing," I said.

My face was hot and wet from crying. I tried to stop crying but I just felt so tired, and as if I were stuck between two insurmountable forces: my want to be better and my want to keep my family safe.

Xandra's hands found mine again, but gently.

"I promise you we'll take the fight to the Peepers," she said, "We'll get your family safe. And mine too."

"We can't let him go," I choked out.

Then Xandra smiled.

"Who said anything about letting him go?"

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