Are You Even Human

All around me, hands move towards rifles. Many humans stop themselves, having the basic object permanence to remember who I am, but many others seem to forget, their base fears overriding their logic as they raise their barrels towards me. They are irrelevant, of course. I heal with my power, not with any natural biological process, so the main determinant of what counts as damage to me is the amount of biomass displaced. Bullets are not particularly effective at this, and I doubt these are high enough caliber to pierce directly into my hydraulic pressure tanks, which could do catastrophic damage to me if they burst.

Even then, though, they would be irrelevant. My task restricts me to the rules and boundaries of this game, and they are outside of it. If they attack me, I will pretend they do not exist.

Commander barks a swift order at the soldiers, demanding that they hold fire. This frightens my target even further, enough that it barely even moves as I lift up my front legs, reach them forward, and slam them into the earth on either side of its body. It flinches as the dirt kicked up by my legs splatters into its body, harmless by itself but indicative of what would happen if I chose to hit my target directly. Still, it does not run, not even as I bend my knees, bringing my body down closer to my target. Is it really going to be this easy?

I have no limbs to restrain it with, but that is easily fixable. My Angel's tendrils erupt from my body's core, writhing crystalline arms to twist towards my target and wrap it in victory. But this, I suppose, is my target's limit. It snaps back to attention, remembering its goals, and as my limbs wrap around it, they grab only ash. It teleported.

I already know where its shadow projects, of course, but by the time I turn my enormous body around my target has already finished emerging from it, even larger than it was before. I rush towards it, knowing that if it gets too large too quickly I will not be able to keep up. Each step of one of my crystalline blades stabs six inches deep into the soft earth, tearing up the ground with every movement. From here, the humans seem smaller than children. Even my target isn't as large as me yet.

I already see my target's hand emerging from its shadow again by the time I reach its old body, so I just barrel through it, more or less detonating it on impact into an explosion of dust. This time, I reach my target right as it emerges, my legs wide and my knees forward so I do not accidentally stab it as I scoop it up in my tentacles, wrapping it up and covering its eyes without slowing down. But even this doesn't stop it from teleporting away again, emerging yet farther away from the very tip of our long, shared shadow. Every time my target becomes taller, its shadow becomes longer, and now I know it is far too distant from me to be reachable before it can react again.

But that's fine. I skid to a stop and shrink myself like a collapsing star, devouring my body down to the human-cephalopod hybrid form I've been spending most of the day in. All the way on the far side of the line of soldiers that had been debating whether or not to try and kill me, Cameron rises up out of the ground like Godzilla from the ocean, now at least two stories tall and likely capable of far more. Too far for me to reach, and too large for me to reasonably detain. Ignoring him, I turn to Commander.

"So matches can end by surrender," I say. "Can they also end by ring out?"

Cameron, after all, has teleported well outside the designated battlegrounds that we've sort of unofficially marked off by surrounding it in current and future members of the military. This was never listed to be against the rules when Commander laid them out, but it has been the unspoken assumption in what I feel like is much the same way that the capacity to surrender is an unspoken assumption. After all, if there was no actual restriction requiring us to fight on the battlefield, anyone with a teleportation or speed power could render themselves immune to losing by simply running away.

I have a few other ideas on how I might stop Cameron, if it came to that. His big limitation is the fact that, under the current lighting conditions, he can only teleport in a single direction. If I could turn into something like an elephant, tie him up against my body, and then face him either directly away from or directly into the sun so that his shadow is completely covered by my own or completely flush against his own body, would that prevent him from teleporting? There are a bunch of things I could have tried, but ultimately the only surefire method of stopping him would be to stall all the way until the sun sets, and that's obviously impractical. Any attempt to directly counter his power would be a gamble, and if he uses his powers enough times to be bigger than a Behemoth, I lose. In the end, I decided that gambling on the unspoken rules was a more reliable bet than the specific power interactions of an ability that defies all physics and reason.

"You are one crazy bitch, you know that Morgan?" Commander says, though there's a slight smile on her face. "You talk about live combat scenarios, and then you ask me about ring outs?"

"Simulated live combat scenarios," I correct. "And leaving the assigned field of engagement without orders would be dereliction of duty, right?"

Commander laughs.

"Well, let's see. Small, what do you think?" she asks, shouting up at Cameron. "Were you making a tactical maneuver in the pursuit of victory, or were you breaking ranks?"

Cameron stares at us, his eyes still wide and his breathing still heavy. An oversized, distorted droplet of sweat drips down off of his forehead, snapping back to a much smaller size and shape halfway to the ground.

"I…" he swallows. "I was running. Ma'am."

"Well alright then," Commander smirks. "You win, Morgan. But if you pull shit like this again next round I'll have your ass, understand? You are going to hold and disable your opponent or you are going to lose."

"Yes ma'am," I agree immediately, although I really want to protest. That first time wasn't even my fault! She waves me off, so I head back and scoop my clothes up off the ground. Behind me, Cameron's enormous body disintegrates and a few moments later he walks past the soldiers between us and returns to the line, once again normal-sized.

"Take it back," my first round opponent tells Cameron.

"I take it back, man," Cameron sighs, shaking his head. "I take it all back."

"Jesus Christ, Lia," Christine says. "PTSD is cool and all, but I don't think you're supposed to share."

"What the hell was that?" Maria asks.

"A Behemoth from the Chicago incursion," I answer, pulling my shorts back on. "I scanned it back when it impaled me. Came in handy a few times."

"Wait, like an alien?" Maria gapes.

Is that the part you're zeroing in on?

"...Yes, like an alien. Exactly which animal from the zoo did you think these came from?" I ask, forming some of the Angel eyes that occasionally find their way onto my face. "Our invaders are made of flesh and blood, just like us. Their forms were pretty much all I had access to for days."

"Right, yeah, sorry," Maria grimaces. "That was kind of insensitive of me. Sometimes I forget that you guys were out in… all that."

"Well I'm glad that we can apparently act normal enough for you to forget," I smile at her. "I guess I might have gone a little overboard, but spooking him off the field was probably my best shot at winning."

It also really bugs me to watch baby's first mock battle and having to participate in it as if I didn't rip an Angel in half and eat its corpse. In a real fight against Cameron, he wouldn't stand a chance against me. The bigger he gets, the more there is to devour. Obviously I'm not going to just eat somebody for no reason, but in a fight to the death I don't think he has any way of stopping me. If the rules are the only thing holding me back from winning, of course I'm going to take every possible advantage from the rules, even if that means I have to get Commander to declare new ones.

I mean, imagine if I don't win the tournament. Nobody will care that the rules are against me, nobody will care that I got a bad power matchup, they'll just see the wing ripper losing and assume she was slacking off. If I'm the best, it's unsurprising and barely notable. If I'm not the best, I'm not taking my training seriously. I have to win just to barely meet par.

But that's life, I guess. It moves on, as does the tournament. Peter is up next, against some poor bastard. It's not a very interesting fight, and it ends pretty quick. Peter spends the entire time just walking leisurely towards his opponent as they run away, slowly cornering them with an arrogant smile on his face. Everything they send at him does absolutely nothing, and Peter could almost certainly end the battle a lot sooner by just deciding to walk a little faster, but he draws it out anyway. Whether that is some kind of restriction on his power or just Peter being Peter isn't clear, but I would bet on the latter. It's just the kind of guy he is.

"Back up already, huh?" Maria says softly to herself. "God, I really don't want to do this."

"You'll be okay," I promise her. "The scariest part about it is just the fact that it's new. You'll get used to it. Maybe someday you'll even like it."

"I guess I have to get used to it, one way or another," she sighs. "I'm honestly not sure I can bring myself to do it without Galloway's magic drugs."

"You can," I promise. "Just don't overthink it. First rule of—"

"I know, I know," Maria grumbles, giving me a friendly shove. "When you get out of the army you're gonna make a killing as a motivational speaker."

I'm never getting out of the army.

"You think so?" I ask, leaving the fantasy unchallenged. "Just follow these five easy steps, and you too can become an eldritch monstrosity from the feywilds!"

"Is that the kind of help you offer?" Maria smirks. "Maybe I shouldn't be taking advice from you after all."

"Delaney! Quit flirting and get your ass out here!" Commander barks.

What? Flirting? Was that flirting? Were we flirting!? Maria turns beet-red and runs off onto the field immediately, leaving me without answers. I block my own blush in the usual way, but my chromatophores betray me and start lighting up my cheeks in all sorts of different colors as the tentacles on my head squirm anxiously.

"Hey, you uh, should probably put your shirt on," Christine says, leaning in with a smug grin on her face.

What? Oh. My faux-clothes are faux-melting, shifting and twisting in ways that make it obvious that they aren't just some undershirt. I guess it's not really a huge deal because I obviously don't have anything underneath them, but I awkwardly pull my sports bra over my head, fill it with a pair of breasts, and shrug my shirt on over it. Damnit, damnit, damnit. I hate losing control.

"Shoes too?" Christine asks, pointing at my still-bare feet. I grow claws, then turn my feet into tiger paws, then into hooves, then into ostrich toes, and then back to normal.

"I'll keep them off as long as I can get away with it, I think," I answer. "It's a good stress reliever."

"Cool. Very normal response."

I glare at her sidelong and she shrugs unrepentantly. Man, Christine sure has been getting cheeky now that we're no longer under constant threat of sudden and horrific demise. Almost makes me wish for the front lines.

"Delaney! Curry! Are you both ready?" Commander calls out. "Begin!"

Wait, is his last name really Curry? Isn't that a food? I wonder how that side of the world is doing, survival-wise. Last I heard, India was holding its own pretty well, but it wasn't because of the reason the so-called experts expected. I remember some talk about that. The assumption was that the high population density would lead to a larger amount of powered individuals being created per incursion, but apparently that didn't happen. The number of people with superpowers who get created per incursion tends to fall within the same bell curve whether the incursion happens in the middle of a city or the middle of a desert. The fewer people who live around you, the more likely you are to be personally empowered when the apocalypse comes knocking. I suppose that makes my situation all the more improbable.

Anyway, Curry and Maria both activate their powers, and all of a sudden there are a lot more Currys and a lot more Marias. The Maria multiplication is expected: the orange fairy pops into existence out of nothing as she is wont to do, and then after a brief but obvious moment of working herself up to it, the blue, green, and yellow fairies follow. Curry's copies of himself are a lot less colorful, each with the exact same pasty white skin and mop of brown hair as their creator. They seem completely identical, in fact, the two copies splitting off from the main body and stalking towards either side of Maria to get into a better position before the fight starts in earnest.

"Which one do we go after?" Green asks.

"Who cares? There's more of us than there are of them. Let's get all of them!" Orange insists.

She rushes off, and after a bit of futile protesting the other fairies split up to follow the plan, Orange going after the opponent on the left, Yellow going after the right, while Blue and Green both head towards the body in the back. Purple—the current color of the main body—seems to be standing back and trying to keep all of the enemies in her cone of vision at the same time.

"Hiiiyah!" Yellow shouts, attempting a literal flying kick into the right Curry's face. She passes directly through him, and soon after Orange finds her target similarly intangible.

"Which makes you the real one…!" Green declares, flashing a burst of light in the final Curry's face while Blue tries to tackle him. Curry just placidly ignores both of them, though, Blue passing right through his face.

"Wait, so none of them are real?" Orange shouts.

"No, he definitely attacked with these last round! Be careful!" Green shouts back, moments before the Curry on the right backhands Yellow hard enough to send her flying before sprinting towards Purple. The left Curry starts to run shortly afterwards, though the last one continues to keep his distance. Purple moves to intercept the one that hit Yellow, trying to grab him as he gets close, but that Curry once again passes right through the attack as left Curry tackles Maria's knees from behind.

Purple is knocked to the ground, but she quickly overpowers her opponent and twists around to grab him, her hands passing right through as a different Curry takes over trying to hold her down. He clearly knows a bit of wrestling technique with the way he's trying to lock her joints down, but Maria is well out of his weight class and that's letting her keep him on the back foot for now. Still, it seems like every time she tries to attack her arms pass right through, but every time she tries to defend the real attack comes from a different angle.

I watch it all with a frown on my face, trying to figure out the trick. The bodies themselves are obviously some kind of illusion, so what is it that allows them to make contact? My first guess is that the actual real body is invisible and the power simply helps Curry coordinate with his illusions in very convincing ways. But that's starting to look less and less likely; Maria is flailing around unpredictably, and now the main body is supported by both Orange and Yellow, each trying to flit around and provide assistance but only ever meeting with something solid when they're the ones getting hit or thrown around. Soon enough, Curry grabs her and twists her arm in a way that Maria doesn't seem to be able to force her way out of.

That's when I see what looks to be the biggest hint so far, though I'm not sure exactly what it means. While he's trying to hold Purple down, the fairies successfully make contact with Curry's head, yanking on his hair and ears in an attempt to pull him away. So when he's solid, all of him is solid. That's a pretty big target, which makes the sheer quantity and unpredictability of the attacks he's been dodging all the more impressive of a feat. Almost too impressive for someone who has only had the power for a bit over a month.

Suddenly, there's a flash of purple and Maria tosses her opponent off of her, sending him flying through the air. He seems to take a bad fall, but he gets up entirely unharmed, as if nothing ever happened. A purple fairy now hovers in midair, while Maria's main body glows slightly pink, lit up by the much larger wings of light now attached to her back.

I was kind of getting this impression earlier, but now I'm sure. For some reason, Maria's main body becomes more powerful the more fairies she summons. It's almost too absurd to believe. I thought creating the fairies was her ability by itself! You'd think that would count all on its own, right? If anything, creating an energy construct housing an entirely separate personality seems like the kind of thing that would expend energy, not give you more of it. Surely Maria has an upper limit, right…?

"Woah!" Maria's main body blinks, experimentally fluttering the wings on her back. "Wait, am I going to be able to fl—hough!"

Curry tackles her knees from behind, causing Maria to collapse backwards directly on top of him. But of course, he phases right through her and a different him jumps on top of her while she's still stunned, wrapping his body around one arm and pushing away from her with his legs to hyperextend it. I'm not exactly a martial arts professional, but it looks like a solid arm lock to me. Maria's impressive strength (possibly super strength considering how glowy she is; glowy usually means better) apparently isn't enough to beat actual technique and leverage, and while the smaller fairies do their best to harass him they aren't actually strong enough to break his grip. The fight quickly ends there.

Maria lost. I feel weirdly bad about that, despite it being fairly predictable given her powers and lack of experience using them. I do my best not to let all the unnecessary, unhelpful emotions impact my thinking without going full Raptor brain. Although that is tempting.

Maria and the Marias dejectedly walk and float off the field, surprising me somewhat by not immediately recombining into a singular entity. I suppose she probably doesn't want to deal with the extreme disorientation of having all of her memories smooshed together while she's also feeling like crap from the loss. Although, I suppose it could also be a matter of different Marias having different opinions on the matter of recombining and overall not really wanting to. Blue and Orange are definitely arguing about something, but I suppose that seems more or less like their default form of interaction with each other.

I keep doing my best to reassure her and keep her spirits up about her abilities, but if I'm being honest with myself I'm really glad I don't have her power.

"—would just do as I say!"

"I was trying. I didn't really have much choice but to try and interpret your constant screaming because you refused to listen to anyone else!"

"That was you trying? How many times did I have to tell you that it was a timing issue? You were barely paying attention!"

"Hey, hey!" Yellow says, flitting over to try and break up the argument between Blue and Orange. "We were all trying to win. You can't expect everyone to be able to keep up with you."

"She is me!" Orange snaps. "You're me!"

"Are we actually?" Green asks. "I mean, we're certainly not sharing memories right now, and you're definitely not acting in a way I think is at all appropriate."

"Well if you're not me, then who the hell are you!?"

"I've already mentally named all of you after your color," I butt in, injecting a bit of false cheer into my voice. "So that's Green, you're Orange, and that's Blue, Yellow, Purple, and I guess your main body is currently Pink. By the way, hi Pink! I think you're new?"

"Ha! Gosh, maybe?" Pink says, a mix of cheer and fear on her face. "I don't know. I certainly don't feel like somebody who was just created, I just feel like me. Although I guess… I'm a me with a notably different set of opinions on certain things compared to what I remember? Oh geez, maybe I am new."

"Well, happy possible birthday to most of you, I guess," I greet them. "If you're up for answering, it might be helpful to talk about what feels different from your memories? That sounds like it'll hold a few hints to me."

Just keep them talking, keep the conversation moving. Focus on the practical, not the existential.

"Geez, this is really disorienting," Pink hums to herself, scratching her head. "Though actually, you know what? I think I've got a good one. We, or I guess maybe somebody else, resolved to never ever talk about this earlier, but right now that just seems stupid."

She steps forward and puts both of her hands on my shoulders, staring directly at my face. My whole body tenses up, not expecting the contact and not entirely sure how to respond to it.

"I feel like we've been getting real mixed messages from you, Lia," she says. "Have you been flirting with us? Because I really wanna flirt back."

I open my mouth to respond, but I am immediately cut off by a cacophony of fairies.

"What!?"

"Oh my god, oh my god, why did you say that?"

"She's already in a relationship, isn't she!?"

"I am going to strangle you with my tiny hands!"

Thinking about it, it's probably a good thing that all the other Marias cut me off. I'm just sort of standing here with my mouth open and realizing that I don't have any idea what to say. There are a ton of people staring at us. That's pretty much been true since Maria walked over here, but now I really feel the attention pressing down on me with as much weight as Maria's hands on my shoulders. It's the sort of pressure that's completely impossible to ignore.

What the hell do I say? The truth is that I've never flirted with anyone in my entire life, at least not on purpose. I can hardly blame Maria for interpreting some of the things I do and say to be flirting, but I only ever realize that after the fact. I can't just say that, though, because as Green pointed out, Lia is already in a relationship. Lia does have experience flirting, I've literally watched her do it, so pretending like this wasn't intentional doesn't fit my cover story.

Does that matter, though? I've apparently done a pretty good job mimicking Lia just by using her brain, and the only person who would actually be able to detect contradictions in how I describe my fictional relationship with my sister already knows about it. I can, at the very least, give Maria an answer that is close enough to the truth.

…Is 'no, I wasn't flirting' actually close enough to the truth, though?

"Sorry for tossing this on you out of nowhere," Pink says when she realizes my thoughts have stalled out a bit. "I get this is neither a good time nor a good place, but I might stop existing in the next few minutes so I wanted to get it out there real fast."

Even if it wasn't on purpose, per se, claiming I never intended to flirt with her feels kind of disingenuous. I went out of my way to violate her privacy and confirm that she was sexually attracted to Lia, so it would be a bit audacious to claim no responsibility for my words and actions. Even if it wasn't why I said anything that I said, I didn't put in what would have ultimately been a trivial amount of effort to ensure that she never got this impression. At the end of the day, I avoided discouraging her attraction towards me because I liked it.

Maybe that was some of Lia's narcissism shining through, her harmful habits mixing with the helpful ones without me noticing. Maybe it's just my lack of experience handling an overly hormonal brain. Maybe I was so intoxicated by someone who actually thought I looked beautiful instead of hideous that I went out of my way to avoid thinking about how that might impact them. But regardless of why, I have clearly been unthinkingly selfish. Inexcusably so.

I need to get my head out of my ass and say something, though. The Marias are all starting to look really nervous.

"That is a surprisingly complicated question to answer," I admit, falling back on being as honest as I can without actually explaining my circumstances. "But I guess I probably was? I certainly think you're very beautiful."

The Marias all stare at me in silent unison. Orange even pauses her attempt to smoosh the main body's windpipe shut.

"Um, uh, wow, okay," Pink manages, her face becoming even more of her titular color. Wait, did I do it again? Is plainly stating that you think someone is attractive flirting? I was always under the impression that flirting is more obtuse. Well, I guess regardless of whether it was flirting or not, it should have been obvious that my words would have flustered her. Why am I struggling so much with this?

"I think I should apologize, though," I continue. "I like bantering with you. I like seeing you smile. I like knowing you care about my opinion. I like having funny little in-jokes with you. And there are definitely parts of me that like seeing you flustered when I end up saying something flirtatious. But I have been focusing too much on how that makes me feel, and not enough on how that makes you feel. I'm ashamed to admit I have never seriously considered the question you are asking me now."

I get more stares. Even with all the experience I have with unwanted looks, it's a bit uncomfortable. I suppose this is probably how Maria felt back when I was standing around speechless myself.

"...But you are in a relationship already, aren't you?" Green asks.

"Yes, that's correct," I nod. "Sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"Emily said it was an 'open relationship' though, right?" Christine butts in with a grin on her face.

"You should date Maria!" Anastasia declares. "You like her more than you like Emily anyway."

I glower at both of them, my face growing numerous angry, predatory eyes to drive home exactly how much I don't want their assistance in this conversation. Christine turns around and starts whistling, which Anastasia immediately finds amusing enough to copy. Damnit, Christine, what are you doing to our sweet baby Ana?

"We should probably have the rest of this conversation somewhere less public," I scowl. "Anastasia, your match is up next anyway. Go to the field."

"Awww! I wanna listen!" she protests.

"Go, Ana. Don't keep Commander waiting."

"Fiiine," Anastasia pouts, stomping off towards the field. We watch her go, squaring up against… is that psychic projection hands guy? That's a pretty interesting matchup, actually. In practical terms, his and Anastasia's abilities do very similar things.

"...Will we be able to talk about this again, though?" Maria's still-pink main body asks me. "When we recombine, won't I just be memories? I remember being whoever we are when we're one person, looking back at everyone else's thoughts, and having different feelings about them. I don't mind going back to that, but I want to make sure that this me is talking to you when we start this again. Not someone else."

"Those 'someone elses' are right here, you know," Blue grumbles. "I don't appreciate you taking my feelings and outing them like this. I didn't want to say anything."

"All the more reason that I should be there the next time this is brought up," Pink answers. "If you don't want me to talk about your feelings, fine. But don't tell me not to talk about mine."

This is getting really complicated. The more Maria uses her power, the more it's clear that her psyche is splitting into distinctly separate people, the implications of which make this entire situation all the more difficult to figure out. Hell, even ignoring my own involvement in all of this, Maria's mere existence makes me wonder about things like whether or not it's ethical for her selves to recombine and temporarily lose their individuality. But I think that's a question better answered by Maria than it is by anyone else. I probably shouldn't come to any conclusions about it without her direct input.

"At the very least, I'm happy to agree to talk to you again about this, Pink," I tell her. "Let me know if I'm wrong here, but I get the distinct impression that there's some continuity between, say, the Orange of right now and the Orange of every other time she's been a fairy, right? So at the very least, it will be possible to speak with you again, and I'm certain I can convince any other member of the rainbow to let you out if necessary."

"Are you sure, though?" Pink hedges. "We can be pretty stubborn."

"Sure, but I can be very convincing," I tell her, giving her a reassuring smile. She blushes a little more and looks away.

"...I guess that's true," she mumbles. "Okay. Okay, if people want to recombine, go ahead."

Purple, who has notably not said a single word throughout all of this, shrugs her shoulders and flies into Maria's chest, disappearing and changing the color of the main body back to her own. Pink is now gone, sent to wherever a Maria goes when she loses her body. For some reason, that thought brings a flash of memory to the front of my mind, my cave of meat that traps me in my dreams assaulting me during a split second of wakefulness. I try to stop my body from shuddering, but instead a ripple flows down my modified octopus skin, like my flesh was a calm lake that someone dropped a stone into. It's a profoundly strange sensation, sort of like goosebumps but in a single, quick pulse. Advanced goosebumps. Truly, my power is one to be feared.

"Wiggins! Patrova! You ready?" Commander calls out. "Begin!"

Just like last time, just like every time, Anastasia immediately starts by stabbing herself with her claws. I'll never get used to it, though. The gouge in her arm is longer and deeper than usual, her blood flowing more freely than it did in her skirmish with Christine. My body tenses, a wound of that size instinctively making me feel like we must be in a fight, that there must be aliens around us, trying to kill us. Crystal armor grows on my arms as pitch-black hands as large as Anastasia herself appear on either side of her, ready to clap shut and catch her between their palms like a bug you'd rather release out the back door than kill. My Raptor brain and alien sensory suite assure me that I am cut off from my Queen's forces, alone, while Anastasia leaps backwards to barely dodge the hands closing around her.

She sends a snake of blood towards her opponent, but unlike Anastasia, Wiggins does not need to account for travel time with his abilities. The giant hands match the relative position and orientation of his own, like giant shadows peeled off of the ground and into the third dimension. He can make them appear and disappear at will anywhere within his domain, and before Anastasia's attack can reach him, he does so again, manifesting one hand behind her in the direction she's dodging and the other above her. She only sees the one above until it's too late, jumping directly into the other and ending up caught.

The snake of blood flying towards Wiggins loses stability and splashes into the ground, apparently no longer supported by Anastasia's domain. This could mean that she has fallen unconscious, but I only get a second to worry about it before the fingers curled around her start getting forced apart. At first I assume she has retracted her domain in order to be able to output more pressure with her blood control, but then I see she seems to be shoving the hand off of her with physical strength alone. I knew her powers changed her body to be stronger than a baseline human's, but that's still surprising to me. I can't help but grin, though.

"Hell yeah, Ana!" I cheer.

"Kick his ass into next week!" Christine agrees.

Anastasia shouts with exertion and the enormous hands start to waver, becoming less opaque for a moment before she fully shoves them off of her. Wiggins' real hands look like they're being forcibly moved in the same way that Anastasia is moving the projected hands, which is an interesting little detail. He makes them disappear and reappear again, but his eyebrows raise in surprise as they quickly waver and vanish moments before touching her. I see. His domain isn't strong enough to affect her at this range while she has hers retracted. He realizes it at the same moment I do, and starts walking closer.

Anastasia starts walking closer as well, a slowly growing cloak of blood swirling around her. The hands appear and grab for her again, but they still fail to maintain cohesion around her even though the two of them are closer. Does his power require a significant amount of domain penetration, or is Anastasia just that much stronger than him? Honestly, I'd bet on the latter. Her domain doesn't usually feel super dense, but she usually has it extended pretty far from her body in every direction. She has a lot of range with it, much more than I do, and for some reason I feel like she always ends up stronger than I expect in the middle of a fight. Still, as impressive as this is, it has to end eventually, and sure enough, the next time the hands come for her, Anastasia dodges again.

I wonder if she has a sense for when she can and can't disable someone's power. She's the only person I've found who seems to be even more sensitive about domains than I am, though I guess I haven't really talked with all that many people about the stuff I feel when they overlap. Nobody else has brought it up either, and it makes me suspect it might not be a common experience.

One way or another, though, Anastasia's enhanced body and excellent instincts make her more than a match for all the adults and older kids here. Wiggins tries to trick her into dodging into a hand again, but she just shoves it away with a thrust of blood. The crimson liquid flows around her arms and legs, protecting her and assisting her in her movements. Sometimes, she'll make a jump and look like she's flying for a split second, her blood carrying her just a little farther and a little faster than physics would normally allow. She glides from movement to movement, slowly closing the distance as she avoids or deflects her opponent's attacks. All the while, she bleeds, and every second of it makes her stronger.

The end of the match is sudden, swift, and decisive. Anastasia leaps directly at her opponent without warning and forms her gathered blood into a giant hand of her own. It's not quite as large as the ones that have been harrying her this entire time, but it's enough to wrap around her opponent and lock down both of his hands, disabling his ability and keeping him in place long enough for Commander to declare her victory.

The rest of us watching in the wings are uncharacteristically silent as she drops her opponent and skips happily back towards us, her blood performing celebratory loops and swirls in the air above her head.

"Hey! Hey! I did it! I won!" Anastasia cheers, running up to me to fish for well-deserved praise and affection.

"You did awesome!" I tell her, giving her a congratulatory pat on the head. She leans into it, making a happy noise.

"Heeey, Anastasia," Christine says, leaning in. "By any chance were you holding back on me during our fight?"

Anastasia blinks up at her, a confused tilt to her head.

"Christine, you've seen me fight aliens," she says. "I've been holding way back on everyone."

Christine is silent for a moment, probably remembering the pile of bloody Raptor corpses we found her in or any of the other dozens or maybe hundreds of monsters we've watched her disembowel.

"Oh," Christine says. "Right."

Anastasia wraps her arms around my waist and gives me a big squeeze, looking up into my eyes.

"You'd better make it to the finals, okay?" she insists. "I wanna fight somebody for real!"

Wiggins, off in another part of the line, turns away with an embarrassed grimace. Hungry hungry Anastasia is roasting his ego on a fire spit right now, so I can hardly blame him. Still, that does bring up an unfortunate point. I'm going to have to fight Anastasia, assuming we both keep winning. I'm not really sure if I'm comfortable with that.

"If I win, you have to be a baby tiger for an entire day, and I get to ride you everywhere and you have to do what I say!" Anastasia decides.

Hmm. I pick her up under the armpits and lift her up to head height, giving her a blank stare as she wiggles and giggles.

"You will rue the day you challenged me," I declare, and she laughs even harder.

What the hell, right? Getting to stab people is probably enrichment for her at this point. Which, y'know, is maybe bad, but I can't say no to her when she's this excited about it. It's not like I have to do anything to win other than catch her and hug her really tight, so arguably this is a really healthy bonding activity for a child. Yeah. Let's go with that.

"We are the most dysfunctional found family ever," Christine declares. That only makes Anastasia grin wider, though. Of course it does. Christine called us a family. And while we can never replace her mother, her father, her siblings, or her grandparents, we're still all she has and I can hardly blame her for clinging to us as tightly as she can. We're a fucked-up little family, but I'm used to those. Hopefully, at the very least, I can do a better job as a parent than any of my foster families tried to do.

The fact that I'm having these thoughts shortly after deciding to make her lose a combat tournament does not escape me, of course. Fortunately, my foster parents did not set a high bar.