Canon-Typical
It’s fitting. It’s like a joke. A running gag.
But there’s no laughter.
The lab is a mess. Scattered remnants of walls, tables. Shards of glass the size of a grain of sand to a human torso litter and impale the floor, ceiling. Tube lighting, the few that remain at intact least, flicker and hum.
They are the lone light sources here, and it's certainly not doing the atmosphere any favors. The lab is one set in the middle of the building, with walls on every side. No windows. No way out. Easily, at least.
The room is darker than it should be. It’s always more than it should be.
The Rhino seems to absorb the space. A black hole.
He stands there, menacingly. Then, he steps forward. Again, and again. His weight is palpable in his step; Tanya can feel it from across the room, echoing in her chest.
One dangling tube light flickers as his exosuit’s horn scrapes against it. Shadows scratch along his expression, making it unreadable, shifting. A looming disaster.
He looms. Just a few steps away from her now, massive steps taking him from one side to the other not quickly, but consistently.
“Nothing personal, little lady.” The Rhino stomps. Like thunder, or perhaps that's the weather outside. A bit of both.
He looms, and his fist rises, and Tanya backs away, into the wall, and there is nowhere to run.
His fist slams down.
CRASH!
The entire floor violently shakes. A crater marks the spot, and after a moment, the Rhino brings his hand up from the shattered indent, expecting a fine maroon paste to be coating his knuckles.
They’re clean.
“Huh?”
“It probably isn’t.” The voice comes from behind him. Agreeing, though that’s not really important right now. The Rhino whirls, or rather, stomps, once then twice, until he’s facing-
A much smaller fist-?
WHAM!
His head snaps back, busted lip and ensuing blood trail following him as he collapses backwards.
“That one was personal, though.”
Tanya’s eyes glow faintly, and she shakes the numbness out of her hand, bracing herself for a moment as the mountain of a man falls and quakes and cracks the floor even further. The dust cloud that rises is enough to make her step back twice, no longer with her back against the wall.
Down goes Frazier.
When you’ve been going to rundown boxing gym nearly every day for the past year or so, you pick up a few things. Phrases, history. How to properly throw a punch.
Not that an ordinary, properly thrown punch, even from George Foreman himself, would have been enough to knock out this armored fursona shmuck. Good thing she’s anything but.
She hisses, flexing her fingers. Still hurts though.
Her knuckles are red, a bit scraped up. He has a mean mug, that’s for sure, and the metallic, somehow stone-like material his namesake-resembling exosuit is made of hurts like a friction burn on steroids.
But his face is mostly uncovered, and as she’d struck him there, the pain is a passing annoyance.
Something something, David and Goliath, the bigger are the harder they fall, you know the rest. Apparently, “hit them in the jaw and they’ll go down” also applies to superhuman folk.
If you hit them with the force of a superhuman yourself, that is.
Tanya feels that familiar hot stitching sensation start up over her knuckles, at about the same time she feels the ground shake a bit more.
Okay, minor correction.
Turns out, hitting a superhuman once, even with superhuman power yourself, isn’t enough to put them down for long. This is on a case-by-case basis of course. If Tanya is lucky, this will be the only case.
Leave this sort of thing to the proper authorities.
She is never lucky, but that’s a story for later. For now…
Tanya turns, her gaze flitting across the room.
It’s a lab, as earlier established, but not the chemistry kind of lab. Instead of floor-attached tabletops, there are-
“Urgh.” The Rhino stirs, shifting in a debris pile of his own making. “If ya think-”
SMASH!
The Rhino does not say very much, as the edge of a large table crushes into his forehead, splitting partway through and shattering the fake wood into plastic-y splinters.
He collapses, unconscious.
“That one wasn’t personal. Just common sense.” The glow in her eyes fades. Tanya wipes her hands on her pants, grimacing at the maroon-tinted dust.
These are definitely ruined.
-=-
“Not just a bug, huh? Just the right one.”
What did you mean by that? What did I do?
Here’s the situation at hand. Tanya, as part of a potential collaborative media project between Oscorp and the comparatively recent Alchemax, had accompanied the Oscorp coalition. Officially here as an assistant in human relations, she was to observe, make notes, and at the behest of the director who had recommended her, ask pertinent questions as to purpose, visions, and connections.
It was supposed to be a simple day at the office. Someone else’s office, sure, but still simple.
While sprinting through the overly modern glass and steel hallways that make up much of Alchemax's top floors, Tanya, acknowledges that her situation would never be that easy.
I didn't do anything.
A guttural roar, barely human, distorted by electric noise and several levels of building, triggers her instincts even this far away. Tanya frowns, smothering the shivering tug at the back of her senses. Unfortunately, she can’t help the tension in her shoulders, hot and tidal.
Does naming yourself after a rhino and adopting it as your armored fursona make you fucking immune to head trauma?
In her defense, the strongest foes she’d faced in her old world would have gone down from the punch alone. There’s only so much reinforcement and enhancement formulae can do, even if they did allow technically “superhuman” feats.
Tanya’s mental definition for other people’s level of “superhuman” is rapidly growing in scale today. Joy.
This is why I don’t get involved. This is why I hate-
Another roar, and a smashing sound. Several, actually.
She nearly trips, catches herself, and continues running. Around a corner, down a straightaway, into another lab, this one with a giant hole in floor. She jumps through, landing in the next lower level.
She's running, but he’s getting closer, dropping through floors himself and crushing through walls like they’re paper mâché. She has to find a way out, but he can make as many exits as he likes.
It is utterly unfair. It is always unfair.
Sometimes, Tanya curses this sense of hers. She knows he’s getting closer, can hear it, feel it in the shiver down her back and the razor ice in her gut.
Back into the hallway. Sprinting, searching. A way down that doesn't involve throwing herself off the building.
He's gaining. He's gaining, and- fucking shit, where is the damn thing?
Sure, she’d assumed – aka logically ascertained from news and police reports in the bare minimum attention she’d given them – that the Rhino was more than just his exosuit. He had to be some sort of incredible physical specimen in the first place to feasibly wear and even run in such a heaping hunk of armor.
But even Mary Sue, backed and heavily boosted by the other fucking imbecile in the guise of a blessing, was a human. Even that feisty bitch, with all her divine strength and cult-like grit, would have died from those blows. Or in the very best case, survived with a fractured skull and aneurism-inducing head trauma. And then she would have died.
Tanya knows this. She knows how much force had been in that punch, in swinging that table. They were very intentional.
He hadn’t even stayed knocked out for more than a few minutes.
...she could stop him. She could deal with him, if need be. But that isn't the point.
Why me?
“It’s nothing new, is it?”
Damn me. Damn it, damn it, damn it!
No, it isn’t. It's painfully familiar.
Tanya doesn’t break stride, running through rumbling hallways and nimbly avoiding glass-littered tile floors. The shaking comes in spurts, a hefty one two, one two, monstrous steps echoing from the floor above and resonating in her eardrums, her chest, bum bum, bum bum.
Her body is wound up tight, and the blanket over the back of her skull, senses, shocking nerves, it hasn’t let up. Not yet. It’s impossible to be comforted, to relax even for a moment.
There’s a single consolation. She doesn’t need to catch her breath, her physical conditioning is too unnaturally superb for that, but there is a weight on her. It vibrates, urging her.
Go, go, go. Keeping going. Don’t stop.
Of course, we had to have our meeting on the top fucking floor.
The Alchemax main building sits just near the docks, a few blocks away but near enough for connecting infrastructure. It’s easier for them to ship parts directly, and to receive them directly. The issue with this is that, inside city lines, a building can only be so wide.
So, in the spirit of New York’s skyscraper forefathers, they built up, forming a relatively tall, incredibly modern structure. A mix of business and experimentation depending on the level.
And there are a lot of levels.
Tanya glances into an office space as she passes. Some sort of meeting room, recently abandoned if the scattered papers are any indicator. More importantly are the windows, the skyline.
It’s dark. Of course, it’s dark. The blanketed sky rumbles and toils, bubbling, blackened clouds. Sparks brings life in spurts, and as she passes another office, more windows, rain begins to pour.
A storm.
It means little to her. It meant a little more, once upon a time.
In a previous life, she could just…
But she can’t.
The sky is lost to her, and she continues running.
Always running. There is a faint pang in her chest, an emptiness or openness which Tanya recognizes and crushes in swift order. There’s no time to lament what is gone. There’s no point. It’s a waste of time, of energy.
She already lost one world, life, existence, and the second is nothing more than added experience. That's all it can be. Understand?
“Colonel… I don’t think you’re a-”
Shut up!
She’s busy. There’s nothing else here.
I’m not-
Not what? What is there to be, except exhausted? Scared?
No. Not at all.
Just... tired. Focused. Running. From a maniac after her head. Nothing new there. An armored super criminal is currently gunning for her. A bit newer on that front.
Or, not really gunning. Charging. You know, like a rhino. Haha.
It's forced, as is typical.
Keep going. Don’t stop.
A stairwell. Tanya ducks inside and looks down.
It’s one of those with a railing, and a gap between the stairs themselves.
Tanya vaults the railing smoothly, a little too smoothly. Her fingers grip the railing for less than a second, but they linger oddly, or at least, odd to an outside observer. It’s as if they stick, for a moment. Friction, obviously, from her rapid pace.
She falls floors at a time, scaling down the stairwell like it’s a massive ladder, briefly grabbing the railing at each level to avoid falling too far too fast and risk ripping her arms out of their sockets.
Okay. Sitrep. Being chased by a supercriminal known as the Rhino. Why is he chasing me? I don’t know. Why is he at Alchemax? Also don’t know. Hopefully not... probably for the same reason. Well, that’s just fucking great.
The stairwell rumbles, a large crash and crushing of material way up above convincing Tanya to drop a little faster.
Better question. How is he still following me? Tracking? No, he didn't touch me. Heat signature? He does have goggles...
Tanya drops a final level, hitting the bottom floor and ripping a tear in the knee of her already dirty and scratched up black slacks. After a series of stunts that would seriously injure a less spectacular person, she decides to count this as a win.
Change the temperature. Get further away.
She needs a win right about now.
In a fair world, this wouldn’t be happening. But it is. And it’s happening to her.
It’s not fair. It’s never fucking fair.
-=-
The world is awash. Shades of skyscrapers and secrets.
In the distance, faint screams echo in the darkened afternoon. Sirens. It’s familiar enough to block out. They never end, anyway. Everyone adapts, learns to live with it. Deal with it.
Alchemax smokes far behind her, like a chimney. Dampened by the rain, it yet stands tall, unbroken on the outside.
Why does this always happen to me?
In winter, the days are short. The light fades quickly. A flood runs from sky to earth, washing it clean. For the time being, that is. And not even that; crime never sleeps, nor is it always deterred by errant weather.
She can see just fine, but what about others? A good poncho will suit any dedicated robber just as well.
Right. Who cares about others? It’s not her problem. She has her own problems right now.
Downpour pounds on beaten down pavement. Footsteps pound down even harder. She escaped, for now. For a time, but how long is that? How long can she run?
Forever. That’s the plan.
The Alchemax main building bordered many others, along with the water. Brooklyn’s finest, the oft fairly mocked NYPD, line the front of the building, cordoning off the area. As if they could do anything.
She knows they can’t, but that’s no incentive to stick around. They’d only slow her down. Ask questions.
The Rhino is after her. Was after her. There’s no way he can catch her now. There’s no reason he would want to catch her in the first place.
Yet, he’d showed up at Alchemax on the one day she’d be there. He’d attacked her.
Why?
I’m not a good person. I’ve never claimed to be. But surely…
She’s not of any interest. She shouldn’t be. She’d been very careful to lay low in this world. She’d done everything right.
Graduate high school with honors. Keep her head down, out of sight. Forge connections, get an internship at a prestigious corporation. Rise in the ranks quick enough to be comfortable. Enough to be considered a prodigy, but not an anomaly. Worth noticing, but not too much.
What happened?
Well, it’s a tale as old as her previous world’s exploits. A supposedly ordinary person goes on a field trip, or along abandoned subway lines, or a gene-splicing lab, or-
The scar on the back of her left-hand twinges. Phantom pain.
But that doesn’t make any sense. She hadn’t done anything.
I couldn’t even die properly. Ever.
Is it His fault?
Despite her grievances, she couldn’t say. She knew when He was around. Could feel His influence. A sort of sixth sense, no doubt the fault continued exposure to the Type 95. Holy energy has a way of infecting things. Curses linger.
But He’s not here at all. Not even a wisp. Just… gone.
Then…
Tanya knows better than most just how cruel humans can be. It’s the only consistency between worlds. Others, and her own.
I’m tired of it. I’m just…
The goal is to get as far away as possible.
Pretend it never happened.
The sky heaves. A frigid soak dowses the city, rain that is only liquid from movement scattering the people, drenching the shadowed back alleys and neon-lit side streets.
Even with a passive barrier, Tanya is soaked to the bone. Her slacks are beyond saving, torn at the left knee and right shin, and her leather dress boots shift uncomfortably against her heels. And no amount of dry-cleaning will salvage this button-up shirt.
She slips through another alley, ducking under the awning of some building’s backdoor. It extends past it on either side, and Tanya leans against the brickwork just next to the door. Just in case.
Her hand brushes back soaked bangs, carding numb fingers through icy strands. Yellow light, under the awning, dances along her frame. Supposedly, it’s a warm color.
…tired.
Tanya breathes in, and out.
In… and out.
Her eyes flutter shut, and beneath her eyelids the irises glow teal. She breathes in, holds it, then breathes out, a hot mist slipping past her lips. Her fingers regain feeling, and wisps of steam drift away from exposed skin.
It’s the best she can do in these circumstances. Regain warmth, desperately. Catch her breath, even if she doesn’t really need to.
Warmth…
Tanya checks her pocket, sliding out her phone. Slowly sliding down the wall.
Her smartphone glints, black metal and plastic, with a nice big touch screen, with so many features and a stylus because god help her if she splurge just once in her extended life. It’s amazing how fast technology progresses in just a decade. Especially in a universe already more advanced than her first.
The screen is cracked. But it works.
Tanya inputs her passcode.
“37 missed calls from: Gwen.”
“1 missed call from: Peter Parker.”
Tanya clicks the first notification. It rings once, twice.
“Oh my god, Tanya!” Gwen answers, breathless. Tanya can hear her stuffy nose even through the static. “Are you okay?! I called Pete, and saw the news, and you were- aren’t you- please tell me you’re okay!!”
“I’m okay.” Tanya said, lying. “Listen, I can’t talk for long.”
“You can’t- Tanya, don’t you dare hang up already. I haven’t spent the last hour and a half worrying out of my mind just for you to- to- to be so dismissive about this. It’s the Rhino!”
“I got out just fine. The Rhino’s not the problem here.”
“What? Then what is the problem? Alchemax was attacked, Tanya, and- and you were there! You could have-”
“I know.” It’s almost nostalgic, in a way. Her concern. Tanya’s never been good at the comforting thing, but to prevent her friend from hysteria she’d try at least a little. “Like I said, nothing happened. I got out without issue, took the stairwell on the opposite side of the building. I never even saw him.”
Comfort often requires lying, either to others or oneself. Something Tanya is good at.
“See? Not a problem. Although, I do need new slacks.”
Honestly, the Rhino really isn’t the problem. He's a meathead, a heavily armored jobber. Maybe a furry, not that there's anything wrong with that. Live your life.
Unless that life involves robbing banks and trying to kill her, that is.
The real problem is in his actions, or rather, the reason behind his actions. The who, what, where, when… the why.
Why attack her? It can’t be a coincidence. He’d said it himself, “The right one”.
So, he was after her. That's close enough to certain.
But why? There’s no feasible reason, not on the surface. Tanya is a paid intern at Oscorp, working in media and human relations four days a week. On the three other days, she works as a part-time clerk at a local corner store.
She goes to the gym almost every day, gets coffee at a nice German café. She lives an ordinary, peaceful life. Has a nice apartment, rent controlled and paid for. She avoids trouble, just lives her normal life that'd she'd worked so hard to-
The ice in her gut churns painfully.
What went wrong? What did I do wrong?
Oh no. No no no.
It’s hitting her now. It’s really-
“Your slacks aren’t- look, you can get new slacks. Clothes can be replaced, but you... I’m just- I’m just glad you’re safe.” A pause. “You are safe, aren’t you? You need to tell me you're safe.”
Of course.No.I am. Never. It’s fine. Is it? I need to-
Run.
“Hey, uh I need to- I’ll call you back.” Tanya’s not out of breath, but she can feel it speeding up. Her senses sharpen, tension like static along bone and sinew, muscles, nerve endings, her fingertips. “i will. Later.”
“No, you said- wait! Tell me you’re safe! Tanya!”
“I am. I’m safe, I just- goodbye. I’ll call later. Goodbye.”
“Tanya don't you-!!”
“Call ended.”
Tanya stares at the screen, the white light of her “Recents” tab illuminating her face.
Keep going. Don’t stop.
“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me!”
Don’t stop. Don’t you ever stop.
“Colonel, you’re not a bad-”
Go. Move forward.
“It’s- my dad, he’s, he-”
Ever forward. See how far you can-
“I wanted to be like you.”
Run.
"That don't make it okay."
Why? Why? I don’t understand.
I did everything right. I know I did.
So, why is this happening!? Why!?
Why is this happening to me again!?!?
RUN!!!
Tanya’s head shoots up.
There it is. That prickling along the back of her senses.
No, not along her senses. Part of them. She knows what it is.
Something’s here. Someone.
The Rhino?
She listens, feels.
Footsteps. Too light for the Rhino. Heavy, but calm. Boots. Confidence. Metallic clinking.
Just outside the alley.
Tanya pushes herself up – when had she slid down the wall? – into a low stance. Once last glance at her “Recents”, one name in particular, then she slides her phone into her pocket.
Why did this happen? Who knows?
Her clothes are soaked. Her skin is freezing to the touch yet steaming.
Her everything is white-hot, fine-tuned, raw watching waiting-
Blood pounds in her ears, chest.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
At high frequency, just barely past normal human hearing, a mechanical whine hums through the air. A faint scraping sound, metal on brick. Shivers, and not from the cold.
Run! Run! Run!
I’m so, so tired.
Tanya’s gaze glows teal. She slows her breathing, controlling it. Breathe in… and out.
…caution…
Her sixth sense calms, from a panicked yell to a faint buzz.
Maybe I’ll always be.
A purple glow, lighting the corner.
I can run for as long as I need.