~Yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy,

  Rip and tear and fill your tummy,

  Blood and gore and guts are great,

  They make me want to procreate!~

  ...Wait.

  One of those words didn't belong, even if it fit the rhyme. Wrong sin. It should have been something like 'salivate.' Anathema loved eating all kinds of random shit, especially people, so it was natural to wonder what things tasted like to them. I felt like I was a great person to ask, as I finally had the answer. The answer is that food tastes really really really super duper good. That was it. That was the answer. If you instead wanted to know what it tasted like, the best answer I could give would be 'the same way it normally does.'

  A pickle always tasted like a pickle, but the way you experienced that same pickle taste was highly variable. I'd say a regular, normal pickle tended to range from aggressively mediocre to rivaling the most passionate fires of heaven. Under the right conditions, the same sliver of limp, vinegar-soaked cucumber could transcend from a mid-tier condiment to be an almost sexual experience. Since 'hatching,' I'd been experiencing the same thing—only now, it was the default experience—and with everything.

  I think the typical Anathema reward instincts, combined with the culmination of two entire decades of suffering through the human condition, resulted in some important wires getting crossed in a few places. This was evidenced by the fact that, as far as I knew, Anathema only reproduced by stochastically infecting people. I also hadn't developed some kind of freaky, Anathema mating instinct. The very thought of developing something like that would make me shudder.

  Ah, but that's the neat part about instincts, a little voice teased me. You'd stop being bothered by it as soon as you developed one!

  It bothered me now, though, and some hypothetical, future self that I didn't even want to exist was less important than my own, me-right-now feelings. I decided to stop ruining the moment and just enjoy the euphoric sensation of near-literally inhaling massive quantities of meat. I was completely and utterly buried, which meant I was about as close as I could conceivably be to doing that. It was all so good—warm and thick and chewy and wriggly and so many other wonderful things. No longer limited by typical human biology—or even digestive geometry—the amount I was eating felt like it could be measured in pounds per second.

  Once again, I felt like I should wonder where it was all going. Does it even matter how it works? It's good, and it's going in my tummy.

  ~Yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy...

  Something grabbed me by the ankle.

  I tried kicking myself free. Despite being buried in a heap of thrashing Anathema, most of them couldn't do anything to really bother me. A few—grabbers, maybe—would sometimes try pulling on different parts of me with a bit more success. It was never a real problem, though, because I was still the strongest one in the pile. It wasn't even enough to succeed in injuring me, because at the rate I was eating, any damage they could do regenerated several times faster than normal. And by 'normal,' I meant the ridiculous, real-time healing my Anathema body was capable of as a baseline.

  This was different. I wasn't able to kick away—whatever had grabbed me was strong. Like, really strong. Is there another titan? That itself might not be a problem, but I did need to free myself before I could think about taking on another higher tier Anathema. Kicking wasn't working, so I tried a new tactic. Focusing on the metal around that one part of my leg, I extruded multiple inch-long spikes from the surface of the material. Whatever was grabbing me instantly let go.

  Ha! Suck it, loser! This bitch is now one free Anathem-ahhhh-whoa! It grabbed me again, and now it was pulling me backwards with way more force than before. Shit shit shit! I tried grabbing onto something, anything, but my metallic claws just sheared straight through anything in the way—whatever was pulling me was just too strong. No! Not my foooooooood!

  Whatever it was, it must be outside of the pile, because it ripped me straight out of it as well. I found myself dangling upside down, suspended from one ankle and with little ability to do anything about it. That wouldn't stop me from trying, though, and I proceeded to flail about like one truly outraged cat. I of course also tried the ankle spike trick again, but it didn't work. Shit! It's blocking me from shifting the area where it's touching somehow!

  That meant the other Anathema also had some kind of esoteric ability. It was only preventing me from shifting around where it held me, though, so I tried a new type of construction for the first time. It was the most metal I'd ever consciously moved, but it came easier than I expected. It only took two or three seconds—and I was now the proud owner of an actual sword. Blindly, I lashed out with it.

  I didn't feel it strike anything. Instead, the asshole holding me released its stupid grip on my ankle. On one hand, that was exactly what I'd been trying to accomplish this whole time. However, I'd also been dangling upside down in the air. Without a way to arrest my descent, I crashed scalp-first onto the ground. Fortunately, it turned out I hadn't been nearly as high up as I thought. My head couldn't have been more than a foot or so off the ground.

  The fall was disorienting, but I didn't let it stop me from launching into action. Rolling upright, I swung my impromptu sword with the strength and technique of a pro baseball player. I didn't even know if the edge was facing the right way—but I was also pretty sure you could cut through anything with enough force.

  Unexpectedly, the sword went flying from my grip. Alternatively, it might be more accurate to say that my hand itself was what went flying, taking the sword with it. The bastard lopped me off at the forearm! I didn't get any time to even act shocked. A powerful kick sent my head snapping back, slamming me to the ground on my back. A foot planted itself on my chest before I could try getting up. Looking at the foot, I experienced another round of confusion. Loafers?

  My gaze trailed upward until I was looking at the guy who'd just beaten the crap out of me. Not just beat me up—he fucking behanded me! I felt my anger and desperation evaporate as I realized who it was. I'm pretty sure my eyes widened, and the desperation turned to a sort of hopeless anxiety. Still, a small portion of that anger remained as a drop of petty irritation. I would have been way fucking happier to see you twenty minutes ago, jackass.

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  I'd wondered, earlier, how my real dad would react to me now. Like before, I couldn't believe that it was a coincidence. There had to be some connection between being a Tier 8 Star Guardian and having a daughter who somehow turned out to be an intelligent Anathema. What I didn't know was the nature of the connection—or if he was about to kill me. He did just cut off my Goddamn hand. Like, holy shit.

  The pain from that was intense. It was shockingly bearable, though, and I was more concerned with how things might develop in the next few seconds. Acting with a reflex I didn't yet know I had, the tip of a shiny, silver tongue flicked out to taste the air. Christ. He tastes like the apocalypse.

  There was no other way to succinctly describe it. The man might have been dressed as casual as ever, his face neutral, perhaps a bit curious—but as an Anathema, the sheer sense of danger and power he exuded was like tasting the ash of a dozen ruined cities. At that moment, the most logical and most primal parts of my mind were in complete agreement. There was no situation in which I survived a fight against him.

  But—he hasn't killed me.

  I didn't know what to say, so I stayed silent. He continued studying me for several more seconds. Then, he waved one hand in front of me. "Hey. Alexis?" He pointed at me. "That's your name. Alexis." He pointed at himself. "Daniel."

  The fuck? He was treating me like some kind of animal. Anathema or not, that's just—I don't even know. I scowled. "I understand the concept of a name, jackass. And you know, I kind of thought the whole point of being a Star Guardian was to protect people? You know, from Incursions? Like maybe your own daughter? Or did you just drop by for some father-daughter bonding activities—shopping, nature stuff, maybe a little bodily dismemberment?"

  I was starting to get a bit worked up.

  "Like holy shit." I lifted what was left of my right arm and jabbed it at him. "Do you know what I should be doing? I should be screaming and crying and shaking my fist at you." I jabbed the half of a forearm at him again. "But oh wait, I don't have a fist, cause you fucking cut it off!"

  The anger had reignited. It was rare that I snapped at people. It wasn't like I controlled my emotions or tried to get rid of them or anything ridiculous like that—I never understood people who pretended like they were ultra logical and whined about emotions being dumb and irrational. What could I possibly gain from ignoring my own mental biases and trying to effectively lobotomize myself. What do people think emotions even are? It's just labels for patterns of thought and behavior. Even robots would have that. Leave it to science fiction writers—and socially stunted armchair intellectuals—to overcomplicate things.

  While I didn't repress my emotions, I was also careful about the way I presented myself to other people. People irritated me all the time, but it was very rare that I had outbursts like that. That kind of behavior was something I considered to be the most basic and severe type of personal failure. The onset of regret started as soon as I finished my miniature tirade. But to my surprise, Dad didn't look upset. To my confusion, he looked—happy?

  Taking his foot off my chest, he crouched down and offered me his hand. Warily, I reached out with my left and took it. He helped me stand up. Looking around, I realized that the incursion had stopped. All of the nearby Anathema were dead—by his hand, there was little doubt, and—wait.

  We weren't in the ravine. Taking a closer look at our surroundings, it seemed like we were still in the same general area, but it clearly wasn't the same spot. He must have pulled me through one of his portals. Since the incursion was gone, I wondered if Katherine had succeeded. It was possible, but it could also just be my dad's doing.

  "This is great. This is so great." I turned to face him again—but I'm pretty sure he wasn't talking to me. It was clear he was talking about me, though, and it was more than a bit creepy. "I'm pleased you turned out so well."

  Gee, way to comfort your daughter after surviving an incursion and finding out she's a weirdo Anathema. I rolled my eyes. "If you're so pleased, what was that for?" With my left hand, I pointed at the spot where my right hand had landed a few feet away. It was just sitting there among the leaves. There was no sign of the sword, though—odd.

  "What? Oh, that." Walking over, he bent down to pick it up. I watched with a strange mixture of annoyance, disgust, and amusement as he studied the thing. The way he turned it over in his own hands was similar to how I imagined a paleontologist would examine a freshly excavated dinosaur bone. It was a few more seconds before he looked my way again. "It's really not a big deal."

  Not a big deal? What do you mean, not a—oh, come on. He proceeded to toss it to me.

  Given the nature of the object being tossed, it was a miracle that I managed not to fumble the catch. I ended up somewhat bent and clutching it to my chest. Straightening, I took my own turn to examine it. Obviously, the cross section was the interesting bit. The dull gray metal that formed the exterior of the 'gauntlet' was only a few millimeters thick, which wasn't too surprising. It also wasn't surprising that, unlike a regular gauntlet, there was no gap between metal and flesh. It truly was a secondary layer of skin.

  The only thing that came close to a surprise was the inner part. I knew not to expect blood, because my stump hadn't been bleeding. What I wasn't prepared for were solidified veins of a pale, copper-like metal. Equally interesting were the arm bones, which looked—not quite so metallic, but close. I guess it makes sense. Can't forget the mercury saliva. Or how it felt when I sucked the claws back in.

  Hmm. I wonder if I can just reattach it?

  "You should be able to just reattach it." I glared at him, but he just shrugged. "It usually works on anything with quick enough regeneration. You're also a chamelium, if you didn't already know, and that should make it even easier."

  Okay, I will admit the confirmation of that is appreciated. And also the strong implication that he doesn't have a problem with any of it. "Good to know." Sticking the missing piece back where it belonged, I waited for something. "Oh, oh man that feels weird."

  The start of the process was immediate, but in the context of my supernatural Anathema healing, it was also fairly slow. I expected it to feel like melting back together with another part of myself. Instead, it felt like I was a plant growing new roots into hyper-fertile soil, where the special soil had previously been my own roots. Ew. For the time being, I'd just keep the whole thing pressed against my chest.

  "So." Dad did that annoying hand clapping thing he liked to do. "Congrats on figuring out a way to shatter that breach. I have no idea how you managed that, so I am absolutely going to find out. First, though, I need to deal with some random Tier 1 Guardians who followed me over here, so—"

  "Wait," I interrupted him. "What are you talking about? I thought I couldn't shatter breaches." Obviously, this meant Katherine had succeeded. It left me confused, though, because Dad was implying I should have also been capable of it. Was Katherine's explanation wrong? Or did I misinterpret what she was saying about energy? It seemed likely. If my dad said either of us were wrong, then we were wrong...

  ...But I wasn't the only one who seemed confused, now. "Wait. Are you saying there's someone else who—" Dad spun around, cutting off his own sentence. I had a feeling I knew what he was reacting to, so I did a quick check to make sure my mouth was closed and my 'armor' looked roughly the same as before. I then walked over to stand beside him.

  Climbing over the edge of the ravine came Katherine, looking like utter shit. She was barely even looking ahead of her own feet. Still staggering forward, she only stopped when she caught sight of us. Her eyes skipped right over Dad, settling squarely on me and sending a wave of relief over her bloodstained face. As for my dad, he kept looking between the two of us, even raising a finger to point back and forth. After squinting for a few long seconds at Katherine, he shook his head and blinked.

  "Well I'll be damned," he said at last. "Now that's one hell of a coincidence."

  MGAAD Spotify Playlist, which is track 8: "How Bad Can I Be?" from the Lorax movie.

  really, really well. I kind of hate it...

  https://discord.gg/eF8szn22Kv