Razor's tentacle-like arms whipped through the water with unsettling grace, each movement sharp and deliberate. Her grin stretched unnaturally wide, lips parted to reveal a row of gleaming white teeth that shimmered like polished blades. She tilted her head with erratic delight, eyes locked onto her prey.
"You're such a weakling!" she cackled, twisting her saw-arm until it screamed with friction.
Stitch tried to move, but underwater, her reactions were sluggish—every gesture slowed, every dodge mistimed. Razor darted forward with a sudden burst, her saw dragging behind like a fin of death before cleaving sideways. The edge carved a deep line across Stitch's thigh, blood trailing in swirling ribbons behind her.
Before she could even cry out, Razor spun in the water with a brutal twist of her torso, her tentacles lashing out. One slapped across Stitch's face with such force it disoriented her, flipping her sideways. Another gripped her wrist, wrenching her arm back just as the saw screamed again—this time slicing a brutal gash across Stitch's shoulder.
The pain was unbearable, but Razor wasn't finished.
"You don't scream? Sad," she hissed, voice bubbling. "I prefer screams when I work."
She jetted downward, kicking up a violent burst, only to rocket back with a savage headbutt that sent Stitch's body lurching. Razor then grabbed her by the hair, dragging her upward before spinning like a storm, the serrated blade plunging down toward Stitch's stomach.
Razor's eyes widened with a manic gleam, pupils twitching as bubbles escaped her mouth in erratic bursts of laughter. Her grin stretched grotesquely, almost inhuman, as she yanked Stitch close by the hair, twisting her head to look straight into her face.
"Ooooh, what's the matter, little doll? Legs don't work right? Arms too heavy?" she cooed with mock sweetness, her voice warbling like a cracked music box. "You thought you'd just swim down here and win, huh? Adorable! I wanna crack you open and see what keeps you twitchin'."
She giggled, high-pitched and jagged, before leaning in close, their foreheads nearly touching. "You're like a broken toy! Limp and squeaky. Look at you—cuts all over, barely keepin' those eyes open! How much more can you take before you stop squirming?"
Then she suddenly flared with violence—her tentacles whipped Stitch's back with vicious force, sending her body jerking like a ragdoll. Razor's saw revved once more, the jagged teeth soaked in crimson as she raised it beside Stitch's throat.
"Let's play doctor. I'll cut, you scream!"
The water churned with chaos as Razor darted forward, her twisted grin stretching from ear to ear. Her tentacle-like arms writhed and snapped with frenzied energy, one gripping her rusted, buzzing saw tightly while the others flailed behind her like the arms of some unhinged predator.
"You're so soft," Razor cackled, saw revving as she propelled herself toward Stitch. "Like a little pincushion floating in my blood-red sea!"
Stitch gritted her teeth and hurled a volley of her smaller needles forward, each aimed with desperate precision. Razor weaved through them with unnatural grace, the blades narrowly missing her, grazing only the water itself. Before Stitch could retreat, Razor slammed into her like a torpedo, the saw carving across her left arm with a shriek of metal and blood.
"Aaagh—!" Stitch twisted back, the gash running deep. She reached for her large combat needle, pulling it free and using it as a makeshift blade to intercept Razor's next strike. Sparks flickered underwater as the two weapons clashed, but Razor's relentless strength pushed Stitch back.
"You fight like a broken toy!" Razor howled with laughter, her eyes wide with wild delight. "Where's your fire now, little stitch-doll?! Where's your thread to sew yourself back together?!"
Another slash—Razor spun and sliced down diagonally, catching Stitch across the ribs. The thick needle parried just enough to lessen the blow, but blood curled upward in dark wisps from the fresh wound. Stitch tried to retreat, swimming back, but Razor's tentacles lashed out, one coiling around Stitch's leg, yanking her downward.
Then came a savage flurry—Razor hacked again and again with her saw, each attack heavier and more violent than the last. Stitch blocked with her large needle as best she could, but her arms trembled with the strain, her body bleeding from multiple cuts and slashes now littering her sides and shoulders.
"You're going to fall apart before I even get bored!" Razor jeered. "Why don't you scream? I love it when they scream!"
Stitch, panting and trembling, clenched her jaw, determined to endure—but even her resilience had limits in this underwater hell.
Razor's grin widened as she tasted the scent of pain lingering in the water like perfume. Her tentacles coiled, muscles tightening like springs ready to snap. And then—she vanished.
In a split-second burst, she launched through the water with terrifying speed, a streak of madness and steel. The buzzing of her saw echoed like a metallic scream, drawing closer by the heartbeat.
Stitch barely had time to react—her eyes widened, arms instinctively moving to block—before Razor was already upon her.
The rusted, roaring blade of Razor's saw plunged deep into Stitch's abdomen.
The pain hit like an electric surge. Stitch's mouth opened in a silent gasp, blood immediately bursting into the water in dark crimson threads, swirling around them. The teeth of the saw dug into flesh, muscle, and bone, the vibrations rattling through Stitch's body like the humming death knell of a cruel machine.
"HAHAHA! Look at you now!" Razor shrieked with manic delight, her face inches from Stitch's, her eyes alight with psychotic joy. "You break so beautifully!"
With Stitch still impaled, Razor didn't stop. She surged forward, dragging the girl like a ragdoll—Stitch's limbs limp, her needle clattering from her hand. Razor slammed her against the seafloor wall with monstrous force, the saw still buried in her gut.
The jagged metal blade ground into stone, pinning Stitch against the wall like a grotesque display—her body twitching, blood clouding the water in plumes. The vibrations of the saw echoed through the rock, through Stitch, through everything.
"Look at you. Just look at you," Razor whispered, mockingly stroking Stitch's pale cheek with a bloodied tentacle. "Pinned like a pretty little doll. A red-stained ornament, made by me."
Stitch tried to move—anything—but only a faint, ragged breath left her lips. Her vision blurred, her thoughts spiraling. The pain was consuming, yet still, deep within, she held on by a thread.
Razor leaned in closer, her voice a soft, unstable hum. "Think you'll get rescued? Or are we gonna play 'til the stuffing comes out?"
With a surge of deranged energy, Razor propelled herself through the water like a missile, tentacles whipping behind her, her saw screeching with deadly anticipation. Before Stitch could even shift her stance, Razor drove the weapon forward, the jagged edge tearing straight into Stitch's abdomen. The impact forced the breath from her lungs as blood spilled into the water in thick clouds.
Razor didn't stop there.
Still gripping the handle of her embedded saw, she twisted it cruelly, dragging Stitch's limp form through the water like a lifeless puppet. Then, with a guttural laugh, she slammed her entire body weight forward, driving the saw—Stitch included—into the solid stone wall behind them. The force cracked the rock, pinning Stitch like a ragdoll nailed into place. Her body jerked once from the impact, then sagged, arms trembling and legs barely moving.
"Oooh, look at you now!" Razor's grin widened grotesquely, her voice dripping with sick glee. "All those little needles and you still can't stitch your way outta this, can you? You're so... fragile."
She let her saw grind slightly, letting the blade twitch where it had sunk into flesh and stone alike, savoring the pain radiating through Stitch's broken form.
"Thought you could keep up with me? Hah! You're nothing but a toy—no, worse, a toy I'm gonna break! I'm having so much fun with you... I almost don't want to finish. Almost."
Her laughter echoed, sharp and grating, as she pressed her face closer to Stitch's, reveling in the torment she'd caused.
"You're just another piece for my collection! Another one!" she whispered with insane delight, almost like she was speaking to herself. "And you're gonna make such a pretty little decoration in my wall... I'm gonna carve you up so nicely, Stitch."
As Razor twisted the saw deeper into Stitch, a loud and sudden screech rang through the water, halting her in mid-action. Phoebe, with a sudden flash of focus, used her gravity powers to manipulate the very water around Razor, pulling her back with immense force.
"You think you can just have your fun with my crew?" Phoebe's voice was cold and determined, laced with the weight of her powers. She gripped the very water around Razor and began to compress it tightly, using gravity to crush any space between them.
Razor hissed, thrashing wildly, trying to break free from the intense pull, but Phoebe was unrelenting. "What's this? Another one? Oh, how fun!" Razor's manic laughter echoed through the water as she used her agility to break the pressure, launching herself toward Phoebe.
Phoebe tried to block her with a gravity blast, but Razor was too fast. She caught Phoebe off guard, slashing through the water with her saw, catching Phoebe along her side. Blood spurted, but Phoebe pushed through the pain, using gravity to slam Razor down into the ocean floor, pressing the weight of the water above her to keep her pinned.
Still, Razor grinned like a madwoman. "You think you can fight me? You think you can win?"
Phoebe, struggling to maintain control, gritted her teeth. "I won't let you touch them again." Despite the blood pooling around her, Phoebe concentrated, manipulating the gravity around Razor's arms, pulling them outwards, and giving herself a small moment of breathing space.
But Razor wasn't done. With a savage twist of her body, she kicked off the ocean floor and shot herself forward again, a blur of aggression, while Phoebe strained to maintain her hold, the pressure of the battle weighing on her body and mind.
As the fight raged on, it was clear that Phoebe was giving her all—despite the cuts and bruises, despite the overwhelming force Razor brought. She wouldn't back down. Not for a second.
Temoshí's silence was deafening as he moved with deadly precision, his every action a testament to the years of training and discipline that had shaped him. The water around them swirled violently, each movement adding to the tension in the air. Zharroth's massive form towered above him, his strength unmatched, but it wasn't just power that kept Temoshí on his feet—it was sheer will.
Zharroth swung his lance with terrifying speed, the sharpened point of it cutting through the water like a blade through cloth. The first strike missed by inches as Temoshí swiftly twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the deadly arc. But there was no time to celebrate—Zharroth was relentless, pushing forward with another brutal swipe.
Temoshí's reinforced arm met the lance with a bone-rattling clash, the impact sending a shockwave through his entire body. He grimaced, feeling the pain reverberate through his limbs, but he didn't falter. He couldn't afford to. The pressure of the water, the lack of his fire abilities—it was all against him, but he had no choice but to keep moving, keep fighting.
Zharroth smirked, his deep voice rumbling like thunder, "You're a persistent one, human. Especially for being underwater."
Temoshí ignored the taunt, his focus unbroken. He twisted his body, dodging another crushing blow, and countered with a quick jab aimed at Zharroth's midsection. The attack was swift, but Zharroth's thick hide and powerful armor absorbed the blow, hardly flinching.
With a growl, Zharroth swung the lance downward, aiming to end the fight. Temoshí, his breath ragged and his movements slower now, barely managed to raise his arm in time, the reinforced steel of his guard meeting the lance's sharp edge with a deafening crack. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his body, but he stayed upright, his teeth grinding in defiance.
The vibration of the clash sent ripples through the water, causing the surrounding area to shudder violently. Temoshí's side was bleeding, his vision blurring from the pain, but he remained focused, his resolve unshaken. He took a deep breath and pushed himself forward again, his movements fluid despite the pain that wracked his body. Zharroth's sheer strength was overwhelming, but it was not enough to break his will.
With each strike and each parry, the battle wore on, a silent war of endurance and tenacity, as Temoshí fought not just for survival, but for his crew, his friends. He would not let Zharroth have the victory—not yet, not while he still had the strength to fight. His body screamed in protest, but his spirit burned bright, undeterred by the odds stacked against him.
Zharroth's eyes narrowed as he saw the human's unwavering resolve. "You may fight well, human, but this is your last stand."
Temoshí didn't respond, his focus never wavering. With a final, desperate push, he lunged forward again, determined to keep the fight going, no matter the cost.
To be continued...