You both watched as Deadhead rose from a cloud of dust and debris, his large physique making his appearance that much more foreboding. His change in skin color was undoubtedly due to the Hulk blood flowing through his veins, but he still seemed coherent enough to differentiate between friend and foe.

He coughed, glanced around to get an idea of the situation, and stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he noticed Louise.

“Damn.”

Louise frowned slightly as the helmeted hulk openly leered at her. You might've rescinded your earlier statement of him being of yours, if you didn’t completely understand his reaction upon seeing the french vampiress. You weren’t embarrassed to admit that she was attractive. Not in your own head, at least.

Deadhead seemed to recognize that he was staring, and tried to snap himself out of it.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just…damn!”

Louise sighed and shook her head before glancing down at you.

“You should pick friends with a slightly larger vocabulary, mon amour.”

“I think you make him nervous.” you whispered back, trying to hold back a giggle.

She gave you an exasperated look.

“Him nervous–I should be nervous.” she said, waving the end of her sword at him. “He smells like death.”

Deadhead paused to do a quick smell check.

“To be fair…we probably all do.” you begrudgingly admitted.

Louise grimaced at that uncomfortable truth, but said nothing further on the matter. A fresh horde of zombies entered the courtyard, pouring in from every crack and crevice they could possibly squeeze through.

Louise became a whirlwind of steel once more, and you held your own sword at the ready.

“Mercy! Mummy mode!” you commanded. A moment later, your new form-fitting costume reshaped itself to form several layers of cloth bandages.

Atlantean steel met rotting flesh, and for the ones you weren’t able to reach, Mercy sent out multiple bolts of cloth to stab into and restrain them.

A few of them tried to grab hold of your tails, and you had to be extra mindful of their position at all times. It was a little more exhausting, but not impossible.

A brief glance at Deadhead showed him casually clobbering the undead menace. With his every punch and kick, zombies were flung around and flattened with ease. The scene of wanton destruction was rather satisfying to watch, but you had your own battle to pay attention to.

“You. What is your name?” Louise asked as she cut apart a mass of sagging flesh that was twice as large as your average undead.

“The name's ‘Deadhead’.” he replied, forcefully shoving a zombie's head down into its own stomach, and kicking it away from him so hard that it sliced through everything in its path until its body was reduced to nothing.

She paused, tilted her head to the side and, despite herself, smirked a bit.

“Did you name yourself that, or…?”

“It kinda just caught on.” he offered, rapping a knuckle on his sturdy helmet. “Wanna see what's underneath?”

(Cont.)