Junkyard
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 12
by
copier
· original author:
an188
"Drive, to the junkyard!" Glam murmured, her fingers trailing along the convertible's roof as she slid into the passenger seat like liquid mercury. The scent of ozone clung to them both—a live-wire perfume. The abandoned junkyard sprawled beyond Havenridge's last functional streetlamp, a graveyard of rusted skeletons and shattered windshields glittering under the moonlight. They'd hidden there at sixteen, knees scraped raw from scaling chain-link fences, giggling into each other's mouths while loan sharks' flashlights swept the alleys. Now, the chain-link was nothing but a suggestion under Glitz's sparking fingertips.
Glitz killed the headlights three blocks early, letting the car roll forward on silent momentum. The junkyard loomed—a jagged silhouette of crane necks and compacted metal cubes. "Nostalgia trip?" she snorted, but her knuckles whitened around the wheel. They'd fucked for the first time here, pressed between the husks of two gutted sedans, Glam's teeth in her shoulder to muffle the sounds.
Glam didn't answer. She simply stepped out before the car stopped moving, her stiletto sinking into mud as she strode toward the chain-link fence. It shuddered at her approach—not from wind, but from the low-frequency current humming beneath her skin. The metal links *twitched*, then unraveled like a zipper parting down the middle.
Behind her, the convertible's engine gave a dying whine as Glitz kicked the door open with enough force to shear the hinge. She caught the falling metal with one hand—not to save it, but to *crush* it between her fingers like foil. The exhilaration hit her like a third orgasm: the dashboard crumpling like wet cardboard under her palm, the steering column snapping like a breadstick when she gripped it. She laughed—sharp and unhinged—as she flipped the two-ton vehicle onto its roof with a casual flick of her wrist. The undercarriage groaned, then folded inward as she planted one boot against it and pushed.
Metal screamed. Glass powdered under the pressure of her fingertips. The entire convertible compacted like a beer can in her grip, pistons popping like bubble wrap, until all that remained was a smoldering sphere of twisted steel no larger than her fist. She tossed it playfully—once, twice—then hurled it straight through the carcass of an abandoned semi-truck. The metal ball punched through three layers of rusted trailer before embedding itself in a concrete pylon with a *thunk* that shook the ground.
"Relax, sister... there's no one here, let's have some fun... super fun..." Glitz murmured against Glam's neck, her breath crackling with static as she pressed her sister against the warped hull of a gutted school bus. The scent of rust and ozone mingled with their sweat—Glam's silver ponytail fanned out like electrified silk against the peeling yellow paint, her gloves already smoldering where she'd gripped the corroded metal too hard.
Glitz didn't wait for permission. She bit down—not on skin, but on the bus's steel frame—her teeth shearing through decades of oxidation like it was brittle candy. The metal screeched as she wrenched her head sideways, peeling the entire side panel open like a sardine can to expose the skeletal remains of vinyl seats. Glam's laughter was low, approving, as she reached in and twisted—ripping a seat clean from its bolts with one hand, then casually underhand-tossing it three hundred feet into the air. They watched it pinwheel against the bruised purple sky, silhouetted for one breathless second before Glitz lunged upward—a teal-and-black comet—her fist connecting mid-descent. The seat exploded into a confetti storm of foam and shattered metal, raining down around them in a grotesque celebration.
Glam caught a spinning bolt between her teeth, crunching it absently as she surveyed the junkyard with new hunger. "Pathetic," she murmured—then kicked the school bus's rear axle so hard the entire chassis lurched sideways, wheels lifting clear off the ground before crashing back down in a cacophony of tortured steel. The impact sent shockwaves through the dirt, toppling nearby stacks of rusted oil drums like dominoes. Glitz whooped, sprinting past her sister to *punch* the next drum mid-fall—her fist exited the other side in a geyser of stale petroleum, the metal curling outward like a grotesque flower blooming in fast-forward.
Glam wasn't watching. She'd found an ancient crane arm half-buried in the dirt—twenty feet of corroded steel—and was presently lifting it one-handed, veins standing out in her neck not from strain but sheer theatricality. The machinery groaned as she twirled it overhead like a baton before throwing it end-over-end toward the mountains of crushed sedans. The crane arm speared through four compacted car carcasses before lodging deep in the fifth with a cathedral-worthy gong.
Glitz's answering laugh was half-scream as she sprinted toward the impact zone, thighs pumping, every footfall cratering the earth. She leapt—too high, too fast—and came down elbow-first on the crane's midpoint. The steel folded around her like tinfoil, the force sending shockwaves that toppled entire towers of wreckage. Metal screamed. Glitz screamed louder. Her muscles burned, her skin crackled with residual voltage, and between her thighs? Drenched.
Glam watched from atop a gutted refrigerator, legs swinging lazily, lips parted around the slow drag of her own fingertip. The sight of her sister—muscles straining, shredded tank-top barely clinging to sweat-slick abs—sent a pulse of wet heat through her. She could smell Glitz's arousal from here, sharp beneath the ozone. "Showoff," she purred—then flicked her wrist. A derelict pickup truck *levitated behind Glitz's back, hovering ominously before hurtling forward like a battering ram.
Glitz didn't turn. She just *arched*—spine bending at an impossible angle—letting the truck skim her sweat-glazed stomach before catching it mid-air with one hand. Her fingers dented the chassis as she grinned over her shoulder, teeth flashing neon-bright. "Aw, trying to fuck me from behind, sis?" She *squeezed*—metal crumpling like paper—then punted the wreck skyward, sending it pinwheeling into a leaning tower of microwaves. The collision sent appliances raining down in a symphony of destruction. Between her thighs, her soaked panties clung tighter with every flex of her quads.
Glam's tongue darted out, tracing her own knuckles where static danced. "Disgusting," she murmured—just as Glitz lunged, crossing twenty feet in a blink, slamming Glam backward into the refrigerator with enough force to buckle the metal. Their mouths crashed together—all teeth and lightning—as Glitz's knee shoved between Glam's thighs. The fridge door sheared off its hinges behind them, toppling into a nest of sparking wires that erupted in blue flame. Glitz didn't care. She bit Glam's lower lip hard enough to draw a thin metallic taste, hips grinding down as the refrigerator rocked under their combined weight. "Say it again," Glitz panted against her mouth, one hand already tearing at Glam's fishnets. "Call me *disgusting* while you're dripping—"
Suddenly Glitz staggered. Her neon-lit veins dimmed mid-sentence, knees buckling like a marionette with cut strings. She caught herself against the ruined fridge, panting, as the cyan glow beneath her skin faded to sickly gray. Her pupils dilated—too wide, too dark—as she swayed dangerously. "...the fuck?" she slurred, blinking sluggishly at her own trembling hands. The usual snap-crackle between her fingers sputtered out like a dying lighter.
Glam was already moving, heels crunching glass as she circled her sister with clinical precision. She walk to a car, ripped the hood clean off, and tore the battery free—cables snapping like wet noodles in her grip. She brought the battery to Glitz's mouth with the same casual cruelty of a mother forcing medicine on a sick child. "Drink," she commanded, tilting the terminals toward Glitz's parted lips.
Glitz whimpered—a sound that would've been pathetic if not for the way her teeth scraped the lead plates the second they touched her tongue. Her throat worked in desperate swallows as the last dregs of electricity siphoned into her body. The battery crumpled like aluminum foil in her grip, its acid boiling away into harmless vapor as the cyan glow surged back beneath her skin. She arched off the fridge with a gasp, fingers clawing at her own sternum as power flooded her veins. "Fuck—fuck—" Her pupils constricted back to razor-thin slits, neon fractals exploding across her irises like rekindled stars.
Glam watched, one eyebrow arched, as her sister's spine straightened in jerky increments. The gray pallor melted away under a fresh wave of electric vitality—first her collarbones gleaming like polished steel, then her ribcage shuddering with renewed voltage, until even the roots of her mohawk pulsed with bioluminescent energy. "Dramatic," Glam murmured, though her fingers twitched with the urge to touch the way Glitz's thighs trembled mid-recovery.
They...
Glitz killed the headlights three blocks early, letting the car roll forward on silent momentum. The junkyard loomed—a jagged silhouette of crane necks and compacted metal cubes. "Nostalgia trip?" she snorted, but her knuckles whitened around the wheel. They'd fucked for the first time here, pressed between the husks of two gutted sedans, Glam's teeth in her shoulder to muffle the sounds.
Glam didn't answer. She simply stepped out before the car stopped moving, her stiletto sinking into mud as she strode toward the chain-link fence. It shuddered at her approach—not from wind, but from the low-frequency current humming beneath her skin. The metal links *twitched*, then unraveled like a zipper parting down the middle.
Behind her, the convertible's engine gave a dying whine as Glitz kicked the door open with enough force to shear the hinge. She caught the falling metal with one hand—not to save it, but to *crush* it between her fingers like foil. The exhilaration hit her like a third orgasm: the dashboard crumpling like wet cardboard under her palm, the steering column snapping like a breadstick when she gripped it. She laughed—sharp and unhinged—as she flipped the two-ton vehicle onto its roof with a casual flick of her wrist. The undercarriage groaned, then folded inward as she planted one boot against it and pushed.
Metal screamed. Glass powdered under the pressure of her fingertips. The entire convertible compacted like a beer can in her grip, pistons popping like bubble wrap, until all that remained was a smoldering sphere of twisted steel no larger than her fist. She tossed it playfully—once, twice—then hurled it straight through the carcass of an abandoned semi-truck. The metal ball punched through three layers of rusted trailer before embedding itself in a concrete pylon with a *thunk* that shook the ground.
"Relax, sister... there's no one here, let's have some fun... super fun..." Glitz murmured against Glam's neck, her breath crackling with static as she pressed her sister against the warped hull of a gutted school bus. The scent of rust and ozone mingled with their sweat—Glam's silver ponytail fanned out like electrified silk against the peeling yellow paint, her gloves already smoldering where she'd gripped the corroded metal too hard.
Glitz didn't wait for permission. She bit down—not on skin, but on the bus's steel frame—her teeth shearing through decades of oxidation like it was brittle candy. The metal screeched as she wrenched her head sideways, peeling the entire side panel open like a sardine can to expose the skeletal remains of vinyl seats. Glam's laughter was low, approving, as she reached in and twisted—ripping a seat clean from its bolts with one hand, then casually underhand-tossing it three hundred feet into the air. They watched it pinwheel against the bruised purple sky, silhouetted for one breathless second before Glitz lunged upward—a teal-and-black comet—her fist connecting mid-descent. The seat exploded into a confetti storm of foam and shattered metal, raining down around them in a grotesque celebration.
Glam caught a spinning bolt between her teeth, crunching it absently as she surveyed the junkyard with new hunger. "Pathetic," she murmured—then kicked the school bus's rear axle so hard the entire chassis lurched sideways, wheels lifting clear off the ground before crashing back down in a cacophony of tortured steel. The impact sent shockwaves through the dirt, toppling nearby stacks of rusted oil drums like dominoes. Glitz whooped, sprinting past her sister to *punch* the next drum mid-fall—her fist exited the other side in a geyser of stale petroleum, the metal curling outward like a grotesque flower blooming in fast-forward.
Glam wasn't watching. She'd found an ancient crane arm half-buried in the dirt—twenty feet of corroded steel—and was presently lifting it one-handed, veins standing out in her neck not from strain but sheer theatricality. The machinery groaned as she twirled it overhead like a baton before throwing it end-over-end toward the mountains of crushed sedans. The crane arm speared through four compacted car carcasses before lodging deep in the fifth with a cathedral-worthy gong.
Glitz's answering laugh was half-scream as she sprinted toward the impact zone, thighs pumping, every footfall cratering the earth. She leapt—too high, too fast—and came down elbow-first on the crane's midpoint. The steel folded around her like tinfoil, the force sending shockwaves that toppled entire towers of wreckage. Metal screamed. Glitz screamed louder. Her muscles burned, her skin crackled with residual voltage, and between her thighs? Drenched.
Glam watched from atop a gutted refrigerator, legs swinging lazily, lips parted around the slow drag of her own fingertip. The sight of her sister—muscles straining, shredded tank-top barely clinging to sweat-slick abs—sent a pulse of wet heat through her. She could smell Glitz's arousal from here, sharp beneath the ozone. "Showoff," she purred—then flicked her wrist. A derelict pickup truck *levitated behind Glitz's back, hovering ominously before hurtling forward like a battering ram.
Glitz didn't turn. She just *arched*—spine bending at an impossible angle—letting the truck skim her sweat-glazed stomach before catching it mid-air with one hand. Her fingers dented the chassis as she grinned over her shoulder, teeth flashing neon-bright. "Aw, trying to fuck me from behind, sis?" She *squeezed*—metal crumpling like paper—then punted the wreck skyward, sending it pinwheeling into a leaning tower of microwaves. The collision sent appliances raining down in a symphony of destruction. Between her thighs, her soaked panties clung tighter with every flex of her quads.
Glam's tongue darted out, tracing her own knuckles where static danced. "Disgusting," she murmured—just as Glitz lunged, crossing twenty feet in a blink, slamming Glam backward into the refrigerator with enough force to buckle the metal. Their mouths crashed together—all teeth and lightning—as Glitz's knee shoved between Glam's thighs. The fridge door sheared off its hinges behind them, toppling into a nest of sparking wires that erupted in blue flame. Glitz didn't care. She bit Glam's lower lip hard enough to draw a thin metallic taste, hips grinding down as the refrigerator rocked under their combined weight. "Say it again," Glitz panted against her mouth, one hand already tearing at Glam's fishnets. "Call me *disgusting* while you're dripping—"
Suddenly Glitz staggered. Her neon-lit veins dimmed mid-sentence, knees buckling like a marionette with cut strings. She caught herself against the ruined fridge, panting, as the cyan glow beneath her skin faded to sickly gray. Her pupils dilated—too wide, too dark—as she swayed dangerously. "...the fuck?" she slurred, blinking sluggishly at her own trembling hands. The usual snap-crackle between her fingers sputtered out like a dying lighter.
Glam was already moving, heels crunching glass as she circled her sister with clinical precision. She walk to a car, ripped the hood clean off, and tore the battery free—cables snapping like wet noodles in her grip. She brought the battery to Glitz's mouth with the same casual cruelty of a mother forcing medicine on a sick child. "Drink," she commanded, tilting the terminals toward Glitz's parted lips.
Glitz whimpered—a sound that would've been pathetic if not for the way her teeth scraped the lead plates the second they touched her tongue. Her throat worked in desperate swallows as the last dregs of electricity siphoned into her body. The battery crumpled like aluminum foil in her grip, its acid boiling away into harmless vapor as the cyan glow surged back beneath her skin. She arched off the fridge with a gasp, fingers clawing at her own sternum as power flooded her veins. "Fuck—fuck—" Her pupils constricted back to razor-thin slits, neon fractals exploding across her irises like rekindled stars.
Glam watched, one eyebrow arched, as her sister's spine straightened in jerky increments. The gray pallor melted away under a fresh wave of electric vitality—first her collarbones gleaming like polished steel, then her ribcage shuddering with renewed voltage, until even the roots of her mohawk pulsed with bioluminescent energy. "Dramatic," Glam murmured, though her fingers twitched with the urge to touch the way Glitz's thighs trembled mid-recovery.
They...
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June 13
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