Helen rolled her shoulders, and I could see movements beneath her school uniform, as bones shifted and found new configurations.  Her limbs moved in ways they shouldn’t have, joints bending the wrong way.

I looked to one side as Helen raised one leg up, over her own shoulder, and wrapped the foot around the back of [Targets's] neck.

...

“But-” [Target] started.  She didn’t get further. Helen raised her other leg, and the shift in weight made [Target] tip forward.  Helen snapped her leg around, taking advantage of the fall to slip herself around behind [Target].  Arms moved and twisted, and at the end of it, Helen was on top of [Target], who was face-first on the ground.  [Target's] arms were caught beneath and in front of her, Helen’s hand around hers, forcing her to hold the knife at her own throat.

Every muscle and bone seemed to be straining in the wrong ways against Helen’s skin.  It conjured up ideas of an insect, or a starved jungle cat, perched atop its prey.

“But Ibott only does big things.  Monsters that can win wars.  Juggernauts and ship sinkers.  Well, the guy who heads our project poked at Ibott’s pride, and got Ibott to do something smaller and cleverer.  Helen’s the only one of us who isn’t human, you know.  Vat grown, like you, but built from scratch.  She’s only an actress because she had to learn from the beginning.”

[Target] made a strangled sound.  Helen was choking her, staring down at her with a blank expression.

...

“We’re works in progress.  Helen’s still growing into her role.  The femme fatale.  A little odd when she’s still a child, but she’ll be something when she’s older.”

Wildbow, Twig, 1.11