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Another arrow thowcked into the target satisfyingly as Vera lowered her bow. It was after school, and most students had long since fled the grounds of Meadowview High School. Vera, however, lingered; waiting for perhaps her only friend - one Janice Fitzpatrick - to finish her jazz band practice. Afterwards, they would head over to Janice's house and play board games, contrary to rumor, which rather confidently stated that they were simply beamed aboard the mothership at the end of the day. Although if Janice didn't finish soon, Vera was ready to head home anyway; the constant hints and allusions about some great mystery regarding not only Barren Pines, but Destiny City in general, were starting to grate on the normally even-tempered girl's nerves.

She'd run out of arrows to shoot, so with a few quick strides, Vera was over at the target, pulling the blunt-tipped arrows out while keeping her bow almost carelessly hung off a shoulder. The sound of a footstep behind her garnered no reaction other than an easily tossed off 'done already?' and it was only when she turned around that Vera realized her mistake.

That was not Janice.

That was not remotely anything that even resembled Janice.

It was giant - how on earth Vera had mistaken one of this monster's footsteps for anything human was destined to go down as one of mankind's great unsolved mysteries. It was unmistably reptilian and as Vera stared in shock, it opened it's mouth and let out a deafening roar. Shock gave way to fear, and as Vera scrambled backwards, the end of her bow hooked around an ankle, causing her to fall, landing uncerimoniously on her a**. An idea wormed itself through her consciousness - something half-remembered from a video game - and Vera scrabbled to get the bow untangled from herself. Another step closer, and the monster opened it's mouth again, right as Vera hastily drew back an arrow and fired almost blindly.

The giant lizard coughed and shook it's head after the arrow had gone down it's gullet; Vera cursed the school and it's safety measures. If she'd had her real bow and arrows, that would have done (possibly) a lot more damage than just a cough!

Tanzanite did not make a habit of grinning, but there was something about Charonite that seemed to drag the corners of her mouth up in a wicked smirk. Whether it was the fact that his wife would be very upset with him for killing her or the ability to say in a sing-sing voice I saved the Queeeeeee-eeen~, something had changed slightly in their relationship those past few weeks. Tanzanite was toeing a line that she had previously not so much as gotten within a mile of.

“General-King,” she said, standing beside him with her human fist placed against a hip, the monstrous arm hanging by her side, “You seem so tense, perhaps we should save this for another night so you can relax.”

Tanzanite, it seemed, had invented a game. This game – a life or death thrill ride that kept the player on the edge of their seats a la a Dahaka chase – was called 'Charonite's Buttons'. It consisted of only two objectives: finding the aforementioned buttons and pushing them in a way that would not make him <******** kill you.

Charonite gave her a look from beneath thick brows, and that vein in his forehead was pulsing again, “How'd you like to lose your other ******** arm, Captain?”

“Do I get a new one?”

“No.”

“But-”

“No.”

Tanzanite faked a pout. She was terrible at it, but lessons with Ursula were improving it by the day. With the ease of a cat surveying a limp and broken mouse, she placed both hands on her back of her head and arched her back. The sound of vertebrae popping was enough to make most peoples skin crawl. Charonite seemed utterly unphased.

“This is the one Uranophane has a hard on for?” Tanzanite asked.

“A w-” Charonite stopped himself, replacing whatever comment he'd had in store with a cold glare, “Do your ******** job, Captain. I'm taking a gamble on Uranophane's instincts. Let's see what they're like.”

“Yes, sir.” That grin flashed again, and Tanzanite was in the air. Sure, she could have walked the few dozen feet between herself and Vera, but Tanzanite was not one to pass up an opportunity to draw on the power of the Negaverse. She landed gracefully beside the youma, and that blackened arm lifted to stroke its flank. It was almost an affectionate touch, one of kinship, and the reptilian youma responded in kind. It butted its big, ugly head against her palm, and Tanzanite found herself sharing the feelings of her attached limb, however grudgingly. She spared only a moment for a fond smile, before turning her gaze on Vera.

“Mm. I would have expected you to be smarter than that.” She cast a glance into the darkness, “Should have bet on black, sir.”

Both Charonite and Tanzanite beheld Vera for long moments: the youma was now rearing back, making schrieee! noises of distress and bewilderment that its prey was being cornered by its -- creators, probably, or at least things that were bigger and more demanding than it was. It was still haunting around the edges as though hopeful for its meal. Both Negaverse members stood there like grease spots on the nice kitchen countertop of reality: they didn't settle easily on the eye.

The tall, broad drill sergeant of a man took a few paces around her instead, and nobody even took Vera into account. "I prize adrenaline," he said, and it was to Tanzanite. "Survival instinct. Self-preservation. Uranophane's barking up the wrong ******** tree."

"There's obviously an instinct, sir," said Tanzanite.

"I don't know what the ******** for."

The bow was still held in Vera's hands, the arrow pointed straight at Captain Tanzanite. Her pale collarbones: her unprotected eyes. Her arm shifted at her side uneasily as though it was a separate entity altogether. Eventually, the gravel-voiced, dark-skinned man said: "Shoot her. Do it."

This wasn't to Tanzanite either. His voice was iron.

"Do it."

(Admittedly, Captain Tanzanite didn't look tragically betrayed, either.)

Vera was confused. And lost. The conversation had taken a turn into the incomprehensible (not that it wasn't already rather opaque) as the pair of Negaverse officers talked to each other. If they were ignoring her...this would be an excellent time to run. In fact, a previously dormant part of her mind was screaming at her to do exactly that, and Vera's back foot shuffled slightly as her stance adjusted; still keeping the arrow trained on Tanzanite, of course, but making it slightly easier for her to turn and run if she had to.

On the other hand, that damned lizard was still about, shrieking (to Vera's mind) out of proportion to the minor injury she'd managed to inflict. There was also the startling speed of the others - at least, she was assuming the man could move as fast as the woman.

And then the moment was lost - they were paying attention to her again, talking to her. ...Urging her to shoot? A flicker of expression, of bewilderment, came across Vera's normally blank face at the command and her fingers tightened on the bow string reflexively. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Nothing was making any goddamn sense except -

Tanzanite said 'Five' and the arrow was loosed, aimed directly for her throat. A blunt tipped arrow wasn't good for much, but against a trachea, it could do some damage. Hopefully.

"What do you want?" Vera ground out her question again, her archery done. She'd only been able to pull three out of the target (she'd only had five to start with), and there wasn't enough time to do anything else.

Charonite was over there, doing what Charonite did best. Tanzanite was preoccupied with glaring at her arm the way someone glared at a dog that had just taken a piss on the rug. She could feel the anger as though it were her own, and it was only the General-King figuratively whacking it on the nose with a rolled up newspaper that kept the thing at bay. Given free reign, it would have been playing cats cradle with Vera's trachea five minutes ago. After a long moment of inner struggle that boiled down to 'Bad dog, we pee outside!', her head snapped up, focus returned to the General-King.

Even as she closed the space between them with a few long strides, the arm twitched and knotted at her side, but kept its claws sheathed within a tight fist. It was the human hand which reached for Vera, slipping through her chest. It was perhaps the most unsettling experience possible to have someone reach inside of you, to coax out your lifeforce with the tips of their fingers and wrap it gently in a fist. Fortunately for Vera, she wasn't about to experience the unpleasant sensation of having her life literally ripped out of her. Tanzanite simply held it, felt the energy of it pulsing against her palm, and was lifting a wide, startled gaze to meet Charonite's.

“What the ******** are you waiting for, Captain?”

“Sir,” she held what felt like a burning coal in her fist, “I believe you're going to owe Uranophane a promotion.”

Charonite reached his hand into Vera's chest as well, his fingers closing over Tanzanite's. This was already two fists too many that were taking up residency in Vera's chest, and she was too distracted and in-pain and afraid to really care what they were saying --

And the General-King said softly, "I believe you're right."

Their hands were over her starseed like they were trying to tether it from leaping out her chest itself. They were inside her chest. And whatever was in there was glowing, sparkling, coming alive between their hands. "Close over it slow. Slow as you ******** can. This is -- slower, Captain, goddamnit, if you break this I will ******** harm you." There was a level of -- delight? Awe? -- to his voice that never entered it: he was the General-King, for God's sake. "This is a one in a million -- gently, Tanzanite. Pretend this is your ******** baby you are ******** delivering from your ******** womb."

Tanzanite ******** did, apparently.

"All right." There was another level in his voice of adrenaline-filled excitement, a man with a mission. Success. "Do it."

And Vera Valentine, in a little way, died.

Her starseed had been asleep as other starseeds in Destiny City slept, waiting for a guardian cat to come and awaken them to their actual military service. Charonite and Tanzanite had bumped accidentally into it like two people stumbling over a vat of diamonds somebody had left in a sewage tank, and now they were filing into her starseed with all they had. Injecting it. Infecting it. Vera was in agony: at the same time the blood in her veins turned to crystal meth and she shook like an epileptic, shook and burnt-up and reformed as Tanzanite smiled with a peculiar, concentrated delight. Smiling without knowing she was smiling. Charonite did not smile, but his eyes were alight.

And she died, thusly --



"Promote her?" Charonite was saying. "I'll ******** kiss her."

"I think your wife would kill her, sir."