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There were many faces that Super Sailor Taranis could go without seeing ever again. His father, for one (he told himself). The police who tried to comfort him after his mother's death. The lawyers at the trial. 99% of the Hillworth student body.

And one Sailor Rosalind, Senshi of Wealth.

The cosmos had smiled on him (not that he believed in that nonsense) for month after month after month. And then, like two trains colliding at full speed on a track, the two adversarial senshi were thrust back together. Sailor Taranis had not planned for things to go so sour. He had not planned to lose his cool like a dam being undone by a single splintering crack. For all of the times he had praised himself for his icy cool demeanor, Taranis had never expected to feel his chest explode this way against another senshi.

When they passed each other, Taranis planned on saying nothing. He couldn't even remember the comment that Rosalind had said, or what he said back. Or what she said after that, or whatever it was that he had shouted at her as he walked away. Whatever it was, it made the senshi of wealth peg him in the back of the head with a solid gold shoe.

And he ******** lost it.

Oh, she wanted to fight, did she? Taranis would fight. Before he was aware of what he was doing, the senshi of sand spun around and shouted, "Taranis Mud Blast!" The ball of sand formed at his fingers and then turned dark brown with moisture. Like an expert baseball pitcher, he wound up and threw, aiming straight for Sailor Rosalind's back as she turned to walk away.

He had just hit her in the back with a super-level attack, and the b***h was laughing. This, more than anything, unsettled Taranis. Then her mouth started moving again, spewing more vitriol. The anger returned, and he found it impossible to contain. "Do you know how tired I am of having to be patient with a spoiled little--" She slapped him. She did it so quickly that Taranis had no time to react.

Well, not until after she had hit.

A guttural growl ripped from his lips. Taranis reached out and grabbed a hold of her collar. He yanked her forward, stamped his boot down on her bare foot, and then threw her backwards. If she was a guy, he would have kicked her a** long ago. Taranis loved his girlfriend, but girls could be just as big of assholes as guys. If she was going to attack him, then he sure as s**t wasn't going to stand there and take it. He knew Castor would yell at him for this, but there was fire in his veins and kicking Rosalind's a** seemed like the only way to put it out.

It was hard for Taranis to say what made him snap this day. He was usually the one who could take the abuse without ever physically retaliating. When had that changed? When had the words of a cruel, overprivileged girl gained the power to make him snap? Was it the long hours spent patrolling? Was it his mission to kill Linarite? Were his evenings of violence changing him into a violent person?

These were not things that crossed his mind, not then. He was inflamed by rage, engulfed. Even as Rosalind crumpled to the ground, the senshi of sand felt no mercy. She was not his enemy, not truly, but he was attacking her as if she was nothing more than another Negaverse agent on his list of those to conquer.

It never occurred to Taranis that this was a man versus a woman. He saw it as a senshi versus a senshi, just as he viewed his battles with female Negas as senshi versus Nega. Did her gender matter? Should it matter? These were deep philosophical questions that he might casually bat around with friends on the internet, or discuss over coffee in the corner shop. But in the flesh, doing it? Taranis felt like nothing was holding him back.

Even as she crawled away, he advanced. Her attack stopped him. Coins rained down, knocking him over and over. There was nowhere to take cover, and Taranis was forced down onto the ground, covering his head. He still crawled toward her, even as the bruises and cuts flared up all over him.

When her attack ended, Taranis staggered back to his feet. He was injured, that much was obvious, but he could still walk. "You can't walk around this ******** planet thinking you can say whatever you want without any consequences. You are not invincible. You are not even strong." He stopped beside her, grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her up from the ground. "You think the ******** world is beneath you, don't you? DON'T YOU?" Taranis tightened his grip, shook her. "Well I'm here to tell you that there are ******** consequences for making it your life's mission to be a ******** b***h for no goddamn reason to everyone on this ******** planet for just not being as stupid and privileged as you are."

He was a man possessed, and he didn't even know it. With a flex of his arm, Taranis tossed Rosalind backward again. He raised his hands up. It looked like he was preparing another attack, but at a much closer range. In that moment, he couldn't distinguish her from his enemies. He hated the overprivileged. He hated those who looked down on him. In his super charged state, that hatred blurred with his senshi-given mission to hate and destroy the Negaverse. Those two dark parts of him, fueled by rage and jealousy, swirled until he couldn't see Rosalind as a senshi fighting for the same cause.

All he saw was an enemy. An enemy that needed to be taught a lesson.

Sailor Rosalind had crumpled to the ground. Her shoulders sagged forward. Her chin was lowered. To any animal, this would be a clear sign of submission, of defeat. But the fire in the pit of his stomach wouldn't stop churning. Taranis took another aggressive step toward her, fist raised. What was he planning to do? Kill her? Maim her? Disfigure her?

If he had allowed himself a moment to think clearly, Taranis would have realized he had no idea what he was doing. He was simply attacking her because she had crossed a line into enemy territory. He was handling her like a youma, like a Negaverse agent. In the span of just a few minutes, Taranis had made the decision that Rosalind needed to be put down.

His fist stopped when he saw the tears in her eyes. She was crying? Oh, that was rich. "More alligator tears from daddy's princess, righ--" Sailor Rosalind collapsed in front of him, soft hair pooling in a halo around her head. Her bare foot twitched for a moment. Taranis stared at it. It looked oddly bent -- broken perhaps?

Sailor Taranis stood there over her body. He stood there and felt himself lose his grip on reality. What had happened? What had she said to him to set him off? He didn't move.

The wind pulled a chill down his spine, even before Castor came into view. The two of them were supposed to meet up. That was why he had come this way in the first place. It was why he had run into Rosalind at all. When Castor knelt beside the girl to check her pulse, Taranis didn't flinch. He held his position, still standing over the girl like a lion over a downed bison.

The only movement came from his eyes. They followed Castor, but there was no guilt in them, not even when the stained ribbon was held up to his face. "I was done letting her talk down to me," he said. The words seemed so strong in his head, so full of conviction, but when they came out, Taranis felt like a child.

The truth was that Rosalind represented everything he had hated his entire life... and all those things that he was jealous of. Whenever she berated him, it was as if she could see the chinks in his armor and knew exactly where to aim her blows. More than anyone, she cut to the quick of his insecurities. More than anyone, she could enrage him.

"She can't spew vitriol and expect no consequences."

Taranis was not prepared for an attack from Castor. Even if he had seen it coming, he probably would not have been able to summon the mental fortitude to protect himself. The eternal attack was a much, much tamer version than what it could have been, and it still felt like a brick had been sling-shotted into his gut.

There was no deflecting it. The senshi of sand simply crumpled, clutching his stomach and moaning. Normally, he might fight to hold in the cry of pain, but it hurt. Just like he had shown his super strength to a senshi, Castor was giving him a taste of what eternal might could do. Not even a taste, more of a lick.

The words crept into his head, but Taranis didn't want to hear them. "When has she ever helped on a mission?" he spat. "Do you even know her? I've seen her in battle before. She complains. She runs. She forces you to help and then scolds you for it. She is not my ******** teammate, Castor. The only team she is on is her own."

After so few meetings, it was a hell of an assumption to make, but Taranis did just that. He projected onto Rosalind all the things he hated about people, and then used that created persona to justify what he had done. Did she give him cause to suspect this? Sure. But did he know it for certain? No.

Taranis almost laughed. "Teammates don't fight teammates," he said mockingly, spitting a mouthful of blood out. "Don't ******** preach to me, Castor, about right and wrong. There is no such thing. There is only survival -- us trying to survive longer than them." The logic sounded like Parker from a year ago, not the person he was today. Hadn't he grown from that? Hadn't he realized that there was goodness in the world and it was up to him to preserve it? What happened to that guy? Where had he gone? Taranis braced the ground with both hands before he got to his feet, used it to steady himself. He was obviously beaten, but he wouldn't have this conversation from the ground.

"You think she would have survived against a Nega? Really? I did her a favor. I'm on her side, and now she knows the pain of consequence. Now she understands that puffing out your chest is not the ******** way to win a fight." He lifted his arm and wiped it across his mouth, tracing a long red smear. The show of power from Castor was unnecessary. Taranis could feel him holding back, even as he pummeled him. He wasn't about to thank him for the mercy. "This war is nothing BUT might. We go out every single night and use might to stay alive, to save civilians, to kill the Negas." Even as he said the words, Taranis didn't fully believe them. He was simply constructing the best possible logical retort. It was a knee-jerk response, a desperation not to lose this debate.

Cerulean eyes watched Castor cross to Rosalind. He should have shut up, but Taranis had never been good at holding his tongue. "There are some things we just don't do," he mimicked. "And that is attack and hurt our own." Taranis spit another mouthful of blood onto the ground. He let his words sink in. "Looks like you don't believe that as much as you think. Looks like you're saying that it's okay to attack and hurt your own sometimes -- like those times when it's you throwing the ******** punches. Make up your mind, you ******** hypocrite."

Taranis groaned, walked a tight circle. How had his night reached this point? He pointed a bloodied finger at the senshi of hail. "For the record, not that you asked, but she attacked me first. Maybe when she wakes up, you can repeat that stirring speech you just gave me about not attacking teammates, how about that?" Even though his logic made sense, Taranis still felt a pinch in his stomach. Rosalind had started it. She had pegged him in the head with a solid gold shoe. It's not like that wasn't aggressive. But he had responded tenfold. He had turned it back around on her worse than she had ever brought it, and he didn't stop, not even when she cowered and cried.

Even though his stomach felt off, Sailor Taranis didn't feel wrong. His mind told him he should, but he was having a hard time reaching that place, no matter what Castor said. He let his eyes fall to her limp body. She looked peaceful, innocent.

He looked away. It hurt to stare at her.

More retorts sprang to his lips, more words to fling in the place of fists, but Taranis swallowed them down, pushed them back until he was in control of his silence. Castor had made a point. He had made a few. That didn't mean Taranis agreed with his assessment of the situation fully, but he felt like, for an instant, he could see himself through Castor's eyes. What he saw was not something that he wanted to be.

He saw a person driven by rage acting like an animal, a person snapping under pressure, a person weakened by the chinks in their armor. That was not who Taranis wanted to be. Just as he moved toward a greater understanding of his senshi identity, here was a backslide.

After spending his days plotting revenge and planning the destruction of the Negaverse, had Taranis transformed himself into a creature of violence? Had he become a monster? He stood there like a lighthouse against the rocks, flashing signals to one of his closest friends as Castor walked away. There was a shifting, like sand moving beneath his feet, and Taranis had no idea what it meant.

Castor disappeared out of sight with Rosalind. Taranis did not wait for him to return, as he had been ordered to do. He needed to be alone to process. Even Dani would not be a comfort to him, not then. With the moon cresting high in the sky above him, Sailor Taranis spun on his heel and ran. He ran and ran and ran.

But from what? Taranis wasn't sure.