Welcome to Gaia! ::

Before sliding through the transitional mirrors that allowed her easy transportation, Sailor Ares was always privy to a momentary glance -- a breath of understanding before she surged from the place she had been to the place she intended to go. Shapes came to her like shadows through water, fuzzy at the edges. Some of the shapes were immediately recognizable. There was a horizontal bar, the glimmers of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Ares had seen this ballet studio before, had scouted it days ago.

It had taken many hours of tracking to find this particular Negaverse agent. She could still hear the whispered warnings from those in the Blood Moon Court who had encountered her before: don't go after her alone, run away, she's dangerous, she's deadly, she is too strong to face alone. Too strong? Too strong for who?

Sailor Ares had been interested in Captain Tanzanite long before one of her members recognized her cold gray eyes on the TV broadcast. A retaliation? It had happened faster than she expected. A part of her expected to feel failed to watch those broadcasters die on live television, presumably at the hands of senshi -- but no, not Ares. Ares felt proud. There was a gleam of success in her eye. No matter what had happened, the Negaverse had noticed. She had laid a plan, and the other power had cared enough to retaliate. The Blood Moon Court was a power player. That much, she thought, was certain.

But such a blow could not go without punishment, and the Senshi of Smoke had a particular punishment in mind for a particular Nega. What better way to wave the BMC banner than to kill one of the most-feared Negas in the ranks? Ares was just overconfident enough to do it alone.

While Tanzanite danced, Ares watched, holding her energies at the surface of the mirror, slowing melting away the reflection of the Negaverse captain and replacing it with her own. It happened in a flash. One moment, Tanzanite; the next, Sailor Ares, lashing out her hand and gripping the taller girl's throat, nails piercing the soft flesh.

"I wonder if you'll dance so pretty when I rip your legs from their sockets," she hissed. There was no time for banter. Ares had a plan, and it had to be hatched. Her full weight flew from the depths of the mirror, one hand still clamped on Tanzanite's throat, the other twisting into a fist and slamming into her jawline.

Both girls tumbled from the force of it, catapulting to the ground. Ares wasted no time. She flipped herself on top of the Negaverse captain, wrenched one hand in her hair and stomped down on her wretched black youma arm with a heavy boot. The arm. She had to watch the arm. Plans and strategies flipped through her head like a slideshow of all the ways she could win this. She had to win this.

Her fist raised and fell, over and over. "Saw your little television show, Captain," she grunted, tightening her grip.

General Tanzanite.

Sailor Ares let her eyes widen in surprise. In all the reports, in all her intel gatherings, she had never found evidence that this Nega had been promoted. A general. The prickle of hubris in her gut quivered, dissolving into flickers of misgivings. She forced the fear down, tried to hold her confident stare, but it faltered when her fist was effortlessly caught, clenched in the human hand.

The blackness on the girl's hand made Ares's skin crawl. Her skin sprang up with goosebumps, shuddering from the dark energy seeping into her. The cold chill was momentary, split by a gut-wrenching kick to the stomach. Ares catapulted backwards, grunting as she hit the floor.

Her lower back hurt, but she had felt worse. Perhaps not in this body, in this existence, but her mind could remember a thousand scars and burns. Those had been gifted to her by common criminals. To fight a creature of such deadly precision seemed almost like a gift, a challenge finally worthy of her.

When the arm raised, Ares shuddered visibly, covering her face with her hands. Her eyes were wet, glossy. "No," she murmured, lips vibrating. Every inch of her appeared to tremble. "You cannot win this fight -- General or not! We will--" A retching cough, so dynamic that it forced her onto all fours, rattled the girl. She languished in it for a moment, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand and shooting Tanzanite a fearful glance. It was as if the senshi was an entirely different person than the girl who had so surely dove from the mirror and launched an attack only moments ago. Whimpering and shivering, Ares hopped to her feet and ran in terror to the closet, throwing open the doors and slamming them shut behind her.

From within, Tanzanite could hear the harsh sucking of breath, a few broken sobs, some shuffling -- and then nothing. Just silence. It was as if the entire room was holding its breath, waiting, watching, tense.

Whoever said Ares lacked a flair for the dramatic had sorely underestimated her. She chose her stage, and she had left nothing to chance. Every mirror in the studio was a doorway out for her, but she was nowhere near ready to leave. Ares did not run. Ares only knew victory, or death.

Tanzanite tumbled forward into the closet, shattering the mirror inside. The glass tinkled against the wooden floors like a windchime. Ares slammed the doors shut behind her, binding them with the long green sash at her waist. She darted to her left and threw the heavy cabinet full of music players against the door. The force jumpstarted the CD deck, and the long, sullen notes of Tchaikovsky filled the room.

With a deep breath, Ares called to her attack, barely audible over the boom of the music that separated the pair. She came out of a tight turn and slammed both hands against the hinge of the door. Thick, black smoke shot forth from her palms, filtering through the crack and filling the closet within moments. "Let's see how far you can bend, General Tanzanite, when you can't breathe," she shouted angrily. "I don't need a title to be better than you. I'm just stronger." The closet was small enough to be filled already, but Ares persisted, pressing her palms so hard against the door that they sprang up with angry red marks.

Once the Nega was dead, she would reclaim the starseeds, rouse the girls who remained sprawled across the floor and then -- wait. Her eyes fell on one of the girls. One arm had been gnawed to a stump, the flesh torn and shredded by... teeth? In spite of herself, she gave into the distraction, staring at the bloody corpse of the girl for longer than her battle intuition deemed appropriate.

She couldn't wait. Ares dropped to her knees and grabbed up the three gleaming starseeds. Apparently Tanzanite lacked the motor control to keep her grip on important things. It made Ares smirk. The starseeds were gleaming in her hands, warm pinpricks of energy that made her feel strong. She raced to the first two girls, slumped over one another, and let the seeds waft into the air. They traced a glowing arc before disappearing into the leotard-covered skin.

The first girl came to with a gasping breath as Ares ran to the third, restoring her seed as well. The second girl was up now and already crying. Ares shot them a look. "Run, you idiots. Tell everyone you know that a Nega attacked you -- but that Sailor Ares of the Blood Moon saved your lives." Her eyes darted to the fourth girl. Her starseed had not fallen to the floor with the others, and even if it had, it didn't take a doctor to see that she was very, very dead.

The third ballerina did not wait for more warning. She was on her feet and sprinting to the door with a grace that seemed unnatural in this situation. The second continued to tug at the first, begging her to leave, but the first girl wouldn't budge. She stared hard at the fourth, at the gaping wound, and said, "Wait, we can't leave her!" The girl broke free from her friend and fell to her knees beside Ares. "She's my best friend!" Her tears poured out hotly, spilling on the dead body of the girl.

Ares grabbed the girl by the shoulders and slapped her hard across the face. "LISTEN TO ME," she boomed. "She is dead. She is fertilizer. There is nothing you can do for her. Your friend would want you to live, wouldn't she? Well then it's time for you to prance out of here -- now." The hard words did not help. It only made the girl cry harder.

With a groan, Ares gripped the girl's arm, dragging her forcibly toward the door. The second girl was a few paces ahead, calling for them to hurry.

If Ares hadn't heard the splintering of the wooden closet door, she would have felt the surge of black energy. She barely had time to urge the girl behind her to run faster, and it was too late. Warm blood spattered across her chin, wetter on her torso. Her eyes fell briefly to catch the deadening gaze of the girl she had just slapped. She could see the light flicker into nothingness, the quiet stillness of death rattled by one last firing neuron.

One claw of the gnarled youma hand hooked on Ares's corset, and she bent sharply from it, dropping her grip on the girl's arm. The first ballerina was already out the door. If she caught the words of the Nega, it was not enough to convince her. The second girl, though, looked rattled to her core, as if she might never speak another word again. It was a draw on the survivors, but when it came to body count, Tanzanite was the reigning champion.

Ares turned as if to run, but was caught by Tanzanite tackle, falling to the floor. Booted feet kicked hard at the armored legs. She brought up her thumb and attempted to push out the Nega's eye with one pointed nail, but recoiled when the perverse youma hand clocked her so hard in the side of the head that her vision filled with white lights. Fumbling for her throat, Ares gripped the belt that crossed Tanzanite's chest and yanked in tandem with a thrown fist, giving her punch more strength, causing more damage.

It was enough to allow her a moment to escape, running for the doors as fast as her badly cut legs could scurry. From her efforts, it seemed that Ares was about to escape, to run away from the monster in the ballet studio. Wide spread palms gripped the door hard, pushed it.

But she stopped.

She slammed the heavy French doors shut and locked them behind her, turning with fierce resolution in her eyes. "You will not leave this room alive," she hissed, a kitten squaring off against a bear. "I will put you down -- for good. And no one will miss you." Ares had never thought of her potential to lose. She saw things only in terms of improvements. Her confidence was so great that she even took the time to square her shoulders, flashing the red brand of the Blood Moon crescent at her chest.

There were mirrors left. As long as there were mirrors, Ares did not need doors.

It had all happened so fast, but now it was just them -- the two girls with fierce glares and gray eyes. The adrenaline ran so high in her veins that Ares looked flushed, excited even. The knuckles on one hand cracked and then she was off, running head on at Tanzanite. At the last second, she jerked to the left, ran up one side of the wall and brought a flying kick into the side of the purple-haired Nega's head.

Ares turned her yelp of pain into a grunt as she slammed into the second mirror. Glass pierced her flesh, thick shards in some places and ground up bits in others. The worst jutted out from the flesh of her back, a broken glass wing creating the silhouette of a fallen angel kneeling on the ground of the ballet studio.

A shaking hand reached up and ripped the shard free. Blood spurted a long trail up the wood where the mirror had once been. Ares prided herself on being able to take a beating if it helped her strategy, but nothing about this had been planned. She felt as useless as a baby pounding soft fists against a lion. If it wasn't her own body taking this beating, the Senshi of Smoke would have been unspeakably impressed. The power that this girl had within her was unfathomable. She was an ordinary soldier, General or otherwise, but she fought with the fury of a ruler.

A thin, winding tendril of respect curled out of Ares's chest. If she was to die, it had better be to a warrior. She would not fall on her sword as Nehelenia had -- not for anyone but Nehelenia, at least. Still holding the long blade of glass, Ares whipped it hard at Tanzanite. It cut a jagged red line up the Nega's arm and then shattered into pieces against her armored shoulderguard.

As if commanded, Sailor Ares rose to her feet. She sneered at Tanzanite and then spit in her face. "Mercy is for the weak and--" Her words were cut short by a sudden clenching at her throat. General Tanzanite choked her, slowly dragging her up the wall marred with jagged glass pieces. It left a bloody trail the higher she rose.

The Senshi of Smoke struggled, kicked, gripped at the youma arm with both hands, eyes frantically glaring at Tanzanite, willing her to keep the fight going, screaming of an unfulfilled purpose in this world. And yet the fist tightened.

One hand feebly gripped the wall behind her, fingertips wrenching at a piece of glass that remained partially attached to the wall. Ares could feel her mind going to mush without oxygen. She saw flashes of things that made no sense to her: an empty swing, a spilled cup of coffee, a black reflection of a familiar girl weeping, a flash of lightning, the flow of silk through her fingertips. There was a sunrise too, but it was stained red, redder, redder, until it bled down the walls of her memory, blood as fresh as the blood pouring from the cuts to her back.

Then came the quiet, the warm glow -- light gathering its strength until she squinted against it. Was this... was this... Heaven? But Tanzanite saw it too. The broken shards of glass tinkled and glimmered. The room flashed suddenly, burned with brightness.

Ares was aware of Tanzanite switching her hand position, gripping at the girl's throat with a human palm and pinning one arm with the youma one. Acid seared across her skin, and then Ares felt the pinch of teeth digging into the flesh of her wrist, tearing through each layer until the senshi was forced to let out a choked cry of pain. Then the hands switched back. Ares could feel the youma arm licking against her throat, the soft graze of its teeth against the weak flesh. This was it. This had to be it. It would rip her throat out just as it had punched through the civilian.

Sailor Ares had flown too high this time; there would be no safe landing.

In the instant that she let herself go, the Senshi of Smoke changed. The mirror lights disappeared, replaced by the glowing light coming from the senshi's own chest. General Tanzanite had been correct. Sailor Ares would find her death in that ballet studio.

But Super Sailor Ares would find rebirth.



The youma arm recoiled from the flash of light energy. Super Sailor Ares snapped a piece of glass from the wall and curled it in her first. "Congratulations," she spat out. "Lights are out."

And then Ares plunged the shard of glass into Tanzanite's throat.

On her hands and knees, Ares scrambled away from Tanzanite, leaving the Nega to rip the glass from her throat. The Senshi of Smoke recognized her fuku, gripping the iron torch in one hand, even as the pain it took gave away broken bones beneath her split skin. The place where the youma bit her hurt the worst of all. It burned as if it was on fire. She stole a glance to it, but the newness of her metal bracers kept the wound from view.

The discarded shard of glass clattered at her feet. Ares saw the black ooze on it. Gray eyes flickered once to Tanzanite, to stare in shock at the blackness trickling from her throat. What... what was she? There were too many variables here, and Ares had already glimpsed her death once that night.

In spite of her pride, Ares saw the necessity of retreat. The bile in Tanzanite's voice was more than a threat; it was a death sentence. If Ares stayed, she would die. She wasn't just fighting a Negaverse General; she was fighting a monster. It was as if a youma had blended the best of its traits with the brain of a soldier. This creature was unlike anything Ares had ever met, ever seen. She had heard of the girl with the youma arm, but the Senshi of Smoke never understood how deep the connection between monster and girl went.

The mirrors on the walls were all shattered, leaving a carpet of broken glass in the wake. Ares crawled over it until she was strong enough to stand. Even then, she limped. Tanzanite had the upper hand, but Ares had a plan. She had escape routes -- but most importantly, she had a secret mirror.

Using the torch in her hand, Ares slammed the remnants of the closet door that Tanzanite had destroyed shut. There was a second closet, a smaller one, hidden beside it. Wrenching the doors open, the Senshi of Smoke turned at the last moment, determined to go out on a note of strength. She raised to fingers to her forehead, saluted Tanzanite with a sneer, and then collapsed backwards through the mirror, dissolving into the ether before the Nega could smash it.

In that dizzying space, Super Sailor Ares lost consciousness. Her mind took her to the last place that had crossed her thoughts: Eilian's bedroom.