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It was not like Lieutenant Ametrine to mope. No, it was not like Lieutenant Ametrine to mope, but it was like Amaravati Priti. Primarily because it seemed that the pillars of support that had held her up for the past year or so had simply... vanished. Where was Sue? Where was Khalla? For that matter, where was Creighton? The people who were the most important to her were gone. She narrowed her eyes, hand tightening around her pitchfork in disgust.

How dare she treat this scouting mission as an opportunity to be self pitying? She was not weak. Not that weak. What would General Obsidian think if he could see her now? Nothing good, that was for certain. No, she would not allow herself to dwell on her loneliness. It was better to be alone and doing what needed to be done than to be wasting her time with other people. Other people who might very well have gotten in the way of her work.

It was because of these thoughts that Ametrine did not hear the young man creeping up behind her, and only registered his presence when a cloth covered her nose and mouth. She had only a moment to think that something had gone very, desperately wrong before the world went black. There had been no time to struggle, no time to cry out, if she had been inclined toward the latter to begin with.

When she woke up it was to a completely unfamiliar setting. No matter how kinky Amara might like to think of herself as being, she had never been tied up quite like this before. She had never woken up with a gag in her mouth, her weapon tossed to the side like it was nothing, bound hand and foot-- tied to a pole of all things! She'd realized what it was when she shifted, and the tie on her arms strained, and slid.

There was no give, no, but if she could just loosen it somehow...

"Any last words, freak?"

Groggily, Ametrine stared up at the man who had spoken, a man who now ripped the gag from her mouth so that her final words would be immortalized for him and his posse to hear. There was a knife in his hand, she thought dazedly. If she could get a foot free, she could kick it away from him. If, if, if. There was no panic now. She didn't have room, she didn't have time to panic.

"Go to hell," she spat, shifting her feet as subtly as she could. They hadn't tied her legs quite as well as they'd tied her arms. There was an opportunity, if she could just take it. If she could just gather the strength to make her move, surely she would be able to get out of this, still.

"You know," the young man said, balancing the knife from hand to hand, his eyes hard as he watched her. "Your kind is why Destiny City's gone to the shitter. People like you who dress up in those ******** up costumes. Terrorists like you."

Just keep talking, Ametrine willed, working away at the rope around her ankles. "Yeah? And what about sick ******** like yourself who tie up young women? What about that?" It earned her a cuff with the back of that knife, but it was worth it to get him distracted from his objective.

"We," he said, emphasizing the word pointedly, free hand sweeping out to indicate his two masked cohorts, "are fed up with things. We're doing what's right, and stopping things at the source. Before you ******** blow our city all to hell."

From the way that he slurred his speech, Ametrine was fairly sure that whatever else he was, the man was drunk. Piss drunk, and angry. "Screw you," she said, eyes cold as she watched him, keeping his eyes busy so that, hopefully, he wouldn't notice what her feet were occupied with doing. Unfortunately for Ametrine, however, one of his buddies wasn't quite so easily distracted, and he stepped down hard on the rope, pinning her in place.

Oh, there was no way they were living when she got free. No way in hell.

Rescue had not come from a familiar source. Or, in point of fact, from a friendly source. Ametrine quickly dealt with the bonds, now that she no longer had to worry about the fellow with the knife. ... Well, 'quickly' was something of an exaggeration. But without the threat to her life she was able to wiggle out of the bonds that held her ankles. Once she was able to do that, the rope that had been looped around her wrists slackened as she shifted to take the strain off, and she was able to get her hands free. As soon as she was free, she grabbed her weapon, and surged to her feet.

... Which proved, initially, to be a bad idea. Go figure, having one's hands and feet bound tended to cut off one's circulation. Still, she'd be damned if she stood there and did nothing while the senshi-- the ******** senshi-- fought her fight for her. No way no how was that going to be allowed to happen.

Brimming and bristling with fury, the Lieutenant closed in on the mouthiest of the remaining vigilantes. "I don't think you realize quite what a grave mistake you have made," she informed him, reaching for the collar of his shirt. Ametrine wasn't small by anyone's standards (unless said standards happened to be General Tanzanite's, and then... well, the woman was tall!) and she was quite capable of going toe to toe with a drunken college boy. Assuming, of course, that he left off with the drugs.

Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she heaved him up, and threw him against the far wall. "Next time, finish the job, or I will finish you." Hell, she was tempted to do the finishing here and now... but... there was this rather irritating factor that had to be taken into account, and that was that she had a witness. A witness to whom she frankly owed her life.

Ugh. She still felt vaguely groggy, and disoriented, and she wasn't up to fighting one of those sailor suited freedom fighters. "I suppose I should thank you," she told Pollux, pitchfork at the throat of the third masked man. "People don't make a habit of saving my life." People like him especially. So, why start now? Didn't he know what she was? Or was he, like so many others, confused by the jewelry and the saree-like uniform?