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Her back was against the wall.

He was so much bigger than she was, and it was impossible not to feel a little bit helpless.

Only a couple stories below, traffic streaked by on one of Destiny City's busiest (and most dangerous) intersections. The air was rich with the smell of exhaust and the buzz of a hundred motor engines.

It didn't matter.

He was all that she could smell, and all that she could hear. Vulcan clung to Gehenna with a soft sort of demand, and thrilled to the sensations provoked by his fervent attention. There was so much to feel, and so much to experience. She was drunk on his kisses, and consumed by the feel of his hands where they scorched her skin through the thin fabric of her fuku.

A barricade of lust and need shrouded her mind and impeded her judgement.

Somewhere nearby, but still so far away, somebody called out for help. The cry was feeble. The tips of it reached her ears, but nothing registered consciously.

"Don't stop," Vulcan pleaded, voice a breath against Gehenna's lips, "don't stop."

Again, that desperate voice sounded. It was louder this time, and so shrill that it pierced through the haze of desire that Vanessa had let take over. She tensed instantly in Gehenna's arms, and her hands moved to his chest.

"Wait a second. Did you hear--

The third time the scream came, it sent a chill rocketing down Vulcan's spine. There could be no doubt about it's source. It belonged to a woman in the alley just behind the building where they had almost been too caught up in each other to notice.

Struck suddenly by a pang of guilt, terrified that she could not get to the woman in time, Vulcan pushed Gehenna gently away and leapt to her aid. They were too high up for jumping straight down off the roof to be realistic or safe, and Vulcan swore loudly when she had to contend with several flights of fire escape.

The ear-splitting shrieks of the hapless woman in the alley were as repellant to Vulcan's ears as they were reassuring. Every note filled the senshi with a profound sense of dread. She could not move fast enough. Every second spent rattling down the fire escape was a second wasted.

Any moment those pain filled screams would stop. Any moment could mean the last breath of the woman she would have failed to save.

Desperate to get there in time, golden eyes scanning the alley, Super Sailor Vulcan took a chance and propelled herself off the third floor balcony. The distance was substantial, and the fall sent a rush of adrenaline surging through her veins. Vulcan managed a graceful landing, tucking into a ball so that her knees did not jar. She was poised like an athlete; a contestant hunched over at the starting line, waiting for the signal of the start of a race.

The screams had stopped.

No.

Terror coiled so tightly in the pit of her stomach that Vulcan felt slightly sick. She straightened, heart pounding, and listened.

Something moved at the head of the alley, where a graffitied fence blocked the way to another busy street. It was tucked in amongst piles of trash. Vulcan narrowed her eyes and stepped closer.

"Miss?" she called, remembering that the quality of the screams had implied they belonged to a woman. The plastic bags rustled again, and an empty soup can rolled along the fence. Vulcan suddenly felt uneasy. She hesitated. "… are you...?"

The garbage heap pulled itself suddenly onto a pair of massive legs. Over six feet tall, comprised primarily of what seemed to be little pieces of everything, it leered at Vulcan through one lonely, bloodshot eye and swiped madly at her chest with a gnarled hand. The senshi dodged it just in time, and managed to get a peek at the partially dismantled body of a young, very blond woman. Vanessa's heart caught in her throat. She was unprepared for a second attack.

The youma's giant fist made contact this time. Its claws tore through her fuku and into the skin beneath. Vulcan recoiled, hissing through her teeth, and had no time to check her wounds. She assumed a defensive posture, ducked out of the way when the youma reached for her again, and hunted for a weak point.

She was not cut deep, and bled lightly, but the crimson colour was steadily seeping through her pearly white top. The strap that held it up and ensured Vulcan's modesty was cleaved almost in two. The freshly exposed skin underneath revealed a curiously shaped, and very young, scar. The flesh was healing, and well, but still pink where Tanzanite had punished her.

Gehenna might have recognized it.

There was a presence at her side, and Vulcan didn't need to glance sideways to know who it was.

It could, really, only be one person.

"Yeah," she nodded, and chanced a glance in Gehenna's direction. There was a fire in her eyes. Brought on by the imminence of battle, it added a little something extra to a face that was already, and often, animated.

Blood oozed from her chest into the fuku, but didn't spread. If there was pain, Vulcan was too excited to feel it. "I'm okay."

This was what she lived for.

And she was glad that Gehenna had decided to join her. It felt right, fighting by his side. This moment mirrored the first ones that they'd spent together, and filled Vulcan with a strange sense of closeness.

The youma was both tall and wide. It's legs were horrifically mismatched; one of them would have been more at home on a horse, and the other might have belonged once to a heavy-weight champion. The monster moved slowly and hunched over. It roared with distaste when the trashcan lid connected with its forehead, and swayed dangerously towards Gehenna on its uneven legs. Pissed off now more so than actually damaged, it hissed and snorted, and ambled forwards.

Without word or hesitation, Super Vulcan stepped in front of Gehenna. Determined, lips twisted into a confident smirk, Vulcan crossed her bracers above her head. The shine of their metal could not be dulled by the darkness of the alley.

"Extreme Vulcan Shield!"

All around them the ground started to shake. It was an isolated phenomena, and Vulcan was at the source. Fissures burst open at her feet and then behind Gehenna, and a wall of steam erupted out of the pavement. It separated them from the youma, who stuck out his arm. A gnarled hand reached through that protective barrier, gnarled fingers almost coiling around Vulcan's neck.

The senshi, alarmed, took half a step back.

And then the youma was howling with pain and stumbling backwards. Its forearm, melted off at the elbow, fell to the ground with a sickening splat.

The success of her attack and the way that Gehenna watched her instilled within Vulcan a sense of pride. Steam and heat swirled all around her. She felt strong, and it was wonderful. Beaming at Gehenna, suddenly jovial, Vulcan couldn't help but laugh.

It would be an easy battle.

Together, she thought that they could do anything.

Enraged, bellowing in its lust for vengeance, the youma swung around to face the pair of warriors. Something vile and purple leaked from the stump of the creature's arm. It splattered all over, and Vulcan didn't flinch when a couple of droplets hit her cheek.

It smelled, but did not sting or burn.

"Your turn," Vulcan, feeling playful, gestured at the beast with her chin without taking her eyes off of Gehenna. "Let's see what you've got."

There was a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye, near the fence.

"Please."

It was a woman's voice.

Vulcan, recalling the body the youma had vandalized, turned sharply. Her arms fell to her sides, and the wall of steam vanished. The fissures remained in its stead. Guilt twisted so fiercely in Vanessa's gut that it almost knocked the wind out of her. The victim was young and blond. Once upon a time, she might have been pretty. There were bruises all over her arms, and surrounding an empty socket.

She peered at the senshi and the knight through an eye identical in colour to the one the youma wore.

He'd stolen it from her.

"Oh, geezus," Vulcan cried, heart leaping into her throat, and went to her at once. "Oh, geezus, you're alive."

The woman sobbed, "help me."

Vulcan was driven by an impulse that she didn't need to understand, and no longer thinking like a warrior. The youma saw her and, growling, clipped the senshi on the shoulder with a heavy fist. Caught unawares, Vulcan's knees buckled underneath her, and the side of her head bounced off the ground.

She lay vulnerable, the front of her fuku open where the creature's claws had sliced through it earlier.

Vanessa's scar was there, plain as day; a jagged excuse for a crescent moon, carved into the flesh above her heart.

The woman screamed again.

It was triumphant where it stood, hunched over on it's poorly chosen legs, meaty hand suspended high above Vulcan's fallen body. It gnashed its teeth and leered at Gehenna. There was something challenging about its stolen face.

Something that said bring it on.

It had an understanding of power, and thought that it had the upper hand now that one of its opponents was out for the count. Gehenna was smaller. Gehenna was weaker.

… Gehenna was changing.

Surprise flickered across the monster's feature, but it did not back away from the squire's threat.

The beast didn't feel dead, and it quite liked the quality of Gehenna's voice. Maybe it would steal that too. It dared to smile, confident in it's stupidity, and greeted the first punch with a swipe of his own. But his arms were too long, and Gehenna was too close.

Again and again those fists connected with the creature's body. There was pain, and there was fury, and there was nothing he could do about it. Gehenna successfully wiped the smirk off the youma's face. It was replaced with a snarl.

Behind them, trembling from head to toe, the broken woman crawled slowly from the creature's feeding place towards the fallen senshi. Tears of blood and salt streaked down her cheeks, and quivering hands found Vulcan's shoulders.

The youma, massive but helpless to do anything other than take Gehenna's attack, stumbled backwards.

"Wake up," the woman begged, and sobbed, and shook, "Please, wake up."

Vulcan moaned, and started to stir.

The creature was hulking and hideous and awkward. Hunchbacked and heavier on top with oversized arms, it might have looked as though it were trying to be an undead gorilla-- if it's legs were not one part horse, one part man. It flailed and roared in the wake of Gehenna's attack, rotting flesh echoing the ferocity of those strikes with sickly sounding smacks. The beast tried to lash out, but it's good arm, while massive, was more of an inflexible club than anything else.

Ideal for crushing victims at a distance.

And Gehenna was close. Too close.

It hissed with rage, and that ill-gotten eye reeled in it's skull like an oversized marble. The youma could see Gehenna, and jabbed furiously at the squire's side with it's bad arm. The youma could see Vulcan, who was slowly getting to her knees beside his victim.

They were in reach.

Desperate and mindless, the youma lifted its good arm high into the air and then slammed it down. It missed Vulcan by inches; crushing through the pavement next to her. The woman screamed, and the sound was as sharp as a knife in her ear. Vulcan grimaced, and clutched at her aching head.

Through the pain and the noise only one feeling registered.

"Get back," the senshi's voice was a hiss. She grabbed the woman by the arm, and guided her unsteadily backwards. "Move. Out of the way."

Defiant, nostrils flaring, the creature raised it's mighty fist again and then was promptly robbed of it's last chance to defeat Sailor Vulcan. Its body was broken where Gehenna had introduced it to his fists. And its life was forfeit.

The youma vanished, and was replaced by a cloud of dust. Except for the ghastly sobs of the monster's victim there were no sounds in the alley. She clung to Sailor Vulcan like a drowning man might claim a life preserver.

When Vulcan smiled at Gehenna, it was a little lopsided.

There was a dull ache at the back of Vulcan's head, and the front of her fuku was stained faintly with blood where the creature had sliced through her skin, but her injures were minor. Gehenna looked worse than she felt. Her heart went out to him. Vulcan took in everything from his laboured breathing to the way the he could not return her smile, and felt guilty. If she'd been more careful, he would not have had to take on the beast alone.

She wanted to apologize. For her failure.

But the words would not come. They were stolen away by the presence of the arms that trembled around her waist. This was not the time for personal reflection. The woman was saved, but she would bear the scars of her encounter with the monster forever. Doctors could take care of her eye, and bandage her physical wounds. Vulcan could not look at her, and the traumatized nature of the expression that twisted her already disfigured features, without fearing for her soul.

Theirs was, in part, a hollow victory.

"Yeah, let's do that," Vulcan, agreeing with Gehenna, wrapped a protective arm around the beaten woman's shoulders, and held her close. She looked at him and noticed, for the first time, that he'd changed. His armour was different. There was something altered about his energy.

Gehenna was stronger.