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With life returning to his limps once more, Sailor Vespa wasted no time in jumping back into the fray. He refused to take this lying down, and with every attempt on the door, he grew more and more fearful of failing in his mission. He was given specific orders to follow and he would not let General Bischofite down!

He saw the page, Falias going for the door, and while he had not broken through, that door didn't look like it could take much more of this. Which meant that it was up to Vespa and the beefy Negaverse lieutenant and the youma to stop him!

Without waiting for the other two, Vespa charged at Falias, giving a shout that was cut short as his foot hit something slippery and sent him more tumbling forward with a strike rather than striking, but so long as it prevented the other from breaking through, Vespa would take it. "Stop, right now! None can escape! Not a single one!"








---

By this point in the fight, Tsui was probably bloody and a mess, but she was never the type to care about appearances, or cuts, or wounds in general, especially if they were her own. A part of her knew that she should have been afraid of the potential of death, and the brutal beating she was getting at the hands of the enemy certainly should have driven that fear home, and yet, she felt little fear. Whether it was true bravery or just being too damn stubborn to know what fear was for long, Tsui kept up the fight, even when Xenotime broke free and slammed her head against her own, and the metal headpiece she wore did little to protect her from the impact.

As strong as Tsui thought she was, she had little choice but to let her opponent out of her grip, and though she could see stars and could feel blood trickling down her forehead from where Xenotime's head clashed with the metal of the helmet, she swung wildly, relying on her ears and Xenotime's obnoxious taunting to guide her fists.

She was beyond words now- all she cared about was to keep striking until either she or her enemy fell. Any other thought on her mind was simply gone. One of them was going down, and she didn't care who at this point. If it was Tsui, then she'd go down fighting... a tiger wouldn't accept defeat just lying down!

It was trying at this point.

Maybe she was losing steam, and even the pun slipped by her as she considered it. All this time spent fighting a lock... Just a lock. A simple run of lock and chain placed on the doors, battered and abused with the necessity to get outside. That's all it was - just a lock. No Negaverse captain, no giant youma.

No - her allies were taking care of that battle.

And what was she doing? Losing a battle with a lock.

Maybe it was out of desperation or pain in the realization that she couldn't do a damned thing to the strange lock, but she lashed out at it knowing it was a halfhearted effort. Tears welled in her eyes, but biting them back or trying to steel herself proved a worthless effort. She kicked at the damned chunk of metal one last time before giving up on the endeavor for now.

Maybe senshidom was too hard for her.

Tsui's arms fell away from her, and Xenotime let out a triumphant cry of glee as she danced out of reach of the other woman as she swung wildly at her. Adrenaline was coursing, like some hard narcotic, it stole away the pain in her skull, the throb of previously landed hits. She could feel the sticky trickle of blood at the back of her head and she didn't care. "Those wings mean nothing, kitten," her grin was manic. "Why so angry?"

And she was angry. It was as if the tiger had abandoned all logic, all self preservation. She was wild and reckless, and as quick as the captain was she couldn't avoid every desperate strike that was thrown her way. It pushed her back, forced her on the defensive, and that manic grin dissolved into something closer to the snarl as a pair of closed fists connected. First to her shoulder, rocking her back, then to the side of her face. Lights exploded across her vision, darkness encroaching from the edges.

There was a second's delay, a long second where Xenotime staggered, head hanging down as hair curtained around her face and blood fell from her nose. She watched it hit the stage, dark drops splattering against polished wood.

Then she struck back.

Her body rolled, shoulder coming up and bringing her arm with it. She brought her fist up, knuckles slamming up into the bottom of The senshi's chin. She didn't want to just hit her. She wanted to knock the other woman out.

No.

She wanted to end her.

“Again!”

Clang

“Again!”

Clang

“Again!”

Misha’s constant droning was the only thing that kept Micah’s aching arms moving. Over and over they both assailed the doors, the help from various senshi and civilians much appreciated though seemingly useless. Had the chaos enchanted the door? Was that even possible? This would be a whole lot easier if Misha would just let her power up. She could go be useful and take out some of the officers. She could find a way out. She could get help.

“Again!”

This time only Misha’s can hit the door. Micah had dropped her’s and sunk to her knees. It was hopeless. They weren’t getting out. This was it. This was the end. This was where they died. She didn’t even bother to stop the flow of tears across her cheeks nor did she slow her frantic breathing. It seemed like even if she tried, she wouldn’t have been able to. Something put an iron grip around her heart and slammed it over and over against her chest.

This is the end. This is the end. This is the end.

Over and over, louder than Misha’s continued chanting and the hollow beat of his trash can, something in the back of Micah’s mind whispered, “You are a fool. And you will lose… everything.”

Micah screamed and held her hands over her ears. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noticed Misha pause and then continue, still calling out again and again for her to pound against the locks on the doors. It was only when he called her name that she snapped back to herself, pushing aside the iron fear the gripped her chest.

“Again!”

This time Micah swung with her brother, trying to ignore the nagging voice for as long as possible.

Things were getting blurry now, and darkness crept at the edge of her vision, as Tsui continued to take blow after blow from the Negaverse captain. Her verbal assaults were harsh, but Tsui could barely hear them now, letting the Tiger senshi know that there was very little left in her. She wouldn't be able to keep the fight up for much longer at this point. She knew it. Xenotime knew it. But still, Tsui fought on.

She could barely string together any coherent thoughts and after the ongoing beatdown she received, who could blame her. She cared nothing for rank, for the thrill of the fight, for being someone else's toy or relief to their addiction. She only cared about surviving, and that's why she fought on. Despite the wounds, despite the blood, despite the overwhelming weariness that she felt consuming her.

Tsui had no strength for any of her magic, but she continued to swing her fists, looking only at Xenotime's face and seeing a target instead of a person. Her fists had to reach her target. Even when she felt knuckles to her chin, even when she saw a white light flash before her from the impact and momentarily clouding her vision.

She had to fight. She had to live. She had to win.

rolling for leda

Falias hadn't been expecting his blow to connect with enough force to send the blond tumbling back quite so hard, a part of him feeling a little bad for the other as the dark-clad kid, well more teen really, ended up knocking back at the table.

He knew that he had to try and help the Super Senshi help get those doors open though, knew that at least it would give people some sort of escape route away from this place.

The Super Senshi and himself weren't the only ones trying, a couple of civilians also taking in turns to smash at the doors in an attempt to get them open.

Something whapped him in the back of the head as the Super Senshi had another turn at the door, Falias turning and staring a little in disbelief first at at the t-shirt and then in the direction that he thought it had come from recognising the blond teen with the creepy forehead and chest holes. He didn't make any retalitory move however, instead dropping the t-shirt on the floor as he picked up a nearby leg from the table that had ended up shattering against the doors earlier and swung it at the door as hard as he could.

Maybe it was the desperation behind the swing, or maybe just the punishment that the doors had taken to date, whatever it was Falias' last swing at the thing appeared to be the straw that finally broke the camel's back as the damned doors finally popped open.