|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Dec 27, 2009 10:00 pm
He fell, and the whirlpool was constructed by a Super senshi -- as Nerissa wrapped one arm around a streetlamp and the other around Sailor Saiph, they both watched in incredibly morbid interest as he fell, tugged, and inexorably (he was clawing now: it was kind of awful) got tugged back into the maelstrom. The moment his boot touched the edge it was all over, and he was sucked into the thing wholesale. Along with a couple of car license plates. And a trash can.
"Allez-oop," said Sailor Nerissa, and clung to the pole as hard as she could -- she'd been through this with Obsidian. Did not need a repeat. Saiph was panting into her ear, not in any kind of good way. The Lieutenant was sucked down into the whirlpool for what seemed like forever, and then it spat him out --
-- broken and bent, bloodied.
Nerissa let go and walked away.
She shoved her hands back in her bow, a comfort movement now, and she jerked her head for the senshi of the Primordial to follow. Lieutenant Hematite just lay there, on the concrete, bleeding and unmoving. She wasn't into finishing the job. She wasn't into going closer.
"Let's exit, stage left."
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 27, 2009 10:04 pm
It wasn't unusual for Ursula Johnson to be late for an appointment. It was a fifty-fifty tossup, really, on whether or not she'd be on time or late, and the only thing a person could really depend on was that she would never ever be early, save for if the terms 'sale' or 'Charonite' were involved somehow.
Today, her appointment just so happened to be with Khaldun, who had absolutely nothing to do with either sales or General-Kings, which meant Ursula was finding herself power-walking down the sidewalk as quickly as a woman in four inch heels could when they were twenty minutes late for an arranged meeting time.
Her mind was racing for explanations to feed the young teenager, who was undoubtedly furious with her by now. He was used to her being typically five, maybe ten minutes late, but to be this late would require an excuse. And, well, telling him about how she got distracted after getting out of the shower (when that distraction just so happened to entail a surprise ambush by a particular six foot man with purple dreadlocks) wasn't exactly going to make the situation better.
Cheeks flushed at the memory and she ushered away the thought as one hand dipped into her purse to pull out her compact mirror. She'd made sure to throw on a quick layer of foundation; enough to surely cover up the tell-tale signs of an enthusiastic lover's marks, but she double checked once more to ensure no spot had been missed.
She would just give him his present, the young woman decided. Surely he couldn't stay mad at her when she pulled out a late Christmas present to give him, right?
Ursula heard the commotion before anything else. Eyes glanced above the small circular mirror and one eyebrow quirked in curiosity over the small crowd gathering at the edge of the park. Wasn't that near the bench where she and Khal were supposed to meet?
Those same orange eyes widened horror as she drew closer; what was Hematite doing, taking on two senshi?!
There was no time to think, no time to question why the trio had been fighting, in broad daylight (alright, so nightlight, as it was technically dusk), in the park. Their antics had already drawn a crowd of viewers, cameraphones clicking away as murmured whispers questioned one another as to what was going on. Two to one, an unfair fight, and the boy with dreadlocks was clearly going down. What would happen to him when he was sucked into the whirling vortex that was tugging him? Were the two skirted girls out to kill him, as opposed to bringing him in to the police? Where were the police, in all of this? Had anyone called them yet?
While every inhabitant in the park had been magnetized towards the fight, Ursula took that opportunity to slip behind one of the many large trees, Nealite quick to appear in her place. She was able to force her way through the crowd and to the front lines, amidst yet more cameraphones and whispers.
But it wasn't the cameras that had her attention, for once. Instead, her sole focus was on the suffering child lying before her, yards away, attempting to crawl his way to safety and away from the terrifying looking whirlpool.
Little Dreads.
Fury coursed through her as her eyes moved to stare at the two girls standing off to the side. Little bitches - attacking a boy with no weapons? She was coming close to yelling at them, drawing the attention away from Hematite... when the young lieutenant disappeared entirely into the vortex.
The Negaverse Captain stood there, face paling. In just a matter of moments, a matter of seconds, Hematite was.... gone?
Everything around her turned silent. The commotion of civilians behind her was nothing more than a low buzz now. The senshi were gone, the cold winter air biting at her bare skin was gone, there was nothing. Nothing but the whirlpool in front of her, the senshi attack that had taken away possibly one of the closest friends Ursula Johnson could have ever asked for in this world.
Khaldun Cilentani was...dead?
The fury in her was rising too quickly, the despair overwhelming. It was clear, if she didn't take control, that she would lose control. Beryl was having her way, Beryl would get her way and rejoin the world, introducing herself to these two sniveling little bi--
The dark skinned boy shot out of the vortex, a wave of relief washing over her as she saw his body collapse on the ground, the whirlpool vanishing. He was broken, he was bleeding, but he was clearly alive.... right?
No... no, she couldn't tell if he was alive. He wasn't moving. Khaldun wasn't moving.
Purple boots dashed their way over towards the fallen Lieutenant, one hand moving to reach underneath one of his arms, lifting his limp body up as far as her smaller frame could manage. Nealite was not a weight lifter. Even with the additional power her Captain form gave her, she was nowhere near able to lift him up all the way. She was not strong. She was a thinker, a schemer, not a fighter. She couldn't make a grand entrance like Charonite did, but like hell would she let herself be intimidated by two little bitches picking on a poor boy with no weapon.
Her other hand was out, her mirror extended and prepared for any other attack the girls might throw their way. They were far enough, physically, for Nealite to pay them no mind, but she didn't trust the senshi enough not to try some low last minute move to try to hit the both of them. ******** whores in miniskirts, all of them.
As much as she'd have loved to show them a thing or two about how a real woman fought, there were more pressing matters at hand. Or rather, in hand, as Hematite clearly wasn't moving, wasn't twitching, wasn't doing ******** anything.
Her head turned to shoot a glare at the duo in the distance, still ignoring the ever-growing crowd surrounding them.
"This isn't over."
The voice was more of a snarl, a growl emitting itself from her throat as she clutched tighter to the boy in her grasp, her other arm coming down to take hold of his weight as she attempted to draw him up with both arms. "You messed with the wrong ******** Lieutenant, and I swear to God if he dies, I'll carve out your goddamn star seeds with your own Henshin pens."
He was halfway standing (or as best an unconscious figure could stand) and with another muttered curse, the frantic Nealite quickly teleported both herself and the gravely injured boy to the only safe haven she could think of.
The Killingworth apartment.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
