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"So would I," said the Cavalier, "but beggars can't be choosers, baby doll, and right now we're begging. We're begging a whole lot."

He was still kneeling next to the window, and in response to her question he shook his head no. "Monster's out there. We're in here. Subway car's our best natural shield, Jada. I'm not abandoning it until we've got no other choice." As she watched he pulled an arrow out of -- nowhere? -- and notched it to his bowstring, and he peered out the window; he frowned, hopped off the seat again and then strode over and jumped onto the other seat. "Ah. Bingo." 'Bingo' appeared to be the shadowy form of -- something -- moving out the window on the other side of the subway car, and a pair of glowing eyes. The Cavalier was staring at it, but he stayed with his back to one window and his arrow's tip out the next one over. He drew the bowstring back, fired -- then wrinkled his nose as, presumably, the black arrow didn't find its target.

"I'm going to assume that glib response means you're a powered individual of some description," he said mildly. "No changing booths in here, I'm afraid. Get a henshin on, if you don't mind."

The Cavalier fired another arrow -- some of the wind died away, and he looked a little satisfied. His hands were still shaking a little, though. "No, you're right, we should get the people in other cars," he said, and as the ground shook again he put down his bow briefly to clap his hands together and raise his raspy voice. "Everyone! Listen up! My name is Prince Alexandros and I'm going to be your tour guide this evening, along with my friend Sailor Scylla. Everyone say hello to Sailor Scylla. Hello, Sailor Scylla. Okay? Okay."

There were more low roars from outside. "There are some monsters outside that're looking to eat the lot of us. If we panic and run out that's exactly what they're going to do. However, as far as I can tell they can't eat subway cars --"

-- a blast of hot air came through the window and he ducked as a pair of molten-glowing eyes pressed themselves to the glass, followed by a large, reptilian glowing mouth of the same color. Alexandros was on the floor a moment later, and a moment after that he was talking again.

"-- but we need to get a move on. We're going to go to the next subway car near where I'm standing. The one before us is doomed. Can you hear my voice? Follow my voice."

There were only four or five other people in the subway car -- it didn't take long for them to filter over, bump into Alexandros and Scylla, gawk at them with a little bit of distrust, and then stare at the monsters and back at Alexandros and Scylla.

The monster outside pressed its face to the glass and where its molten jaws touched it, the glass started to melt.

"But they can melt glass apparently. Come on, let's go! Move out!" The people were already hurrying in the direction of the next car and Alexandros paused only to fire at the monster breaking in -- but it was to no avail. Still, he waited for everyone to cram their way into the next car with an air of peculiar resignation, staring at the salamander that was melting its way into the car as he watched it. He nodded for Scylla to go before him, raising his eyebrows as if to indicate, what are you waiting for?

There was the sizzle of burning flesh, but the sounds of struggling and impeded movement -- one of the monsters was entangled, at least. That was a start.

They moved into the next car. There they found another huddle of frightened people, these all clustered in the center of the car away from the windows, using their flickering cellphones as light. These looked up when they saw the group, with Alexandros and Scylla at their tail. "We need to keep moving and stick together," said Alexandros at their semi-bewildered, semi-suspicious faces. "Going this way. Let's go." He pointed straight ahead of him with two fingers and motioned for the people to move. Among them was a little girl holding her father's hand, her curly black hair in poofy pigtails; she stared at Scylla a little longer with an expression of wonder before her father pulled her along.

As the people hurried onward one of the lizards slammed against one side of the subway car, causing it to rock to one side and several people to scream; Alexandros scrambled for his footing and seized the collar of Scylla's uniform. The car successfully didn't tip over, though, and people started to scramble to their feet and run onward.

The Prince for his part ran to a window in the emptying car and fired off a shot. "We're not playing to win here, are we," he said. "All I can do is -- stun, more or less. We're playing to get out alive. And get these people out alive."

He said nothing about the rest of the train, the cars that had been attacked before them. Nothing needed to be said.

He shot again. "There have got to be maintenance stairways to the surface, right?"

Behind them there was a crash and the slam of crumpled metal to the ground: one car back, a salamander had broken through one of the doors and stared at them with burning-coal eyes, hissing. People started to run, Scylla and Alexandros with them. Halfway through the next car door Alexandros turned with bow and arrow in his hands and fired a quick shot -- but his hands were shaking too badly and instead of executing a flip Lord of the Rings-esque archery maneuver, his shot wound up embedded in the remains of the aluminum door. Giving that cause up for lost, he ran.

The people in the next car looked bewildered, but got the idea pretty quickly: "Let's go, let's go!" commanded the Prince, probably not because they needed the direction but to indicate that there was more method to this madness than just a scrambling crowd. The salamander roared -- more a pronounced, sizzling gargle -- and stomped along after them, getting stuck in the next doorway; it was slightly too big to fit properly in a subway car and definitely too big for the doorways, which it merely slammed itself against.

They were nearing the final car, and the final doors out. Beyond that would be the platform and any hopeful escape. Alexandros fired another shot at the trapped salamander and this one hit its mark, lodging itself in the monster's thick flesh; the creature fell abruptly still and tranquil, staring at them with big, docile red eyes. Alexandros smiled for a moment -- and then the flames licking the salamander's flesh caught the arrow, which began to burn. His smile disappeared.

People were struggling out the doors and onto the platform outside. Accordingly, Alexandros backed towards them and tugged Scylla along with him as an afterthought, which was apparently more succinct than explaining a plan -- once everyone was out he turned and hopped onto the platform after them and shot two more arrows in quick succession into the lizard chasing them.

Outside the people had huddled into a group against the wall; none of the monsters had noticed yet, but Alexandros stared grimly at the glow.

"You can hold them off?" he said to Scylla. "Even for a moment?"

-- "All right. You hold them off. I'll come back for you."

And without giving her the chance to accept or reject this threadbare plan, the Prince sprinted off into the darkness, through the crowd of people with a shout of "Follow me! Now!" and then down the platform. The crowd complied.

Behind them, there was stirring, at least two distinct gargling roars and the glow of molten eyes. The monsters had noticed. Sailor Scylla stood in their way.

Whatever they were doing, it wasn't attacking her -- but she was being drained, swiftly and surely, and she was stumbling along the platform now. The darkness of the subway was swirling; it was hard enough to avoid falling off the platform onto the tracks, and she tripped and slowed to a crawl.

There were still monsters back there. Soon they'd tire of whatever they were doing. She couldn't outrun them any longer.

Her vision was swimming.

But before she blacked out entirely, something grabbed ahold of her: no, someone. A pair of hands had grabbed her by her shoulders and were attempting to pull her to her feet: this being unsuccessful, they abandoned this effort and she felt herself being hoisted up under her knees and shoulders and shouldered, unceremoniously, into a fireman's carry -- then, together, they stagger-ran down the platform. It was at some point during this that Sailor Scylla fainted.



She woke up on a couch.

It was a dusty couch, a couch that hadn't been used in a long time, by the looks of it. She was laid out on it, still in full sailor soldier getup, on her stomach, a pillow under her chin, an icepack on her head and what felt like a whole lot of Neosporin slathered all over her back. Across from her sat the Cavalier from the subway, but dressed like a civilian again; he had a book in his hands and was reading it. He was seated in an old-looking chair with a high upholstered back, like a tacky throne from a B-movie.

The room didn't look like it'd been used in a long while. There was a full-length standing mirror a few feet away. Her subway rescuer noticed she was awake right around then, raised a hand in greeting, and said, "Try not to move. How are you feeling?"

Dylan fixed her with a curious look. "I meant what I said and I said what I meant," he said. "An elephant's faithful." He looked back down at his book: Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore. "One hundred percent."

He looked unharmed, save for where soot had been streaked over his face and he hadn't quite succeeded in rubbing it off. His eyes were half-lidded, though, and he looked very tired. It was dark in this room, whatever it was, and it had been evening in the subway -- God only knew how long she'd slept for. Or where she was.

Dylan had gone back for her, and he'd dragged her all the way back here and tended to her with whatever limited first aid he had with him -- or gone out and bought some, if he hadn't. His backpack was nowhere in sight. The last time she'd seen that backpack, which contained his textbooks and handicam, had been in the first car of the subway. He'd abandoned it. But he'd pocketed his cell phone and his iPod, at least. At least there was that.

He turned another page in his book. "We're in the green room of the old Palais-Cardinal Theatre, now abandoned," he said. "It's about twelve miles from downtown."

Twelve miles from downtown begged the question of how they got here and how they were going to get back, but he seemed content to let her ask that if she felt like asking.

Dylan turned and retrieved a bottle from an end table, next to a bottle of what looked to be peroxide. He handed this one to her: it was Aquafina. "Everyone who was with us made it to the surface," he said. "I can't speak for anyone else." He was sooty, disheveled, looked like he'd been napping in the clothes he was wearing. The only illumination came from a pair of large flashlights, the kind with a huge handle, generally reserved for emergencies.

It didn't seem likely that he'd been carrying all this on his physical person -- especially since he'd abandoned his backpack in the subway. The only other option was that this green room was some kind of bolthole of Dylan Rasmussen's, that he staked out rooms in abandoned buildings for exactly this purpose. That was a level of preparation you didn't really expect to find in teenaged senshi. Then again, he wasn't a senshi: and perhaps he wasn't exactly a teenager either. Prince Alexandros. Prince of what?

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back in his chair. He'd looked tired on the subway. He looked utterly unslept now. "I can move through mirrors that are large enough for me to pass through, as long as I have a destination mirror in mind," he said. "It's not teleportation, but it'll do. I got us through a bathroom mirror."