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Serpentine was slow to stir from the flowers' sleeping spell. His mind had no grasp of how much time had passed since he sank to the roof against his will; the dreamless black came and went as it pleased, leaving no markers, no memory, nothing but the vague impressions of emotions lingering from before he had fallen. Remnants of dread gave way to confusion when his ears registered speech rather than battle cries; confusion wilted in the heat of fury when he finally managed to pry his eyelids open to behold the state of the battle.

His whip, in a Senshi's grasp? His charge, in a Senshi's hold? His coveted prize, his earned privilege, of Bischofite's fate threatened to be snatched away? No. This would not stand. He rose as silently as he could, pushing himself up to rest on one knee. From this position, the Captain stretched out his hand and summoned the whip to it. A moment of the "magic" he possesed, and perhaps an opportunity for Bischofite to strike now that he was not bound.

His tired muscles protested when he finished rising to his full height, but it was necessary to crack the whip towards the Senshi's undefended back. Only in the middle of the action did it occur to him that since he was obviously not dead, the monster who had twice threatened his life had intervened now to spare it. Not only intervened but was able to still fight, despite his new lack of power.

It was an action that would not go unrewarded, assuming the two of them walked away from this fight.

Reaction timing coincided with speed, he learned, as the elbow to his back brought him to the ground in temporary paralysis. Landing atop still-broken ribs afforded little more than flaring agony, enough to engulf any thought process beyond the reactionary strained groan. It hurt to think at that point.

Be it paranoia or reality, Bischofite felt blood threatening to push the breath from his lungs, to drown him once more in agonizing asphyxiation. He panicked, breath passing in staccato bursts, as he struggled to compose some manner of retaliation. Thraen - it seems you'll be the deat hof me, one way or the other. But I can't leave this world without a few marks of my own across your skin; you know this.

It was risky, especially with wooded boots to protect the targeted area, but Bischofite tightened his hold on his makeshift weapon and sought to pierce wood into achilles tendon with all his strength - what little remained now.

The blow to his foot chunked into the wood- chipping out a hunk and pushing with enough force to rob the senshi of his balance even if it didn't make it all the way through and through. Thraen made the decision on the way down to convert the fall into a cartwheel, noting the captain's blow for where his head was from an upside-down angle.

It wasn't a particularly pretty cartwheel- he'd not done any since middle school tumbling. Righting himelf again hitched, and he pulled weight off the leg with the broken boot. There was a cut there- an effective enough slowdown for fighting the both of them.

I need all the speed I can muster for the two of them. This is no good. Bischofite and I both have wounds, but that captain is essentially fresh to the fight. Worse odds than the start. Thraen's mouth curled into an unsounded snarl of disgust, and he broke for the edge, leaping cleanly off from the good foot to free space.

This one is a retreat.

A sorcerer and a gynmnast to boot?! Added in with will and determination and this senshi had quickly risen in Serpentine's estimation - as a threat. His strike did not hit due to the other's dexterity and like a rat into a corn field, the Senshi slid off the roof and out of sight. He would have pursued if not for the labored breathing of the lieutenant.

To say that Bischofite looked terrible would have been an understatement. He gasped and flopped against the roof like a floundering fish. Although it pained the Captain to let their lily-haired foe make his escape... he knew what had to be done. His golden eyes hardened as he offered Bischofite his hand.

"Next time." A terse promise as he offered the lieutenant his hand. No matter his personal hatred for his fellow officer, Bischofite's fate was his responsibility. Senshi could always be hunted and killed. An officer could not come back from the dead. Not even one as flawed as this. "Grab on. I will teleport you to the hospital."