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Tanzanite's attention was on Thuban now, even though she was moving as though she was trying to go through molasses -- and more importantly, she'd stepped away from Franz. Sure, with a nice goodbye kick to the head, but he was still conscious -- head ringing but conscious, pulling himself to stand up, agonizingly slow, trying to run away through the same invisible thick glue that Thuban had apparently trapped everyone in.

Simon -- where the hell was Ferris? -- Franz's head was ringing, and he was holding his wrist to his chest as he immediately took off the other way. It had become depressingly obvious that there was no way to assist here; his head was hurting and he couldn't find Simon, and he couldn't fight. He was a cheerleader. He was also an anti-Randian third-wave pacifeminist neo-Socialist (proudly), and human. Thuban now had the attention of every Negaverse agent there. Where the hell was Ferris?

Thuban had the attention of everyone. He was leaving the guy to die. It didn't sit well. It didn't remotely sit well. That was not how Franz St. Germaine rolled. But what could he do, apart from be a meatshield? So he ran, and genuinely hated himself for it.

Oh, s**t, he'd left Simon behind.

"FERRIS!"

When he left the safety of the dust his speed suddenly worked the way it should -- his wrist was screaming, but he very nearly mowed down a pretty silver-haired girl with -- cat ears? A tail? Franz did not think that this was time for a furry convention, but --

"FERRIS!"

It was kind of a tag-team. The girl walked forward with a certain daintiness and brushed her fingers up against her forehead, even as he tripped watching; a kind of slow, crackling spark started at her fingertips, which she pushed to her mouth and blew. Lieutenant Tanzanite and Lieutenant Obsidian were equal in power, and equally dangerous; no point in taking down an already-fallen Nova.

Astraea took aim at Tanzanite instead. Because if she didn't, there was every chance Thuban, Simon and Parker were not getting out of there alive.

"Do something," Astraea hollered irritably at Nemesis, which was pretty unfair. She had. It had just been an unfortunate exercise in bad timing.

There was so much occurring at once that it would be difficult for one person to keep track of it all. Fortunately for Lieutenant Tanzanite, this wasn't a problem. She didn't need to keep track of it all. Simon was running. Parker was running. Her newfound pets were fleeing the scene like cockroaches from the kitchen light, but Tanzanite did not care.

Thuban. She wanted Thuban. She wanted to feel his heartbeat through his throat as she wrapped her fingers around it and pressed down hard until she heard the sickening, satisfying crunch of his windpipe. She was going to hold him down until he stopped gasping for breath, until his legs stopped kicking and those eyes – those damn eyes – rolled back in his head.

Astraea's attack hit her as though she'd been tackled. It was not painful so much as forceful, enough to knock her back onto the pavement and off of her feet in painfully slow motion. For only a brief moment her eyes flickered to the source, to Astraea; a woman she neither knew nor cared about. Even though this was her attacker, Tanzanite's gaze slide back to Thuban within seconds. Her sights were set, and there would be no derailing her. The sound that tore from her throat was wordless, an outraged scream meant to convey her anger, her annoyance, and her bitter hatred for the Senshi and everything they were fighting for.

Love.

Peace.

Equality.

Freedom.

These things that she had never known. These things that did not exist in this world. Foolish children on a fool's errand, standing in the way of everything the Negaverse had offered her. Everything the Negaverse had promised her. Tanzanite stood, slowly, moving through the thick air with determination that Astraea's attack had not touched.

“Kill him. Rip him.” She repeated the words beneath her breath, her expression wide-eyed, lips curled in a fierce snarl. “Kill him. Bleed him.” The words came almost like chanting, an almost religious fixation brought on by the fact that this man, this boy stood in the way. He was attacking Nova. Attacking the Negaverse. She had to get to him. Get to Nova. Save Nova.

Upon standing, she set out for Thuban once more.

Parker's elbowing was nothing compared to Obsidian's shove. He fell face first on to the paved sidewalk, scratching up one side of his face. Digging his hands into the dirt, he scrambled to his feet, taking off at a run. Well, it was supposed to be a run. The attack from the umbrella-senshi made everything more difficult. Parker found himself slipping from the rain and falling over and over, but it happened in slow motion like some kind of celestial joke at his expense.

HEY, LET'S MAKE HIM PRAT FALL AGAIN.

Except it wasn't a joke, and each time Parker fell, it hurt. It really hurt. It never occurred to the boy that there might be something wrong with his ankle. That being tackled and slapped around had already left several injuries scattered all over his body. Each time he stood, his swollen ankle bent sickly to one side, and once, he landed on the wound that Tanzanite had caused, bringing a wave of pain so violently that he thought he might throw up.

Parker did not care about the fate of the others. Their lives were in their own hands, even if those stupid hands were still trying to wield ******** mace at super-powered beings. The cat-girl's entrance was met with a confused look from Parker, but he was too busy trying to live to notice the ears. Survival -- it was all that mattered. Each breath was more precious than the last, and even if this world was dark and terrible, Parker knew it was better than the alternative of nothingness.

After several painful minutes of stumbling, Parker broke free from the pull of Thuban's power -- but with little warning. He suddenly shot forward like a bullet, plowing right in to a bench. It hit him sharply in the knees, and he fell chest-first in to it, landing on the ground with a heavy thud. His arm felt like someone had snapped it, and he cradled it weakly to his chest, grimacing at the sight of his own bone peeking out through his skin.

No, don't stop.

He was up again, running sluggishly. Blood poured steadily from the hole in his shoulder. The cuts on his face ran blood in to his eye. His ankle made him limp, and his chest felt as though a rock were slowly being ground into it. His arm was mangled. No, don't stop. Parker wasn't sure how far he ran. He had no idea what happened to those who were left behind. The park turned into houses before he knew it, but his vision was blurred. Blood loss made his mind sluggish, and his feet were even worse, tripping over everything in sight and sometimes nothing at all.

Parker had no idea that he was even running across a street when the taxi hit him. It took him out at the knees, cartwheeling him into the windshield. His back embraced the glass with a sickening crunch, and his arms and legs flailed out on either side of him. He blacked out immediately. Parker did not hear the taxi driver call the ambulance. He did not hear the EMT telling him he would be all right. He didn't even feel the IVs or the needles that punctured his skin, that saved his life.

Perhaps he would prefer to not know.
Perhaps it would be worse to realize that, after a battle with Senshi and Negaverse, Parker was taken out by his own inability to look both ways before crossing the street.

Typical.

(( I went ahead and wrote Parker out of the scene. Hope it's okay! If it isn't, let me know, and I will edit to allow more space for beating him up. <3 ))