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More than anything, Kallichore wanted to get away and find someone who could use her help. With this Captain in the way, the mission was that much more desperate. He managed to club her in the back with his boomerang again and, as more of an instinctual reaction, she attempted to backhand Buddingtonite.

"I have more important things to do than play with you, Captain!" she cried. Leaping up onto the tables, she thought she caught sight of several senshi near the exit door. She would try and make her way there amid the chaos and anarchy. Perhaps she could find the man in charge...

(( Wtf Kalli got all limp-wristed here! XD ))

Schörl back-stepped with the blow from the senshi, the air expelling quickly from her lungs with an 'oooph'. It didn't feel like anything was broken, but that could just be the adrenaline blocking actual sensation. She didn't have the time or really care to check yet- that sort of self diagnostic could wait until after the battle as a whole.

She brought her knout around again. The more she bleeds the slower she'll be.

But the thongs danced back off of what? Little doo-flinky things. Beads. She was surrounded by beads. Her glare immediately shifted to the other senshi that was nearby- wings who was chasing the youma. Yes, yes that was the culprit staring her right in the face. A magic with enough distance that he hadn't needed to trip over daisy to get at her.

And the beads didn't break at that blow from her knout.
Her voice was flat, under her breath, "You've got to be kidding me."

Eternal Tsui may have thought she was experienced in this little game she constantly found herself in, and any experienced warrior would have known that his tactics were likely leading to an ambush. It was painfully obvious, too. However, Tsui may have suspected that there'd be a trap there, but just as confident as she was that this was probably a trap, Tsui had just as much confidence in herself in getting out of it, either before the snarls closed around her or by brute force alone.

So, despite her wounds and common sense, she followed after him, rising to his challenge and planning on meeting it head on. "Alright, let's see you try, freak! I'll take you out myself!"

She hadn't noticed Xenotime's gaze, as her only thought was catching up to this general and putting an end to his scheme. His death wasn't on her mind, but the longer she kept him busy, the longer she kept the worst of the bunch away from her allies. She followed after him and onto the stage, going for a punch in hopes of slowing him down. No one escaped the tiger's claws...






Kallichore's strike wasn't nearly as painful as he thought it would be, but who was Buddingtonite to look a gift horse in the mouth? He may have overplayed the blow a bit and was theatrical in his fall, but again, who was Buddingtonite if he didn't overreact?

He flung to the floor, slamming his shoulder against the ground and rolling for a moment, at least until he was far enough away from the Eternal to where he could make his escape.

"Oh, don't let me get in the way! No, sir!" Buddingtonite said, getting out of her way and pushing himself back to his feet. He could have struck at her again, and the sight of her going towards the stage told him that he should have tried as he could see Bischofite and the Tiger senshi there, he suspected that the general could certainly handle himself. "You go right ahead!"

Which left him to continue his search for Medea...

(Note: Not rolling for Pasiphae in this post; the roll is only for Serpentine)

Pasiphae winced at the google-wearing Vespa's apologies although he seemed genuine. Mostly because it hurt to hear it, to know that he only wanted to obey the orders that he had been given. How many others in the Chaos forces were the same, innocents drafted into an army that they could not stand again? She wanted to reach out to him, to save him... as she wanted to save everyone, but at the moment it was all she could do to defend her own allies. All she could force out of her clenching throat was a simple comment, "Yes... you can. We all choose..."

Partially, however, her attention was drawn by this youma who spoke like a man, who hissed her name and claimed her for his own. Her back ached, and she could feel blood flowing down to stain her stockinged legs. Observant eyes ran over the youma. His height, his wings... her heart quickened. From that night, that horrible night... with the civilians, he had been hiding. Back then, she had not been close enough to take in his features. Now, there was a familiar curve to his face, the color and cut of his hair... and her face paled. Only one other person had those features, a boy that she had shared a Jolly Meal with months earlier. She whispered hoarsely, "Bazzite? How...?"

The question was more than just an exclamation. If she could keep the focus away from the civilians, or any of her Sailor-suited allies... Pasiphae would consider her efforts a success. For the moment, at least, the muscular behemoth left Phact alone... but would it only last as long as the shield did? Now that they knew how the magic worked, would it remain effective? They would only remain for a while longer. Her throat constricted to the point that to get the words out, few as they were, was a genuine struggle. "Phact, Leda... be careful... protect the others..."

Because she could tell that the instant it was possible, all three of them would have a fight on their hands. Maroon eyes locked onto the youma that had claimed her, and she tried to steel her heart. She had saved Lucca. She would save Bazzite as well... if she could.

Door: 1/3
Pasiphae: 42/60 (-10 Vespa, -8 Bazzite)






==




The Tiger Senshi might have been the eternal object of his revenge... but one advantage of the chill that caused him to slow his advance was that Serpentine had a chance to observe the battle going on around him. What he saw made him recalculate. Bischofite and the unknown woman seemed to have a score to settle with Tsui as well, while Tsui expressed concern over the safety of the one called Sutai.

Sutai, the pretty little thing in ice skater garb of blue and gold. The new focus of his scorn, his muscle, his weapon. Let the others hurt Tsui's flesh. He was going to try and strike her heart. It was slow, and he was not sure if his whip's strike would reach her perfect face. But he was going to use every ounce of his will to try.

Serpentine: 50/50

As expected, the senshi pursued relentlessly.

Few they were, these ones with a drive for violence.

She kept up relatively easily, despite the obstacle course spanning before them - throngs of youma writhing in heated battles with senshi and civilian alike, all struggling for some meager seconds of life to withstand this absolute anarchy. No one played the hero to band them together; all parties were left to their own devices in this storm of pure bloodshed. And he was happy to see it - not only did the senshi scramble to retain a means of escape, but the Negaverse coordinated well enough around the initial onslaught of youma as a means to suppress their opposition.

But this was only phase one of the plan.

Bischofite leapt onto the stage with practiced ease. Suddenly he lurched forward, pain sprawling across his ribs, as he peeled across the floor from sudden inertia. His remaining chakram skittered across the ground, rolling far out of reach. With a stunted groan, he wrenched himself from the ground and eyed the Tiger Senshi through a seething haze of hurt. So she caught up with him and stole away the first opportunity for a strike... It didn't matter. He summoned his chakrams once more and aimed high - toward the top of the heavy stage curtains. Despite the setback she provided, his weapon cut through the heavy fabric easily and it cascaded down upon his opponent in a violent thump.

"You know what to do, Xenotime," he hissed to the trailing captain.

For now, it was time to begin his next orders, while the senshi struggled against the curtains. He swept the abandoned microphone off the floor and spoke urgently, yet passionately. "Zis isn't ze time to waver in your resolf'e, to succumb to compassion, to give in to mindless vengeance. Do not stand down. Do not gif' in. Zis is our night, and we will exterminate zese insipid senshi where zey stand.

"We are surrounded by everysing we need - our comrades, our youma, our energy. Do not forget zis. Take what you need, and keep fighting."

He drew a breath, but it only agitated the ache in his ribs. He winced, and his next sentence came out strained. "Zese senshi seek to break ze lock, to spill out into ze streets and vanish from our grasp. To slip away as zey always haf', to retreat to houses zat don't welcome zem and lives zat don't belong to zem. If zis happens, zen our wounds, our vigor, our ceaseless loyalty will be for naught.

"Zey cannot escape."

It was time to push for higher goals. Loftier intentions. "We will show zem zat breaking down ze door means nossing. When it happens, order any youma you can find to scatter into ze streets. Spread zem out. Fill Destiny City wis' our allies, and ze senshi will haf' no choice but to pursue zem. And in zose moments, we can hunt zem down one by one.

"We will kill zem all."

To ail the city in a plague of utter anarchy... He could ask for nothing more.

Finally he discarded the microphone and slipped further behind the stage. If they finally broke through the doors, then they'd need a lot more youma...





Adonis smiled and flashed his mark a wink. "Sorry gorgeous, but I gotta run." He peeled himself off the cold tile floor and slipped into the fray while the super senshi was occupied; now that he'd inflicted a modicum of damage on one of the targets ordered by the disembodied voice, he found the sudden freedom to drain the various civilians struggling against the youma. A great many of them fought back with such ferocity that Adonis wondered who he should truly pity - the average Joes and Janes retaliating against their assailants, or the inky black youma who roared in pain from their adrenaline-fueled assaults?

Luckily he spotted a nearby civilian relatively quickly, one who cornered a fledgeling youma and wielded the very table leg he'd dropped in Thraen's retaliatory strike. "Might wanna ask next time, babe." He muttered gently, before a touch to the man's back drew energy from his person, which crystallized into a small orb.

The man let out a gasp, and staggered in sudden exhaustion.

His enemy was leaving, getting away and threatening lives. Thraen's eye's lifted to follow the man's retreating back- Not threatening. Doing. Those civilians suffer because I am here doing nothing.

Persistent as the burning was, it was the impetus he needed. Thraen pulled himself up from the ground before the effects of the magic had quite worn off. He pulled off his baldric and turned it as a rope or rat-tailed towel, following after though darting crowd until the strange dark and blonde-pale of the other senshi was evident again. He'd gotten someone alright. By your own hands be damned.

As fast as the peeling had started, the enemies sleeves were back on and his own prayers were answered on the eye-twitch inducing peeling of his own arms ceasing. Thraen recognized it with his own grip strengthening on the baldric. He sprinted, catching the other senshi up, and used the ridiculous piece of uniform to garotte his enemy and pull him back away from the civilians.

"We're not done yet."

Schörl considered half a second and kicked at the admittedly bizarre bead ring- would force push past it ? Could she cross the line of them? Would they break? The answer was a resounding 'no.'

And then the other senshi cast her magic while the captain was hemmed in. They didn't all hit, but it was enough to cause some cuts. "You'd both better start running. I hate stationary prey."

'Petal darts.' Well, looks like 'Daisy' is correct enough for my purposes. She didn't know how long this barrier would hem her in, but it was an interesting little experiment in battlefield effectiveness. She couldn't cross out, could others cross in? If they did would they also be stuck? It was effective in keeping her from Daisy.



______



Words filtered through the dark fog, Bazzite's unique voice, If you don't touch it, you won't feel bad.

This was an effect of magic? Titanlåvenite opened his eyes again, looking over to where the Youma waited, looming, over another Scout. It didn't seem right that sorrow should be governed by whim and handwave of another- a magic phrase and touching some magic shells. If not 'right', maybe after all it wasn't so surprising. There were plenty of sorceresses in children's stories that could do as much and more.

We're facing sorcerers and witches with plain swords and axes. We have to be prepared. More prepared than this, even to face these sort of accusations. Then the maroon shell dissipated and he DID feel less dour. It wasn't gone- grown from a seed already present, but the stem was cut to the quick from where it had grown. He left his weapon where it lay on the ground, and brought his hand around to cuff the senshi before him again.

Micah nodded to the red and white senshi as she elected to not only stay and cover her and her brother, but also help them break down the doors. The last blow had rattled the door in its jam significantly, but it sounded like they still had a fair way to go before the door actually gave and released them all. That meant focus and resistence and

Someoen hit their protector.

Micah’s ally.

She may not have been powered up, but the senshi was still a sister in arms, know it or not. Micah nearly dropped her trashcan. On the nega’s head. Hard. Repeatedly. It was Misha’s steadying hand on her arm that calmed her and widened her newly formed tunnel vision.

“Focus,” he hissed. “You can’t help her like this. Open. The doors.”

For a long moment, Micah stood there, weighing her options until she finally went back to her pounding, over and over with her brother trying to free everyone in that room before something else happened and left them all crippled and worse.

It was like the ambush all over again. Chaos everywhere pulling Micah in eighty different directions and now with each subsequent blow of her can, she cried out. Let me out. Not this again, not this ever again. Her blows became frantic and nearly uncontrolled when a familiar tingle passed over her skin. Misha froze next to her, fearing the worst but Micah knew that feeling. She turned, almost at break neck speed, and whispered, “Pasiphae.” Yes. That senshi from the roof was once again saving her a** when no one asked her to and when Micah was probably doing something profoundly stupid. Control returned to Micah’s motions and she went back to work on the door.

Her resolve strengthened, also, when a new senshi came to their aide. She spared a small grateful grin for the senshi who kicked the lock, nodding her encouragement. I can’t have too much longer, right? They’d all been going at it for at least five minutes, what was this lock even made of? Almost there. They were almost. There.

The shields fell as Micah swung again. Pasiphae had done her best, and for that, Micah was grateful. Now Micah had to keep doing her best to pay her back. With so many senshi covering them, it may as well have been a shield anyway. She kept working as the comforting buzz of the shield vanished, leaving her feeling cold and vulnerable. Misha worked in tandem, focusing on the lock and their blows.

Eventually, Bischofite’s voice broke through the buzz of Micah’s mind.

He was behind this.

Micah was caught by her brother as she nearly lost her balance, searching the crowd for the mantel of bone and feathers. Where was that monster? Who was be maiming now? What point did he have to make? Lives that didn’t belong to them… what made his life belong to him anymore. Each word that spilled out of his putrid mouth sent shivers up Micah’s spine and the bile in her stomach to roiling. He would pay for this.

“Arch nemesis,” Misha murmured, steadying Micah back on her feet.

“Monster,” she answered softly, gathering her wits back about her. Bischofite renewed her vigor. With rage fueling her actions, the cracks of her trashcan resounded farther and longer. With each downward thrust, Micah loosed a war cry, trying to get out, get free, get away. Her shoulder still ached from where Bischofite had maimed her, and as a senshi she might be able to take him this time. But as a civilian he would slaughter her. And her brother.

Get out. Get away. Get home.