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"Freeze."

Serandite could only do so, if only out of surprise -- a figure was silhouetted in the mouth of the alleyway, or just inside the mouth. There was enough light to see by, though the old streetlamps colored everything with flickering yellow. Everything was unattractive in this light. The uniform of the person who stood between Serandite and one end of the alley was colored faintly by the light: Serandite could only assume that it was white. The white was broken by darker colors here and there: dark gauntlets, including the one on the arm which, outstretched, leveled a sword directly at her.

There was a woman (or a girl? tall, though) with a sword blocking the alleyway. She was not a senshi. Or, if she was, Serandite had never seen any senshi like her: she dressed like some kind of military officer from the 19th century. To be perfectly honest, she looked like she belonged to the Negaverse. But, given the circumstances altogether -- that seemed very, very unlikely at the moment.

"Freeze and let them go," said the woman again, staring. She had long dark hair and pale eyes of a color not quite discernable in the yellow light. "With their starseeds. Then raise your hands in the air and keep them there."

The blade twitched slightly. "Stop. You won't move unless I give you permission, Lieutenant."

This, really, seemed a bit of an arrogant forecast of the future, but a moment later the woman stepped further into the alley, keeping her sword steady. It was hard to tell how sharp a sword was. This one was sharp enough, definitely. At the moment it was about level with Serandite's collarbone, but it was a good few yards away and the woman appeared to be in no particular hurry.

She kept her eyes trained on Serandite nevertheless, and appeared to be evaluating something. On closer inspection, she was a girl: maybe a little older than Serandite, but not by much. There was something a little strange about her bearing and the way she walked, something difficult to put a finger on. It didn't quite all add up. None of it really added up. A girl dressed like a high-ranking officer of the Negaverse walking in demanding that Serandite cease and desist with normal everyday Negaverse sorts of activities. And there was more to it, too -- it didn't add up, really.

"Very well," said the girl. "My name is Kunzite. I am the Captain of the Cavaliers, who guard the Kingdom of Earth. I serve Endymion, the once and future ruler of Earth," her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, "the Prince of the Golden Kingdom and the Lord of Elysion. And I am offering you the opportunity to surrender. Now."

Kunzite took a measured step back as Serandite leapt up and glanced up to follow her, sword snapping up into what had to be a different ward. When the bunny jumped Kunzite took another step directly behind the last, if she were balancing on a narrow railing, and thrust her sword upward. Bunny landed on sword. The results were predictable. Was that really necessary? But Kunzite let the bunny fall and then unstuck her sword from it unceremoniously, gave it a kick out of her way and then strode forward.

She was tall. She crossed the distance between herself and Serandite in several long steps -- and then, for someone who'd had quite a lot to say before, she wasted no time in simply swinging her blade at Serandite's head.

At the last moment Kunzite jerked the blade up. It glanced off Serandite's hands -- where it did, it left searing pain and blood that spilled down through her fingers and arms immediately -- and finished its arc in the air until it came down again to rest at Kunzite's side. She had deliberately spared her? There was no time to think about why; in the next moment Kunzite's gauntleted arm had come up and seized Serandite by the front of her shirt. Using this grip she shoved her into the wall behind her, Serandite's head colliding painfully with the brick, and kept her hold.

The blade came up under Serandite's chin, briskly cold, colder than it should have naturally been, and very, very sharp. Kunzite's eyes were only a few inches away from Serandite's now. Up close they were very pale blue.

"You should have surrendered, Lieutenant," she said, and the worst part was she didn't even sound angry, "when I offered you the chance."

In response Kunzite backhanded her with one of her gauntlets, casual as anything. She was staring at her, down at her, lip curled in something -- contempt? Agitation? "I've got no reason to spare your life, Lieutenant." It was chilling how this Captain of, of whatever she was a Captain of continued to call her Lieutenant even now. As if to reinforce her point she took hold of a chunk of Serandite's hair to hold her still, but she didn't tug hard: just stared at her, implacable and unreadable as anything. "You don't take prisoners. We don't take prisoners."

She leaned in. "Mercy isn't permitted to me. It would be a dishonor to the Prince to let you go because of some kind of sentimental feeling. I need something from you." This time she yanked on Serandite's hair, not hard enough to pull it out but hard enough to hurt, and to crack her head against the brick again. "You're not interested in saving your own life? Speak up, Lieutenant."

Kunzite's hand fisted in her hair and yanked hard, yanked her head back, bending her backwards a little with a jolt of pain. "Don't make me do this," she said, though her voice remained rather even; "I have better things to do than waste my time disciplining brats like you, Lieutenant." She didn't backhand her; in fact, what she did was raise the pommel of her sword to Serandite's eye level and, before Serandite could derive what was going on, bash it hard into her face -- just shy of her nose, which would have been crushed by the impact. Instead she was blinded, in blinding pain, and sure to swell up into a black eye.

"I'm going to ask you questions," Kunzite was saying somewhere, "and you're going to give me truthful answers, and that's how you're going to survive this. You answer me true and I give you my word as a Cavalier that I'll let you go."

She didn't wait for Serandite to respond, or for the blindness and pain to cease, before she went on, "How many of you are there?"

Kunzite didn't say anything for a moment, which was a little worrisome; it was starting to seem like she was dead set on beating the living tar out of Serandite and nothing would prevent her in this goal. But while she didn't let go of her, she didn't strike her again, either. She just fixed her with a look of scrutiny and, after a moment, nodded.

There was blood on Kunzite's white uniform -- no, Serandite's blood was on Kunzite's white uniform. Kunzite didn't seem to care. "Where do you meet?" she asked. "Where do you gather?"