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Fighting.

It was the sole purpose of Aree Cadence's life, following her dismissal from the prestigious Crystal Academy, a school she had been deemed no longer fit to attend. It was also the reason for that dismissal. The countless fights, the weeks of absence while she recovered, the busted lips and black eyes. Even a star dancer, one who had put in countless years of practice and dedication, could not dance with broken bones and deeply bruised muscles. Nobody filled an auditorium to see a girl who stumbled through the performance. Nobody lined the halls to take pictures with the young woman who wore dark sunglasses to conceal bruised eyes and high collars to hide a nasty scar. In her desperation to serve the Negaverse, her utter and complete devotion, the girl who was now more Lieutenant Tanzanite than Aree Cadence had sealed her fate.

She was tied to the Negaverse now, wholly dependent on it. For better or for worse.

Her fist collided with the punching bag that hung from the ceiling of the Hillworth gym, the place that doubled as a training center for the . The chain from which it hung creaked, the loose end rattling as it swung a few inches. The weeks since her expulsion had been contained mostly within those concrete walls. Training, sparring, fighting; honing the craft that she seemed to have a natural aptitude for. It was what made her useful to the Negaverse. Loyalty, dedication, the willingness to do anything and give everything, and a capacity for violence that perhaps only Charonite and Obsidian could surpass. These things made her valuable. These things made her worthy. It was these few traits that kept her in the Negaverse, that kept her alive. It was these few traits that she needed to hone and perfect in order to help achieve everything the Negaverse fought for.

A better world. A world where you weren't born into privilege and wealth. A world where your actions, your intelligence, your strength mattered far more than your parentage. It was a world where a trust fund couldn't make up for stupidity and weakness, where no amount of money could buy you a position of power or prestige. In their world, respect was not commanded, it was earned. Good or bad. Right or wrong. Regardless of how the news portrayed them or what the rumors said, they were fighting for a better world. It was that simple fact that drove Aree deeper into herself, leaving Tanzanite to reign.

To Tanzanite, the Negaverse was everything. To Aree, well, it was the only thing she had left.

Her fist was throw forward again, but her bloody knuckles did not connect with the expected resistance of the punching bag. She stumbled forward, catching herself with a palm against the smooth, polished floor of the Negaverse cavern. So immersed in her thoughts, Aree hadn't felt the familiar tug in the pit of her stomach that preceded being summoned to the Negaverse. She let the momentum carry her into a kneeling position, pulling back the restraints that keep Tanzanite bottled up within her. There were no sparkles or twirls, none of that candy a** senshi crap. It was a smooth, fluid transition that left Lieutenant Tanzanite kneeling at the feet of the only man who would have summoned her.

The General-King. Charonite. The only man Aree truly and completely feared.

“Sir,” she said in that flat, cold tone of hers, placing one fist over her heart in formal salute.

Tanzanite's mind reeled with the possible reasons for the summoning, as it always did when she suddenly found herself kneeling at the feet of the General-King. She winced visibly at the lack of a title, followed by the blunt reminder of her previous discretions. A voice in the back of her mind hissed at the accusations. Nevermind the fights she had won. Nevermind the senshi she had beaten. Nevermind the starseeds she'd gathered, the fear she had instilled, the countless aspects of her life that had been sacrificed to the Negaverse. Just remember her one indiscretions. Sure. Why not.

She was unflinching as he ranted and cursed and shouted, accustomed to such antics. This was Charonite. If he wasn't dropping at least two ******** per sentence, you were either in amazingly good graces or about to find yourself beheaded. Being certain that she wasn't part of the first category, Tanzanite thanked every deity that she didn't believe in that the man was cursing like a sailor. Were it not for fairly impeccable self control, she might have even breathed a sign of relief.

As soon as the why was answered, in highly unexpected format, Tanzanit'es gaze snapped up. Those cold eyes, much like her own, were furious. They burned with an intense hatred that she was thankful – ever so thankful – was meant for Castor rather than herself. Loud as his voice was, it was muted by an overwhelming feeling of honor. He was giving her a second chance. He was going to allow her to redeem herself. Even though Aree Cadence's voice as screaming in the back of her mind, reminding her that Castor was a super senshi, the overzealous sub-Lieutenant ignored it.

Super senshi or not, this was her only chance. Charonite would not tolerate failure. He would not tolerate coming back beaten and broken, tail between her legs. Being subordinate to Obsidian... well, that was absolutely out of the question. Tanzanite would sooner die trying than allow herself to be subjugated to a man she both loathed and respected as she did Obsidian.

Of course, she never really considered just how possible death was. This was no joke, not against Castor. Castor was not like so many of the senshi who traipsed about Destiny City, frolicking through the city as though this were all some kind of silly game. Castor had something to lose, and everything to gain by eliminating the Negaverse. She had seen the hatred that burnt in his eyes when he regarded Nealite, the pain when he set them on the blue-haired Linarite. If anyone would fight, if there was a single senshi who would not go quietly, it was Castor.

Staring up at him, Tanzanite could hear her human half. Her head throbbed painfully, as though the imprisoned human half was pounding her fists against the inside of her skull.

You can't beat him.

She could.

You won't win.

She must.

You will die. We both will die.

A sacrifice well worth making.

Bending her neck to focus once more in the polished floor, Tanzanite pushed the conscience of Aree Cadence back into the darkest corner of her mind. Her only response was a small nod and a coolly, confidently spoken agreement.

“I will not fail you.”