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There was a bit of relief to hitting the streets for patrol that night. That stupid b***h Fiona had been stalking around the campus for no good reason, snarking and sniping at her hair. Look, her hair was curly, and it was red. Of course it was going to look a mess on a humid day! At least sailor soldiers appeared to have magically perfect hair--no frizzing, no nothing. She didn't even mind the goddamn assbow.

Still, there tended to be... well, monsters. Big ones. Frightening ones. Ones that looked like giant spindly men on stilts, or more closely resembling a stick bug. It looked easy enough to take down--kick out its legs, stomp on its head, you're good.

Not so much.

It seemed to have some kind of thing. She'd break one leg, and it would go half-down, and then the leg would repair itself. It was frustrating, it was irritating, and she couldn't break the legs fast enough to get to the head! In summary, the giant stick bug monster? Really, really pissing her off.

Really.

It was about the third time she'd broken this particular limb; with a crack and a groan, the monster collapsed a bit to the side, but nowhere near close enough to the ground for Gunn to even make a try at its head. "Ugh," she shrieked, stomping one sandal-clad foot on the ground; "What the hell, this sucks!"

The sound of footsteps was unwelcome; it meant, most likely, another civilian. She was whipping around as the monster propped itself back up, face already set in a scowl. The sight she was greeted with was rather more friendly than a civilian's, and much more welcome. "Oh, thank God," she said, throwing her hands in the air. "Someone useful, I thought you were going to be a civilian and I swear to God I'd cut myself."

She actually wouldn't.

"Anyway, yeah, that would be so awesome," she said gratefully. "By the time I get to the fourth leg and can almost reach the damn head, it's getting up again."

"Civilians," she said in disgust. Even if she was one most every day, she also didn't get in the way of police officers or other vigilantes. Some civilians, though, didn't feel that kind of compunction; she'd even met one or two who insisted on helping, which just pissed her off because damn it, she was dangerous. She set things on fire. And it might not be her intention to do so, but it's what she did--her growing reputation as an "arsonist" soldier didn't really help.

She shrugged, gestured to the two legs nearest her. "That's basically it," she agreed as she idly sidestepped a ponderous stomp from a needle-sharp leg. It looked deadly, but it was slow, and childish. "It's like a giant bug. Anyway. We break all four legs, it goes down and hopefully one of us can deliver the coup de grace."

French was classy s**t. She stretched her arms over her legs and said, "Okay, on three. One, two--"

She had to jump to reach the monster's joints, but that was no problem when you were a sailor soldier. In addition to their enhanced strength and speed there was a certain ability to defy the laws of physics inherent in their powers; jumping, the ability to survive greater falls. Once, when bored, she'd read a book about people with aircraft-grade porcelain for bones. That was the best comparison she had for the endurance she was graced with at the moment.

As always, the leg snapped easily at the knee, and she could see the green-clad girl doing the same with her two legs. Except by the time she'd gotten to her second leg, the first two were being slowly repaired. <********," she said, grabbing handfuls of violently orange hair. "What the hell!... I don't suppose you have a useful attack for this kind of situation, uh... what's your name?"

"Gunn, Sailor Gunn--of Wildfire." Yes she was the arsonist senshi, no, she wasn't here to set fires or kill anyone. In fact she hadn't even whipped out any matches yet, because she knew if someone was running anything with an engine she might blow that up and then the world would be <******** also, she would probably go to jail.

She brushed her curls over one shoulder. "Well... Might as well give it a go, Denebola. If we're faster, we can destroy this stupid thing and go home. I'm tired, dunno about you." Gunn reached inside her bodice, drew out a book of matches.

Hopefully this ordeal would be settled quickly. "It's all right, you know, if you mess up. Nothing bad will happen to you--I blew up a ferry once. Still haven't gotten caught."

The matchbook from her bolero was out, flipped open between two fingers. "Clean as we can," she agreed, shutting it and tucking it away.

This time, the newer sailor soldier was doing her best to make sure it couldn't get up, no matter what. The legs came off, each making their own crunch--it sounded like someone cracking a lobster's claw. Gunn leapt in and, with a kick better suited to the dance floor, decapitated the monster.

"Good job, Denebola," she said, smiling.

It had gone better once Denebola had shown up, Gunn had to admit. But she was reluctant to team up with anyone she actually liked--both because she'd burn them and because it really was simply unsafe to trust a senshi with no control over her powers to manage to not kill the world while a friend was nearby. More likely in this case, as she'd demonstrated, she would just freeze up and not use her powers at all.

"I… about a month or two," she said, reaching up to slide off her tiara. That caused her hair to tumble down into a pile of curls; she slipped it back on, glad for the cushioning between its hard points and her temples. "So, I've got a good bit of experience, I guess? Although I hear about people who've been doing this for years." She sifted through the remnants of the monster, was relieved to find no starseeds; sometimes there were the little crystals scattered through the dust and grime, and then she had to go hunt for bodies she might never find. Which was just depressing, really, and annoying, and.

She needed to think about something else. "What's your actual sphere? Speed or something?"