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It was almost midnight on the first Friday night in December and Jada Chamberlyn had anything but a hot date. It was dumping snow from the sky in little flurries that sparkled like diamonds in the flickers of the lights that lined her front walkway. Her front yard was full of the flickering lights; Rudolph was pulling a sleigh, and Jack Skellington was wearing a Santa Hat. No one was around to appreciate her lights, yet it was more a tradition. No one hasd ever been around to see the lights at the Manor either, yet every December came a $1000.00 electric bill. She guessed. Only her parents knew how much those lights actually cost. (She'd find out in a matter of weeks!) A mug of hot cider was in her hands, her freshly manicured nails tapping against the ceramic. 'I went to Hell and all I got was this stupid mug,' it read. She'd gotten it in the Cayman Islands. In Hell, Grand Cayman. In the background, Louis Armstrong was singing about a White Christmas, and on the television the illusion of a small fire was reflected. Books were piled high on her couch table, and the leftovers of her Lean Cuisine dinner.

Jada was wearing a t-Shirt, flannel pants and fuzzy socks, and she was bored. Sleepless- and bored. She'd taken the day to be sedentary and study, and she was now jittery and desperate for exercise. No one was home tonight, and who would notice if she went out? Jack? Louis? It took her less than a minute to get upstairs and fetch her Pen; she went into the snow in her pajamas, trudging across the backyard to the edge of her property before henshining and leaping the fence.

Where to go?

She just ran, delighted, enjoying the agonizingly cold air blowing rough in her face. Before she knew where she was going, she found herself back at the docks. Water had been obsessing her lately, consuming her interest. Especially since she had seen the Fossil. Her power, the Kraken, had been a living creature at one point. A huge beast from another world. Maybe they existed in this one too! There were legends of the Kraken, and she wasn't aware that there had ever been much interplanetary interaction.

There was a ball at the end of the dock, green and orange. Someone must have left it here. She kicked it into the water, watching it bob and float, and then eventually sink under the dock. It was a pretty night. They always were, here. Last time she'd been here she ran into a Negaverse agent. She was really, really hoping that tonight could just be...

Silent.

Ugh, it was colder than she'd thought it would be when she first came out, and after maybe twn minutes of standing in the unprotected open she could feel her skin well-prickled with the cold. Tonight wasn't the first time that she would bemoan the fact that her Super skirt was so short, and likely neither would it be the last. Sweat pants would be a good investment, she decided, and she could certainly find a matching pair. Her boots were narrow, so she would be able to stick her feet through the legs of whatever she decided on. And anyone who decided to laugh at a well-equipped Scout could eat cake. But who would laugh at her? she could beat them do death with twelve arms.

She heard a noise on the wind, and turned to see someone else walking the docks along with herself. "Why couldn't this stupid uniform come with a jacket? Even a scarf would have been nice." Ohhh, she could commiserate with that feeling. Still, as much as it would be nice to have contact with another living being, caution stopped her from leaving her position, instead letting the other figure come closer to where she stood, silently. One eye on him, the other eye out over the water, feigning ignorance. She did, however, allow one heel to tap on the dock, testing the other's intentions, with a Scout just out there, apparently for the picking.

The figure was turning to her even before the crunch of her heel in the perfectly white snow was finished. In the darkness, she couldn't see that the other was looking her up and down, the puff of his breath like the steam produced by the breath of dragons, floating into the air through nose and mouth. It was almost romantic, she decided, and fitting for Christmastime. Maybe they could handle this peacefully, instead of on a slender dock. Maybe they could get to shore. Maybe... "Can't we all just get along?" She asked, voice tired as he summoned a weapon. "Maybe latch arms and sing Kumbaya, or some Christmas carol? I can belt out a mean soprano for Baby its Cold Outside. And as much as I appreciate the opportunity to knock you around-" Overconfidence at its best, "- I really would rather just enjoy the changing of the season, you know? Can you imagine how bad it would suck to bleed in this weather? I'm freezing my fuku off."

Ares, or any of the other members of the Blood Moon Court, would be calling her out and wiping her around the ring right now like an overused rag. You never offer mercy to the Negaverse. You never beg from mercy for the Negaverse. You kick the Negaverse like Don Diablos kicks his daytime jobs, and you GIVE THEM HELL! (It was the giving season, after all, Jada reflected. It could qualify as a Christmas gift for the Negaverse.) In the end, the other figure was still standing there holding a weapon, and she was short, slight, and appeared unarmed.

Haha, unarmed.

"Why not sing about peace on Earth?" she asked him quizzically, watching him much like a wild cat would watch a human who happened to get too close. This had the potential to get very bad, very quickly. Wherefore was her Silent Night, deamt about. Why was an Agent out this late at night, on a Friday? Didn't they ever date? Or snuggle up to their pillows at a certain hour, dreaming their insane dreams of sucking the starseeds out of the world and leaving it as barren and cold as every other planet in Space? "I was born here, actually, had a father and mother just like anyone else. My family was born here, in this town you and your cronies are sucking the life out of." Who really cared if she was the reincarnation of a soul from an asteroid? Physically, she was human as they came. His grin made her shudder and she licked her lips, staring across her nose at him. He was short, she reflected, maybe a little taller than she herself if she were out of her heels. "I'm, sorry to crash your psychopathic parade, but I'd look just like a normal girl, all said and done, wearing pajamas and fuzzy socks." She told the other person. "Though I'm sure I would make a festive corpse; all the other mass murderers like you would be jealous of your fantastic treetopper."

She swallowed, taking a step back, away from the whirling chain in his hands. "You'd lose the tiara, and you'd lose out of the fuku- no souvenirs for you." She took one more step back, and could feel her booted heel slide off the back of the dock. It took only a second to rearrange her position. In that second, the weapon that he had been whirling came whistling through the air, and she had no choice but to use her attack to block. "Scylla's HUNGER!" she cried, and from the sea erupted three tentacles. One of them managed to deflect the weapon, barely, and she could feel the trickle of nails down her spine as the weapon neatly and cleanly sliced one of the lightly-toothed suckers.

The enemy had drawn first blood. "I am Scylla, Senshi of the Kraken." She said formally, the three arms weaving in the air (one of them thrashing violently as blue blood stained the snow.) "You shouldn't have woken the sleeping monster. Kumbaya is so much more enjoyable."

Something new? If it hadn't been for the obvious surprise crossing her enemy's face, she would have been more than a wee bit upset at the moderation that had gone into the comment. As it stood, Sailor Scylla decided she was satisfied with him backing away, a sneer crossing her features. "You ain't seen nothing yet." She really didn't want to be- oooh! One of her arms moved over her head, dripping cold water down her back and she shuddered. She stepped forward, moving her body toward the place that he had vacated.

Metal glinted in his hands and Jada would swear she could feel her stomach clench. If it were her bleeding, and not the limb created by magic, this would be a much uglier scene than it was about to be. She would have to be careful, and she would have to be quick. This was not a situation to play in, much as she would like to avoid a fight just once. The adrenaline pumping through her veins was a good warmer-upper, however.

The chain shot out again, this time into a wide circle. Looked like he was hoping to hit all of them! One of the limbs went into the trajectory of the circle, the other two flinging themselves toward him. The daggers sliced thickly into the meat of the blocking tentacle and it shuddered, curling in on itself to try and grip the chain. The other two were more interested in trying to curl around the Negaverse Agent.

Her hands clenched, and she hissed out the name of her attack. Three more of the limbs slid out of the water on the other side of the dock and behind him, waving threateningly. Six arms total, and more up her sleeve should he prove to be particularly wriggly. She was gonna catch that sucker. But if her time limit ran out, she was boned.

Success! One of her arms gripped the chain successfully, and another of the limbs grabbed a hold of the Negaverser. Scylla allowed herself a moment to breathe a sigh of relief, commanding her other limbs closer. She wasn't certain what abilities the enemy had for purposes of summoning back their weapons, but she wasn't taking any chances. The splash of the metal weapon falling into the water was immensely satisfying, and the wounded arm slid under the water noiselessly. A wounded limb was an unnecessary drain on her power when it seemed that the Negaverser was caught.

The suckers of the one limb that had tugged Wolframite away from his weapon were lined with small teeth; they roiled against his skin like fingernails. On a youma, Scylla knew, they would be tearing flesh. She had never tried them on a human, but assumed it only worked so well on things magical in nature. On her, they had felt like fingernails dragging across the skin of her arm, never tearing, but moderately uncomfortable. The last time that Scylla had used her attack like this on a humanoid was against Nealite- and Scylla herself was not so powerful as she was now. It was satisfying to know that she had captured an enemy.

Her heels clacked on the wooden boards of the dock as she took another step forward, watching the remaining limbs of her power slide closer to the agent, sliding around him like thick, nibbling ropes. He could fight them off; both she and they were very susceptible to physical assault. It was just that she had a lot of them, and they were as strong as they were easy targets. The Kraken was apparently a hardy creature, smashing boats to smithereens and all. "Your name, Officer?" she asked the one-eyed boy finally, moving closer to him. "I introduced myself, and battle courtesy demands the same from you." Only a few more moments- less than half a minute, probably- was all she really had. She shouldn't be wasting time asking for a name.

You know something, the boy breathed, and she almost leaned in, as though half an inch would make it that much easier to hear the words that were hissing through his teeth. He had a green eye that was looking down at her, gleaming almost Christmas tree dark in the moonlight; his voice was husky, and rang almost bitter to her ears. But all that registered from his lips, and almost too late, was a name: Aragwain.

A black shape formed in the darkness behind him, spilling upward from an inky shape in the snow. from the darkness came a Knight, horrendous in his shape; his armor was almost a black chrome, she decided, reflectively shimmering as though freshly polished. in the light of glowing etchings. It was writing perhaps? Nothing like she could ever remember seeing if it were. Her eyes drifted upward still to the place where a face should have been, and a faceplate; where skin should have shown through eye holes and the vent for his breath there was naught but blackness, and glowing green eyes. The knight raised an arm and she realized, frozen, that there was no arm there at all. It was a lance, full-sized as though he were gone to tourney.

If Scylla had leaned forward, even the smallest bit like she had desired, what happened next would have speared her. The negaverser would have gotten his Christmas cheer, her blood spilling over the ground. If she'd leaned forward, she may have missed the slight warning the night gave before his lance thrust forward, piercing through the thick meat of her Kraken's tentacle, spewing the copper-rich blood everywhere. Had she leaned closer, she would have been the more logical target and curiosity would have killed the cat.

She hadn't leaned closer. As it was now, she rolled backwards with the knights roll, his lance grazing her cheek and drawing a thin line, as though cut with a scalpel. It took a moment for the blood to pool at the surface before sliding down her cheek, dripping into the snow to join the Kraken's. The knight was regrouping, it seemed, for another attack; and Scylla wasn't going to give it to him. This had turned far from her previous decision to hold the Negaverser until she was safely away. Far from her previous desire to not hurt him. This was dangerous, and she was cornered on the dock. "Take him!" She shrieked it, as though roaring a command to her 'pet' would make it any easier to command it. "DROWN him!" Four arms flung themselves at Wolframite from different directions; one lucky limb caught his right leg by the ankle, wrapping around him firmly and tugging as hard as it could, with no conscientiousness for his discomfort, or his head, or the angle at which he was being pulled; it viciously tugged Wolframite off the edge of the dock and into the black waters.

Her mad gambit had worked, and the youma had rushed to the rescue of his commanding officer rather than continue the assault on her that was certain to be deadly. Note to self, Scylla thought, small spaces that lay as the only canyon between a rock and a hard place were not the place she wanted to meet a Negaverser, ever. When the chain shot from the wayer, she could feel her breath freeze in her lungs, choking her. Would he fight? Would he run? Would she have to dive into the water herself to get away?

The sight of him wet as a dog made her realize just how small he was. A child, really, corrupted into taking lives from innocents and handing them over. The words that spilled from his lips were a blessing to her anxious ears. Get me out of here, he stammered, and he and the youma were shooting away, leaving her as alone as she'd thought she had been at first. She held the limbs as long as she dared, shuddering, expecting another enemy to drop at any instant; when none appeared, she hightailed it home.

For once, she was glad of the warmth. The chill of her night permeated every bone.