Two days ago, Sailor Scylla had killed a girl. That was how Jada saw it, anyway, even if a corner of her mind was whispering necessity in Ares' voice. Necessity had dictated that she stop the Negaverser. Necessity hadn't said that she had to keep hitting, keep beating, until she twitched and went still. Necessity could have made her stop sooner since the Captain-- no, Lacey had been her name, though her last was beyond Jada's recollection-- had been incapacitated. But she hadn't. Something had been fueling her, whether it was stress, whether it was fury, whether it was fear, training, no matter. When she was done, a girl she knew lay dead on the cement, in the middle of the city, and she hadn't felt what she knew she should. It hadn't been the horror welling inside her that had come out in a scream. But it hadn't been pride, thank god, there was no pride in what she had done.
She knew by now that most of the others had their eyes on her, for one reason or another. She never spoke out against what the ISS was doing, never threw her power against even the weakest senshi carrying out a command by the ISS, even if she disagreed, but there were precious few people unaware that she was not behind Ares as she always was. Her voice was not lifted up in support of her friend's plans, and the last few times that she'd been called into meetings, she wouldn't even look at the leaders, her face bland except for her drawn eyebrows that said Sailor Scylla was biting her tongue. And since the accident... her face had been like thunder, with red eyes that were bloodshot and swollen. Everyone who saw her knew something had happened, but she wouldn't talk to anyone about it. “Tired.” had been her excuse, and a poor one.
Thank goodness it seemed so far that the cadet had not told anyone what happened. They had checked in with Gunn, and Scylla had gone home, ignoring calls to stop, to explain why she was bleeding, covered in blood. She'd told the cadet to say they ran into a youma. She'd begged the cadet to say it, to lie, to hide the truth of what she'd done. She couldn't bear one of those parties Ares threw for the members of the Blood Moon who made a kill. Why should she be proud of something wrong? Oh, so wrong.
Now the senshi of the Kraken found herself wandering the warehouse, chewing viciously on her first nourishment since dinner last night- a piece of beef jerky-- and looking in on their prisoners. Wolframite, snapped but unbroken. Uranophane, twisted and suffering. The lieutenants, not even able to keep up their Negaverse form much of the time, bloody and weak. Dioptase, drugged and woozy. Tanzanite, in broken pieces that made the nausea rise up in Scylla's throat. Tanzanite, the only one Jada had thought she wouldn't mind see suffering. Tanzanite, who could be anyone Scylla knew. Jada knew. Or maybe she really was the monster she looked to be. But one thing bound the Blood Moon to these Negaverse agents, and she was seeing it now.
Now that she was looking for it.
Loyalty.
And that was why Scylla was the weakest link. Her loyalty was not armor, binding her like glue to the next link in the chain that made up the Blood Moon. She was not able to hide behind the propaganda and trust in the leadership. She felt pity, and she'd always acted on the things she felt. It had led her to being gentle to Dioptase, to soothing Wolframite, to small conversations with the lieutenants. It had led her to small things, things that she knew singled her out as a potential place for the armor to break. In some ways her pity had been useful, weakening the prisoners so that the next round of tormenting was worse, remembering that someone thought they were still human and making them feel it before she left them to the wolves.
Maybe it was why they had let it go on as long as they had. Or maybe, though she didn't believe this to be the case, they really didn't know. No; she saw it in her eyes that she knew, and Scylla wondered what had stilled Ares' tongue for so long. Friendship? That tattered little remnant of it that was hanging there like a broken banner? Or was it that she was a tool, an Eternal, and so until there was open defiance she would be tolerated, and Ares would bring the balance to accounting when it was over?
The black-haired senshi paused in front of the door to the General's cage and finally slipped inside, ignoring the incredulous gazes of the guards for the day. Scylla had never stepped inside. She'd always stood outside her cage when Tanzanite was her duty, shooting daggers at the door that said she hoped the General would just keel over dead and spare her this task.
And now she was inside with the general, looking her over with a look of consternation on her face. What had brought her to this?
Her thoughts had meandered, one step to the next, and now she thought she would be able to stare at Tanzanite and figure out some mystery of the world?
She knew by now that most of the others had their eyes on her, for one reason or another. She never spoke out against what the ISS was doing, never threw her power against even the weakest senshi carrying out a command by the ISS, even if she disagreed, but there were precious few people unaware that she was not behind Ares as she always was. Her voice was not lifted up in support of her friend's plans, and the last few times that she'd been called into meetings, she wouldn't even look at the leaders, her face bland except for her drawn eyebrows that said Sailor Scylla was biting her tongue. And since the accident... her face had been like thunder, with red eyes that were bloodshot and swollen. Everyone who saw her knew something had happened, but she wouldn't talk to anyone about it. “Tired.” had been her excuse, and a poor one.
Thank goodness it seemed so far that the cadet had not told anyone what happened. They had checked in with Gunn, and Scylla had gone home, ignoring calls to stop, to explain why she was bleeding, covered in blood. She'd told the cadet to say they ran into a youma. She'd begged the cadet to say it, to lie, to hide the truth of what she'd done. She couldn't bear one of those parties Ares threw for the members of the Blood Moon who made a kill. Why should she be proud of something wrong? Oh, so wrong.
Now the senshi of the Kraken found herself wandering the warehouse, chewing viciously on her first nourishment since dinner last night- a piece of beef jerky-- and looking in on their prisoners. Wolframite, snapped but unbroken. Uranophane, twisted and suffering. The lieutenants, not even able to keep up their Negaverse form much of the time, bloody and weak. Dioptase, drugged and woozy. Tanzanite, in broken pieces that made the nausea rise up in Scylla's throat. Tanzanite, the only one Jada had thought she wouldn't mind see suffering. Tanzanite, who could be anyone Scylla knew. Jada knew. Or maybe she really was the monster she looked to be. But one thing bound the Blood Moon to these Negaverse agents, and she was seeing it now.
Now that she was looking for it.
Loyalty.
And that was why Scylla was the weakest link. Her loyalty was not armor, binding her like glue to the next link in the chain that made up the Blood Moon. She was not able to hide behind the propaganda and trust in the leadership. She felt pity, and she'd always acted on the things she felt. It had led her to being gentle to Dioptase, to soothing Wolframite, to small conversations with the lieutenants. It had led her to small things, things that she knew singled her out as a potential place for the armor to break. In some ways her pity had been useful, weakening the prisoners so that the next round of tormenting was worse, remembering that someone thought they were still human and making them feel it before she left them to the wolves.
Maybe it was why they had let it go on as long as they had. Or maybe, though she didn't believe this to be the case, they really didn't know. No; she saw it in her eyes that she knew, and Scylla wondered what had stilled Ares' tongue for so long. Friendship? That tattered little remnant of it that was hanging there like a broken banner? Or was it that she was a tool, an Eternal, and so until there was open defiance she would be tolerated, and Ares would bring the balance to accounting when it was over?
The black-haired senshi paused in front of the door to the General's cage and finally slipped inside, ignoring the incredulous gazes of the guards for the day. Scylla had never stepped inside. She'd always stood outside her cage when Tanzanite was her duty, shooting daggers at the door that said she hoped the General would just keel over dead and spare her this task.
And now she was inside with the general, looking her over with a look of consternation on her face. What had brought her to this?
Her thoughts had meandered, one step to the next, and now she thought she would be able to stare at Tanzanite and figure out some mystery of the world?
