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As a cadet, Sailor Vulcan wasn't privy to the finer details of Ares's regime. She was envious, eternally, of the ISS and their secrets. It frustrated Super Van, on a very personal level, to have… evolved the way that she had, and discover that she was only a very small part of bigger picture. A bigger picture that she wasn't allowed to see.

There was so much about being a senshi that she didn't understand. Or, perhaps, it was more accurate to say that there were aspects of being a member of the Blood Moon Court that unsettled her. Due to her rank, Vulcan had not been required to… torture.

But she'd struggled to just sit back and watch as their captives were denied food and water, and had even gotten into an altercation with one of the Dread Sisters when they'd gone too far. It hadn't mattered, in the end, because they were stronger than she was.

Vanessa was loathe to disappoint Ares, but atoning, now, for the cruelty that she had enabled.

Atoning with her fists and her feet and her rage-- doing what it was that Super Van had always been too weak to do. Protecting.

She followed the dark signature of Labyrinthite's energy downtown, narrowed her eyes at the trail of listless bodies he'd left in his wake, and kept her head held high. The heels of her rubber boots clunked loudly against the pavement. Vulcan was not trying to hide.

"I know you're close," the senshi shouted, and turned the corner onto another road. She knelt to check the pulse of a fallen civilian, dragged his body out of harm's way, and goaded the nearby Negaverse agent some more, "Why don't you come and pick on somebody your own size?"

Ah, what a classic line.

"Keep shouting and I will!"

Lt. Labyrinthite would find himself a bold opponent in Sailor Vulcan. She might not have been much of a hunter, but she was also no coward, and marched towards the sound of his voice with a stalwart sort of determination.

He would be found easily enough, so long as he kept answering her. The trail of bodies was likewise useful, but potentially misleading. They were separate from Labyrinthite, while his voice was not. It would give away his position and his generous use of it suggested to Vanessa that he wanted to be discovered.

That he wanted to fight.

It excited her.

Breathing a little heavier than was normal, hands balling into fists at her sides, the Senshi of Volcanoes wove through the alleys and the roads, in eager search of the nega who'd devastated this part of the city today. The longer it took to find him, the more impatient she grew. And the faster she walked.

A second power signature tickled at the back of her head, but she was too lost in her search for Labyrinthite to pay it much notice. Unbeknownst to Vulcan, Lt. Proustite lurked in the shadows of a nearby apartment building.

His eyes sparkled with amusement when she turned the corner and came face to face with Labyrinthite. They stood at opposite ends of the street. Bodies drained of life were scattered in-between them.

Amused, Vulcan pointed at Labyrinthite's weapon, and scoffed, "nice lawn ornament you have there."

Proustite grinned and thought about stealing himself a bag of popcorn from a nearby cinema.

If Labrynithite looked close enough, he might be able to see more than just determination scrawled across Vulcan's face. Vanessa had never been very good at hiding her emotions. She radiated with a supernatural power, light opposing his darkness, but the exhilarated glint in those golden eyes and the anxious twitch at the corner of her lips were decidedly human.

Vanessa needed this fight. Needed to stand up for something that she believed in, and something that she knew to be right, after some of the things that she had helped the Blood Moon Court accomplish.

While Vulcan might not have actively participated in any tortures, and while the ill-gotten blood of her enemies had not flowed through her fingers, her hands were still tainted.

Vulcan couldn't bring herself, yet, to admit that Ares had been in the wrong. Ares was strong. Ares was tough. Somebody whom Vanessa, after she'd had time to get over the fact that it was Fallon punching faces and kicking a**, couldn't help but admire. Couldn't help but adore.

Ares was a fearless leader. And Vulcan? Vulcan was a lowly follower, blinded by the magnificence of power.

There were consequences to pay for.

It was reassuring, to be faced now with Labyrinthite's vengeful smirk. Thrilling, to see him so eager to punish her.

She stood as still as stone, when he swung, and winced when the side of the flamingo connected with her face. The plastic stung, and scraped Vulcan's cheek red. It hurt. And it was wonderful.

"Show me," she ordered, eyes narrowing, "what you are capable of."

Lieutenant Proustite blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

His gaze fluttered curiously from his fellow Nega to the Sailor Scout. If he had seen her before he did not know it. Senshi in Destiny City were about as prolific as mosquitos in a swamp so it didn't really matter, anyways. But this one was weird.

He had intended to intervene when she fought back. Together, he and Labyrinthite might be able to wrestle that starseed out of her chest. When she held back he waited, eyebrows flying up into his hairline, and was at once confused and intrigued.

"Hit her again," he whispered at Labyrinthite. His voice did not carry, and died in the air.

There wasn't a moment where Vulcan didn't believe Labyrinthite was serious. There wasn't a moment where she didn't believe him to be dangerous. It was these things, more than anything, that drew her to him now-- that made her so eager for this fight.

If he seemed harmless, she could not possibly have provoked him. It wasn't in her, to be as ruthless as that. Vulcan never attacked anything that couldn't defend it's self.

At least, she tried not to.

Vulcan let out a soft 'oomph' when the Lieutenant's toy connected with her midriff. It was a solid hit, but there was cloth in the way this time, and did not hurt as much as the first. Still, she did not move to defend herself, and cried out when Labyrinthite introduced her chin to his fist.

Her jaws clanged together. Teeth gnashed against teeth, and sliced into tongue. Vulcan tasted blood. The sharp pain made tears well up in her eyes.

At last, she took a defensive stance; a warrior's stance. Training with the Blood Moon Court had paid off here, and Vulcan no longer bounced around like a yippy dog when faced with her enemy. The gold of her bracers glinted in the light of the sun.

"Let's not talk," Vulcan hissed and faked a jab to Labyrinthite's nose. She spun suddenly on the heel of her rubber boots, and attempted to kick him in the stomach.

On the sidelines Proustite relaxed. He was seated on the hood of an old, rusty car with his chin in his hands and a pleased gleam in his eye. This was entertainment at it's finest, truly. He was a little sore that the Senshi of Volcanoes did not wear a skirt, but otherwise? Proustite was absolutely peachy, and goaded the other Lieutenant into more action.

"BREAK HER NOSE," He shouted, hands cupped around his mouth to amplify the noise, "MAKE HER BLEED!"

It should not have surprised Vulcan when Labyrinthite's hand closed around her ankle. This was such a predictable block that the Senshi of Volcanoes was embarrassed. She did her best to ignore Lt. Proustite's tasteless cheerleading, but he got to her anyways. And it showed. The excited flush in her cheeks darkened with rage and Vanessa, frightened of the vulnerable position Labyrinthite had put her in, attempted to shake her foot out of his hold.

"BOOH RAH!" Lieutenant Proustite howled from the sidelines, as though he were watching a high school football game and not a fight to the death. "Nice catch, buddy!"

"Let go," Vulcan ordered, ire dripping off of her voice like poison, and swayed awkwardly where she stood. Fury lit a fire in those golden eyes, but Vulcan did not really see Labyrinthite. Nor did she really hear Proustite. When she looked at the boy who held her ankle captive now, it was the battle of the Great Youma that she thought of, and the strange power the corrupted senshi had exerted over her.

Vulcan didn't remember what had happened, exactly. One moment they were fighting, and the next…

There was nothing. Only helplessness.

"Let go of my foot," Vulcan, recalling the things that she had learned in training, jerked violently away from Labyrinthite. This did not go exactly as planned. A seasoned warrior might have performed some sort of phenomenal kung fu fighting backflip. Vulcan collapsed to the ground.

Her fall made Lieutenant Proustite wince. It might have been a sympathetic thing, if it wasn't so insincere.

Elbows crashed roughly with the pavement. Tears sprung to her eyes. Vanessa gritted her teeth, hissed desperately through the pain, and swung her free leg around to swipe at Labyrinthite's ankles. The goal, here, was to knock him off his feet and to the ground, where she was going to crawl up and feed him a knuckle sandwich.

In the name of justice. Whatever that was.

To Proustite the road in front of him was as a stage. Sailor Vulcan and Lieutenant Labyrinthite were as players, and he was their audience. He was, indeed, far too engrossed to notice the fourth power signal as it crept up on him from behind.

It was obvious to him that the Senshi of Volcanoes had had some training with this sort of thing, if not outright experience, but Proustite was confident in Labyrinthite's superiority. There was no doubt in his mind who would win and, so, he no longer saw any point in jumping in to help.

He was grinning from ear to ear and still seated on the hood of that old, sorry excuse for a car when Denebola's voice sliced through his revery. Her challenge registered, but barely, and that stupid smile was not completely gone from Proustite's face when he turned towards his adversary.

It did disappear when her heel connected with his jaw.

"Ow," he crowed, tears of pain welling in his eyes from the sting of her blow, and rolled sideways off the vehicle. Proustite had every desire to be as far away from this senshi as possible, until he'd recovered. His landing was rough. "What the <********> was that for?"

No, the senshi wasn't mad.

The senshi was seething. With regret. With rage. With indignation at Labyrinthite's obnoxious sanctimony. He could have been a Captain. He could have been a General. It wouldn't have ******** mattered.

Vulcan wanted his blood. Vulcan wanted him to take hers.

She grit her teeth together when he jumped to avoid the sweep of her leg. A vengeful growl rumbled up from the depths of her chest, and then was cut short when he stumbled to the ground. Vulcan's eyes widened. Her heart, anticipating his vulnerability, thundered in her chest.

Nasty bruises were already forming under her skin where she'd landed on her elbows. It would have hurt to move, if it weren't for the adrenaline that rushed through her veins. Labyrinthite barely had time to turn around twice before Vulcan was on top of him. A greedy hand clenched the front of his uniform. The other was balled into a fist and pulled back, high into the air.

And then she fed it to his face.

It was a powerful blow. Vulcan's knuckles cracked. Her chest heaved. The senshi made a strange, strangled sort of noise, and then gave him room to breathe. But she didn't get up, and kept him pinned to the harsh backdrop of the road with her body.

"Now," she hissed, and turned her cheek towards Labyrinthite, "it's your turn."

Proustite wanted to like senshi. Really, he did. Most of the ones he'd seen were very pretty girls in short skirts.

But all of them had this really nasty habit of HITTING HIM IN THE FACE.

"But I didn't ******** do anything to you," Proustite pointed out, and rose slowly from the asphalt to his feet. Mindful of Denebola's long legs, the lieutenant did not move out from behind the car, and rubbed his jaw with a tentative hand. "I was just sitting here."

He gestured enthusiastically at the car, with all the air of a diva who'd been done some cruel injustice.

"Enjoying myself. Then you came along and I think," Jack, wincing, tested his jaw, "oh, yeah, that's ******** broken."

It wasn't. He was lying.

"You know what's the real problem with this city?" Proustite wagged an accusing finger at Denebola, "Senshi who don't know how to mind their own god damned business."

Jack had been in fights. It was just something that came with the territory, when you were selfish and inconsiderate. People got mad. Sometimes, they liked to introduce their fists to his face.

This was more than a little bit irritating.

Learning how to brawl had been more of a necessity than a choice, and Jack was capable of defending himself if he had to. But he'd always been more of a performer than a fighter, and was more likely to try and bullshit his way out of a fight than actively participate in one.

He saw it, when Denebola hesitated, and felt victorious.

"Well," Proustite sounded thoughtful, and rubbed his chin with tentative fingers, "I'm no doctor, so I can't actually say that it's broken. But, it still hurts like a b***h."

The stare he turned on her then was curious.

"Enlighten me, then, senshi. What is your business?"

Vulcan fought like an idiot. Labyrinthite liked pointing out the obvious.

This wasn't about being smart. This wasn't about making good decisions, or even the right ones. It was about all of the bad ones. It was about everything that had gone wrong, and everything that she'd had no control over.

The Blood Moon Court had given Vulcan so much. Under the pragmatic supervision of more experienced senshi she had learned how to fight. They had given her a purpose, and a sort of… family. In the beginning, this was the most important thing in the world. The BMC had provided Vulcan with a purpose.

But now.

Everything was just wrong.

Labyrinthite's hand closed easily around Vulcan's throat. She sucked in a sharp breath of air, but was not so easily thrown aside, and clutched at his neck with her fingers too. Her grip was gentle, meant more to provoke than to subdue.