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Fiona had lost track of how many weeks had past since she had last henshined up. She felt guilty, remorseful that she had chosen to ignore the calls for help when the forty or something civilians went missing then ended up in space. When they had ended up in a place called the Surrounding and the zodiacs desperately pleaded for supplies to feed and care for the wounded. But to be fair, she hadn’t received the message until it was too late. Her senshi phone had been silent since she hadn’t transformed to receive any messages.

If she was completely honest, she had fooled herself into thinking she could ignore that other side of her. That if she pretended it no longer existed then she would not have to face her secret identity. She had become a coward and when she realized that, she was truly ashamed of herself.

She had spent days thinking about the whole ordeal and how she knew she had been running from the one thing that made her feel like she could make a difference with. Being a senshi had become an entire important part of her life, a dangerous one but one she had come to enjoy and accept until lately. She tried to justify the fact she was shying away from the responsibilities of being a magical girl superhero by telling herself that she was just trying to focus on the civilian aspects of her life.

But even she knew she was lying to herself.

She was shirking away from being a senshi because she was afraid, her life had been threatened more than once and while she hardly hesitated to stand up and face her foes she could not deny that even she was afraid of death. The idea of killing someone, the idea of torture and death terrified the redhead and she tried to hide from the fact by shunning the other side of her.

She had decided that tonight was the night that she would suck it up, deal with her fears and face it head on like the brave woman she knew she was. She was tired of hiding behind the guise of her civilian identity. She was more than just Fiona Watson, she was Sailor Denebola, the senshi of dragonflies and she’d be damned if she let chaos run rampant while she hid.

She opened the door of the apartment she forced her parents to allow her to move into and shivered against the brisk cold winter air. She tugged on the fabric of her coat to pull it more tightly against her body as she moved forward, away from the complex.

She buried her chin into the scarf she had wrapped around her neck pulling her coat even more tightly around her body as she shoved her fingers beneath her armpits.

“Brrrr...” she mumbled shivering because of the cold. It was nights like this that made her wish that she could stay in the warmth of her room, curl up under a blanket and enjoy a movie but she was part of something bigger now, something she had little control over.

It was time that she accepted that.

She moved along a mostly abandoned sidewalk, quickly trying to put as much distance between her home and herself before she ducked into an alley. Fishing the henshi pen from her pocket she stared at the light green object. She heaved a breath, watching as it left her mouth in a small white cloud before she utter quietly, “Denebola power, make up.”

Her dual eyes closed as she felt the rush of magic swirl around her body. Pants were exchanged for a skirt and stockings, her warm coat exchanged for the short sleeved top and gloves her uniform provided her with. She shivered as her pink ballet shoes tapped against the stone pavement, why did it have to be so cold.

She quickly ascended the building she was beside, thankful that months of practice had led her to a graceful landing. She stood still for a moment, inhaling and exhaling evenly, as she tried to sense the dark aura of the negaverse. She let out a soft breath of relief when she felt none before taking to running along the roof.

She hoped this would warm her up.

The senshi of dragonflies was unaware that her figure running along the roof had been seen but a young man with startling golden eyes. If she had taken a moment to glance down at the ground she would find that she recognized the man staring up at her. But no, instead she was oblivious to the form of a man she once knew so well.

Chase Black.

A shiver ran up the senshi’s spine as she skidded to a halt, sliding across the icy surface with her arms waving about frantically to maintain her balance. Once stopped, she turned her head back cocking it slightly as though she was listening for something. Or someone. Rosy red lips, flushed from the cold of the night, pursed together as her brow furrowed. At first Denebola thought the shiver was just a result of the winter weather but there was a dark, dirty undertone to it that made her doubt it.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned slowly, a nervous swallow accompanying nervous twitchy hands. Dual colored eyes squinted into the darkness as she sought the attacker she knew was coming. She hated the feeling of fear and apprehension that flooded her heart at the thought of an upcoming battle.

It had been so long since she had engaged in a fight, was she ready? Would she be able to preform to the best of her ability? A nagging feeling in the back of her mind told her, no.

It was not until he neared that she noticed the spike in power, the rank difference that was between them. She turned again, back in the direction she had been running prepared to flee again. She had a habit of challenging those who were stronger than she was. She would not make the mistake again. She had begun to flee when he called to her, and she froze in fear.

Almost two years had past since the day of Super Van’s birth.

Only two years.

Could it be?

So much had changed in Vanessa’s life in the relatively short period between then and now. She had made friends, and she had lost friends, and she had acquired enemies along the way. She had seen things, and she had done things, and she had also not done things. Things that had both appalled what remained of Super Van’s noble heart, and fed her coercive lust for a good, hard fight.

As Vulcan she had been through a lot, and forgotten herself in the process.

It had taken some time, and some help, but Vulcan had clawed her way back up from a low that she promised herself she would never stoop to again, and she felt right. She felt deserving of her henshin pen, and the power that it brought with it.

Vanessa wouldn’t have been able to explain, if anybody asked, exactly what had happened to help her see the light. Probably, there wasn’t a single answer.

She had embarked on a journey of self-discovery, and emerged from the shadow cast by the Blood Moon Court as herself. It was true that Vulcan had not officially left their ranks and she felt indebted to them, for the warrior that they’d help her become, but the Blood Moon Court was a part of her life Vanessa did not want to resuscitate. When she returned, if she returned, it would be on her own terms.

Of all the things that Ares had taught her, whether it was intended or not, only two remained close to Vulcan’s heart.

1) To never follow blindly.
2) This was war.

It was with the second lesson in mind that Sailor Vulcan patrolled the streets of Desinty City, bright eyes peeled for any and every sign of violence or crime. She’d readopted an old habit of Super Van’s, and taken to apprehending ordinary criminals on top of the supernatural ones. There was something incredibly satisfying about being able to return an elderly lady her purse after feeding her assailant a knuckle sandwich.

And when he asked her who she was, Vulcan told him with as straight a face as possible, “your worst nightmare.”

She’d laughed about it later, privately to herself, and continued about the night with a spring in her step and a familiar ache in her chest.

A yearning.

It was kindled by the suggestion of a nearby darkness, and flared into an imitation of real hunger. Vulcan couldn’t pinpoint Labyrinthite’s location, but she knew that he was close, and was propelled in his general direction by the seductive promise of battle.

When, at last, she discovered the Captain on a roof he had his boot crammed into the spine of a senshi that Vulcan recognized. Unconcerned about making noise, aware of the fact that Labyrinthite would have been able to sense her approach, the senshi of Volcanoes leapt over the fire escape, raced towards Labyrinthite at full speed, and attempted to tackle him to the ground.

There was something incredibly satisfying about the impact of their bodies. Vulcan was no Bruce Lee, but whatever she lacked in finesse she made up for in ferocity. She was no coward and cried out, but did not flinch, when Labyrinthite's fist connected with her face. Her cheek throbbed and started to swell.

It would leave a bruise.

They were a tangle of arms and legs, grappling with one another, and it was impossible to tell who had the upper hand.

Some time had passed since the first time they'd met, but Vulcan would always remember the pink-haired Lieutenant she'd wrestled with on the street. He was stronger now. She could feel it. But so was she.

And he had tried to kill her.

She had all but wanted him to.

It was Denebola, who had come to her rescue then. Vulcan felt indebted to the Senshi of Dragonflies. Beyond that, however, was a deeper feeling of camaraderie. Denebola was not of the Blood Moon Court, but she was a warrior, like Vulcan. And they shared an enemy. Vulcan would sooner have cut off her own leg that stand by and let Labyrinthite take her life.

"You're wrong," Vulcan, nostrils flaring, straddled Labyrinthite and seized him by the collar. When she spoke, her lips curled into a snarl, "this is my business."

She lifted him, slightly, so that his shoulders were raised off the ground, and then slammed him back down.

Vulcan's nostrils flared when Labyrinthite's fingers curled into the velvety skin of her neck. Her pulse throbbed against his hand, and she was somehow both thrilled and terrified by his strength. There was death in his grip. Vulcan was exhilirated by the promise of it, and let slip only a soft cry when Labyrinthite yanked her off of him. His fists connected with her ribs, and his weight made it difficult to breathe when Labyrinthite settled on top of her.

'Your blood will stain this ground.'

His voice was a growl in her ear. Vulcan could not help the way that she shuddered, and wasn't sure if what she felt was really... fear. It was more like life.

"Good," Vulcan rasped, lips quirking despite precariousness of her situation. She followed Labyrinthite's example by reaching for his neck, fingers tightening on his flesh. Unlike him, she didn't let go.

Vulcan squeezed. Not hard enough to kill, but hard enough to give Labyrinthite enough cause to panic about whether or not he'd be able to reach his weapon before passing out.

In the seconds before Labyrinthite's hand sunk into her chest Vulcan misjudged his intent. His other fingers on her neck were cutting off her air, making it hard to think. For a moment she thought he was reaching for her boob instead of her starseed, and almost laughed at the ridiculousness of that.

What a perv.

But then his hand was inside of her, closing around the source of her life, violating her body as much as her soul. Vulcan's eyes widened, bright with fear and loathing. Her starseed trembled and cried out for Gehenna, who was half way cross the world.

Help came instead in the form of a different sort of guardian.

"Sailor Denebola," Ophelia's voice was sharp, alarmed by the amount of damage Labyrinthite had caused. She had not witnessed his attack on the Senshi of Dragonflies, but could see that the girl was in pain, and cursed Vulcan quietly for being so damned reckless.

"Get up," the cat hissed in Denebola's ear, eyes shining on Vulcan's fingers as they fell from Labyrinthite's throat, "you are strong enough for this. Help her."

Vulcan seized Labyrinthite by the wrist, grit her teeth, and used all of her strength to hold his hand in place. She could not force him to let go, but would not allow him to take her starseed either. There was a desperate fire in her eyes.

"Denebola," Ophelia pleaded, summoning her own magic, using it to increase Dragonflies' power, "you are super now."

When Denebola shouted at him, Labyrinthite had allowed himself to be distracted enough to look back at her and it was enough that when she collided with him his hand was ripped, without the starseed, from Vulcan's chest and he tumbled forward. He hardly got the chance to bring his arms up to defend himself before she was wailing upon him.

"You interfering b***h," he grunted as one of her punches connected with his gut. He jerked forward and his head connected with her. She fell off of him in a daze and it was just enough time for him to scramble to his feet.

Amber eyes flickered from one senshi to the next and settled on the guardian cat. "You get to live this time, but next time you won't be so fortunate," he snarled before teleporting away.