Welcome to Gaia! ::

Jude had read stories: uniformed thugs who jumped people in the night and gave them some sort of drug, something that sapped their strength and left them weak and tired, something that didn't show up in any kind of blood test and that, on occasionally, did worse than that. Rumors on the internet blamed it on the terrorists, the girls in their white tops and little skirts, young people with strange magical abilities, and all in all it had made no sense to Jude.

This, though, made slightly more sense. Two girls in crazy outfits cornering one of the a*****e who tended to call him 'f**' and who had stolen one of his favorite hats a week and a half ago -- these didn't look like crazy magical sailors in weird short skirts, but instead looked like normal troubled teenagers, dressed up and wielding what they had on hand to push him around.

The guy deserved it. Jude knew he deserved it, crouched down in the gap between two rundown houses, staring from the scene to his house across the street and back. He deserved it, coupled with a fear of running across home and getting that attention turned on him, and topped off with the fact that police response time in this area wasn't great, was all the justification he needed to just stay put and watch and wobble, overcome with uncertainty. Add on top of that morbid curiosity, the need to know what was going on, a deep-down, heavily-repressed thirst for understanding...

He stayed put. He watched, around the corner, shaky and scared, unaware of the cat watching him from behind a chimney, above.

Taunting was something Xenotime always had as a prerogative. Much like flirting, the smack talk and bitchy comments flood like water from plum lips, and there never seemed to be anything even close to a language filter on that pretty mouth. "Not so tough now, are we?" Her tone was dripping in sugary sweet condescension as she leaned in closer, head tilting so he could easily see the grin that was growing ever wider.

She watched on as Chromite held the teen by his throat, his face slowly going redder and redder. It was only a matter of another minute or two before he started turning purple. It was a wonderful show.

One gloved hand rose to rest on her fellow soldier's arm. "I still want a piece of him, so don't strangle him into unconsciousness." Fun as that would have been to watch, her knuckles were itching, and the only cure was the satisfying slam of her fists into his face. And any other part she felt inclined to pummel.

All Chromite could think as she watched her victim struggle for breath was how this was a great opportunity to teach Xeno the fine art of taking a starseed. It wasn't so much kosher anymore, but sometimes it was necessary. Taking a senshi's seed for example, needing a rush of new energy to escape a tricky situation, or even because the a*****e in your grasp deserved it.

At the touch of her partner's hand on her arm, she grinned and nodded. "Of course, hon!" It was not even remotely in her personality to begrudge a friend some fun. Before she set him down, however, she got real close to his ear and whispered sweet somethings to him. "When you're dragging your near corpse home, I want you to remember one thing: Leave Jude Harrow alone. Or I will ******** kill you."

With that she dropped him, laughing as he gasped for breath, and then stepped back to let Xeno have her way with him.

Jude wasn't all that safe, right now, in all honesty. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as the cat turned a careful little circle in the air and dropped a pen in front of him. Obviously, Lee expected him to take it; she nudged it in his direction with her nose and stared up at him expectantly, impatiently.

For a floundering moment, he just stood there. Stared at her. Until the pounding of flesh-against-flesh made him wince and kick into motion, leaning forward to grab it up and, under her instruction, bring it into the air with a softly-whispered phrase --



His energy signal flared into life behind them, suddenly there. The top of his hat, brightly white, showed out of his hiding space, any easy target even in the relative darkness. Sisyphus straightened slowly, uncertainly, as the cat stared up at him. His knees were cold.

"...for the love of...go drive them off, boy!" Lee hissed at him, and it got him moving again. Two steps outward, Sisyphus's fingers lifting uncertainly to his hat and a flush light on his cheeks as he pointed to the girls.

"Um. Stop!"

It was a really good question. It was a question that made poor Sisyphus blink, still clutching at his hat and pointing at the girl stupidly. Slowly, he lowered his hand, squinting back toward the cat still lurking in the shadows. She, in turn, rolled her eyes and hissed something sibilant in reply.

Nonsense, to him, but he turned and repeated it, stammering just a little as he did:

"S-s-sisyphean Task!"

This was the time to point at her again, too. He didn't, and it made Laoise hide her face under a paw, all to sure that she was going to have to step in and save him. In contrast, Sisyphus thought he'd done a good job, blinking in surprise as the magic kicked in.

Xenotime would be stuck taking out her weapon and putting it away again for a solid thirty seconds, and that seemed great. However. That only occupied one hand, and Sisyphus was entirely unaware that the rest of her could do whatever it wanted.

Crap and double crap. Jude had never been a fighter, more the type to get noogied and pushed around by the bigger kids than to stand up for himself, and just having a uniform wasn't going to help with that. No. He stared at the oncoming officer and fought the urge to start hyperventilating.

One step back. Another. He stumbled and didn't quite fall over rubbish at the curb, and then Lee's frustration got the better of her.

"Just hit her, you stupid child!" This time, it was probably loud enough for Xenotime to catch her voice, to recognize the tone of voice, and the low height from which it came. A cat, certainly. And not very effective, no matter how much shouting she did. Sisyphus seemed, for the moment, paralyzed.

Laoise bristled, at least, stepping out to glare at the lieutenant and raise her chin. Sure, she was a cat, but she could pack some fury into that green glare -- and, at this moment, she did. Behind her, her tail swished out a rapid, furious pattern in the air, a pale swoosh that never stilled.

"Come on child, are you going to let her talk to you that way?" She actually hopped, two steps to the left, voice dropping down into a slow rumbling growl. Not that it had any effect on the nega -- or, even, Sisyphus, who only took the time to stutter out his challenge again, as if it would have a different effect this time:

"S-s-sisyphean task?"

And it did work. Kind of. Exactly the same way it had before. And did absolutely nothing to slow the oncoming officer. He'd probably get back to his feet just as she came into swinging range.

There was, at least, one thing that Sisyphus was good at -- and that was taking the hit. He'd been pushed around by enough bullies at school [and around home] over the years that he was familiar with this maneuver. He'd been smacked, tripped, kicked, and punched enough times to know how to fold around it, how to go small, and that when he went down it was stupid to get up again.

In other words, he took the hit to the stomach in almost-silence and crumpled up at her feet, muddly and still. It was impossible that she could have knocked him out, that easily, but she had at least knocked him down. And he stayed down.