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Natron had just powered up, at what he had decided was a safe distance from home. He was planning on a slow night, draining energy from civilians, but when he sensed both a fellow member of Chaos and some poor Order soul, he decided that this was probably time for one of those lovely talks with a member of Order that resulted in faces being punched.

Or just a talk with members of both of Chaos's lovely branches.

He maneuvered towards the other Chaos signature first, preferring to know who he was going to be fighting with before he figured out who he was fighting against.

"Heyo," he waved, as she came into view. A Dark Mirror, and not one that he knew.

Natron grinned back at her. "Sounds like a great idea," the Lieutenant agreed. As far as he could tell from her signature, she was right on his level, and so was their opponent, since it seemed the Dark Mirror with him was not in the mood for talking.

When she came onto view, the Order signature was coming from a petite girl in a Page's outfit, she was glaring at both of them with her hands on her hips.

Natron frowned darkly and stopped. "God, I hate Pages." He said. He had yet to have a good experience with one.

Sure, most Negaversers were corrupted Knights, but damn, Natron had developed a seething hatred of them. Sure, Sutai had been nice enough, but his experience was forever colored by getting the s**t beat out of him by Troy and his nasty verbal confrontation with Aventine.

Sore, maybe some of them could be saved, but most? Nah.

He angled a different way, as the Page spun around in confusion, her eyes wide.

"Hey, wait, why are you-" She was squeaking out a complain, but Natron pelted her with his dodgeball, an effective shut up technique.

Natron finally caught notice of the Page's weapon just as he went in for a full-body check from behind, making the poor Page scream from the forced bending of her new broken arm. Recently, he had decided that pelting things with dodgeballs was all well and good but he did far more damage up close and personal, even as skinny as he was.

"Feeling a little outclassed?" He asked the Page, getting only a whimper in response.

The part of him that was stilla. Decent, moral human being(/a scared shitless seventeen year old in over his head) felt terrible.

The part of him that was a soldier in a war for the protection of his planet? Really didn't care.

Natron had gotten into plenty of unfair fights before. Usually, they were unfair to him. Because his idea of a good plan was to get into it with Super Senshi built like tanks.

But looking at the crumpled Page, his inner decent human being was reminding him that war or not, the girl on the ground in front of him was, at the least, a person, and he was, with a deep sinking feeling, remembering reaching Ito another helpless girl's chest and ripping out her very essence. So he instead decided to focus on looking for his weapon, which had ricocheted to land a few feet away.

Turning his back on the now apparently angry Page turned out to be a bad idea, because the girl was getting off the ground and returned his favor of body checking, sending him stumbling forward. "s**t!" He swore angrily.

By the time Natron had caught himself (and recoverd his ball) and he turned around to get back in the fight, Chariklo already seemed to have the girl well in hand.

And by that, he meant "was treating the Page to a very vicious beatdown." The girl had been struggling, crying out, even souring for help, and then suddenly it stopped.

"I...I think you knocked her out," Natron said. He could be, he had discovered, thoroughly bloodthirsty. He had wanted to leave this girl batterd and broken, because she was a member of a faction he had come to voraciously dislike.

"Do you want her dead?" He asked, walking over. "I can take her starseed. Or we can leave her, and make sure that Order gets another reminder not to ******** with Chaos." Even if the girl had done nothing to them but exist before the fightt.

Natron took a breath. For a moment it was difficult to recognize the person that had just proposed murdering an unconscious young girl. Two months ago, he would never thought himself capable of that sort of brutality.

Maybe he needed a longer break than he thought he did.

"You're probably right," he agreed. And here, there was no threat to anyone's civilian identity. He wondered ow long that girl had even been a Page. Had he returned a similar favor to the one Troy had dealt him, handing her a beatdown on her first powered night out?

Maybe.

"Yeah, that...sounds like a good plan." He said. "Lt. Natron. Good luck, Chariklo." He said. "I, uh, I should...go."

He had to get out of there and clear his head. So he ran, taking for the nearest rooftop.