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The night was cold, bitter so enough that his breath was great clouds as from a bellows of fire. It would be better were he a dragon, not a man of bones and flesh. If his heart were fire to match his eyes, he could breath it out as words and those hearing would be burned clean or made pillars of ash where they stood.

There were few signatures out tonight- it was too cold for the comfort of most. But Thraen, senshi of gardens, was not out for comfort. He was never out for comfort, as justice was no more comfortable than any other sword. But he was growing more used to its weight, more accustomed to the blood and pain. He no longer flinched at the memory of his hands around that lieutenant's throat. This time, Athene wouldn't stop him.

This night, or as many nights as it took, he would find that General and he would end him.

The park was clear, the arts district, the shopping ways packed with late shoppers but no energy signatures that signaled anything greater than a regular scout, youma or lieutenant. Maybe a page. The Super senshi had crossed the city in a strict search pattern, now running across one of the Piers Twin Bridges that trucks and traffic to the boat trade used. And he felt it clear, all his senses prickling and crawling with a powerful signature like walking through a wall. It was a General, without a doubt. But was it His general. The one he needed tonight.

Thraen crossed to the handrail of the bridge and looked out across the river's dark water at the golden-yellow halos along the piers and highlighting the boats parked at some and the void emptiness at others. There were a few figures far, far, off, docksmen finishing unloading this or that.

There.
On a nearer pier, a figure on the planked walk with slight figure, small stature. Dark clothes. There couldn't be more than one of that build, even so far away.

"How Providence favors the bold, " he hissed under his breath. "If I can feel you.....you can feel me."

No smile graced the harsh, stone set of his lips, but he was pleased. Then he whistled. It was a classic, jaunty sound- the traditional wolf-whistle of a man seeing something he liked and rudely appreciated from old cartoons.

The teleport was more and quicker response than he'd expected out of the general. But once the other man was close, his suspicions were gloriously confirmed. Here was the exact one that he wanted. And better yet, it seemed he'd hit some sort of nerve. All he'd need to do was weather a hit or two to convince the other that he was as stupid as one might assume, and the trap would come off beautifully.

Because only a fool meant to die would use the exact trick twice, assuming his enemy can't learn. I will play your fool. The noose was coiled around his left arm, a shapeless bracer of rope. He wouldn't be able to block with that arm for concern of damaging it, but he'd rather not block with his dominant hand anyway.

Thraen stepped into view from near the rail where one of the large struts of the bridge concealed him. "Then we both must pay the piper."

"You and I have unfinished business."

"As he was, so you are. As he is, so you shall soon be." Thraen shifted onto the balls of his feet. It was time to start. He started with a dash-into-handspring, aiming to kick the general with the landing.

The blade found a mark at his side, chipping but ultimately turning against his ribs. It left a flap in the skin and uniform, painful and bleeding before he hit the ground. Thraen bared he teeth, gritting them against any noise expressing it though. He had guessed and banked on as much. He was, by default, the loser of this battle. He didn't have a weapon, his magic had range but not of the projectile variety, and this was a general- sheer power, strength and speed was at a gulf.

He had to weather enough wounds to ensure the general thought he was desperate to trying his magic without dying. He had to avoid any distance kill shots and force the man to come for his starseed and prove his idiocy in using a status magic that was already well known. He covered the new wound with a hand, returning to otherwise balanced stance, "Worried if I do? Don't you know how to use that thing, General, afraid of a Super senshi? Does its length compensate?"

I will not fear the dead-maligned. Words cannot hurt that boy now, and his murder is done. This cannot be personal. Execution is not Revenge. That death is merely the proof of guilt in my hand. Execution is not Personal.

But he tries so hard to sting, as though to torture, and to what advantage? He has them all, except anguish in my mind. My being wild serves nothing but to make me an animal to other eyes. But he grimaces at the weapon. He disliked the whistle. His thoughts were flying as the blade was drawn back and swung. It would be thrown again some way and he knew what he would do when it was.

He stopped, dropped, and rolled- the blade sailing where he'd just been. The aim was wicked, and generals plainly had their rank for reason. Nearer the ground was safer. He crouched up again. Sexual inneundo offends him. He would hate Stroud. Talk like Stroud-

"The boots are Wood aren't they? I've got enough stamina, Romeo, if you're so eager to wrap your weapon with mine. "

Well, he's certainly not happy. Ugh, but I can't keep that trash up. I don't even know how she does it. The weapon was coming around to bear again.

He dove left, rolling up to a crouch again to fist right in the chest- no, no he hadn't expected that one. There was that 'warriorness' he lacked coming back to him in spades- a scholar on the battlefield where he didn't really belong. He could predict and pull strings well, but he wasn't infallible. He wasn't perfect.

It drove him back onto he backside from the crouch and a foot still in momentum from the sheer power of someone who could more than jump the two stories of a lieutenant or scout. Who could do more than a Super of Captain. There would be cracks- fractures in the upper ribs that would make breathing difficult later. It was time for the first magic use, while the general was close, even if he teleported away, or leapt away. Get him comfortable he remembers the trick of it the first time, then he won't fear the second. While I can still breath...gads...

" Thraen Annual Planting !"

He backed away from the flowers, as expected. The General hadn't completely figured out what it was that had put him to sleep, maybe- that it was the scent, and not contact. Or he worried of other mucus membrane contact maybe, like eyes? It didn't ultimately matter. The General might soon enough guess as well as the captain-c**-lieutenant to hold his breath or cover his mouth and nose. If one wasn't exerted or desperate for air, it was easy magic to avoid. It may never have been meant for war, but to entice others to relax in those expansive, now skeletal gardens on his asteroid.

At least he was banking on the General's coming to the conclusion of how non-aggressive his scout magic was. But the blade was coming back, at speed, and while he had the time and foresight of it to dive again, getting a face-pelting of flowers as he did. He felt that he was not fast enough this time, hadn't guessed precisely enough. The blade hadn't embedded into him, but it had opened a gash across his latissimus dorsi as it sailed over him. Which could have as easily been his aim. He can as esily predict how I will dodge like I his attacks, and be leading his shots

Boy? Thraen rolled up again. There was blood running down his back, staining blue into brown-black. "You're what, twelve?"

Thraen briefly regretted not trying to source if this general was known among his few contacts- maybe Maia, ********* or Aquarius had a run in or some rumor of him. The impression offered was that he was one of the older combatants in the war. But information straight from the horses' mouth, when that horse was as unreliable a narrator as blade-happy sociopath here, was information best compared for it's worth against more sources. But Athene had left him with a sour taste in his mouth for any of 'contacts' he had- revealed to be more that than 'allies'.

Thraen did choose to leap, but not generically- he landed in the trestle beams of the bridge, looking down at the other. The title imparted would have made him laugh if the sound were ready anymore to his throat (it wasn't). He called himself as much often enough in the face of the oh-so-terrifying cosmic energy that was his to command. I make flowers while the enemy makes bodies-

"Not yet," the super senshi conceded. "We already discussed stamina."