The thought had been with her ever since her last visit to her planet. Penthesilea still wasn’t sure what was keeping her out of the buildings on her planet - why she could go some places but not others, why what looked to be the most important of her planet’s spaces were closed to her. And it made her want to open the doors all the more. So she was out prowling, hunting for a likely Negaverser to be her opponent.

Her sacrifice, really. Perhaps spilling blood on the rounds of the Colosseum - completing the Trial of First Blood, as Evadne had - would let her into those buildings that had been closed to her on her visit with Lellouch, and again on her most recent one. It felt wrong, to her, that she was barred from exploring places on her own planet, particularly important places. It was hers, why couldn’t she just see it all?

The aura of a Captain prickled her senses, and she grinned. This was good - someone with whom she would be on equal footing. There would be no fun in dragging up a Lieutenant, and she didn’t want to chance it not being enough. So as high as she could manage - yes. The redhead snuck up slowly, fingers twitching in anticipation.

She struck quickly, with no ********!” The Captain shouted, swinging his weapon - a shovel - straight at her. “Who the ******** are you?”

“I’ll tell ya later,” Penthe promised, eyes on the weapon. That would be useful - a good hit and he’d be unconscious long enough for her to get him to the Colosseum and get this little ritual started. “Since we’re gonna have a chance t’ get t’ know each other pretty ********’ well, in just a little bit here.”

“No, we’re not,” he said, and he swung the shovel at her hard. She took the hit, gasping heavily, and then grabbed it, yanking as hard as she could. It sent him off his feet, and he let go of the weapon.

“Night night,” she said, and then she shifted her grip and brought the shovel down on his head, knocking him unconscious. “Don’t worry too much,” she said to his body as she scooped him up, summoning her phone to her hand, “you’re gonna serve a higher purpose.”

She pressed the center button on her phone, and was swept off to space.

This time, for the first time in all her visits, she landed directly in the center of the Colosseum. She dropped the Captain in the center, and raced off to where she’d found the knives before, grabbing them and returning to the surface.

And then, she waited, and waited, and finally the Captain stirred.

“Where the hell am I?” He asked.

“My planet,” the Senshi replied. “Penthesilea.” It was the closest he’d get to a name. She offered him the blade, hilt-first. “Take this, an’ we’re gonna have a little duel, Captain…”

“Adamantite,” he said, taking the knife warily. Penthesilea examined hers, running her fingers over the shining silver blade. She wondered, briefly, if there was some kind of incantation to make this work properly - and then the words came to her, unbidden.

“I invoke the Trial of First Blood,” she said, and for that moment, her accent vanished. Both knives glowed a searing red, and Adamantite’s shovel vanished.

“Hey! What the -” she watched him reach for it, try to pull it back, and it refused to come.

“Looks like it’s just you, me, an’ these,” Penthe said, holding up her blade. “Neither of us can leave ‘till one of us is dead, an’ you’d best hope that me dyin’ kicks ya back t’ Earth.” Not that she had much fear of death. Knives had always been her specialty.

“You’re insane,” he said, and Penthe laughed, then lunged at him. He parried, and sparks flew when the blades touched.

“Maybe, but y’ don’t have much choice but t’ go along with me, do ya?” She said, and then she ducked under his guard, aiming to stab him in the gut. He yanked her arm away with his other hand, opening a cut that wasn’t deep enough to kill, and then slashed across her shoulder.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked, desperately, as he took a few steps back. She circled, like a predator, crouched and ready to strike. “Why did you bring me here? Why not just kill me back on Earth, if that’s what you wanted?”

There was a tremor of fear in his voice, and she realized that Captain or not, he had yet to be in a situation where his life was on the line. People who had faced death before were usually less pants-wettingly terrified when it came again.

“B’cause th’ ground here demands blood. This is the planet’ a War, boy, an’ you just happened t’ be in th’ wrong place at th’ wrong time. Tragic, really, but I promise I’ll haul your corpse back home. Ain’t gonna leave ya t’ rot in space.” She was casual, still considering her angle of attack.

“Oh, that’s comforting,” he said sarcastically. “I think I’ll just kill you and skip out on that part.”

“Why don’t ya actually try, then?” Penthesilea asked, laughing. “I know y’all can grab starseeds, why not come at me an’ try t’ pull mine?” Then, she launched in again, heart racing with the thrill of the fight. She lashed out with her blade, and he dodged, so she barely nicked his cheek.

“That’s not a bad idea,” he growled, and then, he stabbed forward, actually getting her right between the ribs. She made a soft gasping noise of pain.

Maybe she shouldn't have taunted him - that was a foolish move, and she’d paid for it. But her fingers still gripped her own knife, and she wasn’t dead yet.

“I’m gonna take your starseed, he said, and he reached into her chest to prove his point, “and I am going to eat it to fix the damage you’ve done to me, then I’ll put your corpse somewhere nice and public and I really, really ******** hope there are people who’ll recognize you under that mask so they’ll know not to ******** with the Negaverse.”

Penthe let him monolouge. Even as agony wracked her, centered around her starseed, she brought the blade up, and just as he was about to pull, she drove it into the side of his neck. Blood sprayed out, onto her hand and arm.

He released his grip and fell with a surprised gurgle.

She reached down, pulling the blade out of her stomach and pressing a hand to it.

“Sorry, Captain,” she said, “t’night wasn’t your night.”

She swore she could hear the sound of cheering, an audience enough to fill the stadium whooping and yelling. There was a whisper on the wind, familiar words form the memory she’d experienced with Lellouch.

“The Trial of First Blood is complete.”