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The visit to Scholomance drew out a great deal of his disbelief, leaving the page wary and wary for this strange second life. No great lengths of wandering ever separated him from the piercing prevalence of that place, and no amount of drink ever truly assuaged his nerves from the recent visit. He found himself marginally less besieged when present as a page, and often took to that form as soon as his work concluded and the remainder of his employees left for home. Enrique caught on about the absentmindedness of the normally persnickety pawn shop owner but hadn't yet confronted him over it. Scholomance recognized that he had a short few days to right his life.

He paused, his gaze drawn to the way that candlelight flickered out from the stained glass windows of a church. He wondered, then, when the accusations of drugs would come. He wondered if they were precisely the solution he needed right now. Enrique knew his history; would it not behoove him to follow old paths in a convenient coverup? The temptation pained him terribly, threatening to dispel the foreboding pall that fell over him in the past hours.

For a moment, he was reminded of his speculations about where this path would lead, and shuddered at their accuracy.

Scholomance pondered wandering inside for a rest. He walked for a solid hour to clear his head, and the historical district housed nothing more than this church that remained open after nightfall. A quick scan of the area revealed no benches - the paved walkways only housed mature trees at regular intervals with no indications toward parks. Most buildings sported wrought-iron fencing to keep vandals out, and the rest used chain link and an abundance of caution tape to denote the condemned. But his legs grew weary and exhaustion set in at an exponential clip, so Scholomance knew he needed to retire for the moment. The church steps looked every bit as inviting as the rest of the eerily quiet historical district, but lounging in the light seemed somehow more visible to the decrepit wonder he supposedly kept, so Scholomance crossed the blackened, lonely street to hover around the more familiar abandoned building.

In a sense, it felt comforting.
In another sense, he felt something far closer than his wonder that unsettled him.

"What was that for?" He asked, irked. He knew, from various warnings, that real danger existed. Was this his first taste of it, beyond Juno's unhappy meeting? Part of him still wanted to doubt. Instead, Scholomance approached the youth while castigating his foe. "Do you often go around trying to flying tackle people into eating pavement? Some ******** upstanding citizen you are..." Not that Isaiah had much room to talk.

Then you can get the ******** out for starters, he wanted to say, but this one... No, he knew not to engage people like this. Those smiles were worn by the shellshocked, and this one looked as though her mouth might break if her grimace grew any wider.

Despite that Scholomance started backing up, this one wouldn't stop moving. His progress halted when his heel found a beam and she was already upon him, gesturing toward his chest. And talking only works with sane people, he reminded himself. And with the senshi intimately close now, he saw quite well what he believed to be some kind of black gemstone hung from beads across her forehead. Instead, a gaping hole splintered and fragmented itself across her skin, as if branding her, as if someone attempted a lobotomy so gruesome and imprecise that she should've long been dead.

And that same gaping hole sat over her sternum, where some kind of jewel resided. He did not have long to look at it, for she drew away suddenly, but neither forehead or chest hole looked wholly separate from her skin.

Small wonder this one could function, even if only at batshit levels.

But when she drew away, and she did not part by much, the sudden segue into mentions of swords left him confused until the scanty seconds that followed. Her movements outstripped what reaction time he had and soon he recognized a sword composed entirely of blood - though only after it struck. His reasoning informed him that he should be looking at impalement, but he found no sword protruding from his chest upon looking downward. His uniform looked torn, and the skin beneath showed until blood painted over the pale surface. It began its short crawl down the front of his uniform and the pain of it soon accompanied his realization. It ached sharply as any clean cut did, and any minute movement reminded him freshly of its presence.

And when Scholomance tried to take a step away from the nut that attacked him with such a heartstopping method, he found his legs much too weak from the surplus of adrenaline to work as intended. He stumbled while trying to scrape himself away from the encounter, braced gloved hand against a tilted beam, and tried quite desperately to leave her behind. "Not sticking around for this," he muttered breathlessly.

Normally I'd be flattered but I'm more partial to not dying. He spared no glance backward. Heart already pounding so desperately that he feared a myocardial infarction. He feared a sword to the back. He feared the thought of encountering the manner of magic that opened holes in her head and heart, which only fed him impetus to move as quickly as his legs could take him. One of the alley entrances opened maybe half a block from him; reaching it should prove easier with his advanced speed -

But she proved faster -

He had too little time to register the strike before his gaze blackened, his impulses ceased, and his face ate the pavement.

The knight plummeted like a tree felled, a nice birch out of the forest of civilian pines, or an orange for the harvest out of so many crab apples. The super senshi didn't waste time, not yet sure if he was just dazed or out cold, and straddled his shoulders to sit squarely over his shoulderblades as an inconvenient weight that hopefully would pin him. He wasn't moving yet. A hand in his hair and hauling his head back to get a look at his face revealed lolled, mostly closed eyes and a slacked mouth. "We got a Bo-go..."

The hand already on him, Haüyne tried to focus and start siphoning energy into a small ball. Maybe it was elementary to use full contact to do so as a super senshi, but the practice was badly needed. Other captains could do it with more finesse, like teleporting. Then a growing wisp, first a matchstick and then a torch, a flame that built came to the back of awareness and ached in the hollow darks of head and heart. Something was coming- another aura with an astringence like this knights, but different somehow. An aura that was stronger.

Haüyne tried turning gaze to look for the source, energy draining slowing to a drip at best in the division of focus before stopping altogether at a small orb in hand. There was someone in a brilliant, light colored uniform that picked up the moonlight. They were closing distance. The senshi of execution called out, standing up from vulturing over Scholomance, "Come to be the cavalry, mop-top?"

"Nobody likes a quitter." This was a senshi. A white moon senshi, like the sort mentioned by various officers in debriefing. The sort that it was implied Haüyne had been before being rehabilitated. High-and-mighty had been listed as a common attribute. "Just the same, play around with the guillotine and you'll beheaded for an accident."

Haüyne moved from arms reach of the page, but no further. Getting too far away left the fallen open to a poach and run. It closed the distance a little to the White Moon Senshi. I wonder if I could manage. No use letting him lurk there. Maybe I can get to starseeds out of this. It's impossible to focus on hearing if Sleeping Beauty is going to get up.

Then the senshi of execution shifted again, drawing fingers along the red markings on forearms, "By the Sword!"

And hucked the second blood longsword at Aegir.

"That'd be a no." He wasn't stupid, but even if he had been dense as a brick the brunette's words and actions would brought him to the same conclusion. And the comment about the guillotine and beheading? Aegir couldn't help but snicker a little bit - it was funny! A terrible pun, but also pretty hilarious. Don't laugh, jesus - the last thing I should be doing is encouraging her.

Not that he was given much time to enjoy the corrupt senshi's sense of humor or berate himself for snickering about it before she was calling out magic and flinging a blood-blade at him. Aegir's response was to try and dodge...by jumping at Haüyne. Maybe not the smartest of plans, since it meant he got a bit sliced up, but it afforded him a chance at tackling the other senshi.

Unless she too dodged. Which was a distinct possibility - unless she was that devoted to standing over the slowly-rousing page's body. Hopefully she'd focus on him and the other guy could get away -- wait, did he know this guy!? His costume really did look more familiar, the glimpses he was getting since his attention should have been on the other senshi.

Brazenly and brashly the senshi barreled forward, unheeding the attack called. The blonde simply ran through it, appearing unaffected in the process, but the damage showed well enough against uniform. Scholomance found no interest in waiting around to help the man; that tangle slid out of his hands the moment that the hole-ridden senshi focused on a different target.

Walking proved difficult at first with his surroundings careening with each step, but his brain slowly recalibrated the outside world to a more understandable (and static) form. He crossed into the street, and from the street to the sidewalks, and from the sidewalks to the gaping maw of trash and detritus that formed the many neglected alleyways of Destiny City. The collective sound of their assault rang clarion down the grungy walls, but he paid little attention to it. A gloved hand found one brick surface to hold onto, and for the first time since powering up, he found himself highly grateful for the extra layer of protection between himself and the mystery liquid that long ago stained the surface. In hindsight, he would've guessed blood for all the chance encounters that occurred in such private alcoves.

The scuffle turned to yelps, and a quick glance over shoulder confirmed the brunette attempting to bite at Scholomance's mystery savior. Was that Aegir? It looked like him - but no matter; sticking around only afforded hostage collateral, it looked like, and if Aegir was the type to spring into the fray then he'd be first to fall to such tactics. Scholomance knew better than to lay his life down for a spot of misplaced altruism.

When the page rounded the corner to a communal delivery street, he dropped his powered disguise as soon as he could. Dapper Saturn wear fell away to his usual rivethead sense of style, and he immediately felt a greater sense of comfort. Not only did he look like himself, but he needn't fear auric recognition leading someone to where he now stood. He crouched low for some moments and debated sending a phone call to 911 to break up the fight, but decided against it. Instead he cradled head in hands, hoping that the aches throughout his body might subside enough to ease his walk home.