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The arcade was a wonderful place to catch the unsuspecting. There were just as many people out to have a good time as there were bullies and cheats. It was the latter of the two that Richterite lingered around to try and drain or frighten. That’s what he was doing with his time this evening, at least.

Oh, it hadn’t started out that way. Initially he had set out to just blow a few dollars and play a few games. It had been far too long since he’d gone to the arcade, wallowing in a hole that found him distancing himself further and further from the friendly and the familiar. Then some a*****e had bullied a few kids away from a game and he realized just how little he was in the mood to pick a fight out of uniform.

Using a bit of learned stealth he had followed the gentleman (how loosely he used the term) out of the arcade and down the dark side street that he seemed to have parked his car on. Without an audience it was easy to power up and even easier to give the jerk a taste of his own wretched medicine. It wasn’t worth a starseed yank, but it was definitely worth a hassle and an energy drain.

Unfortunately for the Captain, as soon as he had powered up, his energy signature had been picked up.

Sailor Duhr had been wandering around - it was too scattered and disorderly to be properly called patrolling - mind fuzzy from both the weird circumstances surrounding the recent alien’s arrival and the alcohol that had recently entered her system. She considered herself slightly inebriated. She was actually really, really drunk.

So when she noticed the aura, amidst her rooftop hopping and clopping and tromping, she halted. A Negaverse agent? In her neck of the woods? Nevermind that she didn’t actually know where she currently was - Destiny City was her neck of the woods, as far as she was concerned, tonight!

Another few hops and skips and she was on top of the building towering over where the presence lingered. He was more powerful than most of the Negas she encountered, but the whiskey in her system assured her that he was still an acceptable foe to conquer. Leaning over the edge of the rooftop, she studied her prey.

The young man seemed to be a predator himself, following behind an innocent young man. The fiend! How dare he? And how could she attack him with her tornado without the possibility of hitting the innocent bystander?

Suddenly, the most brilliant idea struck her. Sailor Pisces had given her a useful tip and right now, that tip would come very much in handy. Or in her case, footy.

Reaching down, Duhr removed one of her high heels. The blasted things hurt to wear, anyhow, and would prove much more useful in the battlefield as utensils of war as opposed to fashionable accessories. Gripping the shoe in her hand, she let out an incoherent battle cry as she went sailing over the ledge without a second thought, the heel of her shoe poised and ready to smack the Captain that lurked beneath her.

By chance, Richterite missed being hit by the shoe entirely. That ‘chance’ was due to the fact that there was far more of Duhr to hit him than there was of her shoe. The senshi landed atop him and he crumpled to the ground beneath her, sprawled and squished and now even more irritated.

The irritation would have to wait, however. He had to get out from under her and put a bit of distance between them before it would even be worth summoning his weapon. He groaned as he tried to roll over, attempting to push the young woman off of him. “Jimminy… I’m used to having women throw themselves at me, but not like this,” he groaned.

“The name is Duhr.”

She was tossed over with a thunk, a pile of lace, curls and gangly girl. It took a fair amount of uncoordinated struggling for her to rise up to a sitting position, gloves slipping on the fabric and bows of her extraordinarily annoying dress. Her curls were in her face, in her ears, everywhere and she fought to tame them...or at least, shove them out of the way so she could SEE something.

The near-victim, now quite alert to the brawl going on behind him, jumped in his car and took off faster than lightning. Guess he didn’t want to stick around and see if a poor girl needed assistance. Ah, well, Duhr was pretty sure she could have kicked his a** as well anyways, hmph.

She felt a cool breeze on her leg, staring down and finally noticing the long gash in her stocking, trailing down to her bare, wiggling toes. That reminded her.

Reaching down, she yanked off her remaining shoe and hurled it at the Negaverse Captain for good measure.

Something witty lingered on the tip of his tongue. He was going to say something smart-assed about her name and then a shoe came hurtling in his direction. He brought his arms up to defend himself, the heel catching him in the forearm before he could deflect it entirely. “Ow.”

Alright, so it hadn’t really hurt. There had been a good bit of force put behind the chuck, but the shoe itself wasn’t balanced enough for proper throwing and it lost a bit of its momentum before impact. It also impacted a rather heavy coat which, while not armor, was better protection than nothing.

He glanced over his arms to make sure that she wasn’t the Senshi of Overpriced Pumps and was very relieved to see that she was not in possession of another shoe. Lowering his arms slowly he glanced her over. “... You want help up? If we’re going to fight I’d rather make sure you can at least stand.”

Was he making fun of her? She wasn’t sure, his words lacked the mocking oompth that normal Negafellas had in their tones, but at the same time, he was a Negafella and therefore could not be trusted under any cost.

“Ah can DO IT.” She huffed, hearing the trim of her dress rip as she struggled up to her feet. Sure enough, a long strand of lace and fabric dangled from the hoop-skirt. Even if she’d torn it herself, the blasted thing would grow back. It always grew back. She’d even taken scissors to it, once, ripping the whole thing to shreds until it looked like it’d been sent through the garbage disposal - no go. As soon as she’d henshined again, the bloomin’ thing sprung back out like a damn flower in the sunlight.

Shoeless, torn stockings and now a ripped gown, Duhr was a sight in all sense of the word. But she didn’t care. This fella was ready for a fight and she was gonna fight.

Gloved hands balled up into fists. “Ah’ll let ya swing first, even.”

“Are you sure about that? You seem to be having a bit of a rough time.” He stepped back in an attempt to make sure she didn’t fall on him again. Hell, maybe she hadn’t been trying to attack him in the first place. Maybe she’d been trying to figure out how her shoes worked and fell.

No, that was giving her too much credit, he decided as he watched her take a boxing pose. He managed not to roll his eyes as he ran his fingers back through his hair. First a chibi, now this? He hoped that someone out there was having a good laugh at his expense.

“Oh, by all means. Ladies first.” He waved his hand to urge her onward like he was encouraging someone to come along and follow after him. If she could actually land a decent punch in the state she was in he’d deserve it.

This made her furious. He was mocking her!

….. wasn’t he?

She couldn’t figure it out and it was making her even more mad. The fuzzy feeling she had in her head was starting to fade, replaced with a sharp, irksome headache that began to gnaw at her thoughts and vision.

One foot forward, one fist swung out. He dodged it, easily enough, so her other fist went flying. It was clear that he could see all of her punches coming - Duhr was not so simpleminded that she couldn’t figure out why he was such an effective dodger. She knew she was intoxicated, she knew it slowed her reflexes.

Which meant she could do one of two things.

Testing this theory out, she quickly faked a swing, then threw herself at the Captain, as graceful and artfully as a drunk spider monkey.

Richterite stood by and watched as Duhr took swing after swing. The first couple of punches flew at the air, leaving him dazed and a bit confused before he finally had to sidestep another punch. When she finally got close enough he caught the smell of whiskey and his brow furrowed.

“Really, Duhr, you’re out here -- Hey!” He caught the graceful mess before she could fall on her face, sighing as he tried to steady her despite the way she was going at him. He took a swat to the arm and another hit to the shoulder, ignoring the grunted protests she made has he scooped her up into his arms.

“Alright, I think you’ve had enough, miss.” He huffed, shuffling her around to the back of the arcade where he had every intention of dumping her into one of the waste bins if only due to the lack of a water trough. It was too cold for that anyways; wouldn’t want her to freeze to death before she figured out how to stumble home.

…………..what?

This was incredible. It was unbelievable. But most of all, it was unacceptable.

This buffoon was treating her like a child and despite all of her drunken attempts at fighting (he had said he was willing to fight, after all!), he was scolding her and picking her up like a toddler. The NERVE.

This called for testing her second theory out. And, considering the position she was in, wasn’t really a thoughtful consideration at all. The fact she was in his arms didn’t matter anymore, what mattered was teachin’ this fella not to mess with SAILOR DUHR, possibly the rowdiest and NOT TODDLERISH senshi around!

Hands moved together to form the shape of a gun and without aim or question, she hollered as loudly as she could, “TWISTIN’ WINDS!”

She didn’t allow time for the tunnel to form, shoving her hands forward and sending the twister forcibly towards the ground beneath the Captain’s (and hers) feet.

Twisting Wind - creates a small (4-5ft tall) twister which spins in the direction Duhr aims. It picks up and carries with it small debris and objects in its path within a 4-5 foot radius. Any person or creature hit by Twisting Wind is knocked backwards. Lasts up to 2 minutes. Once begun, Duhr has no control over its direction.

“No,” he said sternly as she began to move. “No,” he repeated just as firmly in an attempt to get her to stop whatever it was she was doing with her hands. “Don’t you do that.”

Then it was too late because she was, most definitely, doing whatever it was that she had set out to do.

The twister sprang up beneath them, throwing off his balance completely and sending him sprawling to the ground. Duhr, who had still been in his arms when the twister went off, was jostled roughly out of his arms as he tumbled. “What the hell?” he shouted over the whistling wind, trying to cover his head to protect himself from the roaming debris. Senshi were crazy.

Crazy? Maybe. But Duhr was pretty sure she’d been called worse and by worser people. Well, even though Negafellas were pretty bad as it was anyhow.

She would probably have argued with him out of spite, regardless, if it weren’t for the fact all the knocking and falling around had her stomach lurching and turning until her afternoon snack of waffles and whiskey found its way back out. Instead of arguing and fighting the dumb boy who refused to hit back, she was decorating the sidewalk, hands desperately moving to keep her curls held back.

Okay so, on second thought, slightly intoxicated patrolling was probably not the best of ideas.

On the plus side, she wasn’t hurking on him and none of the -- ugh -- bits had been picked up by the cyclone. Even luckier was that the tiny tornado seemed just as equally determined to be done with this whole situation as he did. It was making a get-away. He?

He was lingering, brow furrowing as he got up and dusted himself off. If he were anyone else the senshi would be in a world of trouble. He had a very brief ‘What Would Painite Do?’ moment where he pictured stepping up behind the sick scout, reaching through her back into the dimension that contained her starseed and snatching it. What good what it do? What what it achieve?

Richterite closed his eyes tightly, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth. He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he banished those thoughts. It wouldn’t do any good. It wouldn’t achieve anything. Not for him personally, at least, and right now he was still more concerned about his own well being than that of the whole. He was also at least slightly concerned for the drunken mess of a sailor scout.

“If you still want me to attack you just let me know. If I’d been drinking that much I’d probably want someone to put me out of my misery…” Probably not helping, Rik.

One last heave and she expelled the remainder of her stomach contents. Her throat burned, the aftertaste of alcohol and dough lingering in her mouth to create a foul combination. She’d managed to avoid getting her hair involved in the whole debacle, curls now bouncing back in their normal, obnoxiously joyful fashion.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her glove, she fought to stand up, turning to face the complete idjit who was still hanging around. Didn’t he see an opportunity to run away when it presented itself? Did he want to get beaten to a pulp by a six foot tall girl in a poofy dress?

“Well get out yer whiskey and Ah’ll do ya the honors.”

If she had any sleeves on her dress, this would be the moment when she’d roll them up. Like an angry bull seeing red, Sailor Duhr set her angry sights on the silver haired man standing in front of her. “Or Ah can put you out of it without a drink in yer hand. Ah’m good either way.”

Her fists rose again - she wasn’t done with him yet.

“Fine. Fine.” Richterite held out his hands to try and hold her off like he would if attempting to tame a large, unwieldy animal. Drunk girls were a little like savage beasts anyways, right?

Yeah. Sure.

This was so stupid. He could have been over and done with it already and yet here he was trying to make sure some dumb girl, some dumb senshi didn’t wind up face down in a pile of her own -- ugh, he didn’t even want to think about it. Instead he just got irritated.

“Honestly. First I get the pre-teens who have a death wish, charging up and trying to attack someone who clearly outranks them and now you? Do you have any idea how ill-conceived your night out is? Powered up and drunk? Or hungover? What? Does powering up suddenly destroy whatever little voice of reason you people have?” Maybe she would be better off if he just put her out of her misery.

Why did they always yammer?

Talk, talk, talk. All of these bad guys with all of their bad guy speeches that went on and on and on and on and on - who did they think they were, all pompous and stuffy-shirted and talky.

Her response was brief. Actually, it involved no words at all.

Instead, both hands rose - the back of one glove, naturally, coated with the slimy remains of what vomit had smeared across her face - middle fingers extending from both hands.

“Ya gonna fight or are ya all talk, Nega?”

Why did these guys have to make things so complicated? Things could go so much faster if they just put away their speeches and got their fists or sticks or whatever the hell they used these days out from the start.

“I’m -- argh.” Richterite summoned one of his cards quickly enough to throw it in her direction out of complete frustration. Had he intended to hit her he was certain that it would have, instead the metal blade scraped the wall behind her before clattering to the ground.

“Go home. Before someone else finds you -- Someone who won’t hesitate to do what I should be doing.” He summoned the card back to his hand before vanishing, putting as much distance between himself and the senshi as he felt was safe to do so without completely depleting his energy levels by teleporting.

There was a whiz by her head, a clamor against the brick wall behind her, another snarky comment and then Silver Hair was gone. Just, gone. Vanished. Poofed.

The wind taken from her sails, the balled fists fell to her sides, the girl suddenly feeling the exhaustion her body was experiencing, once masked by the adrenaline rush coursing through her system. She felt ill - the alcohol was probably still working its way out, her stomach tender from its earlier expulsion.

As much as she loathed to admit it, the fella had been right. Above anything else right now, she needed to go home.

Looking both ways, as if to make sure he wasn’t lurking nearby, the blonde powered down in the alleyway. Stepping over her unfortunate splatter on the pavement, she began the long trek back to her apartment.

So much for successfully patrolling tonight.

oh hey thar