(( Trigger warnings for death, gore, blood ))

Sometimes she didn't think things through. Like going out without her girlfriend. The night wasn't bad, not really, but… She had a creep or two lift up the back of her skirt to see what she wore under it. Every time that happened, Machholz flattened the civilian right into the concrete, but it still happened. It wasn't even at a skeevy dive bar! It was on the streets where she thought there were zero people. She supposed it was the damn homeless men who got the loneliest and felt the need to harass women on the streets.

“That just won't do,” she said, smoothing out her skirts. She fluffed them a little and then moved to sit down on the edge of a building she'd jumped to, huffing quietly. After a long moment, her legs crossed and the white haired senshi's lips curled into a small sort of smile, dark.

She fed into the thoughts in her mind.

If she killed a couple of people would anyone notice? They were just gross homeless men, anyway. They could hurt her precious Lila. A darker look took over her face and Machholz couldn't help but laugh as she looked down at the people that looked like fleas. She was in the business district where the buildings were taller. Her teeth sank into her lip and her eyes flashed a bit more wild.

“Mn… Maybe I should talk to Leto,” she whispered to herself, rubbing at her own arm. Her nails seemed to itch to dig into skin. Be it of a youma, a White Moon senshi, or..a random passerby. “According to them I'm a terrorist anyway… So what… if I put a little terror in their day?”

Machholz licked her black stained lips, the lipstick that never wore off, and just laughed to herself even more. “Aah..I'm going to talk to my Princess...” Or find a general. Someone higher up than her to find out if she could kill for the cause. At least kill to protect her beloved little captain.

In a lot of ways Erythrite wasn't quite as dangerous as she was, despite the many battles she was in. Erythrite didn't have the thoughts she did. Probably didn't have the little voices feeding her every violent thought in her head. “Ah… The urge is really strong.. So strong, indeed.” Ugh, she was getting so very restless. She brought a finger to her lips and grunted a little more as she bit down a bit harder than she meant to.

She moved to bite her nail instead of her finger and then gave into the itch, the urge driving her.

Silently the girl jumped down and landed with a little noise of boots on concrete before she started walking. Her hands went behind her back and she let a relaxed little tune slip from her lips in an almost uplifting whistle. There was something appropriate about whistling something from the movie Kill Bill. Her tongue ran across her teeth as she seemed to flow like water into the deeper parts of the district, deeper into the disgusting alleyways that the buildings hid.

Oh, killing any homeless man wouldn't do. It had to be the one that lifted her skirt. This was probably going to on for a bit before she found the right one, but that was fine. She had time and she had energy.

In her mind, she was doing this to protect Erythrite from suffering the same fate. Ery didn't need to be touched by diseased, disgusting, unwashed hands that they didn't know where they had been. They could be shifting through the garbage, touching pet s**t, something of that unsavory nature.

She clicked her tongue a bit more as she rounded a corner and just peeked into a tent. It was around here that she'd gotten touched.

So far there wasn't an Order or Chaos signature here. It was almost disconcerting. She bit down on her bottom lip yet again as there was just a woman with her dog.

“Hey,” she whispered softly. “Be safe tonight, hm? You know those terrorists are out and about..” Machholz laughed to herself as she wandered away, pushing her hair back over her shoulder.

She turned another corner and that's when she spotted him. The man who dared to touch her fuku. The man who put his grimy, greasy, dirty, nauseating hands all over her skirt and even tried to touch her flesh beneath it.

He was a typical looking homeless man. Not elderly, but definitely dirty looking and in need of a meal. Right now he was curled up on a broken down cardboard box, a dented, beaten up grocery cart sat next to him. A foot was on the underlying part, shoe looking like it was covered in mud and who knew what else. Of course there was a stench radiating from this man and from the alley around him.

It hung thick in the air, overpowering. The smell of ammonia and s**t. Oh, she retained a lot of her prissy way from when she was Serenity. Only Serenity might try to help this man. Machholz? No. She was going to slit this man's throat with her fingernails. That's what she was going to do. Ah, she could see it now.

Her gold eyes slipped closed as she reveled in the image she painted in her head. She was going to get over the man and put her boot to his throat and then slowly talk to him. Call him out on the bullshit he did. Oh, he'd struggle, yes. He would grab her leg, touch her, try to defile her delicate pale skin that was almost completely flawless…

Her train of thought took a different turn as she thought of the scar on her face. A hand went to it, fingers traced it over and over, as if it were some kind of ritual.

General Buddingtonite. Oh. She remembered him at least. She remembered what he did to her. Her poor skin. “I'll never be as beautiful as I was then,” she sighed, a pitiful whine coming from deep in her throat.

“He marred me. He made me ugly.” She seemed to snarly that last sentence out. “Oh, you're on my list, Buddington, boy. I'm going to get the satisfaction of watching you take your last breath from under my shoe. I'll squash you...”

The laugh that happened was loud and alerted the homeless man to the fact he wasn't alone. It wasn't exactly a sane laugh, but it was soft. It was was without a doubt a woman's laugh.

“Who's th..Who's there?” He had to try that sentence twice. His voice was thick, sounded like he was a smoker. “I have a knife!”

A crooning noise would meet his ears as Machholz sank to the shadows. Why not terrify him a bit more? “Poor, defenseless thing,” she whispered, her voice distorting as she dropped it an octave. She whispered directly to him. “You think a knife is going to help you?” Machholz almost sounded fond and pitying. “You're like a child against me.. Oh, dear. You actually don't know who I am, do you?”

That's when Machholz stepped out from the darkness. Her gold eyes flashed unnaturally as she stpped just in front of him. “Do you remember now now, human? Do you remember how you touched me?” Oh, there was a hard, wicked edge to her voice. “You tried, you TRIED. To soil me. To sully me. Your hands were so unwelcomed, so ….” The woman let out a hard growl and took a deep breath to calm herself down.

No. She couldn't lose it. Not yet. Not just yet. Bide your time, Machholz. Remember to savor this. It was going to be her first kill. Her first time to purposely spill civilian blood. Slowly, her tongue came across her lips again, a tick, honestly. One she didn't know what to do with. Sighing deeply, she swallowed and just willed herself to calm down.

“I was just walking over there… Just right over there, and you decided to put your hands all over my skirt. You whistled at me! Remember?” Her voice took on an almost desperate note to it before she laughed again.

The man just watched her, snorted a bit and shook his head.

“Honey,” he started. “You ain't nothin' special.” He shook out his matted hair that looked brown, but it could be blonde. She didn't know. She didn't care. “I wouldn't've touched you with a twelve foot pole. You look like yer a kid!”

Mach's eyes widened and she looked taken aback by that. She looked like a kid? “Excuse me? Excuse ME? I look like a child?” She looked down at herself and then huffed. “No. You're wrong and you're completely disillusion. You're insane.” She stepped forward to him, her nails long on her hand, curled slightly.

If nothing else, she would use her magic on him and then snap his pretty nose so it stabs him in the brain. Oh, that'd be fun. She cooed at him and just hummed afterward, releasing air from her mouth.

”Poison Fog.” She put her hands to her chest and took another deep breath, letting it all out in a green fog that was aimed at the man. It surrounded him and almost immediately he had troubles breathing. The animals in the area scattered as soon as they picked up on a dangerous intent from her. I

It was music to her ears, listening to him cough and gag. She watched him get to his feet, watched him stagger and fall several times, landing with a plop on the concrete. She giggled as her poison did it's job, making this easy for her.

“Time to teach you a lesson.”

With that, she stepped forward while he was on the ground and put her boot to the middle of his back. She stepped hard, twisting her heel, knowing the cloth on his skin was going to leave a hard burn. Too bad he won't suffer for much longer.

“If you did this to me. I wonder what you would do to my sweet, perfect little lover? Would you try to force yourself on her? Get her to do unsavory acts with you? Have you done it already?” It wasn't uncommon for women to be attacked in the streets. “I'll be doing the world a favor, taking out a pervert like you...”

She cooed a bit more at him and gripped a handful of his hair. It was greasy and thin in her fingers. It made her wrinkle her nose yet again and sent a shiver of revolt up her spine. “One less useless member of society to worry about, soon enough. No one'll miss you.” She forced him to keep breathing the fog in, wanting to keep the burning sensation in his nose and lungs going until the fog completely ran out. She shivered as the struggling slowed down.

Once the fog dissipated, she hummed in a pleased way and ran her free hand over his cheek. “Buh-bye!”

Just like that long black nails she'd been growing out sank into the side of his throat with a hard push, puncturing vital veins and arteries. It was a satisfying squelch that met her ears when she did that, and deep red warmth ran onto her fingers, staining her gloves as she yanked her hand hard, ripping flesh.

Oh, the energy wasn't wasted. Oh, no. She dropped his hair and started gathering the frantic energy as he fought to stop the bleeding. She got off of him, pulling her fingers out of his neck with a laugh and just stayed there. The energy swirled in her palm, forming a little pearl. Machholz wasn't going to leave until the man, who had flipped himself over on his stomach in an attempt to get up, died. Until his lifeless body stopped producing energy.

It was only a few minutes, a few minutes out of her day that she stayed and watched a civilian die by her hands. But she felt like she'd been doing it all her life. With the energy depleted from his now motionless corpse, she put it away for safe keeping and then blew the dead man a little kiss.

Time to go home and wash up.

Word Count: 2060