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Cybele, of course, was hunting.

Cybele was always hunting. There were those who were fighting for the end of the war, fighting for a chance to go on with their lives. Some of them were people close to Cybele. They were her sister, and her girlfriend, and so of course she kept their goals in her mind, but if that day came when there was peace, she wasn't entirely sure what she would do with herself.

Cybele fought because she was a warrior. She hunted because she was the Huntress.

Of course there was more to it than that. The Negaverse was terrible. Metallia destroyed lives, and her influence needed to be wiped from the face of the planet. There were people who deserved to live in peace. Those important reasons didn't change the fact that a large part of what kept Cybele going was the fact that where she felt most comfortable in this life was when she was prowling the streets, looking for something dangerous to go after.

So, she was prowling now, through a park at the edge of town. The darkest part of the winter was over now, so there was just a twinge of twilight in the air as she scanned a playground, and then a small garden area, and then peeked behind some trees.

That was when she felt something interesting. A General. She straightened.

Jet.

That got an eyebrow raise out of her that had more to do with the fact that they'd let a General-King out of the office than it had to do with any unpleasant history that the two of them shared. She'd half been expecting Faustite, or perhaps someone else equally terrible who had ended up promoting to General.

Jet?

Nobody had submitted any reports on him since Ganymede had returned and told all of them about his promotion. Cybele had assumed that, like the others, he'd found something to do with himself besides simply fieldwork.

She'd been wrong.

The urge to throw a fist at his face was strong, but she was also aware that it was stupid. Her fingers curled tighter, but that was all. Otherwise, she kept a straight face.

"They have, General-King," she told him, her voice taking on the obedient cadence that it had held while she'd been corrupted, as she tried to buy time to assess the rest of the situation. "Far better than your allies ever did."

"Axinite?" Cybele's eyes narrowed. "Axinite corrupted me." Cybele let the word linger on her tongue, drawing the syllables out a bit more than was strictly necessary. She'd learned from Niter a few days before that Jet did not like the term corrupt, that he presumably preferred whatever censored terms made the Negaverse seem more favorable, and so she said it loudly, used it as a tiny weapon.

"He destroyed me. He stripped me away from everything that mattered to me, ignored my preference for a warrior's death. I don't care that he gave me cookies afterwards. If that's not mistreatment, I don't know what is."

She stood stark still, fists still curled, her eyes carefully on Jet in face he tried to teleport. She knew about Empyrean, knew that he'd been attacked in the middle of a conversation, and so she was wary.

"Nobody else was cruel, exactly. Sylvite had her own problems, but she's no longer under your jurisdiction." Cybele's eyes flicked skyward at that thought, and she shook her head. "But I was a tool, and everyone knew it. My life had been spared so I could be useful. It does things to your ability to relate to people. I believe I was called Sylvite's Aquisition to my face at one point."

Slowly, she shook her head. "But that doesn't really matter to you, does it? Other than how you can use it to keep the next one around longer? I'm just a traitor, in the end."

The gaslighting about how she'd wrongly perceived what Axinite had done to her got little more than a small shake of the head out of Cybele, externally. Inside, the disgust she felt towards Jet only solidified.

If the barbs about Sylvite were supposed to likewise get under her skin, they did not. Of course she had mixed emotions about that whole turn of events, but she'd been processing them on her own time. "Look, I don't know what happened there, save that she got out." she told him, honestly. She knew that she'd been the one to free Ganymede but she doubted Jet needed her to tell him that. "I've barely seen her since I purified."

If anything, as Jet continued to speak, a smile grew on Cybele's face. She shook her head once more, because of all the ways that he was wrong, but by the time he was done, she was smiling wide.

"Of course I could have stopped being a tool," she told him. "Found relationships where people respected me for who I was. I could have become more powerful, more resilient, found reserves of strength that I didn't know I had. I could have become something more."

Cybele stood tall. Her feet were grounded, solid and confident. The light colors of her dress nearly glowed, even in the dim light. There was a spark in her eyes. She ran a hand across the feather-tips of one of the wings on her waist.

"I've done it, haven't I?"

Cybele had learned that she could summon her magic without having to scream for it. Usually, she said the words, but not now. She needed the subtlety while Jet lounged across his park bench. This was her chance. She might not be able to kill him but she could do something to make up for all the pain that he'd inflicted on her family.

Her eternal magic formed in her hands, and she shot it at him, as fast as she could.

"If that means I have to stand against you, so be it."

There it was. After all that talk, there was her most powerful magic, her one shot, whizzing through the empty air like it was nothing.

She thought of Sheikh. Specifically, she thought about his bloodied head rolling across the grass of the battlefield. Suddenly, she was remembering that he'd been an Eternal, too.

"No," she spat, half an answer and half a plea as he was already behind her, already swinging that glaive. It hit. Of course it hit. He was fast. Something in Cybele's midsection cracked, a rib, probably. Something between a hiss and a whimper came out of her mouth, even as she was pushed a good foot or two away by the impact.

She tasted blood as she bit her lip against the pain. She ignored it, bit harder, forced herself to stumble a few more steps back.

"But someone has to stand up against you anyway."

People couldn't just always run away from him and let him do what he wanted. Someone had to do something, even if this was probably too reckless.

If she could keep enough space between them to get her Super magic off, perhaps she could get away.

He was innocent, he said. He was minding his own business. The edges of Cybele's vision went blurry from something that was deeper than just physical pain.

"You killed my father," she hissed, before she could stop herself. Every muscle in her face was pulled taut. Her cheeks were so red from emotion that they nearly glowed against her pale skin.

It was a stupid thing to say, she thought, looking at his gem-studded blade where it rested against the ground. It did not frighten her. Her death was long overdue. That did not frighten her, either, but she did not want to die saying something that Jet would think proved his point.

The family had not been kind to him. Cybele knew that.

Jet's sins were worse, but he wasn't here to talk about that. He was here to take her to Laurelite.

The solution to this was to live.

She also did not want to live with him having more information on who she belonged to, but too late. It was out of her mouth, and that was the better option here.

While he talked, while he tried to prove that he was gallant and reasonable, Cybele summoned her Super magic. It had the obvious visuals of a bow. There was no getting around that. Still, she was already running, broken ribs or no, teeth digging deeper into her bloodied gums as she waited for her arrows to rain down, make her faster, and help her focus through the pain.

In another time, Alastor wouldn’t have powered up at all before making his first strike. He would have let Sessrumnir make the first strike and let Jet’s attention stay focused on him, and he would have come from the other direction.

Michael’s concern for his safety and privacy were at the forefront of his thoughts, though, and what would have worked on his own world didn’t work here on Earth.

He didn’t regret his choice when he saw Sessrumnir’s reaction to the man. He hadn’t met a General Sovereign, and he’d have been fine if he never had.

Even this one.

It had taken only a second to realize that it was Cybele facing off against him, and that only steeled his resolve to do whatever was necessary right now. Jet was talking about a family reunion and he sounded like he knew far too much.

Sessrumnir’s insistence on privacy made perfect sense when Jet seemed to be stringing things together.

They weren’t here to talk.

With Princess already out, he wasted no time with his own magic.

Quote:

Super Sailor Scout Attack: Absence

Alastor speaks the name of his attack and every enemy nearby will feel a complete absence of hope, replaced instead with a strong sensation of despair. The area feels thick with gloom and misery and targets may feel as if there is suddenly an unbeatable obstacle they have no chance to overcome. Targets may feel absolute hopelessness and they may become acutely aware of the hardships and loss in their life. The magic can make someone feel fatigued or physically exhausted and can be disorienting and emotionally draining. The magic lasts for thirty five seconds and has two uses. It affects all enemies within a twelve foot radius of Alastor and the magic will follow him if he moves, but the effects end if the character moves out of radius.

The arrows never fell near him, so Jet could only assume Cybele had used her magic on herself, as Faustite had described it. Some kind of power boost that was, honestly useless. If she wanted a bit of a head start to run away, that was fine. He could play cat and mouse with her after he dealt with these other two--

He’d almost forgotten about the dog. It seemed as though Sessrumnir and this dark haired Eternal weren’t interested in chatting. What a shame.

Jet teleported.

The dog’s fangs chomped down on air. And just as he had with Cybele, Jet was generous and swung with the dulled edge of his glaive--

The wolf had rematerialized when he did, nearly the same spot, and he hissed his displeasure and pain as she bit at his ankle.

A wave of fatigue washed over him, even as he quickly used his weapon to swing at the wolf to get her off, uncaring if he cut her in half in the process. She disappeared when the blade nearly made contact.

The heaviness that pushed down on him-- it had to have been magic, and he laughed, despite his heart racing, despite the memories of his brother, and the dreams of Aquamarine in a pool of blood.

“We haven’t met,” he observed with a grin, his teeth bared as unfriendly as he could.

Jet spared a glance to where Cybele was. She wasn’t too far that he couldn’t just teleport over to her if he wanted to.

“What happened to… what’s his name…? Remus? Did he die or did he leave you?”

Sessrumnir knew that Jet would likely teleport, and he was ready when he did. Princess was ready. And knowing that he would likely teleport still within the range of Alastor’s magic, he guessed that Jet would reappear behind either himself or Alastor.

He knew he was lucky with that guess. He didn’t want to leave Cybele unguarded, but Jet had a vendetta. Maybe she could take the opportunity to run.

And he knew some of Sessrumnir’s history.

“Go to hell,” he growled, color blanching from his face as he was reminded that Jet was the reason he’d almost lost his starseed in exchange for Remus’ life. He didn’t regret it, but he didn’t need to be reminded.