Merry Christmas/happy holidays everyone! Or happy 25th of December if you don't celebrate those things. Either way, hope everyone's having a good one out there. To celebrate, here's an extra festive chapter* for The Witches' Night.

*Festivity levels aren't actually any higher than normal.

Disclaimer: I don't own Warhammer 40k or Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Her breath roiled from her chest in ragged gasps as her leaden feet forced themselves onwards in the winding corridors. All around her, the mocking tittering of unseen entities haunted her every step. They weren't even trying to be subtle anymore. Paths forwards would appear and disappear seemingly at random, bent and twisted by the will of the monsters surrounding her.

Madoka could feel the main beast. Daemon. Horror. Whatever it was. She could feel the creature's presence as though it were breathing down her neck, causing her to throw panicked glances back the way she'd come every few yards. It was closing in. Savoring her frantic need to escape as it continued on unimpeded by the impossible maze of metal.

She stumbled, nearly falling over her own feet as her ankle twisted painfully. Shoving off the wall forcefully, she pushed herself onwards once again, much to the amusement of her unwanted audience.

You should be more careful dear. You'll hurt yourself if you keep running yourself ragged like this. Why don't you just lay down and wait for me? I promise that it won't be nearly so bad as you think.

She focused inwards, throwing up the mental barriers she'd been practicing since having been taught the dangers of the Warp. They provided only a modicum of insulation against the daemon's voice, and far from deter it, the resistance seemed to merely encourage its intrusions. If she had the luxury of being able to sit and focus, she might have been able to keep it suppressed entirely, but fleeing as quickly as she could had the unfortunate side effect of straining her focus and leaving her mind vulnerable.

Self-preservation instincts urged her to turn and face the monstrosity. Use her powers to wipe it away just as she had the Orks and their space craft. Despite the logic of the solution, she was held back by the simple fact that a shot from her bow would obliterate far more than the creature hunting her. She didn't yet know how to control her powers, and when she was wearing the mantle of the goddess… it was like she was another person. She wasn't certain things like the importance of keeping the ship's hull intact would even occur to her at a time like that. As for her sidearm, well... she didn't really want to get close enough to shoot it.

What's the matter little one? Are you frightened? There's no need for that. Just come with me, and I promise that it won't hurt a bit. Just close your eyes and let all those little fears go. You have no need for them now.

She grit her teeth, redoubling her efforts to cordon off her consciousness as she pulled around the next corner. Her simple shoes slipped against the metal, threatening to topple her, but she managed to catch herself and push onwards regardless.

Distantly, she wondered if this was how the greenskin runt had felt when it had been fleeing from her.

Another corner. Another turn in the path. Another wave of vertigo as the halls she raced through twisted and turned before her, swaying like indecisive serpents caught up in some primal dance. She didn't pause to let herself think of the impossible sights, driving her legs along the uneven ground with every bit of resolve she had for fear of what would happen should she stop.

I think we've had enough of this game, child. Any more, and you could end up damaging yourself. What a tragedy that would be.

All at once, the floor beneath her feet bucked upwards, sending her flying with a cry of shock. She instinctively twisted her body, trying to hit the ground in a roll to lessen the impact, but only succeeding in slamming her side into the metal grating instead of her back. The blow knocked the wind out of her, leaving her gasping and struggling to rise, and feeling the menacing presence of the daemon speeding towards her.

Shhhh… it will all be over soon.

The previously solid flooring distorted, twisting around her like threads of mercury, entwining her limbs and pinning her to the ground. She tried to shout, only for the bindings to choke out any noise by compressing her chest, leaving her unable to make more than a helpless wheeze. Each time she struggled, the living metal would coil tighter, digging into her flesh like barbed wire and bringing tears of pain and frustration to her eyes.

That was when she felt it.

A presence loomed over her, blocking out the whispering and chittering of the lesser familiars. All was silent as a towering creature peered down at her, giving her a glimpse of the one who'd captured her.

It was off. Even for a monster, Madoka could feel how this being didn't belong. It had the shape of an abnormally tall woman, possessing flawless uncovered skin that shone a subtle violet, and possessing two of the most piercing blue eyes she'd ever seen. In place of her right hand, the female-thing had a crab-like claw, coated in sleek, ebony chitin. Two elegant horns curved up from her head, curling in a way that served to further emphasize her height.

Despite all of this, it was clear that something was terribly wrong with her. Her form flickered, rippling like a pool of oil. Her off-colored flesh would distort and break, only to flow back together a moment later in an entirely new shade of color. Her perfect smile would twist, becoming too wide or too small, while her teeth cracked and repaired themselves in a macabre horror show.

There you are…

Words fell from her distorted lips like liquid poison, corrupting everything unfortunate enough to be within earshot. Simply hearing them was enough to send pinpricks of sharp discomfort all along Madoka's body, causing her to tense further in her unnatural prison. The voice didn't come from the creature's mouth, but instead echoed from somewhere inside her own mind.

There was no other choice. Pushing aside her reservations in favor of survival, Madoka drew her attention inwards, reaching out towards the light buried inside her mind. Her hands grasped towards the presence of her divinity, pulling forth the-

I wouldn't do that if I were you.

The daemon's clawed limb shot past her face like a bolt of lightning, severing the chain at her throat and tore her Soul Gem away from her body. The girl's heart very nearly stopped right there, seeing the stone clutched precariously between the vicious, barbed pincers.

My lady wants you alive, but if you choose to start calling forth your other self I'll have no choice but to crack you open and simply deliver your soul instead. You don't want that, now do you?

She couldn't say anything with the wiry coils compressing her chest, but no answer was needed. Her sudden lack of resistance told the monster everything. There would be no easy out for her this time. No ace in the hole. No matter how quickly she tried to call upon her powers, she wouldn't be fast enough to stop the daemon from shattering her Soul Gem.

For the second time, her greatest strength was turned to her greatest weakness.

The creature smiled. A chilling, heartless grin, paraded as a mockery of a soothing gesture.

Now then… I think it's time we get moving.

It was too late. Maximillian knew that. So near, but yet so impossibly far away. His body, wracked with pain as wave after wave of Warp twisted energy rolled over him, simply couldn't keep up with the monstrosity. It was far too swift. He could already feel it hovering over the light that was Madoka's soul.

This couldn't stand. This wouldn't stand. The Ordo Malleus didn't balk in the face of any nightmare, and this horror would be no different.

"Let no sinner look to the skies with hope."

He ignored the hooks that gouged at his mind, tearing into him as he began to channel the energies that were his curse. His birthright.

"Let no daemon 'ere dream of redemption."

His staff beat a rhythmic drum against the ground beneath his feet, steadily growing in intensity until the walls began to shudder with the cast-off shreds of force being suffused into his mind.

"So said the Saint to the wicked masses…"

He focused on the darkness that was the daemon. His enemy. Most hated of foes. Eldritch abomination, for whom there could be no half-measures. His mind's eye homed in on the hideous soul with inhuman intensity.

"Perish in flames."

There was little warning. One moment, the monster hovered over her, her human arm reaching down to the restrained child, and the next…

She screamed. A sudden, gruesome, heart-wrenching scream of anguish as white flame erupted all around her, scouring the walls of the darkness and lighting up an answering choir of horrific cries. The outburst was so shocking, so unexpected, that Madoka didn't even have time to be terrified as the cascades of ethereal fire washed over her body.

The girls closed her eyes on reflex, expecting a wave of unbearable heat as the crackling, dancing tongues of white flooded the hallway. Instead of searing agony however, she felt a calming warmth come over her. Blinking in surprise, she was greeted by the sight of her restraints melting away while her body was left unharmed.

Above the screaming she-daemon, above the hollers and cries of the burning familiars, above the roaring of the flames that had been birthed from nothing, a single sound reached her ears. Soft. Subtle. Very nearly lost on the girl in the midst of the chaos. She only just caught the clinking noise of her gem being dropped to the ground as the corrupted daemonette lost her grip on it.

By then, it was all a matter of instinct. Madoka shot off the spot without pause, darting beneath the flailing limbs of her tormentor and snatching up the jewel that sparkled, untouched, in the midst of the inferno. She would not waste this chance.

NO!

Whether the enraged cry was a denial of the torment she was experiencing, or an attempt to halt the girl from running, she didn't stop to consider. As soon as she felt the prickling sensation of the daemon's attention, the girl spun on her heel and brought the pistol in her free arm up, catching a glimpse of the sickeningly powerful eyes of her hunter.

With a cold weight in her gut, she hammered the trigger as hard and as quickly as she could, adding the deafening sound of gunfire to the hellish symphony already filling the halls. Bullets tore into the daemon's form, exploding the cracked skin in miniature craters and causing her to scream once again, recoiling from her former captive.

But she didn't die. Even as the shards of metal ripped into her body, her skin was already knitting itself back together. All too soon, the blasts echoing from her pistol were replaced by hollow clicks. That was fine. She'd bought herself time.

Dropping the spent weapon, her feet surged forth with renewed energy, rapidly distancing herself from the tortured monster and its minions. For the first time since she'd been pulled down through the decks of the Leshara's Grace, the halls were still and stable. Whatever force had immolated the daemons had been enough to break the spell they were using to twist her path.

Now all she had to do was find another a way to silence the horrible woman for good.

They were coming for him. He could already hear their clamoring outcries of fury, each howling for his blood as their wounded mistress unleashed them. He knew they were coming for his head, and he was unable to fight back.

His staff slipped from unfeeling fingers as his now-sightless eyes stared ahead in the direction of the bloodthirsty racket. Every ounce of his remaining strength went to holding himself upright. The damage done to his nervous system made moving almost impossible, but he refused to meet the foe lying on his back.

"Forgive me Lady Inquisitor…"

Their hideous souls raged against his mind, tearing into him long before their physical forms began pulling free from the walls. Their manic fury turned to glee upon seeing him, launching forwards like the hellish hunting pack they were.

"…but I fear that I may not be able to watch over your mission as I'd hoped to."

The pain burning through his system was pushed back as he balled his hands into fists. What little control he still held over his psychic powers lurched to the forefront of his consciousness, causing the air to drop in temperature as the creatures drew within arm's length. The psalms of banishment he'd rehearsed throughout countless hours of his life took shape in his chest unbidden, reacting automatically to his unholy foes.

"Ave Imerpator… Lady Tomoe…"

One by one, the lights in the lower decks blinked out, blanketing the world in darkness as the tides of daemon-kin tore into their prey.

She was back to running, but the atmosphere was different now. The miracle that had come to her aid in the form of brilliant flames had forced her to change her perspective. She'd come close to disaster. So terribly close. If she'd been captured, it would be far more than just her life being forfeit. Walpurgisnacht had been overwhelmingly powerful in her own world, but in this one, where despair and anguish were offered in abundance for her to gorge upon…

She couldn't afford to die. To leave this place, no matter how heartless it might be, to clean up her mess. She needed to survive. To find a way to fix the problem that her hastily formed wish had caused.

She needed a weapon.

Thoughts of reuniting with Sayaka, Mami, and her forces had faded into the back of the girl's mind. One hand clutching tight to the chain that held her pulsating Soul Gem, she followed the sickly sweet tang of blood assaulting her nose, knowing full well what kind of a mess she would find should she keep going.

Her muscles ached, both from the rough treatment of being handled by the daemon as well as her exertions, but she was no longer listening to the signals being sent off by her body. Skidding around a bend in the hall, she came to the source of the revolting scent, stepping into something resembling a horror show.

Bodies, both of naval soldiers and lower deck inhabitants driven mad by the daemon's presence, littered almost every inch of the floor in a large, two leveled chamber. Two halls in the far walls on either side of her stretched off to other portions of the deck, while a single lift platform was held on an upper staging area, accessible by two staircases situated just past the doorways.

The defending armsmen had sold their lives dearly. For each broken corpse bearing the uniform of the Imperial Navy, half a dozen more were clad in the tattered shreds of fabric that passed for clothing among the unfortunate impoverished of the under-ship. It was unclear whether the soldiers had been overrun, or if they'd managed to repel the assault before pulling back to some other point, but nothing living remained in the room any longer.

Madoka didn't stop to look over the bodies. There was only one thing on her mind in that moment. Stepping her way through the patchwork flooring of blood and viscera, she rapidly made her way to the center of the room where the first few mariners had fallen. That was where her target was located.

Biting back the urge to be sick by the intense smell of death that pervaded the air like a fog, she reached down to the bodies, wrapping her fingers around the stock of a combat shotgun.

Her Soul Gem was quickly stowed away, tied to the edge of her shirt and put out of sight as she pulled the large weapon up to her chest. Slick with the crimson remains of its former wielder, the firearm felt oppressively heavy in her arms.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Madoka pulled the butt of the weapon to her shoulder in an approximate replication of what she'd seen the other soldiers doing when handling their guns. She didn't know what to expect, wasn't even sure how to check if the weapon was actually loaded, but this was something she had to do.

It was a shotgun. If popular myth about the weapons were accurate, and persisted to the forty first millennium, the tactics behind using them mainly consisted of pointing in the enemy's general direction and pulling the trigger. She didn't let herself worry about what would happen if things went badly. If the recoil broke her shoulder because she didn't know how to hold it properly, she'd just have to suck it up until she healed. If the weapon didn't fire for one reason or another, she'd fall back to her own powers as a last resort.

Regardless of what happened, she couldn't let the daemon live.

Hearing footsteps echoing from one of the three hallways, the pink haired girl whirled around in preparation to fire.

She'd heard that the Emperor projected his flock. In that instant, she truly hoped that he did.

Despite all the carnage, Mami found that the door to her room was left largely undamaged compared to much of what she'd passed. Behind her, Commissar Gilliam and a handful of Imperial Guardsmen that the two of them had managed to round up stood with improvised weaponry, alert for any signs of attack.

"Hold here." The Inquisitor commanded, signaling their procession to slow. "There's something I need to retrieve. I'll be out momentarily."

She wanted to search for the others. Desperately. But to charge into a daemon's den without proper weaponry was suicide. She'd learned, oh so painfully, what happened to those who underestimated the monstrosities of the Warp.

"You shouldn't have done that Mami…"

Teeth at her throat. Fetid breath in her ear. Claws digging into her arms, just shy of breaking the skin. She could do little else but tremble as the monstrosity leaned down over her.

"Friends aren't supposed to act like that…"

Her soldiers obeyed in quick order, forming some semblance of a perimeter around the doorway while hoisting their armaments in preparation to repel any force that might seek to swarm them. It might have looked impressive had they been holding actual guns, and not repurposed metal bars, maintenance equipment, and other assorted bludgeoning devices. The Naval troops had been far more thorough in restricting the weaponry of the average soldier than they had for her.

The blonde stepped inside, carefully examining her surroundings for signs of a hostile presence. A rapid-fire search was enough to determine that everything was still in its original position.

The creatures had the power to slip through walls and attack from any direction. They'd shown that nowhere on the ship was safe from them, striking out at those in the upper decks as easily as those below, and sowing chaos throughout the ship. Every movement led credence to the idea that she was starting to build around the attack.

Their actions were those of a terror force, sent to disorganize an enemy of superior strength while a hidden, primary objective was secured behind the scenes. Had they possessed the raw muscle to overtake the ship, they would have been ravaging every room and corridor, leaving no stone unturned in their hunt for the ship's crew. They were merely trying to buy time, and as such, had failed to locate the item she sought out. One which could very well end this whole engagement.

Reaching underneath her bed, she drew out a small lockbox. The object was designed to be hidden within her armor, and it was something she'd kept on her person for the better part of her time in the Ordos.

She pressed her thumb to the activation rune, letting the machine spirit inside recognize her touch. Anyone else trying to open the case would have found themselves, and everything within a twenty-yard radius, going up in a flash as the melta charges located within detonated. For the Inquisitor however, there was merely a small click of acknowledgement as the container popped open.

Mami slipped her hand inside, drawing out a small, rod-like device that hummed lightly in her palm. A poor substitute for her favored weapons, but it would suffice in the current circumstances.

As quickly and quietly as she'd arrived, the Inquisitor sealed the lockbox back up, returned it to its hiding place, and stood to leave.

She had a daemon to kill.

"Stop! By the captain's orders, you are to-"

The human was dead before he had a chance to cry out, his head being parted from his shoulders by the Troupe Master's blade mid-sentence without breaking stride. Sayaka felt a pang in her chest at the sight, but she knew better than to let sympathy cloud her judgment. Her own sword lashed out to strike down the armsman who'd been raising his weapon to retaliate, dropping him as swiftly as the first.

The Harlequins breezed past the the slain soldiers, charging into the depths of the ship in search of the girl who was at the center of it all. Urgency pushed her to greater lengths, driven by the occasional updates given by Tseranis. The monsters were breaking off their attacks on the upper decks, converging down below. Something had caused quite the stir among them, sending the bulk of their forces into a mindless rage. That distraction alone was the very thing which allowed them to progress so swiftly instead of having to wade through tides of crazed lunatics and ghostly monsters.

'Beware Athair. I can sense a large wave of creatures coming for you. They've detected your presence.'

The psychic warning was delivered with a wordless sensation embodying what the Warlock had witnessed while looking through the void in search of their foes. It wasn't a solid number, but its indistinct feeling was more than enough to translate exactly what they were up against. All eyes turned to their leader as they raced along the human-made corridors for guidance.

Navarre's dark chuckle was all the answer they needed.

"Brothers and sisters of the Broken Oath." He announced, his voice sweeping over the rapidly moving Harlequins. "Our foes are fast upon us, and there is precious little time to waste in dealing with their ilk. Steel your hearts and pay homage to the Bloody Handed God. Scour these fiends with the fury of Khaine and let none stand before us!"

The Troupers responded quickly, forming a spearhead with him as their tip. Sayaka took up the third position on the left side, too eager for battle to slow her pace and allow those more experienced to fight at the front in her place. Her soul ached to slay the daemons of the Warp, never having forgotten who it was that left her an orphan. These monsters might serve a different master, but they were all the same unforgivable hell-spawn.

A wave of laughter, deranged and tinged with the kind of madness that no mortal could hope to understand, washed over them, swirling around their minds like a wave of insanity. In the storm surge of sound, she readied herself for the coming conflict.

Wait for me Madoka. I'll be there soon.

The shades wasted no time with toying preamble, bursting from the walls and ceiling like a wall of teeth and darkness. Navarre took the lead, hurling himself into the hurricane of clawed limbs with masterful agility. His sword flashed like the scythe during the harvest, reaping a terrible toll on those who stood in his way while carving a path forwards for his Players to take advantage of.

Whip-thin limbs with razor talons flew for his throat at blinding speeds, only to be cut apart and cast adrift as the Troupe caught up, falling into the rhythm of slaughter as they initiated the dance of death.

All too quickly, Sayaka lost herself in the violence, pushing herself to the limit while tearing apart any monstrosity that came within reach of her weapon. The logic-defying attributes of her foe only served to drive her further into the conflict, her body a blur of motion that spelled death to her foes.

The daemons were quick to adapt, seeking to drive themselves into the small gaps in the lines of the Harlequins, hoping to separate the procession and cut them apart. It was only the ceaseless momentum kept in check by the Troupe that kept them moving forwards. To hesitate for even a split second would have spelled their doom at the hands of these creatures. They covered every surface, blanketing the walls like locusts, reaching up through the floors to hack at the legs of their prey while seeking to drive them down.

Sayaka swept her blade upwards, rending three of the wraiths in a single arc and bringing her foot crashing down on the head of one that was attempting to strike her from below. Her motion carried her onwards, pirouetting in place to stab the daemon falling on the Performer next to her before it was halfway to the ground. Her pulse was hammering in her chest, lending the strength of bloody passion to each of her movements.

Their defense was impenetrable. Their drive, unstoppable. These creatures withered before them like the rotten chaff that they were, falling by the dozens with each passing moment. For all their speed and ferocity, they couldn't hope to keep pace with the children of Isha.

That is, until the Trouper just behind Sayaka missed a step.

It was such a small, miniscule thing. To any mortal combatant the flaw would have gone unnoticed. But these foes were anything but mortal. A single razor-thin claw had managed to slip beneath the wall of swords, only just landing a single cut on the Player's ankle. Unable to suppress his automatic reaction in time, his foot stuttered for the barest fraction of a second. It was the tiniest imperfection. The most minor misstep.

It was enough.

The instant the crack appeared in their defenses, the daemon-kin poured in like a tsunami of darkness. One insignificant cut allowed one of the shades to dart in where the Harlequin's blade should have been, opening the way for a second attack. Before even the shockingly fast Eldar could react, the Trouper was torn apart in a flurry of murderous talons and triumphant laughter. Even as Sayaka whipped around, bisecting the creature that had felled her counterpart, she knew that it was too late. All she could do was brace herself for the inevitable.

Breathe in.

Time slowed to a crawl. She could feel the movement of every one of the creatures as well as her fellow Harlequins. They were surrounded. Unable to disperse. Nowhere to run. No choice but to stand. In the midst of it all, she understood what needed to be done. There was no thought to the knowledge. No cognitive assurance. It was something she simply understood as absolute truth, not far off from the drive which had pushed her to leave the comfort of Il-Kaithe in the first place.

Her eyes caught the slight glint from Navarre's mask. In that wordless, expressionless, exchange, the entire course of the battle was spelled out.

Breathe out.

Sayaka exploded into motion, hurling past the Trouper in front of her and skidding to the Troupe Master's side. Her blade angled backwards, and, in a sudden instant of unification, touched briefly with the one held by the Athair. In that symbolic gesture, two performers became one, and the stage was theirs.

The phantoms closest to the pair didn't even manage to screech in shock as they were slashed to ribbons in a whirlwind of death. The sharp colors of the Harlequins' garments blended into a single blurred outline moving like quicksilver through the ranks of Warp monstrosities.

In a moment of flawed judgment, the bulk of the swarm spotted the two moving away from the group and switched their attentions to them, believing the isolated Eldar to be easy prey. It was exactly what Sayaka had wanted.

As the tide of horrors spilled forth over them, she and Navarre leapt into a mind-breakingly rapid dance of swords, moving in perfect synchronization as their weapons cut terrible swaths through their foes. The Harlequin girl pushed herself to her limit in mere moments, the sheer demanding nature of their duet taxing her body to its breaking point. She had never taken these steps in live combat. Never performed them as anything but a stage play. But now, she refused to be cowed by the pain that ran up her limbs and ate away at her chest. In the heat of the moment, she allowed herself to be carried off by the furious momentum of their display.

A reenactment of the mighty Asurmen. In that instant, they paid homage to the legendary Phoenix Lord, pushing their movements beyond normal physical limitations to honor his incredible battle against the endless tides of Chaos. Just as the lord of the Dire Avenger Aspect had stood against the forces of the Great Enemy at the fall of Asur, so too did Sayaka and Navarre, alone as one, tear into the heart of their nightmarish opponents.

Like a hellish whirlpool, the single entity they represented drew in more and more of the shades, pulling them away from the others and shredding their frail forms as quickly as they arrived. There was no way to count in that tornado of chaos. No way to know how many of the fiends were slain with each passing moment. All the Eldar girl knew was the perfect flow of endless, scything motion, and the matching movements of her partner. All she felt was the friction of the air ripping around her suit as she flew through the motions of her dance, barely even touching the ground while her entire body bent into the maelstrom to keep her sword smothered in ethereal ichor. All that existed in the world was the floor beneath, and the all-consuming darkness that surrounded them.

And then, just like that, it was over. Her muscles slowed in an instant, her mind catching up only a moment later as she registered that there were no more monsters striking out. The otherworldly giggling and the vicious exchange of battle had been replaced with a striking, heavy silence.

There was a single blessed instant of elation in Sayaka's heart before her exertions hit full force. All the fatigue and wear she'd pushed back during their fight smashed into her body with the force of an orbital strike, very nearly collapsing her chest as she suddenly found herself unable to draw breath. Every limb, every muscle in her body, erupted in a chorus of anguished burning the likes of which she'd never known before. Her ribs, once simple bone, were now an iron cage, constricting her lungs and choking her down whilst her heart slammed against their confining branches. It took all the self-control she possessed to keep from simply blacking out on the spot as she swayed, delicate as a flower petal.

But before she could collapse, a hand clamped down on her shoulder, taking off some of the strain. After several more seconds, she finally managed to draw in air to feed her tortured lungs.

"Now that… was exhilarating… don't you agree… Miki…?"

She looked up unsteadily, eyes bleary with half-formed tears which were blinked away as her gaze settled on the mask of her Troupe Master. Navarre was infinitely her senior in the Troupe, but his posture spoke volumes of the fatigue drawn out from their actions. Even so, the smirk in his voice was undeniable, and she felt herself grinning right back.

"I'm just glad… you could keep up… Athair…" She responded, cringing slightly as the words burned her throat. Her quip drew a quick laugh from him.

"Ah… the foolhardy hubris of youth…" He chuckled, shifting his attention to the main body of the Troupe. "And how fare our fellow performers?"

One of the female Harlequins, her mask adorned with a weeping face of the utmost grief, stepped forwards.

"Most of the fiends were drawn in by your performance Athair." She said, nodding in respectful gratitude to the pair. "But the hole in our defenses cost us. Several of the Troupe are wounded, and Selethin, Arevus, and Malicarth have been embraced by the Great Fool."

Navarre shook his head, rolling his shoulders to work out the tension which had stated to settle in.

"There is no time to spend mourning as of now." He stated, turning on his heel. "The show must go on, and the main play has yet to be unveiled. Push onwards. All members of the Troupe are to converge on miss Kaname's location. That is…"

He paused, casting a meaningful look to Sayaka.

"…If you can manage."

She straightened her back, looking up to his half-split mask without hesitation. It would take more than a petrification of her muscles to keep her from Madoka's side, especially with the daemons hunting her.

With a wordless nod of acknowledgment, the Eldar forces were off once again.

Footsteps. Commotion. Calamity. Grip her gun tighter. Wait. Pause. Breathe. Hold. More footsteps. Breathe. Wait. Getting closer. Check the safety again. Still off. Breathe. Footsteps.

Madoka's nerves were beginning to reach their breaking point as she lay on the floor amidst the carnage of the unseen battle. The front of her clothing was now covered in blood, as well as several other substances she preferred not to think about. It was fear that drove her to the ground. The uncertainty of not knowing whether she'd be able to measure up with this unfamiliar weapon in her hands.

Here, amidst the piles of corpses, she would blend in at the very least. Even if she still stood out with her bright hair color and undamaged clothing, the simple fact that she was partially obscured would hopefully buy her precious seconds when her enemy showed itself. She was under no illusions that the daemon had been killed by those flames.

The footsteps had stopped, along with the girl's breathing as she strained her ears. In the distance, she could hear a faint clanging of metal being torn loose, followed by a strange thumping noise. Then the steps returned, with the hollow thuds not far behind. She didn't know what to make of them. All she could do was hold position and pray that it wouldn't pose a threat.

All thoughts of the strange noises vanished however, as a pair of figures stepped into view.

If their decrepit condition and ruined garments hadn't made it clear that they were underdeck-dwellers, the manic, twitching gaze and crude, acquired weaponry gave it away. Their eyes were empty, devoid of the familiar light of intelligence and holding a kind of hungry, barely restrained violence in its place. Madoka felt herself shiver as those empty orbs swept over the room, moving past her position with ease.

Wait until they get closer. Shotguns tend to fire in a spread, so catching both in one shot would be the ideal solution.

The calm, logical portion of her mind had taken the reins, even as her child's-heart wanted nothing more than to curl up and hide. This wasn't the time for hesitation. It was a simple matter of survival.

The deranged duo continued to move into the room, shooting rapid-fire glances over the bodies. It was clear they were looking for something, and she knew that she was the most likely target. Perhaps the daemon was regretting not having her familiars capture her when they had the chance.

Ten yards away. Too spread out. Too far to be reliable. She needed them to bunch up more.

Nine yards. They were making slow progress, pausing at seemingly random intervals and staring off at things she couldn't see. The slower of the pair had fallen far behind, caught up in a fit of raspy, painful snickering while the other had moved forwards.

Eight yards. Her hands tensed on the gun, arms screaming to bring it up and fire even as she forced herself to stay down. There would be no second chances this time. She needed to do this right.

Seven yards. The strange thumping noise had started up again, sounding almost like it was being made from the floor itself. She ignored it. The main focus had to be her hunters. Still too spread out. She needed to lure them closer together somehow…

Six yards. An idea formed in her mind as she spotted a loose button on the jacket of a dead armsman nearby. Inching over to the fallen man as quietly as she could, Madoka reached out one hand and began pulling on the object. After several moments of fiddling, she managed to pry it free.

Five yards. She held her breath, waiting for the ideal moment. She needed them both to turn away at the same time. Any large movement she made right now would spell disaster. It was only when-

Now!

Seeing her chance, she flung the button as swiftly as she could, aiming for a relatively clear spot nearby. The metal bead hit the floor with a satisfying clack, bouncing several times and instantly drawing the attentions of both mutants. Without pause, the two of them shoved past the remains of the dead and rushed to the spot where the button had landed. Scrambling over themselves to locate the disturbance, they fell on the nearest bodies and began tossing them aside, checking over each one to check if they still lived.

This was her chance. Steadying her breath, Madoka's finger shifted to the trigger. Her heart pounded in her chest, setting her blood alight with tension at the thought of what she was about to do. There was no alternative. It was her or them. She had to do it. She had no other choice.

Faintly, she heard the sound of something snuffling like an animal testing the air coming from directly beneath her. It was then that she realized her mistake.

A fresh surge of terror tore through her system as she leapt away, too late. The floor panel beneath her exploded upwards, throwing her body into the air and tossing her aside. Her head struck the ground at an awkward angle, causing stars to explode in her vision as a grossly distorted figure leapt up from the newly created hole with a high-pitched squeal.

Gnarled, gangly fingers snatched at her ankle, obscured by the blurry mass that swam in her eyes. Acting automatically, she whipped around the shotgun in the general direction of her assailant, squeezing the trigger without giving herself a chance to think.

The weapon erupted with an earsplitting roar, sending fire and shrapnel into the air and drawing a pained shriek from the creature. Even as that was happening, agony ripped through Madoka's shoulder and arms as the recoil from her weapon slammed against her body.

The pain didn't stop her. She was getting better at ignoring it. The moment the hand at her feet was gone, she scrambled backwards, struggling to rise through the disorientation of her unwanted ride. When she finally managed to blink back the haze-like cloud in her vision, she became aware of two things.

The first was her ambusher. Heavily afflicted even by the standards of mutants, it possessed some kind of elongated nose reminiscent of a rat, and grotesquely stretched body proportions. Three of the fingers from its left hand were missing, replaced by bloody stumps thanks to Madoka's snap shooting. The creature had backed off somewhat after the failed strike, growling menacingly while cradling its injured digits close to its chest.

The second detail was that her recovery had expended time she didn't have. The first two figures that had been lured in by her distraction had turned and discovered her during the commotion. As her eyes began to focus on the pair, they were already dashing past their injured counterpart, brandishing their weapons with maddened cries.

There was no room to hesitate. She didn't give any concern to how much damage her actions would inevitably do to her as she brought up the shotgun for the second time. As the madmen drew closer, she took a single instant to steady her aim, hoping to catch both in a single blast. Bracing herself, she pulled the trigger.

It jammed.

There were no words that came to the girl's mind as she felt the weapon catch, but refuse to shoot. Just a mindless rail of dread that struck her chest like a sledgehammer. She wasn't familiar with the inner workings of the Imperial firearms. She didn't know the traditional practices utilized to placate the Machine Spirits that were housed inside them. All she knew was that two crazed mutants were bearing down on her, and the gun in her hands was nothing more than dead weight.

In a haphazard attempt to ward off the imminent blow, she did the only thing she could think to do and threw the blocked shotgun towards the pair. Fortune laughed once again as the useless firearm managed to get caught in-between the legs of the frontrunner, causing him to stumble and fall onto the ground while the one behind had to slow to avoid crashing into him.

Madoka was too stuck in the moment to even bother being frustrated at how inconsistent her luck with weaponry was, and merely spun to flee as soon as it had left her hands. The sound of the deranged man tripping brought a momentary surge of hope to her heart, but it was quickly quashed as she realized that her options were quickly running out. She couldn't outrun them, and using her powers was an absolute last resort onboard the ship. She needed to find another gun. She needed-

The deep, rebounding thud of metal slamming against metal rang out from the far wall and filled the room without warning, causing the girl and her monstrous adversaries to pause in confusion. A single second passed.

And the wall exploded.

Madoka let out a startled cry, throwing her hands up in an attempt to ward off any shrapnel as the ship's hull was blasted inwards towards her. Thankfully, the blast launched the jagged metal projectiles far away from her, leaving her shaken but unharmed.

What came next however, proved all the more disconcerting. Instead of the cold vacuum of space greeting her from the newly made hole, she caught the brief glimpse of something that vaguely resembled the interior of some kind of vehicle. As the smoke and debris started to settle, her heart very nearly stopped at the sight before her.

Shining burgundy hair, like bloody fire held atop the young woman's head. Battle-scarred armor which appeared archaic and advanced all at once. One arm of flesh, the other metal, both holding the shaft of a massive, imposing spear thrown across her shoulders.

"All right you mother-feckers!" Kyoko shouted, whirling her blade into a combat stance. "Who dies first?"