A/N: Guys, I apologize. I didn't know my line breaks weren't working. I know how frustrating it can be to slog through a wall of text, especially when the POV changes. I appreciate anyone who has read this far anyways, but especially if you had to work through that mess. I hope you are enjoying this! Thanks, everyone!

Episode 5: Soul Music – Or, The First Rule of Sailor Scout Fight Club Is That You Don't Talk About Sailor Scout Fight Club

Stars stood bright against the infinite blackness on her every side. Rory hovered above the planet. It was the same as she'd seen it before: bright yellow, with dark orange spots like chemical flares, or storms. Even in the vast coldness of space, she could feel the heat on her skin.

Here again. Why?

It had to be hers, where her powers came from. Why else would she be seeing it? Even so, the bright sphere remained nameless.

Aurora.

Rory straightened, her legs extending into the bottomless space beneath her. A voice? That's new.

She turned, expecting to see the burning star behind her, as the first time.

It's…me?

Or, perhaps it was more accurate to say she saw Sailor Beta. Herself, but in uniform. Light glistened off her tiara. She held herself straight, with a sternness Rory had never had. There might have been something else, something different, but she couldn't pin-point what it was. The Soldier stared back at her with cold focus. Her mouth didn't move, but Rory heard a voice anyways.

There's something here.

Rory shook her head; she didn't understand.

Sailor Beta didn't blink. Something behind her eyes was quaking.

It's hungry.

The silence of space was interrupted by an eruption of noise as, all-consuming, an explosion rocked through them. Rory watched, filled with a horror she didn't understand, as from behind them planets scattered in all directions. Everything, everything, was screaming.

Rory opened her eyes.

The ceiling stared back at her. It was blank and starless. She waited for her heart to stop racing.

Saturday.

Narma approached the scarp yard, her bag hanging burdenously off her shoulder. "Alright, Rory," she called out, Rory looking up from her seat on a large pipe in the distance. "You got me here at 6:00 AM. What are we doing?" She was risking it all to get filthy on a Saturday morning, especially after the way things had blown up last night.

She was coming back from school and had just discarded her shoes at the door when her mother and father approached. The tenseness was palpable. "Hey guys." She eyed the way the pair of them huddled together like a flock of birds. They usually weren't so clingy. Maybe they were just being weird because she got hurt. "Why are you just… standing around?"

The two of them glanced at each other. Her father took a step forward. "Narmada. We wish to have a discussion with you. Please go sit in the den."

She lowered her backpack, where she'd unconsciously been clutching it to her chest. "O…kay." She placed it on the floor and moved to take a seat.

They'd been acting weird yesterday too, ever since she'd come home from the hospital. Like they were treading lightly around her. She broke a rib; she wasn't made of glass.

The scent of cumin in the air from her mother's cooking in the other room, usually a homely smell, only exacerbated the butterflies in her stomach.

Having "a discussion" in her house was not unusual. They'd had "a discussion" about her clothes. They had "a discussion" about her getting a nose ring for non-traditional reasons. They probably just wanted to lecture her about being safe in school. Narma took a deep breath, trying to settle her unease. Yeah, it was no big deal. She plopped down on the couch. "What's up?"

Her parents sat together on the love seat across from her. They held hands. "Narma," her mother pursed her lips. "Are you being abused?"

And if that didn't pull the rug out from under her. "What?"

Her father gripped her mother's hands tighter. "Narmada. Your doctor spoke to us at the hospital. He explained the broken rib—"

"That was the pep rally, I told you—"

Her father gave her a stern look for interrupting him, but there was pain in his eyes. "But he also said he found bruises. They looked over a week old. They looked like hands—" His composure broke, tears slipping down his face as her mother embraced him.

Narma was rigid. "I…" she searched for an explanation. She had never seen her parents cry before, not like this. "I-it happened at the aquarium. There was an attack."

Her mother's jaw tightened. "Then why did you try to hide it?"

Shit—she was right. If it was an incident like the pep rally, she had no reason to try and cover it up.

Of course, they didn't know what had actually happened in the gym that day.

Her father ground his teeth. "Was it that boy? Did he do that to you?"

For a couple seconds, Narma had no idea what he was talking about. Then, unconsciously, her hand rose up to the scarf, and she remembered what she told them about where the scarf had come from. Slowly, making a decision, she said, "Y-yes."

"I knew it!" Her mother cried, sobbing into her father's shoulder.

What was she supposed to do? She hated upsetting her parents like this, but she couldn't tell them the truth. She held her hands out in a placating gesture, praying internally that her parents would calm down. "It only happened the one time," Narma insisted. "Then I knew he was bad news; I'm never going to see him again!"

Her father said. "Promise, you will not."

"I won't," she shot back immediately, moving to pat her mother on the back.

But how was she to keep such a promise? It was no man; she was fighting monsters.

Narma stretched, the barely rising sun warming her shoulder blades. And from what Rory told me last night, nowhere was a monster free zone.

Pants already covered in construction dust, Rory stood. "This old equipment and supplies have been abandoned. We should be able to use this stuff for target practice. The best thing is that the company who owned all of it shut down, so now it's a public space again. They can't arrest us!" Rory gave her a thumbs up.

Narma snorted. "They couldn't arrest us if they tried."

Rory put her hands on her hips. "Girl, you just broke a rib. We're not that powerful."

Celene appeared, hoping up on top of the pipe. "Greetings, Epsilon."

The cat squawked as Narma ruffled the fur on her head. "Call me Narma."

Even though it was dark enough outside that few people passing would be able to see them, they still transformed between the work station and a few stacked of pipes for the most coverage. The power settled over all of Narma's limbs, and she stretched. It was such a weird sensation; the magic or whatever it was almost felt damp. She emerged from the blocked-off space. "Alright, I'm ready."

As weird as it was to have this power, it was nothing compared to learning Rory was a super hero.

Rory's eyes brightened as she saw Narma emerge in full uniform; she bounced toe-to-toe, limbering up. "Great! So, I have a bunch of empty cylinders over here we can practice our attacks on, and also some mounds of dirt? I don't know girl, I've never done this kind of thing before."

Narma stretched out her legs, reaching for her toes. "Better than I would have done. I think we should just practice hitting stuff."

"Yeah, that probably qualifies as a plan."

They began aiming their attacks, Narma having to be especially choosey about what she wanted to try. She drenched one dirt pile, then waited. She wanted to see how far out she could make those things go. "My thing runs on a timer. I can only do the typhoon attack every once in a while. I think it has to charge up."

Celene had taken up her role naturally as their couch. "Some attacks will require more energy than others. You may be able to work up your endurance and use them more often."

Rory held her own scepter out. "Dire Stellar Gust!"

The bizarre dark wind crashed into the cans one after the other, but Rory frowned, moving to line them up again.

Narma furrowed her brow, "What are you trying to do?"

Rory hefted the can into a new position. "I'm trying to direct the Gust to only hit the second one. I did something like that before, but I haven't been able to do it again. It might come in handy; the gust itself didn't even touch the liony guys yesterday unless I hit them at the right time."

Narma watched Rory awkwardly re-position the can. This was the same girl who'd been suspended from school for a week for filling their middle school classroom with dollar store balloons. She texted people to say goodbye if she forgot to in person, because she didn't want them to feel forgotten. The girl used "dang" as a swear, for fuck's sake. She was too goofy and laidback to be a superhero. And she seemed to be good at it? Bizarre.

Celene whipped her tail, gaze focused. "You have the ability to conjure other attacks. I expect these abilities will come to you as you gain more experience, in the same way your first attacks were remembered."

Narma paused, peering over at the little orange tabby. "Remembered?"

Celene stiffened, before curling in on herself. "You know my memory is not the best. I used to know all the celestial bodies under my jurisdiction, and their associated powers, but it's all so a fuzzy now."

Narma slowly turned back to her cylinders. "… Whatever you say." But why did something feel off about that? She must really be getting paranoid if she thought a cat was lying her.

After an hour or so of practice, it turned out her limit was at fifty feet, though the further she went, the weaker it got. She could cast three strikes only up to about twenty feet, and two after there. Though, she was giving herself twenty-five on that last triple-strike (she may have been being a bit generous.) She wiped her brow, a little jealous that Rory was able to fire off her gusts without such restriction. There were pros and cons, she guessed.

She took a seat on the pipe, not worrying about the dirt caked into her uniform. They were already filthy, coated head-to-toe in construction dust. "So. Those guys you fought yesterday. They were tough?"

Rory frowned, her next blast still knocking the first can slightly askew. Girl was stubborn. "They were just big. Those things were smoked all over: arms, legs, head; they had claws. It had this roar that was strong enough to move me."

"Gross," said Narma. "Wonder how that happens. Like, you're just walking down the street, and suddenly you're a monster? Hard to picture."

Rory slumped, letting the wind storm dissipate. Narma eyed the fading wisps. She wondered if their attacks were combinable. "Beats me. As long as we can save them, I guess it doesn't matter."

Narma shrugged. "Maybe." She thought about the attack in the gymnasium. She brought her fingers to her chin. "If they're back, does that mean there's someone new controlling them? That other lady got dusted."

Rory peered off towards the rest of the city, the needle lit with the bright colors of sunrise. "Could be…" She trailed off. Rory held a finger up. "Mm, by the way, I got something for you."

"Oh yeah?" She leaned forward, trying to spy what was in Rory's small bag of supplies as she fishing into it.

"Yeah. It's a little late, I guess, with what happened last night. But it might broaden your fashion choices a bit, considering the circumstances."

From the bag, she pulled out a long line of blue fabric. Bringing it into the light, Narma saw it was a knitted scarf. "Did you make me this? Girl, you didn't have to do that." She knew Rory liked knitting; her grandmother was big into it when she was growing up, and so Rory usually had a couple projects going at any given time. Still, it wasn't like she had been the one who endowed Narma with magical space powers. She didn't owe her any sort of apology. So why the gift?

"No big deal. Secretly, I just want my belt back."

Narma knew she was joking. She wrapped the scarf around her neck, covering the area uncovered by her prior uniform. "I'll get it back to you then. Thanks." She looked up from her knew accessory-slash-superpower-disguise. "Hey, what's your day like? You got work?"

Rory emerged from behind the pipe-rack in plain clothes. Conveniently, it seemed the dirt didn't transfer. "No. I'm going to be volunteering as an usher for the Hispanic choir concert tonight at school. They give you in-class credit if you sign up for the whole year."

"Shit, where was I?" She needed as many things on her resume as she could manage if she was going to get into design school. She considered her own evening. "You need any company?"

Carmen's heart was pounding like the broken dryer in their old apartment building's laundry room. Her father's success had seen them long moved on from that place, but she remembered the racket keeping her awake. She smoothed down the fabric of her choir robe, bright eyes peering blankly into the blackness of backstage left.

It was only a matter of hours now. On the other side of the thick black curtain, she could hear the bottoms of her classmate's dress shoes tapping over the risers. They needed to run through the set let a few more times, but her mouth kept going dry and sticking together.

On the other side of the curtain, she could hear a passing conversation.

"Any idea where Carmen is?"

"Pft. You know. Her Majesty is too good to practice with the rest of us."

"Right? Like, you're not the only one annoyed, zorra. Get over yourself. And you don't see the rest of us needing time away from the group. We're trying to get work done."

Those same girls. She had to ignore it; she had bigger problems.

Carmen flexed her fingers, curling them into fists. She had to calm down. Forcing herself to move, she exited backstage into the rear hallway, moving into the bathroom. Her black robe ruffled around her.

Even after the other performances this year, you think I'd be used to this. She cupped a palm beneath the faucet, taking a drink. She had to try and breathe. She leaned on the sink's rim, the bathroom echoing the sound of her breathing. It was bad enough all those other times, but now…

She peered up at herself in the mirror. Sink water glistened at the edges of her mouth; she could see where she'd been sweating under the stage lights. The concealer under her eyes had smeared, revealing the dark circles beneath. She looked like a wreck.

She wiped her hand on the back of her mouth. If he was finally going to be there in the audience, she couldn't afford to let herself mess up. But it had to be the one time she had a solo, didn't it? Her father had never care before about her performances.

She couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said to her the previous night.

"Now, Carmen," He father smiled at her from the other side of the dinner table, still wearing his full suit from work. She was heading up to her room; she hadn't expected anything more than the usual pleasantries. "I know you have one of your little performances tomorrow. I've invited some of my associates to the concert with me; I couldn't help bragging about how talented my daughter was, I'm afraid. I'm excited to finally see you on stage. Be sure to look for us in the audience."

But Carmen's stomach had dropped into her feet. "I…I'll be happy to see you there."

She'd finally been getting used to singing in front of people—it's why she'd gone for the solo. Why did he have to throw this at her now, of all times? She could feel a shake in her fingers. There had to be some way out of this.

"B-but I'm surprised, that is, such men of business would be interested in something as trivial as a high school choir concert. Are you sure they'll enjoy it?"

He grinned. "Oh, darling. Something as wholesome as a relative's performance is sure to endear them to our family. It's the exact thing I need to convince them to close on our current deal. You'll be perfect, my dearest." He patted her shoulder. "Don't let me down."

She held her hand to her mouth; she was going to be sick.

No. She drew a hand back, smacking herself in the face. The impact was grounding; her hand stung. No, Carmen, you cannot afford to fall apart here. Get it together. There was too much at stake.

She took another drink from the sink, before heading back out.

As she re-entered the stage, she heard the Mrs. Lenora call out to her. "Come to join the group, Ms. Rodriguez?"

"I just need some air, just a minute," she called back, completely bypassing the stage and heading for the stage-side exit.

"Oh, my god—"

Carmen burst through the exit. The fresh air was a blessing after the stifling heat of the auditorium stage; the difference it made in her breathing was like coming up from water. Ignoring the shame of having to continue interrupting practice, she listened the to muffled sound of her choirmates continuing to work on their own parts inside while she waited for her heart to stop pounding so hard.

Down the block outside, commuters bustled down the sidewalk. The noise was a good distraction. The one thing she could be thankful for was her stomach bug on Wednesday—she couldn't imagine how fried her nerves would be if she'd have been here during a terrorist attack.

It was a scary thought, that they'd gotten in so easily. Who's to say they couldn't get in again? She'd never thought of Seattle as a big target city.

She shuddered. Crazy world.

"Excuse me?"

She jumped as a voice came from behind her. Turning, she found a man, bright blue eyes and a strong jaw. "Oh, uh, hi. Did you…need something?" Who is this guy? I've never seen him around before.

The man smiled. She had to admit, he had a handsome face, but she had learned long ago that attractiveness didn't equal trustworthiness. "I'm sorry," he said, slicking a hand back over his ponytail. "I didn't mean to startle you." He gestured to the auditorium. "I just wanted to make sure I was in the right place. There's going to be a big event here tonight. Is that correct?"

A "big event." Nerves fluttered in her belly. And she was just calming down, too. "I wouldn't say a big event—just a choir concert from us students in the Hispanic Chorus. We've had a pretty good turn out, though, for previous shows, if that's what you're asking."

The man clasped his hands together. "Oh, good. That was exactly what I needed to know. And this is the building?"

She nodded. She could handle directions. "Yeah, we're singing here tonight."

"Thank you. That's perfect." He took a step forward, "So…you're a part of this choir?"

Something about the tone of his voice gave her a feeling she couldn't identify. She shifted her feet. "Y-yes. I'll be there."

"Excellent."

She felt her face heat up when the man placed a hand on her cheek, grinning.

"I'll look forward to seeing such pure beauty again."

Before she could respond, the man turned and walked away.

She brought a hand to her cheek, unsure how to feel. She shook her head. She needed to get inside.

It was only two hours until the performance.

Rory adjusted the collar of her shirt. The choir teacher Mrs. Lenora wasn't super specific on what they had to wear as ushers; just collars and dark pants. Still, she usually didn't wear things so stiff. "Alright everybody!" She grinned, taking tickets from any folks that passed her going into the auditorium doors. "Just need your tickets. Have a great time!"

She flagged Narma down as she saw her come in the door. "Hey. Got your guest ticket right here." She fished behind the ticket counter, pulling out the pre-punched ticket.

Narma placed a hand on her hip. Rory was a bit flattered to see her wearing the scarf she made. It must not have been that bad after all; she'd ended up rushing to finish it last night. "You gonna be stuck back here all night?"

"Nah. I just have to finish up with tickets until showtime. Then they close the doors. We just have to clean up afterward."

"Cool." Narma shot her finger guns before proceeding past the double doors. "I'll save you a seat, lady."

"You're incredible," Rory joked before resuming her place at the door.

She kept waiting for the flood of people to trickle out, but they just kept coming. Man. And I thought the crowd for the jazz choir was big. There must have been some big fans of Latin music in Seattle.

Just out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a patterned shirt. Her brow wrinkled as she turned to examine the crowd at the other door. Huh. I don't see it anymore. Why did it look familiar?

From the door in front of her, a girl suddenly emerged from inside the room. Rory recognized her, though she knew more of her than really knew her: Carmen Rodriguez, resident prettiest girl in school. Kind of quiet, though. Apparently, her dad was some kind of corporate bigshot. She was loaded. Is she in the choir?

But right at that moment, girl looked stressed. She brushed her light brown hair back, eyes scanning the lobby before landing on Rory. "Excuse me. Is there—I need to make sure there will be tickets. It's a party, five or six people. Can I put it under Rodriguez?" She was out of breath.

Rory looked down at the remaining tickets, before her eyes caught an entry on the call-in list. "Actually, I've already got six tickets reserved under Rodriguez. Phone number ending in -1213? Sound right?"

The girl slumped visibly. "Yes, okay, yes. I just wanted to make sure…" Her gaze still searched the lobby, jittery.

Rory lowered her clipboard. Was nervousness contagious? Her stomach hurt just looking at her. "Girl, you're good. Do you need a bottled water, or…? She gestured to the open pack behind her.

"No," Carmen breathed. "No. Thank you." She nodded at her before disappearing back into the auditorium.

Rory frowned. Weird.

Regardless of the chaos, the auditorium was full by six o' clock. Rory closed up the ticket booth, entering to find Narma in the crowd. She handed over the water when she took her seat. "I miss anything?"

Narma shook her head. "No, the teacher's still giving her introduction."

"Cool." Not surprising. Mrs. Lenora was usually long-winded.

"Now," the woman called from the stage, "without further ado, the Garfield High School Hispanic Choir." She stood back.

The group began to sing.

"Con el vito vito vito, con el vito vito va. Con el vito vito vito, con el vito vito no quiero que me miren, que me pongo colorá—"

Rory leaned back in the seat. They sounded pretty good, though she had no idea what they were saying.

Her eyes found Carmen, standing stiffly in the back, her height making her exceptionally visible. If she was still nervous, she was doing a good job of hiding it.

Glancing down near the front, she saw a group of men in suits. Huh. Wouldn't have expected such a low-profile venue to draw that kind of crowd.

After a few minutes, she felt a tap on her shoulder. The stage manager was standing in the aisle. "Hey, please go get some more of those water bottles. The AC in the tech booth is broken; they're getting pretty overheated in there."

Reluctantly, Rory got up, Narma glancing after her. "Got it."

She moved back up the aisle, the stage manager nervously watching the performance.

Rory exited back out into the lobby, the sounds from the auditorium immediately hushed. She leaned over the counter, grabbing the water bottles. Here we go.

Her gut gave a sudden twist, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

She slapped a hand over the goosebumps. What the heck?

She turned back around with a water bottles, only to nearly drop them when she saw a familiar figure in the window. Oh, you got to be kidding me.

Celene patted insistently at the window pane.

Rory opened the door. "Celene, you better just be here to hang out."

But Celene immediately burst out, "I'm so glad I found you! I thought you would be without warning again."

Rory frowned at the distress in the cat's…voice? Did she actually have a human voice box, or…? "Slow down. What's going on?"

Celene panted. The cat had clearly run here, and Rory thought it was a long walk even at her size. "There is a great disturbance in his area. I believe the pithos may be nearby."

Rory eyed the door to the loaded auditorium. "Makes sense. There's a huge crowd here. Any idea where they're coming from?"

The cat sat back. "I'm afraid not. But you and Epsilon had better get ready."

"Right."

And with a room packed full of people, it could get nasty quick.

She moved back into the auditorium, handing the bottles off to the stage manager. Moving back to her seat, Rory tugged Narma from the other chair, the woman sitting behind them glaring at the commotion.

The choir was starting on their second number.

"Salías del templo un día, Llorona,cuando al pasar yo te vi;Salías del templo un día, Llorona,Cuando al pasar yo te vi, Hermoso huipil llevabas, Llorona, que la Virgen te creí…"

"Rory, what the hell?" Narma tugged away her arm as they made it through the double doors. Then she spied Celene. "Oh, shit."

"Yeah, we got a problem."

Carmen was about to regurgitate her own guts. It was time.

She' been relying on the stage lights to blind her from her father's presence, but there he was, near front and center, surrounded by his entourage of colleagues. She swallowed. Her throat felt like sandpaper as she picked up the next line.

Two lines to go.

Slowly, she moved forward as she'd been instructed, the moment of her solo drawing near. Her stomach clenched—please, Lord, don't let me get sick on this stage.

The panic painted spots in her vision, the heat of the overhead lights blaring down on her. One line to go.

Cue.

She opened her mouth, wincing internally at the tacky feeling. She sang.

"Dicen que no tengo duelo, Llorona, porque no me ven llorar;"

The sound warbled out of her. She knew the words; that had never been the concern. But her hands shook. She. She just had to push through it.

"Dicen que no tengo duelo, Llorona, porque no me—"

Carmen suddenly flinched back as figures dropped down from the lighting rack above. This isn't part the show. It looked like the tech crew, but…

What was all over them?

When two of the techies leapt out into the crowd, the screaming started. Her choirmates scattered, but she had nowhere to go. Carmen stepped back from the third, hitting her heel and falling back against the risers. The thing leapt at her—it had claws. Gasping, she rolled away, falling from the risers and bolting down the hall.

Or, that was the plan. The creature whipped his arm out, missing her, but catching in the heavy black curtain. The weight of it whipped against her and she yelped, falling to the floor.

"Hold it, creep!"

Carmen shook her head, trying to clear the stars from her eyes as the shadow of the creature moved away from her. Peering from behind the curtain, her eyes widened at the figure onstage. She wore a uniform decorated with bows and frills, and there was a tiara on her forehead. Like the creatures, something seemed to be a little off with her face, though not in the same frightening way. It was as if her skin was overlaid with some dark, holographic filter.

The creature growled. "Star Soul detected."

Carmen hid in the curtain. The figure thrust out her hand, which was clutching something. The figure straightened. "Hey. You're not a lion."

The creature howled. Leaping forward, the weird shadowy overlay on its legs flared. It slammed back down to stage; it felt like the room was shaking. The figure jolted out of the way, hopping down from the risers.

Suddenly, a second figure darted up the aisle, another of the former techies close behind. Bizarrely, a cat ran up next to her. "These things are fast!" She called out, one of the wolf-like creatures close behind her. "Also, the Typhoon? Not super effective."

But wait. Where was the third one? She'd been sure there were three.

"Some of these aren't what I fought yesterday. Duck," said the figure, thrusting her arm back out towards the monster coming up the aisle. "Dire Stellar Gust!"

Wind like the night sky swept down the aisle, knocking the techie back. Carmen stared, a little fascinated but mostly horrified. Was this some kind of magic or something?

Then, she saw the third monster, (definitely more lion-like,) turning its attention to her.

It said, "Star Soul Detected."

Rory didn't know what to think. Why do these guys look different? One thing was for sure: the strategy she'd used on the lion pithos was not going to work on these new guys. She cursed under her breath. She needed to get rid of the devil she knew so she could deal with the ones that she didn't. At least that weren't invulnerable. The one in the aisle was still struggling to get up.

Where had the big guy gone?

Sailor Beta shielded her eyes, the eruption of bright light bursting in her periphery. What the…? She squinted to find the light source.

That girl, Carmen—the lion pithos had her. The more alarming part was the crystal formations slowly being vacuumed from Carmen's chest. "Celene!" She cried out. "She's one of us!" She threw her hand out, shouting, "Dire stellar gust!"

The pithos raised its hackles in discomfort, but turned away as it was, the attack was ineffectual. No—now is not the time to fail—

"Typhoon Strikedown!"

The surge of water forced the lion to the floor, drenched. Carmen fell backwards against the risers, the crystal slowly sinking back into her chest as she looked on, petrified.

The crowd scrambled to escape, but they weren't in danger anymore. There were three beacons now, calling the monsters away.

Sailor Epsilon climbed back up the stage, trying to get some distance from the wolf. "These things are rough."

"Not ideal," Rory agreed.

Narma took a step past her. "So, wait,"

Celene used her crescent-shaped pocket dimension, summoning a new scepter. Beta barely got a look at it before the wolf was right in front of her. The typhoon'd pithos was getting up too.

But the symbol—it looked like an upside-down L, like Γ. Was that…gamma?

She and Epsilon stood back-to-back.

"You know my shit has to recharge," Epsilon said as the wolf pithos neared.

She stared down the lion pithos, which looked ready to roar. "You think you can do one geyser?"

"Mm. Maybe."

"We got to protect the new girl—" Beta could see the tell-tale flash of transformation in her periphery, the monsters flinching, "—until she can fight."

Epsilon said, "What do you suggest?"

Beta planted her feet. "One three, try one more. I have an idea."

"Your funeral."

Rory pointed the scepter towards the pithos before her, approximating the distance between them. "One."

She'd done this before. She could do it again. "Two."

"Okay." She could see Epsilon holding her arms outward, ready attack. The lion roared, pushing her back as its maw came towards her.

"Three!"

They called the attacks simultaneously: "Dire Stellar Gust / Typhoon Strikedown!"

She heard the deluge fall behind her, and she concentrated on directing the Dire Gust around them. The wind picked up some of the downpour, but the majority feel to the tapped black floor. The creatures grunted, otherwise unharmed.

Beta's eyes widened. "NO, it failed—" She shouted it as if to warn them that the monsters were still coming, but there was no time to move. Rory braced herself, waiting for the shadowy jaw of the pithos to close down on her.

"M-mesmeric Pacification!"

A note rang through the air as light flashed over the pithos. Rory watched as the creatures seized for a moment, before slumping to the floor. Smoke rose off of them like steam. Beta's eyes darted in the direction of the cry.

Carmen (Gamma?) stood with her arms in an x-formation before herself, looking as surprised as they were. She stepped forward, out into the middle of the stage where the stagehand was collapsed on the floor. "Wha…what just…?"

"Let me through!"

The yell rung out from the crowd congregating back inside, the former audience seeming to realize the threat was suddenly gone. A heavy-set latino man in a suit, maybe one of the businessmen Rory had spied earlier, pushed through the crowd, trying to get to the stage.

Carmen looked petrified—they needed to get her out of there, so they could explain, well, everything. Before they could say anything, though, the man made it to the front.

The wrinkles on his forehead deepened, and he grasped the edge of the stage. "Please. My daughter was right there when those things attacked. I can't find her. You have to help me!"

Carmen's mouth dropped open.

Luckily, Narma was faster than either of them. "Don't worry, sir; we will locate your daughter. All of the assailants have been disarmed, so she is no longer in danger. She probably just went to hide."

"Y-yeah," Rory added as they shuffled Carmen off stage. "We will have her come to the lobby once we find where she went. Don't worry. Give us just a few minutes."

Sweat beaded on the man's brow. "Ah—alright."

Narma took Carmen through the thick black curtain. They had a lot to talk about.

Near the back of the auditorium, two men sat shadowed and in quiet conversation.

"That was a disaster," Fastosus bit out, watching the drama place out of the auditorium stage. The Sailor Soldiers had more power than they had expected; even their forces were taken down.

From beside him, Lupido's blue eyes darkened with amusement. There was always something about that guy that made you feel like he thought he was better than you; Fastosus wasn't going to stand for that. He was eager to win this little manger. Lupido said, "Yes, it is true we may have underestimated them. Even so. I appreciate a long game."

Fastosus sneered, tapping his deep brown fingers over the back of the theatre seat. "I'm just saying, brother. Perhaps it's time for a more hands-on approach."