A/N: Please read this note, I implore you.

Alright, then. Who says I only write RWBY stuff these days?! EH?! OI?! What say you now?!

In other news, I'm still in mourning. My grandmother, who lived with me for so long finally passed just the other night...and...I need to distract myself, or I'm going to break down. I HAVE to write, because if I don't distract myself, I'm going to lose my mind. Already bashed a hole through the wall in my grief and tore up the yard. I feel spent. Empty. Dead inside. If I let this be, its going to consume me and that terrifies me.

I know that sounds weak of me, but I desperately need to keep myself occupied. And guess what?

Turns out I write well when I'm angry and upset. Really well, given the theme of this chapter.

Not answering any questions this time. I'll let the chapter talk for me.

As ever, I own no references, not a wit or a one!

Here. We. Go.

"I made my choice. And my choice killed him.

Yes. Its my fault Naruto died. But even more than that...its all your fault! Assassin!

I'll kill you! DO YOU HEAR ME?! I'm going to rip you apart! I'll tear you into little pieces and EAT YOU!"

~Berserker Atalanta.

Frenzy

She was breaking.

Mordred could feel it in her bones. Each swing sent shivers shooting down her spine. Each blast weakened her just a little more. Each flare of her Noble Phantasm took more from her. She'd drained all she dared from her poor Master; now she was well into her personal reserves, and even those were beginning to falter.

Piss on that. She'd stop when this bitch was dead.

Clarent howled in her hands, spitting sparks with every burst. Her rampage had to stop sooner or later. She couldn't keep this up forever. But she had to. To stop now meant death. That damn dirty archer would get away the moment she let up, slip away into the shadows and never return. She didn't favor her chances against that bow of hers. For all her ditziness and prattling on, Artemis was deadly as they came. A moment's respite was all she needed.

And yet if she continued, she would undoubtedly die.

Unbidden, her mind recalled a grinning, whiskered face. Her eyes flashed. Clarent came down again. The earth ruptured.

Artemis coughed angrily as she emerged from the ruined crater, face dirty, dress hanging in tatters. "Stop spamming that thing! Its not fair!

It was the wrong thing to say. Heat blazed through Mordred's heart and her dying reserves flared in defiance. Fair?! A sneak attack wasn't fair! Berserker was dead because of these bastards! Her dream had died with him now so much cinder and ash in her grasp. And she had the nerve to cry not fair?! Clarent descended on Artemis with a wrathful roar, trailing scarlet flames.

"Eat shit and die AAAAAAAAAAAAAARCHER!"

Yeah, no. Not happening. Moreover! She'd mocked Naruto. You didn't make sport of a dead man. It just wasn't done. Only a few minutes ago she'd been sneering at her saying it was too bad he'd died. She'd wanted to kill him herself. The sooner she offered this little parasite the sooner she could go to the others. If this new "Faction" was bold enough to ambush her then they'd undoubtedly struck at the others.

A distant explosion answered her question; someone screamed in triumph, like the yowl of a furious beast.

It sounded a great deal like Atalanta. Tch. No fair, getting ahead like that. Guess that meant the others were still fighting. Least she could do was her part.

Mordred swung her arms back afresh and felt cracks splinter across her face. Her right eye squinted shut in a wince, but she didn't stop. She followed through, trying to ignore the hot flash of fire that burned through her core. Not much left now. This was death. She was dying. How many blasts did she have left? One? Two? Three? But she would not stop. She would take Archer with her or perish in the doing.

...and maybe she'd see him on the other side.

"Clarent Blood Arthur!"

Her limbs slammed down, bringing a column of red fire with them. Dirt and debris sprayed into the air, kicking up a terrible haze.

When it cleared, only a gaping tear in the street remained. A mighty chasm miles deep, with no bottom in sight.

Archer's ringing voice called up from within that pit of shadow and flame, sounding terribly cross.

"Are you done?! Because I'm coming out! And I swear, if you do that again I will be so-

Mordred grinned and called forth her Noble Phantasm once more.

"CLAAARENT! BLOOOD ARRRTHUUUR!"

An angry shriek pierced the air.

And then a golden light swept through it.

T'was a great swathe of holy radiance unlike any other; one that slammed into her Phantasm's wrathful light from the east. Clarent's power faltered for a moment, flickered, then guttered out completely, leaving naught but a sullen red mist behind. Mordred swore and moved to strike again, but here at last, her strength faltered. Her arms spasmed. Her sword slipped from aching fingers. Her body shuddered as an arrow from Artemis pierced the gloom and found its home in one of her lungs. Pain blossomed in her chest and she went down on one knee.

No. Not like this. She wouldn't die like this. Absolutely not! She refused!

"So this is where you where." A regal voice spoke unto Mordred's heaving frame. "Your childish antics disappoint me, Ser Mordred."

Atremis giggled somewhere out of sight in the smoke. "Uh-oh~! You're in trouble now...!

Mordred swore, tried to rise, and failed utterly. "Aw, crap...

The Knight of Rebellion craned her neck, knowing who she'd behind her. Sure enough, she wasn't dissapointed. Their blade shone like the sun, their regal countenance so much like her own, and yet...more. They were a warrior without peer, a being she had striven toward for all of her short life. Armor clanked softly with every step, blue dress swaying in the wind of her arrival. Cold eyes regarded her, framed by flaxen hair, her kingly mien set in stone. There was no mercy to be found their in her gaze. Not even an iota of pity. If there was but one word to summarize the existence of this well-clad warrior, it would be thus.

Saber.

Mordred fumbled for Clarent's hilt. The moment her fingers closed around it, she rammed the blade into the ground. It gave her the leverage she needed to stand. Nothing more. She could barely move. Every breath was fire in her lungs. Well, shit. Looked like this was it, then. Her body was shot, knees weak, reserves nearly empty. Nothing short of a miracle could save her now. Bah. Not like she believed in those, anyway. Miracles were nice an' all, but she trusted in the strength of her sword arm more than anything else.

How strange then, that she didn't fear her death. Yeah, she had a couple of regrets, but who didn't? She'd always known this might happen.

And. Yet.

She simply.

Wasn't satisfied.

'I don't want to die like this.' a small, girlish voice bleated in the depths of her soul. 'I want to see him again.' It alarmed her and gave her heart wings. 'I want him to be here. With me.'

She lifted her chin in defiance as her killer stalked closer. Defiance burned in her heart. She wasn't dead yet. She was still alive. She could still fight...!

Then that blasted holy blade flicked like lightning to alight at her throat, forcing her to be terribly still. "Have you any last words?"

"..."

"Very well then." the blade moved. "You will die for the sake of my dream."

Here at last, Mordred found her voice. "Your dream?"

Father frowned.

"Yes. I will save our country; change the past, make it so that I never pulled that accursed sword from the stone." that kingly mien of hers didn't waver, not for a moment. "So that I will never be king; so that Britain may be saved. That is my ideal." some of Mordred's scorn must've shown through her face, because her eyes narrowed, just a little. "Why do you look at me, thus?"

Mordred had plenty to say to that, but for some reasons the words wouldn't come to her. Shock stilled her tongue. Now that she stared into those cold, emotionless eyes, she began to understand. Here at the end, she'd thought she would feel anger. Rage. Instead she only experienced a dull sense of pity. Father wasn't happy. Artoria would never be happy. She would forever chase an empty throne, an unattainable dream. She'd never have any happiness. She would forever be a slave to her duty. She wanted to undo all that she had ever done. In all honesty, it was a little sad.

Father didn't know what love was. But she did. The realization startled a laugh from her. Love, huh? Her face burned. Not a bad feeling.

"Last words, eh?" And so she spoke, that the bloody knight. "You know what? I have two. Screw. You."

Artoria scowled at her progeny, brow gone stormy. "How uncouth."

"And I wouldn't be any other way-gack!"

Blood sprayed through the air.

"Are you mad?!"

Mordred cackled, reveling in the way Saber's eyes widened as she slapped Excalibur away with her bare hand. It was an utterly foolish thing to do and it ruined her left hand, but that was fine. Mordred didn't mind another scar or three. She could still move. She could still swing her sword. And the dumbstruck look upon Father's face as she staggered back? Well worth it. She'd carry it to her grave.

Her laughter redoubled. "What can I say? He rubbed off on me."

Excalibur rose in a flourish. "Then you truly are a failure."

"Takes one to know one."

Artoria stiffened. Another arrow whistled over her head. Artemis again. Damn sniper. Mordred scoffed. Clarent sang and slapped it back her way, drawing a pained cry from the archer's direction. Cheeky bitch felt that, wherever she was hiding. Served her right! She'd wouldn't be feeling anything at all when she was through with her!

Some might say it was a good day to die.

Mordred disagreed with them. Die?! Today was a good day to live.

She dove forward with a roar, Clarent weaving a scarlet streak before her. "C'mon, then! If I go down, I'm taking you two with me!"


(.0.0.0.)


Lancer of Blue had a task.

Nay, a sacred duty entrusted to her by the Holy Grail itself. A mission she must complete at all costs.

Eradicate the Red.

They must be pursued, they must be punished, and they must be purged. Those of the Black Faction may well be eliminated as well for their association with that...aberration. Such judgement would fall to Siegfried. As a former ally he might yet convert them. He might not. It mattered naught to her. They would be purged and the war would start anew. That was all. Assassin and Archer had already taken the fight to the stronger members of the Red Faction. It felt to her and her fellows to root out the rest.

She did not expect them to come to her.

"My, my, my!" the merry sound of enthusiastic clapping filled the air behind her as she stalked through the ruined streets. "A Valkyrie! And not just any Valkyrie at that, but a daughter of Odin himself!" she turned her gaze to find a fancifully clad man descending a stone-wrought staircase, grinning from ear to ear. You grace us with your presence!"

He knew her true name? Irritating, but merely a trifle. Her task was all. She would not falter here.

"Caster of Red." She'd been supplied information supplied by the Grail on him and his faction. This one was weak. Hardly any combat potential to speak of. "Do you have some quarrel with me, weakling?" She readied her weapon. "Or have you come here to die?"

"Quarrel?" Here at last, his perpetual grin finally faltered. "You might say that."

What was this aura of dread she felt? He was weak. Harmless. He could not touch her, surely.

"Your beloved "Grail" killed that boy." the poet intoned with silken menace. "His story was to be my magnum opus, and you slew him. His tale would have been one for the ages. And you lot. Killed. Him."

Lancer frowned. "...and?"

"Congratulations!" when Shakespeare's smile returned, it baffled the Servant of Blue. "You've made me quite angry. That's a rare feat. And you're right. I am weak. Absurdly so." He feigned a laugh as brittle as his smile. "I cannot possibly hope to best you in anything resembling a fair fight. However! I am also a Caster." Thus speaking he bowed and held out his right hand, pages fluttering from the book clutched within. "And I am not without my tricks. Nor am I without allies of my own."

His grin took on a wicked edge as a pillar of light bloomed in the night sky.

Lancer of Blue looked up. Their impassive facade began to crumble as they saw the shining star burning high above.

"You can kill me quite easily." Shakespeare's lips peeled back in a snarl. "But what of Karna? Your assassin denied him the rematch he sought. He's quite displeased with you lot." A shadow emerged behind him as a very familiar child stepped out of the alley nearby. "Nevermind little Jackie here. You murdered her Father. You're in quite the pickle, I dare say!"

...a pickle indeed.

They were all eyeing her like starving hounds, ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. Unfortunate. She felt confident she could kill Caster alone. Perhaps even Assassin of Red, though she was admittedly wary of her Noble Phantasm and the curse that came with it. But even so, she felt confident in her ability to pry victory from the jaws of defeat. Yes, again two Servants she was ready, even willing to fight.

But Karna? Karna was fresh. Karna looked quite cross. Karna had mana for days. Karna could kill her.

Something in her soul quivered.

Fresh pages fluttered from Shakespeare's book, bright in the night.

"Now, then, my dear." his grin stretched yet further, bordering on outright mania. "Lets give you a splendid nightmare."

Brynhildr blinked. Once. Just once. It was was all she had time to do before the world blurred.

Her mind whirled, taking in the new scene before her. Her mind broke.

The horror Brynhildr beheld there caused her to scream.

And the unlikely trio fell upon her.


(.0.0.0.)


Fury.

It filled Atalanta's every thought, dark and cloying, clinging to her mind like heavy tar. She could barely think. Rational thought and strategy required a concentrated urge on her part. She wanted nothing more than to bite with her fangs and rend with her claws. She longed to do nothing more than rip and tear; to rend the foe before her like so much dead meat. There could be no peace here between them. One would stand. One would fall. Her madness raged in a maelstrom, blinding to her all other possibilities and paths.

Yet for all that, it freed her.

Her lack of reason left her stronger. Faster. More durable than ever before. An an Archer, Assassin had toyed with her. He'd cut her apart with ease. But as a Berserker? She could fight back.

And fight she did.

Assassin's sword swept down at her head, cast in azure flames in the light of the setting sun. With it, the whispers came again. This time, they sounded almost familiar. Like an old friend humming in her ear. Like a gentle hand guiding her body through the proper actions, so too did she trust in it now. It hadn't failed her yet.

Feint. Ignore it.

She did, and wasn't baited.

He's going to strike at your left flank. Block!

Her bones rattled as she intercepted the bloody blade with a forearm, but she held firm.

Good. It had saved her three times already. Now it saved her again. Duck and jab at his chest. Then go for his legs. He'll be wide open.

Atalanta wanted to believe it was him. Truly she did. But there just wasn't any time to ask. And so she swayed under that evil blade do drive a clawed fist into Assassin's armored chest. His entire torso rang like a bell and a rare grunt of surprise escaped the stoic servant. She swept at his bare feet before he could bring his weapon around again, forcing him to vanish in another plume of flame. But only for a moment. Her ears twitched and she managed to survive the followup. A wickedly spiked shield caught her in the face, driving her away with a pained cry. Blood ran down her nose. She shook her head against it, uncaring of the wound.

"You're going to die, Assassin." the words weren't a threat, but a promise. "I'll kill you. You'll feel every second of it."

That horned head inclined a fraction of an inch. She was ready for the rush when it came. Slap the blade aside, parry, dodge to the inside, striking as his vulnerable joints. Keep him on the back foot. Attack, attack, attack, it was all she could do. All she was capable of. She cared not for her wounds. So long as he fell. So long as he perished!

"Unlikely." His words stole her thoughts away again, burning them in the fires of fresh fury. "You shall fall as Berserker did, child. Your taunts avail thee naught."

Everything burned red and Atalanta lost herself again. The voice drowned in her rage.

Hate! Hate, hate, hate! He had taken her mate from her and left her alone and for that he would PAY. The primal part of her mind subsumed all thought again, reducing her to her most basic emotions. The one person she had come to love, and this wretch had taken him away. She'd wanted a life with him. She wanted happiness with him. She wanted children with him. Even caught in the fiery throes of her rage, her mind conjured forth a hopelessly happy image; bright-eyed girls with whiskered cheeks and mischievous little boys with tails.

Before her eyes, it burned to ash. She would never have know them now. Assassin had stolen her happiness.

A low growl fled fro her lips as she dropped to all fours. Assassin stormed forward to meet her, sword swinging silently. She dove under it, raked her claws across his legs and leaped away before he could catch her. Sparks skittered into the air and she felt a blast of blue flame warm the back of her neck, but she was already away. Vaulting a crumbling fountain she whirled and kicked a heavy chunk of stone at her hated foe. He simply raised his shield and swatted it away, but it gave her time enough to carom off a dilapidated building and leap at him, again and again and again.

Kill him! her fury drove her on despite her wounds, blood boiling in her veins. Crush him! Tear him apart!

Sure enough Assassin's wretchedly powerful shield came down to intercept her when she dove at him again. Good! This time Atalanta ignored the voice and threw caution to the wind. She launched herself headlong at the hulking slab of metal and latched on with her claws, all but climbing over it to get at him. Assassin made a noise of discontent and countered with all the skill of his profession, spitting her left shoulder on his sword. Pain! It only fed her anger. The huntress snarled and pushed through, startling the reserved killer somewhat as she gored her limb to get at him. And she succeeded.

"Gotcha." She grinned through bloodied teeth.

Eyes blazing, muscles straining, Atalanta got a proper hold of his blade, planted both feet against his chest and pulled. His grip faltered and she tore the weapon out his grasp, ripped it from her bloodied shoulder and flung it away over his shoulder. It was soon joined by Assassin's shield as Atalanta wrestled the skull platted metal away, sending it skidding down the street.

Credit where it was due, Assassin was just as dangerous without his weapon. Rather than retreat drove a mailed fist into her face for her troubles. An Archer might have balked and tried to retreat to higher ground. The Berserker she'd become did no such thing. Her claws raked his face, crackling that ghastly skull that served as his head. With his sword out of play and his shield gone, her ferocity matched his. She caught and clawed at him, uncaring as she tore her palms bloody.

"Foolishness! You cannot kill me!"

Atalanta fought on undaunted. She raged like a madwoman and stormed without thought to her surroundings. Slice, bleed kill. Her heart hammed in her ears, swelling with the insatiable need for vengeance. Hatred surged in her veins, blinding her to all else. Spite sizzled in her stomach, ready to burst free in a roaring thunderclap of thunder that would fell all before her.

Finally she found the opening she sought. A sharp and sudden shove set Assassin off balance. She saw a chance and took it. Her body collided with his; she tackled him and bore him down to the ground, straddling him with her hips.

Maddened golden eyes leered against emotionless blue slits.

And for a moment, the light of sanity shone through.

'I made a mistake.' an epiphany broke like the dawn in Atalanta's frenzied mind. 'Back then, if I had just listened to Naruto...if we had stood together...we would have won. He would be here. Fighting with me. Instead I let myself get tangled up in emotion. I distracted him...I kissed him...

Assassin of Blue made no move to attack. He simply stared up at her. His silence inflamed Berserker's fury further, turning it to a black pearl of rage within her chest.

A shriek tore out of Berserker as as her clawed fist slammed down. "ASSASSIN!"

King Hassan was no fool; he jerked his skull to the right at the last moment and only lost a horn for his trouble. Atalanta lost much more. Clenched knuckles barreled into the ground without restraint and shattered. Unable to properly compensate for her newfound strength, her arm buckled. Pain rocketed up her arm, feeding the fire within her. She leaned back, still pinning him with her weight. Her mind was still so far away, consumed now by grief and doubt.

'The others were nearby. We would have won. We should've stuck together! Why did we split up?!'

Fury filled her and her good arm smashed down, determined to shatter the ghastly death's head grin staring up at her. She missed again as Assassin nimbly tugged his head out of the way. Undeterred, her fist struck deep into the soil and disintegrated at the wrist. This time, Atalanta wasn't able to choke down the cry of pain that felt from her lips. Her innate bestial regeneration took hold at once; particles of light stemming from her ruined wrists, forcing her limbs to reform. It wasn't enough.

'I made my choice. And my choice killed him. He died because of me. But even more than that...its all your fault!'

Atalanta hunched over and screamed in his face. Here at last, unnerved by her fury, Assassin of Blue turned his gaze from hers. It didn't deter Berserker. She bit down at him, snapping her teeth just over the burning pits that served as his eyes. He slammed a fist into her side. She didn't feel it. Then she drove her skull against his. Once. Twice. Thrice. He didn't even flinch. Damn him. Damn him, damn it, damnittall!

"Give him back to me!"

...I cannot. Such is beyond my power."

Grief gutted her fury momentarily spent, Atalanta leaned back. But only for a moment. If she could not save him? She would avenge him. Simple. She liked simply.

Her forehead smashed down again, her teeth mere inches from his face.

"I'm going to tear you apart!" Black flames burst from her pelt, shrouding her body in shadow. "Once my hands heal!" Words failed her in her rage. "I'll tear rip you asunder!" Her eyes burned a molten gold, all but rolling in her head as her fangs lengthened. "Piece by piece!" Somewhere deep inside her mind, the very last threat of her sanity snapped, leaving a raving beast behind. "Rip you into tiny little shreds...and eat you!"

Assassin's fist lanced up and scythed at her gut. A healed hand caught it and held tight, keeping the deathblow at bay.

Maddened gold eyes met his as her change continued.

"There! Will! Be! Nothing! Left!"

Metal sprouted from her fur pelt, forming two jet-black pauldrons flowing down into spaulders, threaded by streaks of wild violet across her now-armored chest. Fur burned away, replaced by ebony armor. Vivid violet ink scrawled across her exposed flesh, tracing wild lines across her pale skin. Finally, the last of her pelt vanished entirely, not gone, but stronger than before, tempered and strengthened, hardened in the lames of her rage. Hardened into mighty armor made for but a single purpose, a singular goal above all else.

Atalanta scarcely noticed her transformation. Her world was red, her vision tunneled to but a single point. One command. One. Singular. Mission.

Attack.

King Hassan balked. "Ascension?! Impossible-

Attack. Attack.

Twin fists smashed down on his head, shattering Assassin's remaining horn to send him skipping across the street. He was still flying through the air when Berserker reappeared and brought her heel crashing into his neck. Something cracked and he hurtled away again. She gave chase, uncaring as he righted himself in the street.

Attack! Attack! Attack!

She was still charging him when she saw his shield return to his hand. He was only just reaching out with the other -about to do the same with his blade!- when an emerald star shot across the street and crashed into his right leg. Atalanta's charge turned into a stumble. Here at last, Assassin's seemingly invincible body failed him. His limb faltered, buckling at the knee. He rounded on his aggressor, bringing his shield to bear, only to find his wrist caught in a vicious snare.

Something had him by the wrist. No, someone.

King Hassan blinked. "Your place isn't here, Rider of Red."

Achilles rammed a fist into his chest and sent him slamming through a building. "BITE ME!"

Despite her frenzied fury, Atalanta felt herself smile. She rather liked these odds. A gleam of steel in the rubble caught her eye.

Her grin grew.

King Hassan was still climbing to his feet when his sixth sense shrieked a warning. The armored assassin turned, parrying Achilles and his spear, only to be caught unawares as the violently violet meteor that was Atalanta crashed down on him from high. Realizing his danger he made to move, but his mangled leg failed him and buckled beneath his weight. Burning blue slits rose to regard the glint of metal in the fading light. He recognized the weapon in her hand well enough. It was his own after all. No doubt she'd snatched it off the ground. Had possessed the means to do so, King Hassan might have smiled.

"Clever girl...

She fell upon him like a storm and slammed his sword through his collarbone. For the first time since their battle began, King Hassan roared in pain. His body convulsed once, shuddering in surprise as a dull throbbing ache registered against his muddled senses. Remarkable indeed. How long had it been since he had felt such a sensation? Years, at least. The small part of his soul that was still his own commended Berserker for her ingenuity.

His body, however, still acted.

A clawed hand found her throat and hoisted her off the ground.

...I commend you for your bravery, but did you really think that would stop me?"

"Maybe not." she grinned and gripped his wrist with both hands, legs kicking in the air. "But...that will...!"

The distant clatter of hooves was his only warning; then Achilles' chariot barreled into them both, burning everything a vivid shade of green.

A/N: And so the battles rage on. Worry not, we'll see Jeanne and Semiramis next chapter. They're...occupied at the moment.

Yup. Atalanta went into her third ascension form there.

That was most certainly an Attack on Titan reference with our crazy little cat and I regret nothing. She's gone absolutely nuts. Should be interesting to see if she's able to claw her way out of her madness. Frankly the battle could go any way at this point. Some may live. Some may die. Won't say who, save that we're on the path to the to the true ending foiks...and its gonna be one helluva race to the finish.

Thanks for joining me on this wild ride, and I hope to entertain you all for many more yet to come.

As ever, reviews keep me alive. I literally. Cannot. Write. Without them.

So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...

...Review...Would You Kindly?

Alas, NO previews this time!

We're in the endgame!

...fine, don't beg.

Here you go.

(Preview)

"Will you not join us?"

Fran lifted her mace with trembling arms. Her angry growl was answer enough.

Siegfried sighed. "Such a shame...


"Look at you, Ruler." a boot ground down on Jeanne's head. "Wasted and gasping for air. Such a sad thing to lose faith, isn't it? But you don't get to go yet." that boot ground down, drawing a cry from the battered blond as she struggled. "When your friends and family are dead and your last desperate hope is in ashes," Her tormentor leaned closer, lips brushing her ear. "Then you have my permission to die."

Jeanne's head snapped up. Her visible eye flashed a molten shade of gold. "BURN!"

Her opponent toppled backward, shrieking as they burst into flame.


Semiramis coughed and wiped a thin line of blood from her mouth. "What is a god to a nonbeliever?"

Another blow sent her sprawling into the street. "Still a god."

"I will not die here, Ivan!"

...yes. You will."


...farewell."

The blade stopped before it could take her head. Held back by a strong hand. Firm fingers clenched, holding the sword at bay.

"Nice sword ya go here." a familiar voice drawled. "Mind if I take a look at it?"

Bright eyes bulged in confusion, then narrowed. "And you are...?"

"Does it really matter? I am me." the peal of laughter that followed was intimately known to her ears. "Lets just say a mutual friend sent me. I hope you enjoyed bullying them." Burning eyes narrowed to absolute slits. "I hope you had a reeeaaal good time. Did you enjoy yourself?" clawed digits clenched, uncaring as the steel burned into his palm. "Did you like listening to them shout and scream?" around them, their air boiled with light. "I hope you did. Because now?"

Their free fist rose, and behind them, an army ROARED.

"Its your turn."

R&R~!

~Nz.