The Siberian bounded soundless from one rooftop to the next with as little effort as it took to cleave Brutes in twain. The rain pattered harmlessly against her skin, not even so much as dampening her invulnerable hair. She did not bother keeping her head on a swivel as she traversed the city, for there were no threats to be found that would be any danger to her. She had eyes for only one person right now: Rachel Lindt.
She had spent some time researching the capes of this city, looking for one that might deserve to join her family, and had come across the orphaned dog girl. Hers was a tragic tale, the failures of the system, the casual cruelty of those that interacted with it, the ubiquitous inability to accommodate a child with special needs. Even before her powers, she had been different, but every adopter had tried to hammer her into the shape of their perfect child.
The couldn't see what she saw. Rachel was already perfect. A lovely little girl who needed a team - no, a family- that would never betray her, that would never limit her for the sake of civility, that would never merely tolerate her for her strength. She needed to join the Nine, needed Siberian's nurturing protection. She would be a wonderful sister to little Riley, even if a bit acerbic.
The Siberian was contemplating what kind of gift might endear her to the other villain, when she noticed movement from the corner of her eye. A glance told her she too was being stalked - only this time, there was no subtlety involved. A yellow toad woman clad in silver armor was standing several roofs over, eyes locked on the Siberian. She was not in a combat stance, and her weapon remained undrawn, but nonetheless she felt as if she intended harm.
The Siberian gave her a cheeky little wave, although it didn't provoke any kind of reaction. With a shrug, she turned back towards Rachel and continued following her as she trained her dogs. The frog-woman's intentions didn't matter - nothing she did could so much as give Siberian a papercut, let alone a real injury. If she got too close, she would die. If she tried to cause problems for Rachel, she would die. She would respect the danger Siberian represented, or her life would be forfeit, and that was that.
And that's how it went for the next hour: the toad-woman stalked Siberian, who herself was stalking Bitch. The dog-handler never noticed either of the others, too intent on her training regimen. Occasionally, when she grew bored, Siberian would chuck something in the toad-woman's direction, but she always managed to dodge, even teleporting out of the way on one occasion. Still, she kept her distance, and so it was clear she knew she was no threat.
...until quite suddenly, the pattern was broken. Siberian watched as the toad-woman drew her sword with a steadying breath, before walking...not towards or away, but perpendicular. She raised the sword high above her head, and brought it down in a powerful choppi-
Lae'zel stood still for a moment, tense and waiting. If she had gambled wrong, a counterattack would be incoming momentarily. Her senses strained for several long seconds, before she finally relaxed, lowing her sword. The spell woven into her eyes faded, and the overlay on top of the world showing her where magic and power pooled disappeared from view.
When the party had first scried their adversaries, Lae'zel had witnessed telltale signs of projection - not common knowledge even among the gith, but her training as a gish had included such things. Taylor had pushed back against her attempts to handle the situation, convinced Lae'zel was powering forward for the most difficult kill out of pride or stubbornness. The wizard had been able to back up her claims regarding the silver sword's more potent abilities, and that had been enough for the child to hear her out.
Still, the rumored abilities of this particular foe had left even Lae'zel hesitant to risk her life, and so they had looked into it further before committing. Another scry, this one more focused on the Siberian. Some additional divinations seeking out any possible projector had turned up a solid lead (although nothing was ever guaranteed with such magicks, she had to remind herself). Finally, she had stalked the striped woman for nearly an hour, observing her movements and actions and even noting how far she got from the suspected projector.
In the end, Lae'zel had been correct. All it took to fell that most dreaded of capes was a single swipe of her blade.