One could call Shizuru obsessed. Which one? Well, both, to a certain extent. That much at least was among the similarities between analogues.
Both had made it their business to learn as much as they could about the respective objects of their obsession ...
Which, in retrospect? More than just a little creepy.
It made both of them driven fighters to say the least.
Which is why we were making such and such time, getting from the arena to Garderobe.
The Slaves we came across on the way to the car ... well, those were soon more than just down for the count. How I got delegated to nursing duty to an unconscious and possibly concussed Natsuki Kruger, I have no ... well, actually, I do have an idea. It involves the fact that Viola's Element is very very sharp.
"Yamada?" I tapped the earpiece comlink.
"Package still secure. Hound has taken up arms on their side," the reply was slightly garbled by static.
'Hmm, so Wong's declared himself? Interesting. Or is it just a feint.'
"Stay on it."
The good news was, every once in a while a Slave at random would rapidly dissolve into a cloud of green shards, meaning Miyu and/or the diversionary teams Ren was heading were doing their share.
The bad news ...
... the bad news took off the front of the limousine, driver included, in an explosion of warped reality and shards of ice.
Too familiar.
The back of the limo spun, skidded, and finally screeched against one of the roadside buildings before it came to a halt.
"Katz! She's here!" Fujino's voice, over the comlink.
The black clad figure touched down in the center of the street, her odd gear still looking more like restrains than actual armor, featureless flat faceplate seemingly glaring, despite a lack of obvious optics, at myself, Viola, and Kruger's inert form that we were moving out of the wrecked Garderobe automobile.
"Yeah, we've sort of noticed," I deadpanned. Luckily, the streets were deserted. Apparently, developing a proper self-preservation instinct came easily to these people.
Which was when our assailant moved, chips of pavement flying from where she'd pushed off, like a cannoball hurtling towards us.
Kruger was gathered up by Viola, who launched herself into the air immediately, while I darted off to the side.
There was a tearing, splitting crash ... too crisp, too 'clear' in a way ...
The remains of the limo, the path the attacker had taken, the wall beyond ... all were left torn asunder, and glittering, and _steaming_ in the afternoon light.
I wasn't granted any respite, though, as she leapt from inside the building and the air between us was suddenly alive with glinting, shimmering spikes of ice.
I dodged one, ducked another, and slapped the rest out of the air with an AT Field that had them shatter into so much shaved ice.
Viola and Kruger were ignored entirely.
Apparently, Kuga wanted to finish what she'd started in Lutetia.
Alright, I could work with that.
***
"Nao-oneesama!"
"Move it! We don't have time to spare, in case you haven't noticed!" Juliet barked out in her best 'command voice' ... which was pretty damn good. Pretty damn scary, too, but that was part of the package.
Basic rules of engagement, at least from what they'd established with the Headmistress and those Black skirmishers Katz had riding around the city and tripping up the invasion force, said 'in case of a SNAFU, retreat and regroup on easily defensible terrain'.
Meaning Garderobe for the Pearl and Coral Otome.
How Nao had gotten roped into this leader gig, when both Huit and Hallard were with the group, she had no idea ... although, no. No sane person would have given Huit, of all people, command over anything more than a broom closet, if that.
"The grounds should be coming up soon," she said, touching down with the Coral group. Pearl Robes let their users fly, true, but Windbloom had rapidly become a high hostility zone, which made stretching their force out a not so wise idea. Not for the first time that day, she wished Akane was still here. She was better at all this 'positive reinforcement' crap. "Stick together, cover one-another, and when we're there give us a defensive peremiter. Chie!"
Hallard had touched down on a low rooftop off to the side, and motioned a 'clear' with her hand before she took off again.
It wasn't even a minute before they were back in intimately familiar surroundings, the Corals splitting up into groups and heading off to previously assigned posts ... it was always a bit of a rude awakening for the first years to find that the first formations they'd learn when using their Robes would be ones that would serve as defensive ones for Garderobe itself. It was a dangerous world out there, though ... and the precautions seemed to be paying off.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Nao froze before turning around. "Leaving the students to protect that which is most precious to them? How disappointing. I had a higher opinion of them, even if they are shamelessly bigoted."
Even if Nao didn't recognize the woman, which she did - briefings had made certain of that - the others were too distinctive to mistake for anything but ...
"Aswad," Juliet Nao Zhang hissed. "Everyone, scatter!"
***
The Slave didn't as much reel as it fell apart, armored segments of its manifested solid hologram body torn loose and sent flying at the impact.
And another.
And another.
Leaving it a twitching heap of semi-metallic, semi-organic limbs before it started to disintegrate, taking its Lord, wherever they were, with it.
There was a reason Haruka Armitage was rumored to be the fiercest fighter Garderobe had turned out in the past century.
And this was the sort of fighting she excelled at as well. Her style, her temperament, her Element, they were all geared to be at their best when outnumbered.
And she was angry.
Angry enough that she _wasn't_ shouting out challenges at random, boasting as she fought, or laughing at her conquered foes.
The Meister bond had several unique aspects, one of which being that the Otome slowly gained the ability to track her master, no matter where they were, respectively.
She'd gotten seperated from Yukino in the attack on the Arena, but she could clearly feel the bond pointing her _thataway_ ...
So she went ... and woe to anything to stand in her way.
Haruka Armitage was on the warpath.
***
I yanked the spike from my shoulder, winced, got up.
I was a mess. The reality warps that surrounded the ice and kept it at near absolute zero temperatures also gave it some ability to get through my Field. Not easily, and not often ... but the damn woman was throwing them around like they were going out of style, and the sort of concentration maintaining a full deflection AT Field took for any significant amount of time was still beyond me.
Apparently, this was another thing that was different depending on who you asked, as neither Gabriel nor his/her sisters had that particular problem. The flip side was that projective and receptive empathy via the Field came almost instinctively to me, and they had to try at it, but right there and then I was perfectly willing to switch with them for talent-sets.
Regenerating big holes in one's body, frostbite and all, does that to me.
And before you ask, I was fast ... but she was just that much faster. Or at least less hesitant.
This was, after all, Kuga Natsuki ... or that was the operating theory, at least. That aside, I was fighting a holding action more than anything else, and hopefully Viola had managed to get Kruger back to Garderobe thanks to this little distraction.
"Where the hell are you, Shiraga?!"
Oh my. Fujino. Swearing. This cannot be good.
"Fighting for my life ..." I leapt, pushing off with the Field, bounding away from a nearby wall just in time to avoid a spread of foot-long ice needles. "Or at least Kuga's."
"What do you mean," sounds of steel on steel, tearing pavement, breaking glass, "Kuga?! Natsuki's right here!"
That almost gave me pause, before I remembered that ... well, hello, homicidal ice element wielding chick right here, trying to kill me.
"Then who the hell has been giving my ass frostbite for the past ten minutes?!" I shouted, evading again ...
... before actually thinking on that for a moment.
I hit my attacker with an AT Field that had her twisting almost violently through the air, bunched my legs underneath me, and leapt.
There's nothing quite like the sensation of spreading my wings. It's like ... freedom, distilled.
I went up, twisting aside to avoid an overeager Slave and having it run into the leading edge of one of the four energy constructs that served me for wings. One less slave.
Then I came to a halt, several dozen meters above the city.
There was an odd sort of aesthetics to the scene. Slaves in the air, combat on the ground, the occasional pillar of smoke rising above the skyline ... and blooms of ice shooting up seemingly all over the place.
What in the _world_ ...
... a conversation with Yukino came to mind.
It would explain a lot. Or a great deal, at least. Like why the only things I was getting empathically from my assailant seemed ... disassociated with the body. And like rote. Pale shadows flitting across the mind, faded mirror images.
_Now_ I knew why it felt so familar. And creepy.
It reminded me of a soul-less body. A dummy. Or more specifically ...
"Shizuru, that's not Kuga!"
I twisted aside, lessening the wings' interaction with the various radiation spectra and wavelengths they intersected in order to plummed back downwards.
My Field twisted, turned, and tore downwards in a momentary spike of intense focus.
"How?" the question that came over the comlink was spoken in a voice so cold, so devoid of emotion, that it chilled me to listen to it.
"Cloning," I touched down, hard enough to leave a mark, or at least boot-prints, letting the wings flicker back out of existence.
The spike had taken her low, and its torque hadn't just ripped her legs to shreds. It wasn't a pretty picture. In fact, I was fairly sure I'd be seeing it again sometime soon, most likely during a night when I'd had too much time to think.
Let nobody tell you that war isn't an ugly business. They've obviously never seen it.
"Are you sure?"
Leaning down. Yes. Always make sure. Not of what she meant, but ...
Grab. Twist, almost gently.
The crack of breaking vertebrae. Another thing I don't think I'll ever be forgetting.
"Yes," I replied, after prying the bulky, metallic helmet away from the head.
The sight that greeted me wasn't expected, but it wasn't really surprising either. Much as I hate to recall, I'd seen similar things before.
The head was bald, the eyes a blind milky-white ... there were wires. There were cables. Underneath the expanse of her skin, out from the back of her skull and into the helmet. Small reservoirs of an amber liquid lined the inside of the helmet, connected to some sort of dosage system ... I turned the head to the side again, and this time noticed the two needles that extended to penetrate on either side of the spine.
"I'm sure."
I stood for a moment, ignoring the surrounding bedlam ... everything else aside, these clones were formidable. Something we'd not anticipated. And if there was so many of them here ...
"Yamada," I keyed the comlink. "We may need to implement B. I'm heading backstage to get the props."
He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day after all.
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm