Juno’s ki spilt forth over the floor, emerging from his palms in sapphire bursts of energy. While Wizard and Jackson were handling Ares, Juno was handling the lower legions of Rosemary’s guard—but there was something quite different about them. These guards weren’t like any he’d encountered before in Friend or Foe; rather, they seemed to be invulnerable to the Saiyan’s assault; every time he’d hit them, they’d always find a way back up. It was a puzzling concept, but somehow, they were… invincible?
The fortuneteller quirked an eyebrow—how could these soldiers be so powerful? They didn’t seem to be near as strong as the three warriors in any aspect besides endurance. The psychic glanced at his opposition, and decided that now was time for a little experiment. His thoughts raced as two soldiers darted towards him, one raising his rifle in the air while the other steadied his aim.
Juno reached forth and took the blunt-attacking soldier by the wrist, tossing him towards his counterpart. Much to his the contrary of his first inspection—but drastically proving his most recent hypothesis correct—the tumbling soldier tumbled right through his friend, as if they both were ghosts. The other continued to ready his gun, and Juno held himself open, ready for the next part of his experiment. The soldier fired off several bolts of ki, which zoomed right through Juno’s exposed chest. The seer’s realization was immediate.
“Nash, Jackson—” the supernatural called, “They’re not real! The soldiers aren’t real! They can’t hurt us!”
Ares whipped his head towards the telepath, his eyes shocked with Juno’s statement. Much to the halfling’s surprise, it seemed that Rosemary hadn’t even let her own right-hand man in on the scheme. He chuckled—that woman was such a harlot. She’d concocted this scheme, and now Juno had figured it out—but had that been what she’d wanted?
WHACK—Juno felt a very real throbbing over his head as he fell to the ground, having a spasm from the shock. Since his recent discovery, he hadn’t expected any pain, but looked up to see one of Ares’s bodyguards. They were real.
He struggled to find Wizard and Jackson with his only receptive muscle, his eyes, as the bodyguard stepped on his throat, choking the air out of him. Jackson was struggling with Ares, and Wizard was quickly being dispatched by the other bodyguard—something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. Juno felt his eyes grow weak, and eventually, everything drowned out around him—except for one, poignant sound.
Somewhere, deep within the complex, Rosemary was laughing.
Hot breath caressed his face, and sweat trickled down his forehead. The seer opened his eyes, finding himself laying on the ground, a beautiful young woman straddling him. He sat up in alarm, and the woman was gone, vanished into thin air.
Juno was alone.
Deep in the background, he heard tantalizing tango rhythms being played, but the room around him was empty and bare. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, everything was made of concrete, and there didn’t seem to be anything there or any way out. Was he trapped? Was she planning to suffocate him? Juno didn’t think that Rosemary would off him so frivolously, but then, she had done strange things before.
“Good afternoon, my dear,” he heard her enticing voice over some sort of intercom system. He glanced up out of instinct, knowing she wasn’t above him, but still searching for where the voice came from.
He panted wearily, sweat running down his bare chest. The concrete was warm against his feet; was she intentionally heating this room up? “Where are you, Rosemary?” he beckoned, and her shrill laughter replied. “You slut, I swear, if you don’t show yourself—”
“You’ll what? Burst through six feet of concrete?” she giggled. “You’re not that powerful, Juno. You and I both know that. No—I have a little game I’d like to play with you. It’s a bit of a different version of our previous game, because, you see, this time around, you have three chances to prove yourself, but you must complete two out of three tasks. However, the tasks are suited to your temptations; the hard part is not giving in.”
“What happens if I do give in?” Juno asked. He couldn’t see her, but he could tell that the scarfed mistress cracked a smile.
“Well, then, you get to leave… go free,” she smirked. “But the downside is, you don’t get your chance with me and you don’t get your chance at the amulet.” Juno sighed. The easy way out never seemed so hard.
The concrete slab of a wall just ahead of him began to slide away, slowly revealing a new wall, just slightly farther back. However, much to the supernatural’s dismay, shackled to the fortification was a woman. A petite woman, emerald in skin with flowing orange hair that seemed to have a natural ‘poof’ to it. Her blue eyes looked at him with agony, her white dress stained with the blood she lost fighting for her freedom.
“This,” Rosemary revealed, “is Zangya; your victim.”
“What do I have to do?” Juno asked curiously; suddenly, Zangya’s shackles were opened, and the Ader dropped to the floor, writhing in pain, clutching her reddened wrists.
“Your tasks will be gruesome, Juno,” Rosemary warned, “Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?” It was a disclaimer—Rosemary knew that the fortuneteller wouldn’t give up a shot at her.
Zangya looked up to her companion, fear gracing her features, and pitifully sputtered out one question. “Friend or Foe?”
“I can handle gruesome,” Juno assured his captor, and she laughed audibly over the loudspeaker.
“Okay, Mister Bold,” Rosemary prepped, “Your first task is to strip her, and throw her against the opposite wall. Once there and stripped, shackles will appear around her wrists once more, preparing her for the next task.” Juno sighed—did Rosemary have some kind of homosexual agenda? He scoffed, though—stripping this woman down didn’t seem so gruesome, just slightly violating. So he stepped towards her, and she cowered. He grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her closer.
One by one, he ripped each article of clothing off of her, until she was completely bare in all her bloodied glory. He tossed her against the wall, and as Rosemary had promised, chains once more surrounded her hurting wrists. Juno looked to the ceiling for his next task.
“Now,” Rosemary chuckled. “Have your way with her.” Juno looked down at the scared woman. He didn’t want to force her into anything, but he needed this shot at Rosemary. He stepped towards her, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, and then sliding off all of his lower clothes in one fell swoop. He sat next to the woman and grabbed her by her sides—she struggled, but he fought back.
“It’s alright,” he soothed, “I can make you want me—” he whispered, preparing to use his abilities to possess her and influence her desires. But she fought bravely, and quickly spat one last thing out at him.
“I HAVE A CHILD!” she yelled. Tears soaked her cheeks, and Juno stopped, sliding back. “I… have a child,” she stuttered, and Juno looked at her, and then closed his eyes. His conscience was overwhelming him. Why should making love to her have anything to do with her having a child? And yet, he found himself swayed by her argument, as if defacing her soul as he was prepared to would somehow scar the innocent child. No one was innocent, of course, not truly innocent—but a child was more innocent than anyone else he could imagine.
“Not this,” he muttered. “Not this.”
Rosemary frowned in her control room. “Fine,” she whimpered slightly. Juno could feel the tension rising in her voice. “You have one more chance, boy, or else no dice!” Juno nodded, and listened carefully. “Kill her.”
He slid back once more, standing and walking towards the other wall. He leant against it, looking back at the nude woman whom he’d just been ordered to execute. What type of torture was this? Moral torture—Rosemary’s specialty. The red-haired woman was especially good at making him think, and he honored her for that much, but how much could one person stand? He slid down, vacillating.
Zangya tensed up, breathing heavily. A fury—or a fear—trickled into her eyes as she concentrated on Juno. The hybrid quirked an eyebrow, but suddenly saw her eyes glow red.
“LADY’S VISION!” she screeched, and two fluorescent beams of cherry light burst forth from her eyes. A bare Juno quickly tumbled out of the way, reached for a sharp piece of stone on the floor. Zangya followed him with her eyes, followed him with her ‘Lady’s Vision,’ but he was too quick. He approached her, and flourished with a mighty battle cry, thrusting the rock into her neck. She screamed in horror, her eyes going dark.
He stood, stepping back in horror. What had he done? The harlot deserved it, he convinced himself, continuing to back away, as if distancing himself from what he had done would make him feel better. He had just killed a mother. That child would never be the same—not without his mother…
The wall fell back, and Juno fell with it, into another chamber. He collapsed to the floor, the wall behind him sealing up, blocking him off from the view of Zangya’s dead body. He looked up to see a throne, and Rosemary sitting atop it. Around her neck was the treasure they’d been searching for—the Raptor Emblem. However, in front of the scarfed mistress was a large, thick wall of glass, which the supernatural assumed wasn’t as easily penetrable as it looked. The red-haired urchin’s face had grown pale.
“You killed her,” Rosemary muttered weakly, “You KILLED her.”
Juno panted, standing up. A coat rack arose from the golden floor, and the hybrid’s clothing rested upon it. He rushed for it, slipping on a new pair of underwear, followed by his traditional navy pants, shirt, and cloak, his black boots, and his white scarf. He felt at home once more—at least, a little bit home.
Then, he turned to the witch behind the glass. She had come down from her seat now, and now faced Juno directly, with only the glass separating them. “You killed her,” she repeated. “WHY DID YOU KILL HER?!”
Juno shrugged. “You told me to,” he answered brusquely. “I had to see you, Rosemary. I did what I had to do.” Rosemary had a look of horror on her face like had never been seen before. She pressed her hands to the glass, and Juno could see it melting ever so slightly beneath her fingertips.
“No one was supposed to die, Juno,” she choked, “No one.” The hybrid scoffed, looking at the woman whom he felt a certain mixture of hatred and attraction for. How could she be so weak?
“So, now what? Do we fight? Where’s Nash, and Jackson? And the dog?” Juno bombarded her with questions, and she shook her head fiercely, attempting to regain her composure so that she could give the boy his due answers with a clear head.
“No,” she stammered, “It isn’t that easy, Juno.”
The fortuneteller quirked an eyebrow—how could these soldiers be so powerful? They didn’t seem to be near as strong as the three warriors in any aspect besides endurance. The psychic glanced at his opposition, and decided that now was time for a little experiment. His thoughts raced as two soldiers darted towards him, one raising his rifle in the air while the other steadied his aim.
Juno reached forth and took the blunt-attacking soldier by the wrist, tossing him towards his counterpart. Much to his the contrary of his first inspection—but drastically proving his most recent hypothesis correct—the tumbling soldier tumbled right through his friend, as if they both were ghosts. The other continued to ready his gun, and Juno held himself open, ready for the next part of his experiment. The soldier fired off several bolts of ki, which zoomed right through Juno’s exposed chest. The seer’s realization was immediate.
“Nash, Jackson—” the supernatural called, “They’re not real! The soldiers aren’t real! They can’t hurt us!”
Ares whipped his head towards the telepath, his eyes shocked with Juno’s statement. Much to the halfling’s surprise, it seemed that Rosemary hadn’t even let her own right-hand man in on the scheme. He chuckled—that woman was such a harlot. She’d concocted this scheme, and now Juno had figured it out—but had that been what she’d wanted?
WHACK—Juno felt a very real throbbing over his head as he fell to the ground, having a spasm from the shock. Since his recent discovery, he hadn’t expected any pain, but looked up to see one of Ares’s bodyguards. They were real.
He struggled to find Wizard and Jackson with his only receptive muscle, his eyes, as the bodyguard stepped on his throat, choking the air out of him. Jackson was struggling with Ares, and Wizard was quickly being dispatched by the other bodyguard—something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. Juno felt his eyes grow weak, and eventually, everything drowned out around him—except for one, poignant sound.
Somewhere, deep within the complex, Rosemary was laughing.
~
Hot breath caressed his face, and sweat trickled down his forehead. The seer opened his eyes, finding himself laying on the ground, a beautiful young woman straddling him. He sat up in alarm, and the woman was gone, vanished into thin air.
Juno was alone.
Deep in the background, he heard tantalizing tango rhythms being played, but the room around him was empty and bare. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, everything was made of concrete, and there didn’t seem to be anything there or any way out. Was he trapped? Was she planning to suffocate him? Juno didn’t think that Rosemary would off him so frivolously, but then, she had done strange things before.
“Good afternoon, my dear,” he heard her enticing voice over some sort of intercom system. He glanced up out of instinct, knowing she wasn’t above him, but still searching for where the voice came from.
He panted wearily, sweat running down his bare chest. The concrete was warm against his feet; was she intentionally heating this room up? “Where are you, Rosemary?” he beckoned, and her shrill laughter replied. “You slut, I swear, if you don’t show yourself—”
“You’ll what? Burst through six feet of concrete?” she giggled. “You’re not that powerful, Juno. You and I both know that. No—I have a little game I’d like to play with you. It’s a bit of a different version of our previous game, because, you see, this time around, you have three chances to prove yourself, but you must complete two out of three tasks. However, the tasks are suited to your temptations; the hard part is not giving in.”
“What happens if I do give in?” Juno asked. He couldn’t see her, but he could tell that the scarfed mistress cracked a smile.
“Well, then, you get to leave… go free,” she smirked. “But the downside is, you don’t get your chance with me and you don’t get your chance at the amulet.” Juno sighed. The easy way out never seemed so hard.
The concrete slab of a wall just ahead of him began to slide away, slowly revealing a new wall, just slightly farther back. However, much to the supernatural’s dismay, shackled to the fortification was a woman. A petite woman, emerald in skin with flowing orange hair that seemed to have a natural ‘poof’ to it. Her blue eyes looked at him with agony, her white dress stained with the blood she lost fighting for her freedom.
“This,” Rosemary revealed, “is Zangya; your victim.”
“What do I have to do?” Juno asked curiously; suddenly, Zangya’s shackles were opened, and the Ader dropped to the floor, writhing in pain, clutching her reddened wrists.
“Your tasks will be gruesome, Juno,” Rosemary warned, “Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?” It was a disclaimer—Rosemary knew that the fortuneteller wouldn’t give up a shot at her.
Zangya looked up to her companion, fear gracing her features, and pitifully sputtered out one question. “Friend or Foe?”
“I can handle gruesome,” Juno assured his captor, and she laughed audibly over the loudspeaker.
“Okay, Mister Bold,” Rosemary prepped, “Your first task is to strip her, and throw her against the opposite wall. Once there and stripped, shackles will appear around her wrists once more, preparing her for the next task.” Juno sighed—did Rosemary have some kind of homosexual agenda? He scoffed, though—stripping this woman down didn’t seem so gruesome, just slightly violating. So he stepped towards her, and she cowered. He grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her closer.
One by one, he ripped each article of clothing off of her, until she was completely bare in all her bloodied glory. He tossed her against the wall, and as Rosemary had promised, chains once more surrounded her hurting wrists. Juno looked to the ceiling for his next task.
“Now,” Rosemary chuckled. “Have your way with her.” Juno looked down at the scared woman. He didn’t want to force her into anything, but he needed this shot at Rosemary. He stepped towards her, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, and then sliding off all of his lower clothes in one fell swoop. He sat next to the woman and grabbed her by her sides—she struggled, but he fought back.
“It’s alright,” he soothed, “I can make you want me—” he whispered, preparing to use his abilities to possess her and influence her desires. But she fought bravely, and quickly spat one last thing out at him.
“I HAVE A CHILD!” she yelled. Tears soaked her cheeks, and Juno stopped, sliding back. “I… have a child,” she stuttered, and Juno looked at her, and then closed his eyes. His conscience was overwhelming him. Why should making love to her have anything to do with her having a child? And yet, he found himself swayed by her argument, as if defacing her soul as he was prepared to would somehow scar the innocent child. No one was innocent, of course, not truly innocent—but a child was more innocent than anyone else he could imagine.
“Not this,” he muttered. “Not this.”
Rosemary frowned in her control room. “Fine,” she whimpered slightly. Juno could feel the tension rising in her voice. “You have one more chance, boy, or else no dice!” Juno nodded, and listened carefully. “Kill her.”
He slid back once more, standing and walking towards the other wall. He leant against it, looking back at the nude woman whom he’d just been ordered to execute. What type of torture was this? Moral torture—Rosemary’s specialty. The red-haired woman was especially good at making him think, and he honored her for that much, but how much could one person stand? He slid down, vacillating.
Zangya tensed up, breathing heavily. A fury—or a fear—trickled into her eyes as she concentrated on Juno. The hybrid quirked an eyebrow, but suddenly saw her eyes glow red.
“LADY’S VISION!” she screeched, and two fluorescent beams of cherry light burst forth from her eyes. A bare Juno quickly tumbled out of the way, reached for a sharp piece of stone on the floor. Zangya followed him with her eyes, followed him with her ‘Lady’s Vision,’ but he was too quick. He approached her, and flourished with a mighty battle cry, thrusting the rock into her neck. She screamed in horror, her eyes going dark.
He stood, stepping back in horror. What had he done? The harlot deserved it, he convinced himself, continuing to back away, as if distancing himself from what he had done would make him feel better. He had just killed a mother. That child would never be the same—not without his mother…
The wall fell back, and Juno fell with it, into another chamber. He collapsed to the floor, the wall behind him sealing up, blocking him off from the view of Zangya’s dead body. He looked up to see a throne, and Rosemary sitting atop it. Around her neck was the treasure they’d been searching for—the Raptor Emblem. However, in front of the scarfed mistress was a large, thick wall of glass, which the supernatural assumed wasn’t as easily penetrable as it looked. The red-haired urchin’s face had grown pale.
“You killed her,” Rosemary muttered weakly, “You KILLED her.”
Juno panted, standing up. A coat rack arose from the golden floor, and the hybrid’s clothing rested upon it. He rushed for it, slipping on a new pair of underwear, followed by his traditional navy pants, shirt, and cloak, his black boots, and his white scarf. He felt at home once more—at least, a little bit home.
Then, he turned to the witch behind the glass. She had come down from her seat now, and now faced Juno directly, with only the glass separating them. “You killed her,” she repeated. “WHY DID YOU KILL HER?!”
Juno shrugged. “You told me to,” he answered brusquely. “I had to see you, Rosemary. I did what I had to do.” Rosemary had a look of horror on her face like had never been seen before. She pressed her hands to the glass, and Juno could see it melting ever so slightly beneath her fingertips.
“No one was supposed to die, Juno,” she choked, “No one.” The hybrid scoffed, looking at the woman whom he felt a certain mixture of hatred and attraction for. How could she be so weak?
“So, now what? Do we fight? Where’s Nash, and Jackson? And the dog?” Juno bombarded her with questions, and she shook her head fiercely, attempting to regain her composure so that she could give the boy his due answers with a clear head.
“No,” she stammered, “It isn’t that easy, Juno.”