She was like a spider, and they were liked flies in her web. She had lured them into her trap, and now they had no choice but to sit back and wait to see what the scarfed woman had in store.
“No more games, Rosemary,” Nash commanded, “Give us that emblem or face the judgment that is long overdue.” The grey-haired man stared intently at the woman on the other side of the looking-glass, and watched with pride as she sighed, telekinetically lifting up the thick wall of glass.
She was wide open; this was their chance, and the young tailed boy knew that it would be their last. Wizard was too quick, though. Juno yelled out in warning, but it was too late—his eagerness cost him dearly as the witch blasted him in the abdomen with a large blast of magenta energy.
He flew backwards through the throne room, and she stepped towards him, her heels clicking on the golden floor. He struggled up, attempting to move away, but she closed in, and lifted a palm.
“No!” Juno screamed, his conscience taking over. He ran after the red-haired woman and placed both his palms on her head. All of his energy was pushed into his palms, pushed into incapacitating her, pushed into hopefully saving them from her wrath.
Rosemary was much more powerful than he, however. Electrifying sparks flew from the psychic encounter as they clashed, met in the middle; the two psychics battled fiercely. Wizard looked on with awe as the color faded from Juno’s cheeks and Rosemary’s pupils grew dilated.
Her hair grew frazzled, fuming with static as she pushed back at Juno mentally. The two telepaths seemed to be in a deadlock until finally, the Saiyan’s fingers loosened their grip. Rosemary exploded in a cloud of ki, knocking him off of his feet and sliding across the throne room.
“Juno, Juno, Juno,” she muttered, turning her attention to the rebel. He cringed, his mind dead from the mental attack that had just recoiled back onto him. “You insolent punk.”
The tailed boy tried to reply, but could do nothing more than sputter incoherent sounds. He struggled for breath, his lungs pulsing, his heart beating rapidly, as if it was about to lurch forward out of his very chest. Rosemary shook her head in disappointment.
“You were my favorite player, Juno,” she sighed. “I longed to play more games with you. Let me tell you, you’re a tough one to figure out. And I respect you for that. Now, however, I think I might’ve finally figured out what makes you tick.” She knelt down beside him, staring at his scrunched face as he struggled to reply.
“You—you know nothing about me,” he choked at last, looking up to her with deadened eyes. Rosemary frowned, disappointed.
“I didn’t want to do this,” she told him reproachfully as she placed her heel on his neck, “But you’ve left me no choice, my little fly.” Juno almost thought he felt one of her tears hit his cheek.
Rosemary pressed down.
“No more games, Rosemary,” Nash commanded, “Give us that emblem or face the judgment that is long overdue.” The grey-haired man stared intently at the woman on the other side of the looking-glass, and watched with pride as she sighed, telekinetically lifting up the thick wall of glass.
She was wide open; this was their chance, and the young tailed boy knew that it would be their last. Wizard was too quick, though. Juno yelled out in warning, but it was too late—his eagerness cost him dearly as the witch blasted him in the abdomen with a large blast of magenta energy.
He flew backwards through the throne room, and she stepped towards him, her heels clicking on the golden floor. He struggled up, attempting to move away, but she closed in, and lifted a palm.
“No!” Juno screamed, his conscience taking over. He ran after the red-haired woman and placed both his palms on her head. All of his energy was pushed into his palms, pushed into incapacitating her, pushed into hopefully saving them from her wrath.
Rosemary was much more powerful than he, however. Electrifying sparks flew from the psychic encounter as they clashed, met in the middle; the two psychics battled fiercely. Wizard looked on with awe as the color faded from Juno’s cheeks and Rosemary’s pupils grew dilated.
Her hair grew frazzled, fuming with static as she pushed back at Juno mentally. The two telepaths seemed to be in a deadlock until finally, the Saiyan’s fingers loosened their grip. Rosemary exploded in a cloud of ki, knocking him off of his feet and sliding across the throne room.
“Juno, Juno, Juno,” she muttered, turning her attention to the rebel. He cringed, his mind dead from the mental attack that had just recoiled back onto him. “You insolent punk.”
The tailed boy tried to reply, but could do nothing more than sputter incoherent sounds. He struggled for breath, his lungs pulsing, his heart beating rapidly, as if it was about to lurch forward out of his very chest. Rosemary shook her head in disappointment.
“You were my favorite player, Juno,” she sighed. “I longed to play more games with you. Let me tell you, you’re a tough one to figure out. And I respect you for that. Now, however, I think I might’ve finally figured out what makes you tick.” She knelt down beside him, staring at his scrunched face as he struggled to reply.
“You—you know nothing about me,” he choked at last, looking up to her with deadened eyes. Rosemary frowned, disappointed.
“I didn’t want to do this,” she told him reproachfully as she placed her heel on his neck, “But you’ve left me no choice, my little fly.” Juno almost thought he felt one of her tears hit his cheek.
Rosemary pressed down.