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The race for the sky had been unsuccessful. The aft cannon had been destroyed by repeated blasts that this man had emitted from his eyes, the mines had bought precious time but not sufficient to clear the atmosphere and with the primary propulsion systems offline the vessel had no means by which to finish reaching escape velocity. It began to fall back towards the earth far below.

Within the vessel the hands wreathed in metal moved rapidly, keying in commands and orders that the crippled ship attempted to obey. The fall could not be halted, and a crash was likely inevitable. But the systems still obeyed their master’s commands and the stealth field activated before the hero could close on the ship again. 

“Warning. Multiple System Failure.” The computerized voice hissed out, it appeared the communications systems within the vessel had also been damaged. More rapid movements by the hands produced a semistable fall and the vessel’s plummet slowed and became more controlled. But such was to be too little to prevent the crash and the vessel plowed into the ground, kicking up snow and dirt while tearing a path through the undergrowth. It was fortunate that the craft had avoided direct collisions with any trees as it came down, and the stealth system would likely be able to sustain itself virtually indefinitely as that system's power cells were undamaged.

The craft simply lay there on its side against the ground with no signs of life from within and condensation pooling on the slowly cooling hull. But after several minutes the mal-metal hull near the front of the craft peeled open slowly and the white and gold armored figure collapsed out of the hole into the snow. 

“Deactivate.” A pained voice hissed from within the suit, and the mal-metal began to slough off and run down the beings body too pool in a vague pack shape. As the metal of the armor pulled away the appearance of the individual who had launched the attack at last became clear. It was a woman, and as she slowly worked her way back up to her feet it became clear that the fight had not been kind. The right side of her face was bruised and already turning a dark purple color, one of her arms hung awkwardly at her side, likely the product of a dislocated shoulder, and her bearing was pained.

The tendrils that made up her hair, looking like a cross between what had launched out at the hero previously and human hair stirred weakly even as they visibly continued to revert to a more human appearance. Her good arm gripped the upper part of the other arm and with a wrench popped it back into its proper position and not a wince or a grown of pain escaped. For even as her body reverted to its base imprint state her mind was focused elsewhere. It was impossible and yet it was true, she had failed to do the thing she had dreamed of ever since she had discovered the truth about what she was, about the terrible crime committed against her and her people. 

As she dwelt on the enormity of her shocking failure another sensation began to tug at her and she realized that she was cold. A brief thought sent impulses running through her body to trigger her Vrier cells and make the necessary modifications. But instead sharp pulses of pain and cramps seized her and even her reserve did not allow her to hide the pained expression that resulted. She was tapped out, the rapid changes in a short period of time had drained her reserves and now she was vulnerable to something the Visisth never feared, the environment. 

But at this point that mattered little, Macros had escaped and she would see him dead. But to do that she had to get back to the city. Her armor had reverted to a covert form, camouflaged as something that resembled a backpack, though it weighed far more than it looked like it should. And with determination but pained steps Alsia set off through the snow covered woods towards the city.
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It was hours later that the half frozen and battered Visisth finally dragged herself into the city. She had done little research on earth of this time period, believing that it was not worth knowing and that as nothing would be advanced enough to threaten her she could simply prepare for Macros’ security and kill him as she had dreamed off. Now she regretted the decision to strike without proper reconnaissance, it had been sloppy and amateurish and now she was reaping her reward.

But even as she regaled herself for being sloppy and foolish she continued her treck towards what her last direction checks had identified as the MI corporate headquarters. She would have her revenge, the thought drove all others from her mind. Her protective membranes slid across her eyes, clearing out accumulated filth from the city as she staggered down a deserted alley. Normally they would have flicked back open, but this time in exhaustion they stayed closed and the more human eyelids over her eyes flicked shut as well. 

Slowly her staggering walk forward ceased and overcome by exhaustion, injuries, and exposure Alsia collapsed on the sidewalk.