There's a stench in the air that has nothing to do with the blood being spilled or the weapons being fired. Bella breathes deep, and her golden eyes go wide as her lungs fill with it. It's a very particular aroma, the kind of thing even a clever nose would miss if it hadn't been trained to look for it. A vague sourness that reminds her of vinegar that's been drizzled over top the musty fur that must permanently cling to these poor bastards after having spent gods know how long stuck in this vast, sweltering death jungle.

A pheromone? Her lips curl upward. It's not a language she speaks a single word of, but it probably drives each of these 'proud warriors' into a frenzy. Doesn't it, you Ceronian sons of bitches! HA! Bella crouches low to the ground with her fingers curling and uncurling in anticipation. Her claws are sharper than death; her talon ornaments gleam wickedly silver in the light of the palace. 

There's a spark of something that's like a thought, but it's drowned under a wave of action. Bella pounces forward, pushing off the ground with her hands until she settles into huge, loping strides that cover several meters in a bound. The entire time she flies, her eyes stay locked onto Queen Hatchan. That's right, no one else matters. That's the bitch who thinks she can hurt the princess. As if better mutts than her hadn't tried!

Her entire body is as tense as wire being pulled across a fence. Her fur ripples under sinewy muscles so diamond hard they could be from the Walls of Tellus. She coils, like a spring, and... then!

She leaps.

Where the Queen comes in high, Bella rises from the ground. Where she seeks to take Redana's back, Bella rushes from the front. Are you watching from your dreams, princess? Your Bella's teeth shine like pearls as she snarls and launches over the top of the Nemean like a javelin hurled by Zeus herself. Yes, she, Bella just now is made of lightning. She passes so close to the statuesque warrior that her skirts brush the Redana-shell's face. Her foot lands on that broad, steely shoulder, and launches her further into the air.

It's a battle of angles, but a war of intent. Bella's momentum carries her into the Queen and turns what had been a killing blow into a crunching flop that bounces the godless wench's head off the ground once, twice, thrice before she settles into a dull skid with Bella's hand clenched across her throat. 

Bella's legs clench across the Queen's ribs, and she squeezes them like she's trying to grind Hatchan's bones into powder, or bend them inward until they stab through her lungs and leave her to float off to the depths of whatever dark hell Hades keeps for people like this. Her claws glint as she raises her right arm behind her, bent at the elbow, shoulder blades taut and protruding, fingers pressed together like a knife. 

Her eyes gleam with wild triumph. Yes! Yes! YES! It's her! The justice of the gods! Not Jas'o, not the living statue, not Redana [i]or[/i] her Shadow, but her! Bella! This is the face of your doom, bitch! She doesn't speak the words, but they drip from her terrible fangs as her face twists into a truly horrible and ugly grin. This is the face of victory. This is the face of death. 

"Don't you. Touch her!"

She drags her left hand up across the Queen's throat until her fingers are clutching at the jawline. With surprising strength, she bends the head back: tilting her, curving her spine like a rainbow, pushing her neck out. Her hand squeezes tighter and tighter. She feels the moment where the jaw dislocates, and that's when she does it. Hrrah! Her voice cuts through the palace. Her hand cuts through the air. 

Without hesitation, Bella plunges her claws into that soft throat and buries them up to the wrist. She draws a deep breath that shudders through her entire body, and wrenches herself free. Safe. You're safe now, Princess. See? Your Bella is all you ever needed.

[Finish with Blood: [b]10[/b]]