The wind pulls her hair and her cloak in opposite directions. They flutter dramatically in a storm born out of pure motion, stinging the skin on her face and pulling her feet from where they're planted on top of the train. Underneath, the form fitting black and gold bodysuit leaves nothing to the imagination, but the material is perfectly adapted to keep the biting cold from bothering her. Beautiful's plans were strange, but they considered every detail. 

The mountains rise up to meet her on either side. Tellus would never permit a moment like this. It would be an Imperial crime for something so large and majestic to be left up to its own devices. The space wasted on a mere outcropping of rock where there was space for further housing or industry. The erratic structure that made it more difficult to observe everything that might be happening at once. Even the sun in the sky could not be permitted to shine so unevenly. XIII could never have imagined a moment where she could be sped from glaring violet light into cool shadows where her sense of speed heightened by the closeness of the stone as it shoots past her. 

XIII snarls as she slides low to the ground and digs her claws into the frigid metal underneath her. This is not one of Redana's adventure holos. The thin air and howling winds doesn't leave any room for witty banter, and the price for failure was far worse than a steamy new costume and a trip to the Shah's harems. 

Her muscles sing a song of ecstasy and power in the moments before the fight. Her claws and talons send sparks into the air with a horrifying screech, and the roof of the train gives away under her curling fingers. More. More. More! This is what they made her for! This is why she's here! Sing, Muses, of the power of Empire and the weapon chosen for this moment!

She leaps with enough reckless strength to match the train for speed and tears a strip off of it the length of an entire car as she rises. She spins in the air and momentum more than might heaves the enormous, almost axe-like shard over her shoulders. Her ears are full with the howling of the wind. Her skin is warm and tingling from the tight hug of her new outfit. Her hands sting from the bite of her makeshift weapon, but even this is a heaven-sent sensation. 

XIII rises high enough in the air to kiss the tops of mountains and slip the bonds of gravity as if she were the one riding grav spheres. She travels on the arc of a rainbow lit by a violet sun in the spaces where uneven peaks make room for it to slip through and catch her comically oversized weapon. With a howl that's equal parts fury, desperation, and triumph, she throws herself at the ground and smashes her axe into the top of the next car in front of her. 

This is not a battle. This is a show of Imperial force. This is a display of Azura weakness. All their talent, all their refined strength, and they build every last bit of their crumbling home on single points of failure. Her eye glints in triumph as the car crumbles underneath her. Down in the city below, someone will note a flash of light like a bolt of Zeus' lightning without any of the thunder and fury that normally follows such displays. After, they will note the plume of smoke and wonder what might be happening. 

And the mountains will never forget the train's death scream. The rending of metal on metal that sent one car spiraling out of synch with the rest of its body until the connectors sheer off from each other. XIII goes tumbling off the side with her arms flailing desperately. One set of claws tears a useless gash in the train before she can find purchase, but the next swipe bites in and all she has to do is endure the pain of her elbow and shoulder snapping dislocated to claim victory. Her gaze flicks down, and she grins. 

Well, fuck. How do you like that, the thread held! The fuck did they make that thing out of. XIII winces and a whimper of pain escapes her lips when she tries to haul herself onto the top of the remaining, rapidly slowing train. She'll never learn what that snake was capable of. She'll never learn if they lived. And she'll never have to give a shit, because the only thing Beautiful wanted on this train is back here, with her. 

She scrabbles over the edge and immediately drops to her knees. Her scream as she sets her arm in place again can be heard even over the rushing winds.