The wristblades were a mistake, actually. If this were a more brutal hunt, there is little that they could hope to do to fend off the spear’s hungry head, and now that it is close, intimate, the wrestling of kittens, they are an irresistible target.

The mechs crash to earth heavily; torches shake and threaten to fall, trees groan out their wounds, and Angela Victoria Miera Antonius finds herself pinned down beneath the weight of a Hybrasilian huntress, tail lashing in delight, breastplate specked and dented from autocannon fire. Her wrists are forced against the ground, and one knee keeps her from rising.

Inside, Dolly holds a pose, tail raised, back arched. Without, Smokeless Jade Fire chuckles. “You chose the wrong name, Angela Victoria Miera Antonius,” she says, using the full name very intentionally, mockery dripping from her self-satisfied voice. “A [Barn Owl] is a quiet creature. It comes in close and quiet, even silent.”

“You know all about silence,” she stops to purr in Dolly’s ear, the hands rougher now in the delight of victory, her Dolly being such a good girl, holding the pose, letting her gloat. The shivers of delight as Jade’s hundred hands work her tail over!

“A [Barn Owl] is motion. Grace. It moves as the wind and with it. You sat and hoped that your little gnat-stings would stop me. Me! Smokeless Jade Fires, the goddess hatched from the stone egg, who watches over the hunt and deems it good. But perhaps it’s not all your fault, is it? After all… who wouldn’t stop to watch my pilot’s form?”

The Cords wrap tightly around the mech’s wrists, pulsing, coursing energy through the mech, locking them in place. Inside, Angela Victoria Miera Antonius will find herself helpless to lower her own arms. Smokeless Jade Fires lazily rolls her over, pulls her legs up against themselves.

“But you still need to give this engine of battle a fitting name, Angela Victoria Miera Antonius. One worthy of your prowess together. Perhaps… [i]Trophy?[/i]”

With one nail, she traces it, lightly; there is no need to gouge, to cause Angela Victoria Miera Antonius to scream and thrash and disconnect. Let her feel the relentless tickle, let it make her try to stand up on the arches of her feet, let her be aware that she is being marked. “Good girl,” Smokeless Jade Fires purrs, patting the glyph etched on the mech’s flank. “See? Am I not a merciful goddess? Am I not— Angela Victoria Miera Antonius~! That is language hardly becoming of a noble representative of the Consortium, now, isn’t it?”

Smokeless Jade Fires luxuriantly pulls the mesh over [i]The Barn Owl[/i]’s speakers, seals either end shut behind the mech’s head, runs her fingers over it just to feel the charge, the slight numbness it causes her. It’s not the sort of fine work that she can do with her Dolly, but the feedback on the pilot, that thick and stifling pressure, will keep her quiet as much as the actual speaker interference.

Those fingers find the mech’s strong chin, tilt it upwards, and Jade purrs as she hears the stifled, crackling audio being forced out of the speakers anyway. Inside herself, she clenches Dolly tighter, nips at her, grinds against her, pants with half-delirious excitement.

“I look forward to seeing you earn the name, Angela Victoria Miera Antonius. To move like one of my worshippers should. To strike with those wicked little gnat-stings from a dozen different directions, one after another. To strike from ambush, from the silence of the owl. She means [i]death[/i] to us, did you know? She cries for the dying, but is silent on the wing. And then I will beat you again, but I will enjoy the game, and I will give you my respect, [i]Trophy.[/i]” One final cord links the wrists forced behind the head to the ankles, and with a very satisfied purr, Smokeless Jade Fires hoists the [i]Trophy[/i] onto her shoulder, then retrieves her spear.

This will be the shot that is remembered: Smokeless Jade Fires, with an insouciant glance over her free shoulder at the cameras, the very image of an ancient Hybrasilian warrior-huntress. On the outside, her fingers work on [i]Trophy[/i]’s thick armor, the small of, yes, [i]Angela’s[/i] back, a glorying in victory. On the inside, she takes Dolly by the chin and kisses her hard, the gag dissipating as her goddess wills, leaves her breathless, even as she holds Dolly still in her victory pose for the cameras.

“I [i]love[/i] you,” Jade growls in ecstasy, and starts using her teeth.

[Smokeless Jade Fires hits an [b]11[/b] on a Fight. She seizes a dominant position, takes a String, and inflicts a Condition on the poor, emotionally confused thing. She’s not going to like the headlines: [i]Bagged, Gagged and Tagged!![/i]]