Clarity sometimes has a way of slowing things down.

That moment, as the Pulsar Cat pulls away, stretches into forever. She can see clouds trailing from its leading edges like white ribbons. See each rivet, each weld, as it reflects the glint of Akar's sunlight. The heat shimmer from its thrusters, carving grooves behind it.

And in that moment, she weighs her options.

Power. Agony. Two sides of the same coin. Inseparable, at least in all the ways that matter to her Mother. Corporate power, economic power, soft power, hard power. The power of dozens of planets, billions of people, turned towards a single person's desires. The power of Terenius.

Does Isabelle want that power? Well ... maybe a little. She's not an idiot, she knows there are shortcomings in the system. Gaps where people can fall through, or be pushed, all in the name of power to an elite few. Is it naïve to think she might be able to change that if she wins? If she becomes the next CEO? To somehow keep the good and address the bad? Is it also naïve to think she can keep herself whole while chasing that goal?

It's not the right question to ask though. The real question is: does her mother want it ... and does Isabelle [i]not [/i]want it enough to defy that? To endanger Her goals or even challenge Her? The answer to the first is obvious. The answer to the second ... well ... she's not an idiot. She knows what Mother can do. What she [i]has [/i]done in the past, all in the name of securing power. 

Images flash through her mind, faster than coherent thought: A small girl, watching as her mother signs documents. Staff meetings where charts and graphs are shown, where people are crying and she doesn't understand why. News broadcasts, where the people on there yell things and her mother just smirks. A dark closet. Yelling. Silence. Loneliness. She knows what is at stake here - Asil, Emberlight, her life (though she doesn't really care about that), her siblings. Her Family.

The nanites in Emberlight coalesce, a jet-black sword forming. It takes seconds that tick by like days. The sword's edge is monoatomic, its blade as hard as the toughest alloys. It's dangerous, it's a warrior's weapon.

It's also a distraction.

It happens while Ksharta's words wash over her. Isabelle isn't an idiot. She knew what this was going to do. She knew how badly this would hurt. She's made a living reading people - a skill that comes in handy on the battlefield and in the boardroom. She knew when she equipped Emberlight with the spool that it might trigger the Hybrasillian. She knew from Mother that her words would cut deep. That if she pushed hard enough, the young woman who was her opponent would topple.

She knew all that and did it anyway. She really [i]is[/i] a bad person in the end. 

It would've been ... kinder ... to say something back - to tell her opponent that she [i]was [/i]taking her seriously. To fight her - sword to dagger, to re-engage and make it a contest. To meet skill with skill. To do something. To say something. Anything. Just so it didn't end on this note.

If she were a better person, she might've been able to figure out how to do just that.

But the truth is, she [i]isn't[/i] a better person. She [i]doesn't [/i]know how to find the third option. Solarel had chipped at her chains, but left her alone in the darkness. Asil was her heart, but also her weakness. Right now, in this fight, neither was enough.

[i]Too weak. Too stupid.[/i]

Emberlight twists, sword falling away as her lance-pistol swings forward. The Pulsar Cat freezes, aware of the sudden threat and too flat-footed to dodge.

Even through the forming tears, her shot is perfect.