She wants to fight back. Even now, she wants to fight back.

But she can't.

How is that possible? How is that fair? In Kat's entire life the only thing that has ever held her back was the lack of a will to act. She knows what it means to be too scared to want to do something, or too hungry, or too bored. But this is different. Here, nothing has changed at all. But for some reason... for some reason!

She can't move. Her body won't do anything but tremble. The ugly bruises all over her body, the burns and the cuts and the really nasty scrape on her knee, they all throb with the kind of supremely irritating pain that refuses to be pushed through. They sap her strength and turn her into just a member of the audience.

It hurts so much! She can see it all, in her head it's clearer than crystal. The lunge, the spin, the full commitment. The overhead slice with her remaining sword against that (beautiful, eerie) metal wrist and follow through until it severs. She can't see what's supposed to come after, but is that supposed to matter? If all the heroes she's met on this journey have taught her anything, it's that there's beauty and value in dragging an impossible opponent lower than they started, even if you don't get to be the one to finish them off, y'know?

The world is full of heroes. It's full of gods too, though none quite like this one. Which I think that's what we're looking at right now. A god, I mean. First one I've ever seen that makes me understand what all the Servants have been saying to each other since they turned up. It doesn't make sense that this should fall on one two-tailed fox. It's not fair that it did. It's even less fair for her to feel like she has to 'contribute' to this part of things, as if just beating the crab wasn't already an accomplishment on par with anything you could care to name.

It's just that she knows, y'know? She knows that if the shoe was on the other foot, if this rose-bound...monster had considered Berserker unworthy of its time and instead laid out three foxgirls in enchanted sleep, she would stop at nothing to repay the insult. Her fortress would rage until it crumbled. And then she would draw her blade and leap through space and smash it to pieces on the god's dress. And when she had no weapons at all, she would swing her fists as though they were a new and greater blade. And when all her limbs were broken or severed, she would use her teeth. Kat knows; Berserker would never, ever stop fighting for her. No matter how pointless it might be. No matter how fair it might be to count on all the world's living heroes and dreamers to keep our home alive. She knows it and she can't unknow it. Y'know? So she grips her sword tight and she grips her teeth and she readies a cutting remark on her lips.

And all that happens is that she curls up into a ball, instead. No sound escapes her, not even a whimper. Her ears press flat against her skull and her tails bush to maximum fear, and she cries silent, horrible tears.

Because she is afraid. Because she is ashamed of how afraid she is, after all the help and support she's been given. What she's looking at right now is Death. Unbeautiful, dispassionate, absolute Death. To be seen by it at all, to be noticed in the first place means oblivion. And Katherine just isn't ready for that. How can anyone ask her to throw herself away for, for, for nothing?? 

They're not. And it doesn't matter, 'cause [I]she[/I] is. And she CAN'T. So she cries. And Cyanis, for once, is both silent and still. And Actia is not forthcoming with any clever plan, or even an admonishment. Three foxes, the two-tail, the three-tail, and the five, watch a god of metal and flowers watch their home and do nothing.

Well that's just fine with me. I didn't come up all this way just to watch. Am I the Demon Swordswoman or amn't... I? Oh for the love of-- all right whatever. Nobody saw, nobody heard. Point is, I've still got tricks up my sleeves. And if this doesn't work, then I'll be sticking my sword into this whole adventure. I'll be the one who charges forward and lets Kat just scream "Me too!" and follow, and hopefully that'll be enough for neither of us to die. 

She just won't forgive me after. That's how come I'm not: I'm slipping into the ruins of the Vault, instead. It's darker than all get out in here and I don't mind telling you that it smells worse than a closet full of old socks. How something as delicious as a crab can leave behind miasma like this is totally beyond me. But whatever, I've dealt with worse. You think this is bad you should have been there for my first attempt at trout... nev, never mind. 

It's a quick dip inside. I just need to pry that... what'dya call it? A Spiritron Accelerator? It's back to the very beginning for our heroines. I slip it out and I flip-kick it toward the trio while I make myself scarce and hide in the shadow cast by the moon. 

You three started this. You three can finish it. You just need a reminder of what you did. That's all.