Skipper didn't much like people who looked down on others -- even more so when the jerks could fly, making things awfully literal.

Still, there was one good thing about that kind of attitude: it came with a simple solution. Just knock 'em down. It was nice to have such an easy victory condition.

Blue sky shone above him, green clouds swirled beneath him. As Skipper launched himself towards the enemy above him, he thrust one hand out, ready to fire off an attack the second he came into range. Even if the enemy survived this assault, he'd be occupying it's attention enough to give everyone below some breathing room.

“Heya, buddy,” Skipper called out. “Couldn’t help but notice you were stuck all the way up here. I’ll help you down, yeah?”

The enemy -- Aka Manto -- didn't reply, only glaring down at him balefully with its pale blue eyes. Almost imperceptibly, one of its arms retreated inside it's red-and-blue cloak. An attack would be incoming, then.

Aka Manto vanished in a spark of red-and-blue Aether.

He hadn't retreated. Skipper wasn't nearly naive enough to believe that -- from what he'd been told, it had pursued Ruth and Dragan halfway through the capital city before finally surrendering. It would be nice to imagine, but Skipper wasn't nearly intimidating enough to make something like that turn tail just by showing up.

There was a whistling in the wind. Projectiles approaching from behind him. Skipper twisted his body around in the air to face the threat -- three throwing knives, aimed perfectly for his eyes, throat and heart.

Heartbeat Landmine.

A burst of sound erupted from within his very core, and for a moment it felt as if his entire body would be flung apart from the force. The throwing knives aimed for him were thrown off-course by the bass, zooming off into the distance ahead.

"Sorry, pal," Skipper shouted to the still-empty air. "I'm not that easy to take out!"

Skipper kept his hands facing down towards the ground as he looked around for his enemy, releasing a constant stream of Heartbeat Shotguns to keep himself aloft. Maybe he should develop a technique to do this sort of thing automatically -- a Heartbeat Jetpack or something like that. Nah, nah, it didn't fit with the theme.

Another whistle -- this time from above, but again aimed for his head. Skipper was getting a good sense of their speed and power now, so he could afford to be a little more precise.

Heartbeat Bayonet.

The invisible blade struck through the air twice, deflecting the two throwing knives with tings of metal. The blades fell uselessly out of the air -- one plummeting to the ground below, the other caught between two of Skipper's metal fingers.

Keeping himself up with Shotguns from the soles of his feet, Skipper turned the blade over in his hands. One side red, one side blue, with an unusual design like that of an arrowhead. It had been infused with Aether, sure, but it was without a doubt a physical object.

"Recorded, huh?" he called out, carefully listening out for the next attack. "Pretty good work with it, too. You're fast enough to hide by the time the blade actually hits me. Well, would hit me, if you had better aim." He chuckled. "Sorry, sorry, I'm sort of a sore winner, yeah?"

His ears pricked up at the sound of crackling Aether behind him -- and when he whirled around, there was his enemy.

Aka Manto floated there in the air a few meters away, cloak spread out around itself like the wings of a great bat. Red-and-blue Aether coiled freely around it, and the eyes behind the mask narrowed as they regarded Skipper.

"That's a surprise," Skipper grinned, idly passing the knife between his hands. "You were doing so well with the coward strategy. You sure you wanna ditch it, pal?"

Aka Manto tilted its head slightly.

"Two paths lie before you," it declared. "A path of blue, and a path of--"

With a flare of green Aether, Skipper hurled the knife at his enemy, the projectile moving with such speed and power that it looked more like a green lance of light than an actual physical object.

Aka Manto too moved in a flash, moving its head out of the way of the attack and catching the projectile firmly in its hand. Steam rose up from the Guardian Entity's gloved hand as it retrieved the knife, returning it to the inside of it's cloak.

"Impressive," Skipper grinned. "You used Aether yourself to block that, didn'tcha? Don't try and lie -- I know the good stuff when I see it."

"Two paths lie before you…"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Skipper wagged a metal finger. "Don't try and change the subject, buddy! You're a little different from your barnyard friends, yeah? You're not just recorded using Aether, you're using the stuff yourself. That kinda makes me curious. What's the deal, big fella?"

"A path of blue, and a path of red…"

Skipper sighed. "Okay, I can see we're getting nowhere with the ol' diplomacy tactic. That's a damn shame. Looks like we're gonna have to do this the hard way."

"To take the path of --"

Heartbeat Shotgun.

The invisible projectile struck Aka Manto right in the chest, sending it flying backwards as red-and-blue Aether sparked around it, an indistinct cry of pain echoing from behind the Entity's mask. Just before the creature would have slowed to a stop, however, it vanished -- just as it had before executing it's previous attack.

"No point, pal!" Skipper laughed, carefully turning on the spot so as to not lose the equilibrium that was keeping him stable up here in the air. "Dragan's already told me about your, uh, your little altercation back in Coren -- I know you're not some kinda robot, so there's no point pretending. Let's talk, man to man. Or, uh, Entity to man, I guess. What do you say?"

There was a growl from below -- a genuine expression of rage.

"I have nothing to say to you, Crownless."

Skipper's grin widened. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

Dragan blinked as he watched that idiot zoom through the air above. Well, that solved one problem.

He turned to Lily, doing his best to ignore the smoldering flames still visible in the distance, shining through the fog even as they faded. They weren't out of the woods yet, but the fact that Aka Manto was occupied meant they didn't have to worry about any more bombs dropping on their heads.

It also meant Dragan didn't have to worry as much about attracting the wrong sort of attention.

"You might wanna cover your ears," he said -- and in the next moment, he took a deep breath of air, infusing his lungs with Aether to maximize their capacity as much as possible.

Lily's hands went to her ears, and Dragan did the same. He didn't want to blow out his eardrums with his own heroic cry, after all.

He opened his mouth.

"GET OVER HERE!"

Old Owl's gaze didn't break away from Ruth, staring her down with all the intensity of a star. He hadn't blinked in at least five minutes; Ruth vaguely wondered if the old man even had to.

The Grinhe had described the spot they'd be waiting on as a 'hill', but that seemed to be something of an understatement. It rose out of the ground, sure, but to such a height that it pierced through the clouds of pungent gas that permeated the swamp, allowing a view of the blue sky above. It wasn't quite a mountain, but it wasn't some lump in the ground either.

They weren't exposed -- the trees lucky enough to have been born on this patch of safe land had taken full advantage of the opportunity, growing thick and wide. The layers upon layers of branches were almost like a giant umbrella, shielding them from both the sun and scrutiny.

She'd barely managed to restrain herself when she'd heard the first explosion, but some tiny quiet part of Ruth had managed to keep her from charging in then and there. What exactly could she do by herself anyway? The one attacking the rebels was that dot far above -- Aka Manto, no doubt -- who Ruth had no means to reach.

If she ran in now, the only opponent she'd be facing would be a searing fireball.

So she stood there, hands balled into fists, and listened to the sounds. The sounds of gas bursting into flame. The sounds of people screaming as they burnt. The sounds of powerlessness.

A strange, cracking noise came from Old Owl's mouth as he opened it, preceding his speech. "You must understand this is the best way to do a thing. Patience and the cold are victory's parents. You must understand this."

The worst thing was that she could. She could see the value of this plan: once this bombing run was over, the Regulators would have no choice but to enter the swamp themselves to confirm casualties. Then the Grinhe could begin their bombing attack.

But that was their fight. She couldn't forget that this was their fight, not hers. What she wanted was to make sure her friends were safe.

"You must not expose us," Old Owl said cautiously, as if he could see the thoughts battling inside Ruth's brain. "This is the ideal way."

Her gaze drifted up. The dot in the sky, the Guardian Entity that had caused them so much trouble, was no longer alone. The red-and-blue speck was bobbing and weaving, vanishing and reappearing, as a new green dot pursued it. Even from such a distance, Ruth could recognise it.

Skipper. He was alive. A long-lost smile came to her face.

What the hell was she doing? Just going with the flow like this, as she'd always done? Letting other people tell her what the best thing was to do while she ignored her own instincts, her own desires.

A familiar voice sounded out from the swamp below, trees swaying from the force of it.

"GET OVER HERE!"

Dragan too. They'd made it back safe -- she'd succeeded after all. She hadn't lost what she had yet.

"You must ignore for this time," Old Owl advised. "Harden your heart for victory."

She looked at Old Owl, looked at the gathered Grinhe, looked at the battle below.

None of this meant anything to her.

Ruth could have laughed. When she thought about it like that, it was all so simple. Freedom, liberty, revolution? Those things were for other people to worry about. They didn't mean a damn thing to her. She didn't care -- how liberating it was to just not care.

What she cared about were the people closest to her. Nothing else. Saving them was the only victory that mattered to her.

She glanced up.

She wouldn't lose what she had.

Old Owl's eye narrowed -- he, at least, seemed to recognize the conclusion she'd come to. "Do not be a foolish person, girl," he warned. "If you are an obstacle to victory, you are an enemy. There is no need for us to be enemies."

Ruth ignored him. There was nothing he could do to stop her, anyway. There was no way anyone here could stop her.

She was strong, after all.

Ruth kicked off the ground with a flare of red Aether, Skeletal Set manifesting around her as she flew through the air, wind whipping against her grinning face in the moment before her mask appeared. Her claws, too, shone into life, long and thin as needles, reflecting the sunlight as she spread them wide.

There was shouting from the Grinhe behind her, but Ruth paid it no mind. After all, there was work to be done.

If she wanted to keep hold of what she had, the rebels had to win this battle. For the rebels to win this battle, they needed reinforcements. And for the rebels to get reinforcements… she'd need to drag the Grinhe into this earlier than they would have liked.

Her jump still sending her over the pungent clouds of the swamp, Ruth grinded her claws together -- and the resultant sparks rained down below.

Boom.

Each one of them -- every individual spark -- triggered an explosion, an inferno whirling around the 'hill' that the Grinhe had based themselves upon. They themselves were untouched, of course, but anyone taking a second look at what that explosion had been would see what was clearly a third army lying in wait.

A beacon for all to see.

Ruth fell through the fire just as it died down, whooping in relieved excitement as the fading flames licked threateningly against her armour. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. She knew what she wanted now, and she knew how to get it.

"I guess I must've thought you were a good person?" Robin had said.

Sorry, Robin, Ruth grinned, landing on the ground. But I think I might actually be a bit of an asshole.

It felt good.