Foreigner fidgeted in his seat, the Mr. Briggs taking morbid delight in the bloodsports happening below. The crowds growled and hungered for more violence, the lot staring at an arena with a bloodied girl and a dome of roiling darkness. He had expected things to be against them but to think that they would be so willing to have Foxtail face against a foe such as this-

“When do you think your friend’s gonna kick the bucket, eh, No-Name? I’d give her another couple of minutes before that arena is drenched in ink and we have to send one of the other gladiators to handle the remains.” Mr. Brigg giggled at the notion, his hand squeezing the head of the small slack jawed child with reckless abandon.

“You’re going to talk to me now?” Foreigner was taken aback by the morbid conversation being thrust upon him.

“Oh, it’s just some light chit chat to pass the time while your girl there comes up with some last ditch hope to find her way out of this mess. She won’t though, but it’s always good to see them squirm like that.” He looked at the girl whose head was firmly underneath his palm and shook her frail body, the vacant smile on her face unflinching.

“I have my utmost faith that Foxtail can handle this. She’s been resourceful before and I’m sure she’ll be resourceful here.”

“Not much good being resourceful if you’re not gonna let yourself sink into your primal desire.” Foreigner grew curious about this comment and the larger topic of Distortions that Rosko mentioned. A link to his strange green flame perhaps? And the black dome slowly overtaking the arena like an oppressive storm cloud. To that end, in what way was Foxtail distorted?

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Foxtail stared at the oncoming storm, the roiling black stretching out further and further in the arena. Amidst the screaming and yelling for her to get on with it and jump into the heat of battle, she could hear more whispers from her little echoes. There’s something wrong in there. There. You’re no hero. No. Just a coward… Turn tail and run. Run. The echoes voices alternated between… they alternated and she kept pushing the presence at bay. There was an undercurrent of paranoia radiating from within that dome that she wasn’t sure if her hesitation was coming from her genuine fear to confront mysterious monsters or artificial. It didn’t matter. She needed to be brave for Peepers. For yourself… If she couldn’t be brave for someone else, she wouldn’t be able to face any real challenges anymore, scrounging around for scraps and avoiding responsibility like a rat. She took her baton and lit it again with it’s electrical current and walked to the edge of the dome. She stuck the end of it into the water and waited…

You tried. Tried. You gave it your best. Best. Peepers was a friend but what good are they if you can’t survive… She shook her head again and looked at all of the echoes around her, a field of half formed humanoids staring back at her with fidgeting forms.

“If you can’t lead me to what I want right now, then what good is aimlessly surviving. I want to live, you stupid little echoes.” She reprimanded them before jumping headfirst into the darkness. She held her baton in front of her like a guiding light, feet splashing across the field of ink towards the immaterial sobbing.

“Look at what you’ve done…” A voice stated in a mocking tone, “You’ve gone and left and come back again. What kind of friend abandons a friend?” Foxtail heard the voice slither around her, the water behind her rippling further and further, the amorphous mob stretching their writhing hands to reach out towards her. Jump. A familiar voice commanded and she obliged, her feet picking up from the ground as a swarm of hands popped out to anchor her down. The heavy weight in her heart, the weight on her shoulders, was something she welcomed. You’re close. Close. There was heat and fire in her heart, bubbling underneath the surface in the same way it would when she chose to run and hide. That day. All other days. Running and hiding when she couldn’t see that fear was the limiter. She was still on the other side of the wall.

“Where do you think you’re going!” A collection of voice intermingled with the pitter patter of rain boomed, the oppressive fog within clearing out to reveal a stationary Maribelle clasped in large hands of ink, tears streaming down her face and rain covering her head.

“I’m doing what I can!” Foxtail replied, brandishing her baton to strike down the girl with impunity. Budding like mushrooms, her echoes appeared, one by one, trails of them denoting danger upon danger that she narrowly avoided. Collections of hands erupted from the water, netting the area with open palms to grasp at her but she would not be restrained. “Take this!” Foxtail swung her electrified baton squarely on the girls head, a satisfying crunch knocking her to the side. The dome of blackness came down on the both of them, revealing Foxtail to the crowd and the light once more.

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Aside from the outburst she had in the arena, Foreigner surmised that the way Foxtail could find her way around the Backstreets had something to do with her Distortion, or whatever it was meant to be. He wasn’t sure on the peculiarities of it. What he was sure of was the opponents distortion cracking and then crumbling on the both of them in the arena, the riotous cries from the crowd coming immediately after that spectacle. Foreigner turned to Mr. Briggs, “I think that Foxtail might be claiming that aid of yours real soon…” Foreigner trailed off, looking at the gluttonous creature with a sinister smile, tongue licking his lips as if being served a meal the first time of his life.

“Oh little No-Name. This fight was tailor made to have me win. Someone as reckless as that girl, playing hero down there… when she has no idea what kind of monster she’s facing.” Mr. Briggs stated while transfixed to the arena.

The next moment, Foreigner heard a blood curdling howl reverberate through the establishment, the first moment that the crowd was silenced by the visage down below.