Tabitha turned her eyes to the man she kept butting heads with "Mr Davroe, I believe it's time you move to put an end to-" a red aura seized Tabitha's body, lifting her off the floor. Blossom gasped, grabbing onto her just as she was flung across the room, striking the table with the side of her knee and toppling head over heels to the other side, taking Blossom with her. Buttercup spun but Blood's shoe shot out and caught her in the ankle, dropping her to her knees.
Blood rose, furiously. Both her cheeks were bruised, now, and slightly swollen with dried and scabbing blood caking her temple and forehead. She saw Buttercup's next move before it even happened and as the jet-haired youngster tried to spring back up, Blood's hand clamped itself on the back of her neck. A brief flash in the darkness but to Blood it was familiar territory. Buttercup choked on her own breath as Blood let go as swiftly as she'd caught her, doubling over once again as violent coughs racked her body and made her dizzy. A swift kick buried the toe of her shoe into Buttercup's gut. Where her own psychic powers couldn't venture, physical strength could still prevail. It was her privilege to see Buttercup squirm on the floor between coughs and groans, clutching the stomach that had been soccerballed against her spine as her trashed lungs tried their best to take in air. She was resilient. Stubborn. She'd be down for mere moments. But a moment was all Blood needed to cut the head off the proverbial human snake.
She pounced onto the table, the powerless Normals taken aback by the sudden confusion. This man, Davroe, was like a big fat turkey waiting to be plucked, stuffed and roasted. Blood grumbled. Now she was hungry. She stared him down, his guns useless and his complacent words less effective still. His aides and staffers, men and women alike, cowered behind him and his uniform like he was some kind of patron saint. She wondered just what she could do with this much larger, squishier mass of unresistant flesh. She raised her arm, a grin spreading across her face and cracking the dried red ooze that was splashed across it.
Davroe stood his ground, arrogant even in the face of his annihilation "What is the meaning of this!?"
Blood smirked, her voice hushed from her lips but all-encompassing within the mind of each Normal that stood before her. Some flinched, some backed away. Davroe, besides a small facial twitch, did nothing to respond to the words that echoed in his mind "You're outdated, old man. This is no longer your world. Talisman and I - we're making a new one!" her hand lit up, its glow reflected in Davroe's eyes. Still they showed no fear. He wasn't arrogant, Blood realised. He was just too stupid. There was no point wasting words on him - no final speech of victory, no witty or wise one-liners. The glowing psychic corona around her fingers lit up as she seized every atom in his body at once. With a simple thought, she-
The room was lit a brilliant magenta for only a second with a roar of noise and wind accompanying the sound of shattering wood. Blood was whisked away amongst the flare, blasted out the side of the building by the wave of energy that had erupted from Blossom's outstretched hand. The thunderous boom and blinding light faded to echo and daze. Blossom slumped to her knees, staring at the floor as she felt herself going numb. Her fingers had already lost all sense of feeling. She glanced up, seeing the result of her brief outrage. Slightly rear from centre, the table smouldered, the width of her blast vaporising the oak and scorching the edges of what remained. She sucked in a deep breath and, with more of a cough than and exhale, spat out a cloud of frozen air that smothered and stifled the small flames before they could grow bigger.
Buttercup staggered to her feet, one hand still upon her stomach. She flashed a brief smile at her sister in silent thanks as Blossom nodded in equally-mute response. With a groan and an 'urk', Buttercup floated off the edge of the building, in chase of the girl who'd been forcefully ejected. Blossom felt like flopping onto her stomach and falling asleep, then and there. It was only the reassuring hand of Tabitha, who herself had seen better days, that brought more comfort. Blossom's cheeks paled again. She mightn't get a nap, but she felt sure she might hurl from the exertion.
Davroe wandered forward, staring down at what remained of the conference table. The half closest to him was still standing and intact. The far end, meanwhile, was nothing but blackened timber and ash upon the floor, smoking and steaming from Blossom's quick firefighting. With a glower, he murmured in a tone far less oppressive than what he'd taken a liking to "What the hell was that about?"
Tabitha steadied Blossom, ensuring she didn't faceplant from exhaustion. She winced, her back aching badly from her impact with the wall "This little one saved your life. That's twice now, by my count."
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