She immediately unbuckled the belt and let the damned - correction, Damned - thing fall to the ground.  So, she was to remain unarmed, and 'helpless'.<span style="font-style: italic">This Angel of Death probably is some kind of freak that likes that kind of thing.</span>There was more than a touch of heat to that thought, which was odd in and of itself.  Naive didn't think like that.  Oh, sarcasm for certain, but the edge to it?  Never.<br/><br/>Straightening her skirts with more than a little irritation on her face, she hurried to catch up to the damned man.  "Black magic?  The fuck.  Magic isn't real, man.  Don't try to pull some kind of sick April Fool's joke..."  She trailed off.  Magic wasn't real, right,<span style="font-style: italic">but what the hell had she just done a few minutes ago?</span>That most certainly was some kind of magic, unless screaming caused the ground to shake here.  She doubted that.  The feeling of power flowing through her flesh was all too real, not easily dismissed.  Even if she hadn't the foggiest idea in the world as to what it was she was doing or<span style="font-style: italic">how</span>.  Those glittering shards that spun and danced within her mind mocked her.  They were important, somehow, but what they were was beyond her for the moment.  Memories, maybe?  Something, and worrying about it did nothing for her.<br/><br/>"Why, yes, its so nice to meet the man that is responsible for<span style="font-style: italic">whatever the hell just happened.</span>Can I have your babies now, or later?" she asked crossly.  Only after a few steps did she realize what she had said, in light of the changed circumstances of the moment.  "That wasn't an offer, by the way.  Not a real one," she muttered, bright red spots marring her cheeks.  In a much stronger voice, she continued.  "What does it matter if you saved my life?  Why in the nine hells would anyone care about<span style="font-style: italic">me</span>?  Especially enough to come after you for your interference.  In whatever it was they were going to do."<span style="font-style: italic">Maybe </span>they<span style="font-style: italic"> wanted you to have their babies.</span>The spots returned, but they were fury rather than embarrassment this time.  A fury that was slowly spilling over into her conscious thoughts and, probably very soon, her actions.<br/><br/>So it was rather convenient when the fourth voice added its not-quite-melifluous cadence to the march they were on.  Naive stopped where she stood, and turned to face the newcomer.  That turned out to be one right royally ugly son of a bitch.  Naive stared wide-eyed at the freak, only just remembering to shut her mouth before she caught flies.  It certainly looked like that particular freak would have a swarm of them somewhere near to hand.<br/><br/>Even as events began to unfold, she knew she was in deep shit.  Deep shit, and she had on boots but no waders.  It was going to be a stinking mess, and she was proven right when the first thing the bat-thing did was fire his lasers and cook some of Sir Walter's arm.  Cook might be subjective here, as it wasn't there when the whatever it was was done.  The jackass even had the temerity to tell her to run.  It was strange; the desire to beat feet and run like hell was there, but another emotion was there to block it, kick it, stomp on it, and then push the body under the proverbial floor mat.  It was simple anger, but something under that that defied explanation.<br/><br/>She cast a sickly look at Walter, and spat.  "Yeah, its just like you to invite a lady out on a date and then leave her standing on the curb.  Bastard.  Well, you brought me to the restaurant and you are DAMN WELL GOING TO BUY ME DINNER!"  She spun and faced the creepy little mo-fo that had shot the pea-soup beam.  "And I honestly have never seen anything as ugly as you.  Bat-man?  Looks like someone used the Batwing and taped it on your face."<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">What the FUCK are you doing?</span>came a wild voice in the back of her head.<span style="font-style: italic">That dude just shot the worlds biggest beam cannon ala finger you've ever seen!</span>No, she realized, it was the only beam cannon she had ever seen, outside of movies.  That didn't make it better.<span style="font-style: italic">So this Angel of Death faced this dude and just got his ass whipped, and you, little Ms. Gotnuffin, are going to do what, exactly?</span><br/><br/>"Fire mah lasers," she muttered under her breath in response to the wild, giggling voice in her head.  There had to be a way she could repeat what she had done before.  It was magic.  What was it about the face she had seen reflected in the water's edge that struck some kind of distant, ancient memory?  She couldn't recall.  All she knew was that there was something she could touch, and only once she touched it could she<span style="font-style: italic">do</span>anything.<br/><br/>Casting a quick sidelong look at Katara, she grimaced.  "Please tell me you can shoot laser beams from your eyes.  Or at least knock that bastard senseless with your cleavage?  I hear combat boobs are all the rage these days..."