- July 9, 1999, 12:00: Tokyo, Japan -

	The crowd grew silent as the speaker walked up to the podium. The stage
was made of marble, with fountains to each side that occasionally threw jets
of water into the air. The park was green and healthy, symbolic of the great
power of Chronos. In some places in Japan, the Great Famine still continued. As
the man settled in at the podium he stood flanked on both sides by the almighty
pillars.
	They stretched into the sky like three great monuments. Each was
hundreds and hundreds of stories high, the tallest buildings ever built by man.
They were so large they could be seen from orbit, and their tops vanished into
the misty clouds overhead. And yet they seemed small when seen behind this man,
with his angular, noble features. He was tall and regal, wearing a long cloak
with large decorative shoulder guards. He was flanked on the right by a
beautiful young woman of Chinese descent. She had long black hair and wore a
skirt-suit of white silk. Behind her sat four more young women, each as
different as the other. They were each attractive, looking sharp in their
colour-coded suits, despite their odd hair ornaments. The one in blue was
fidgeting, but the green-haired one hit her lightly on the back of the head and
she quieted down. On his left was the other guest, a shorter man in a similar
outfit to the first, but he had long black hair, with a thin face and handsome
lips. Behind him were a half-dozen other men in severe suits with equally severe
expressions.
	"People of Japan!" the speaker began, waving his hand across the
gathered crowd, but really indicating the country as a whole. "I come before you
today, to share in our victory. For seven years we have struggled together. I
have asked you to sweat and bleed for this day, and in return I have done no
less.
	"Our people came to you in a time of great darkness. Monsters plagued
your streets. Cults of foul demons stalked your cities. Together, they almost
unmade your great island. Still the legacy of their defeat lingers. All of you
have suffered because of the Great Famine. Fields in this country still lay
fallow.
	"Yet no man, woman or child has hungered while we were here to protect
you. Our technicians each day reclaim more and more of your beautiful
countryside. In the days since we have come to you, as liberators, as saviours,
all who wished to provide for their families could. In seven years, there has
not been a single monster attack. Zoanoids patrol the streets.
	"For years, you have struggled to erect this..." He gestured behind him
to the magnificent towers. "The Pillars of Heaven! They are a symbol not just of
the majesty of Chronos, but of the all-powerful spirit of the people of Japan!"
There was a cheer from the crowd, and the speaker smiled. "These towers are not
just a symbol: they are a gateway to a new world! In these towers, we struggle
every day with the secrets of our own destiny.
	"We struggle to unlock the secrets of the human spirit. Many students
have come to us, seeking knowledge. We give it freely to all who ask. Any who
wish to can be taught the fundamentals of the martial arts, the legacy of your
people. Even greater are the secrets of our very humanity. Zoanoids are but the
first step in our collective ascension. Beyond them, we have mastered the art of
the neo-zoanoid: the perfect blend of body and spirit!
	"With these brave souls, we have saved the world. Where Chronos is
master, there is no war. There is no poverty or disease. People walk freely on
the streets. This was not always so.
	"For seven years we have struggled with those who would foolishly resist
us. Do not be fooled by their propaganda. The Americans speak of 'freedom' and
'justice', but where do they stand? They are a police state! Their paranoia is
so great that they would threaten the entire earth with annihilation rather than
surrender their grasp on power!
	"So we leave them be. In seven years, Chronos has not once attacked
American soil. Their citizens are free to enter and leave our domains as they
please. And what are we answered with? Terrorism. Espionage. Murder!
	"And they are the best this world has to offer? I think not! What
difference is there between them and the foes we both despise? There are enemies
that even Chronos can not eradicate. The necropoli of Europe, the religious
fanatics of Rome, the tyranny of Shadowloo... all of you have heard of them.
	"But Chronos has been your shield as well as your salvation. We have
stood between you and the dark forces of the Earth. Most of the world is with
us. Only fools and monsters dare to oppose us.
	"This day, the anniversary of our ascendance in this world, marks not
just a moment in time: it is the true beginning of the New Order. This day is
the day we join together to climb to heaven! It is the day we look to the
future! Let us one last time look back on the steps we have taken to get to this
point, before we place it behind us forever!"
	The crowd roared.


                              C&A Productions Presents

                          A Work of Blatant Self-Insertion


                                   Hybrid Theory


                                Chapter 21: Opening



-August 15th, 1992, 16:37: Kushiro, Japan-

	Akira frowned and turned down the bill of her cap. The two zoanoids
passed by without even glancing at her. They appeared human, at the moment, but
there were always signs. Processing must have done something to them, because
when they came out, every zoanoid looked alike. Not just in their battle forms,
but in their human ones as well. The tells were subtle, but easy enough to spot.
	Akira didn't really fear being recognised. She wasn't exactly the top
figure on Chronos' hit list, plus she could pass herself off as a boy with very
little effort. Tucking her hair up under a cap wasn't as dramatic as a black
motorcycle helmet with a skull painted on it, but the principle was the same.
	The Hokkaido waterfront was teeming with people at this time of day.
Hundreds of refugees were pouring into the coastal city, trying to escape the
famine that had spread up virtually overnight. Akira wasn't sure if it was the
death of the aragami god, or some other thing, but the effects were profound.
Nothing would grow, anywhere on the islands. Entire crops had died in the earth,
long before there could be any harvest. The fields of Japan were supposed to be
littered with the bodies of dead animals.
	The only place to go was the cities. Chronos had stepped in immediately.
Its people, always smiling and nodding, had appeared on every TV, spoken on
every radio, walked to every damned village. They had food. They had water. They
had safety.
	Akira didn't blame people for buying it. What choice did they really
have? There would be no foreign aid. Chronos was everywhere. And where it
wasn't, there was only worse things.
	And America.
	But nobody had heard anything about them. Not since the explosion in New
Mexico. The rumor was that it had been nuclear. Las Vegas was an atomic
wasteland, so the stories went. It got worse with every telling. Akira figured
at least the parts about zoalords personally laying waste to the entire west
coast were exaggeration.
	Akira turned suddenly and made her way through the crush of refugees and
into a back alley. Here, in the dank, there was a marvelous lack of humanity.
She stretched out a bit and walked down. Eventually she came to a set of stairs
that led down to a small door.
	She knocked properly and the door opened a crack. Then it opened wider
and she slipped inside. The room was claustrophobia-inducing and poorly lit.
Despite their best efforts, Chronos was still being overwhelmed by the sheer
number of refugees. While they had food and water and medicine, anything beyond
that was a second-rate priority. The power was kept off during most of the day
except for essential services. The room they were in was lit by a few dozen
candles.
	Akira sniffed. Lilac. Nice.
	"Glad you could make it," Akane said, grabbing her by the shoulder. The
girl hadn't changed much since Tokyo. Other people in the room called out
greetings as well. Kyosuke raised his hand to her, then his face fell when she
looked away. It made her feel bad. Akane had told her that he didn't remember
anything. She had told her that he couldn't be held responsible for what had
happened.
	But she couldn't forget. She reached up and brushed phantom fingers from
her throat. She knew it wasn't fair, but there was just... it was just there
between them now. Akira wondered if she should just tell him about it. Just get
it all out in the open. But she agreed with Akane.
	Some things people were better off not remembering.
	"Is this it?" Akira asked after a moment and Akane winced. Akira
immediately walked up to her and started apologising. She hadn't meant to say it
like that! Akane only chuckled weakly and shook her head.
	"This... is all that made it." Akane frowned. "Kusanagi and Momiji are
up north, hiding in the mountains. He'd stick out like a sore thumb,
unfortunately. Others weren't so lucky. Shoma and his brother were both taken.
Natsu, Roberto and Nagare want to break them out... but..."
	"But it's a trap." Akira pointed out.
	Akane nodded. "It has to be."
	"What are you going to do about it?"
	Akane frowned. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
	"Because you lead," a familiar voice said.
	"Brother!" Akira cried joyfully. She threw herself at him and he caught
her, returning her embrace with one arm. She let herself enjoy his warmth for a
moment, then pulled away. Daigo spared her a smile.
	"I brought you some cookies," Akira pointed out. She reached into her
knapsack and pulled out a box for him.
	He laughed. "Considering the rationing... do I really want to know how
you got these?"
	"Probably not..." He took them and shook them. They rattled hollowly and
he raised his good eyebrow. "So I had a few..."
	"Akira..."
	"I left you three!" She indicated so with her fingers.
	He chuckled. "I'll save them for later." He patted her on the shoulder.
"I'm just glad you're safe." Then he frowned. "Though I don't approve of you
running off without talking to me."
	Akira chuckled and brushed his hand off nervously. "I was going to say
goodbye. I just... got carried away."
	"Right." Daigo crossed his arms. "This woman you're chasing after... do
you love her?"
	"BROTHER!" Akira protested, her cheeks burning.
	"I bet she's hot," Edge pointed out to Gan.
	"Huh?" Gan looked confused. He was so huge he had to sit down, and even
then the top of his head kept brushing the ceiling. "I don't get it. I thought
Akira was going after her boyfriend."
	"Gan, Gan, Gan..." Edge made a helpless gesture with his palms. "Allow
me to explain to you the exquisite beauty which is the lesbian lifestyle.
First..."
	Akira threw a candle, it cracked against his skull.
	"You never answered my question," Daigo pointed out.
	"I can't just answer something like that!" Akira insisted.
	"Then I can't let you leave."
	"Let?" Akira asked dangerously, raising her own eyebrow.
	For a moment the two stared at each other, the tension in the air
increasing. Then Akane was stepping between them.
	"Calm down, you two," Akane pleaded. She turned to Daigo. "Whatever
Akira's feelings are about Ukyou, she has the right to pursue them herself. Or
would you stand in her way if she was a boy?"
	Daigo considered this for a moment. "I just worry about you, sister," he
explained. "I've talked to Akane about Ukyou and... well. I just don't want your
heart to be broken."
	"What, you don't have a problem with who I am?"
	"Akira..." He coughed into his fist. "I think about the only person who
hadn't figured it out was you."
	"Oh..." Akira blinked. "Well... that makes me feel silly."
	"So you're still leaving?" Akane asked. "We could still use a fighter
like you."
	"I am," Akira replied. "The only reason I came here was to sneak aboard
one of the ships. I heard Chronos was slipping away any refugees it could, to
reduce the strain on the relief efforts."
	"Yeah." Akane crossed her arms. "Most of them are heading to Australia.
China is a warzone, and Bison controls Thailand..." She trailed off.
	"I could stay to help with Shoma, if you need me."
	"No..." Akane frowned and looked down. "You need to get going now,
before we make a mess."
	"So, you are going after them?"
	Akane frowned and looked at Daigo. He shrugged. "Don't look at me, Miss
Tendo. I don't make a very good leader."
	"Liar," Akane accused. Then she sighed. "Fine. We meet up with Natsu and
the others at sunset. After that... we'll find some way of getting Shoma and his
brother out."
	"They'll be waiting for you. Probably with hyper-zoanoids. Maybe even a
few of those neo-models."
	"Like Kunou..." Akane gripped her fist. "I'll deal with that." She
looked around at everyone. "If you want a leader, this is the kind of leader you
get. I don't leave anyone behind. Ever. We all come back alive. That is my first
official order, you hear that?"
	Akira smiled as everyone cheered.

*

- December 25th, 1992, 8:00: Mount Ararat, Turkey -

	It was a cold, sunny day. The sun leaked through the clouds fitfully,
beams slowly rolling across the land below. The three pilgrims worked their way
up the mountain with the same casual inevitability. Their cloaks were pulled
tight around their bodies. Their breath came out in soft clouds.
	They came to the peak of the mountain and found a man standing there. He
was tall and beautiful. His hair was short and blonde, with thick curls. His
face was serene and inhuman, containing an alluring androgynous appeal with its
rounded features and his delicately pointed ears. The eyes were perhaps too
large for a human face, but they were full of such intensity that one could find
no fault in them. He was dressed in a skin-tight blue suit with gold piping and
a long cape that flapped in the wind. Up here, the wind was so loud that normal
communication would have been next to impossible.
	But the supplicants had no need for things as base as spoken words.
	"My Lord Arkanphel," the lead pilgrim said, kneeling. The other two
followed suit.
	"Rise, I have no need of such displays," Arkanphel informed them. He
turned to them and motioned them to their feet. The youngest and tallest of them
did so first, followed in turn by his two companions. "You have come to me with
news of the war?"
	"It goes well," the one on the left said. He was shorter than his
companions, with long black hair and hollow cheeks. On his forehead glittered a
single jewel, embedded in his flesh. "Considering the amount of unanticipated
opposition, we have still managed to pacify much of the world. Australia, Africa
and South America are firmly under our control. There is passing resistance in
much of what was Russia and China, but we plan on redirecting zoanoid forces
from safely occupied areas to them as quickly as possible."
	"I see..." Arkanphel frowned slightly. "And the rest of the world?"
	Here, the zoalord hesitated. The leader stepped forward, sparing his
companion the need to explain himself. "Amniculus is right to focus on the
positives, my lord. Given the unexpected strength of the opposition, it's a
wonder we captured as much territory as we did. Our forces emerged in those
places as planned, striking with lightning speed from both within and without.
Other places are much more resistant."
	"Lord Arkanphel," the third zoalord stepped up, his voice rumbling
loudly. "This would all be over much faster if we could just deploy our greatest
weapons!" Arkanphel looked at him, raising a delicate eyebrow. "Even just three
zoalords would be an unstoppable force! The Americans can only field forces of
martial artists and a few psychics and mystics against us. While they can match
hyper zoanoids in open combat they can't hope to stand against the full fury of
a zoalord attack!"
	"No, Gyro," Arkanphel said, gesturing dismissively. "The Americans have
already demonstrated the willingness to unleash nuclear weapons not once but
twice upon their own soil. Maybe if they had succeeded in destroying our
Monument Valley installation I would allow a suitable reply, but they did not."
	"Nuclear weapons are no match for a zoalord!" Gyro protested.
	"No, they aren't," Amniculus agreed. "But those aren't the most powerful
things we have to worry about. There is that woman, Tethys, and several other
powerful demonic creatures in this world. If we weakened ourselves fighting the
Americans openly, one of them might take advantage."
	"Yes... and I can not afford to have a single zoalord destroyed."
Arkanphel turned and looked across the valleys of the region.
	"My lord, I suggest we leave the Americans be."
	"Hmm? What is that, Purgstall?"
	"If we aren't willing to dedicate the power it would take to crush them,
then we should leave them alone. All we do by throwing more zoanoids at them is
increase the number of casualties."
	"You are soft, Purgstall," Gyro growled. "If we let them sit safely,
they'll just breed more martial artists."
	"You said it yourself," Purgstall countered quickly. "Nothing they have
is a match for a zoalord. They learned that the hard way in Arizona. I don't
think their President will be willing to commit his forces to any aggressive
action. Not when he knows that attacking us directly is folly."
	"What about you, Amniculus? Where do you stand?"
	The black-haired zoalord thought for a moment. "I agree with Purgstall.
We hold Monument Valley and a suitable buffer zone down to the Pacific, then
shore up and make no moves against them. We can use Mexico as a border between
our interests in South America and them."
	"So be it," Arkanphel nodded. "And the other problems?"
	"I'm afraid we won't be able to hold Europe, either." Purgstall frowned
and rubbed his chin. "Even Valkus doesn't know how to deal with these vampires
and their various abominations. Somebody is working for this 'Millennium',
somebody with a brilliant mind for biogenetics." He paused for thought. "I think
it best we deal with them now. I don't think conventional or even hyper zoanoids
will be a match for this. Not even Valkus' neo-zoanoids will turn the tide.
These undead creatures must be stopped!"
	"Hypocrite," Gyro accused.
	"These things aren't like the Americans!" Purgstall protested. "They are
a threat to the very fabric of life. They aren't above using the most dangerous
methods. I've heard reports of them tainting water with biological weapons,
threatening nuclear attacks and worse!"
	"We shall not attack them." Arkanphel declared.
	"But, my lord-!"
	"I have said it, and it is so," Arkanphel said with finality. "I've been
in conversation with the leader of this cult. He sent an emissary to my chambers
and we talked."
	"What?" Amniculus coughed. "But how did he get past your defenses?"
	"An interesting question," Arkanphel mused, "but irrelevant. The Major
has assured me he has no interest in fighting Chronos directly, at least for the
time being."
	"Surely you don't believe him!" Purgstall protested. "He's a madman!"
	"A predictable madman," Arkanphel pointed out. "In time, we will have to
pacify him. But for the moment, he is a useful cat's paw. The French and the
Iscariots are putting up remarkable resistance as well, are they not?" Arkanphel
barely waited for an affirming nod. "Good. Withdraw from those countries near
the land taken by Millennium. Cut them off and hem them in with enemies on all
sides. Millennium will be such an implacable foe that they will not have time
to concentrate on us. Covertly support the enemies of Millennium, to keep them
just strong enough to resist."
	"It seems risky.  If you let me act, I will take responsibility..."
	"I have said that I will not let a single zoalord perish, and I mean
it!" Arkanphel snapped, his temper finally fraying. Purgstall whitened and he
bowed his head. "You are too important to my long-term plans. Plans that will
render this all moot. I don't care one whit about the insignificant squabbles of
the arrogant nations of this world. Mundane warfare of this type annoys me." He
crossed his arms and looked at them all again. "Purgstall, I trust you with
leading the other zoalords and maintaining order in those places under our
control. Amniculus, you command the army. Hem in the Americans and keep
Millennium pacified. Deal with that upstart Bison in Thailand however you
please." He turned and regarded Gyro for a long moment. "Gyro... you will be
placed in charge of the neo-zoanoid project. Recruit all the martial artists
Valkus needs. Those who resist, you kill. If there is a pest that conventional
zoanoids can not deal with, you are in charge of dealing with it."
	A thin, dangerous smile graced Gyro's lips for the briefest of moments.
Then he bowed.
	"Yes, my lord," all three said as one.

*

- January 29th, 1993, 06:53: Ciudad Madero, Mexico -

	Angel sat in the corner and waited to die.  The classroom the monsters
had placed them in had been stripped of all furniture; even the blackboards had
been removed from the walls.  A bucket sat in the corner for bodily functions,
and occasionally, someone tossed food in the room for them to squabble over.
The windows had been boarded over, leaving the prison an eerie twilight even in
the middle of the day, and pitch black at nights.
	Estéban had knocked one of the boards from the wall before the sun had
risen one morning.  He had found a flaw in one of the heavy boards they had
used, but it had still been amazing when he had done it in one kick.  Estéban
said that he had worked for his parents on their farm, before the monsters had
come.  Angel thought he might have been a Libertador who had lied when they
caught him.  He was only 16 - not too suspicious.  He had tried to persuade the
others to escape with him, but most had been too scared.  Angel had been scared
too, but that wasn't the reason she didn't go when Estéban made his escape.  She
knew he would be caught.
	The remaining eleven prisoners in the classroom had been forced to watch
the zoanoid, one of the huge green ones, rip Estéban in two.  The monsters
hadn't given them any food that day.  Nobody was very hungry, anyway.
	Angel was the last one left.  Three of them - the oldest ones left after
Estéban - had been taken away two days ago.  The zoanoid - he looked like a man
at the time, but Angel knew better - that took them had laughed at the others.
	"The rest of you are too young for processing," he'd laughed, and licked
his lips.  "Maybe they'll give you lot to us."
	He'd been right.  Two hours ago, there had still been eight of them.
Then more men-zoanoids had come in.  One at a time, they had looked at the
huddled children, and then they would grab one and drag them off.  Some of them
cried.  Some had struggled.  A few had prayed loudly.  María-Rosa, the youngest
girl - she'd just turned six, she had told Angel during one of the endless black
nights - had started screaming and not stopped until after the zoanoid had
dragged her from the room.  Her then-muffled screams had stopped suddenly a few
moments later.
	Angel wasn't scared.  She had been, a little, when they'd started taking
them.  But even if she couldn't keep her heart from jumping every time that door
had opened, she wouldn't let herself be scared.  Mama and Papa hadn't been
scared.  They'd been Libertadors, too.  They'd said the Americans were coming to
help them, that they'd meet the Americans when they came, having taken back the
city from Chronos.
	"Ejército Libertador del Madero," she whispered to herself.  That's what
they'd been part of.  They'd been brave.  They'd fought against the monsters
that had taken over Mexico.  She'd be brave, too, like them.
	She knew Papa was gone.  She'd watched.  She hadn't seen what had
happened to Mama, but she'd heard the scream, from under the bed where they'd
told her to hide when the zoanoids had attacked.  The night before, they'd been
planning an attack, a big one, to take place on Constitution Day.
	She counted on her fingers, though it was a little childish.  It had
been nine days since the zoanoids had taken her into custody.  That meant it was
a week before Constitution Day now.
	She wrapped her arms around herself, though it wasn't very cold.  Her
parents had said the Americans had stopped advancing.  All the Libertadors had
been very angry and shouting about it for days.  But they had been going to
attack anyway.  They were brave.  Her father had been teaching Angel how to
fight.  When the zoanoid came for her, she'd fight.  She'd be brave, too.
	The door swung open.
	Angel half-rose to her feet as the man stepped in.  He was thin, with a
sallow, pale face and slicked back, oily hair.  He wore the same blue uniform
all the man-zoanoids did, but not the helmet.  He was grinning.
	"Ah, and there you are," he said, his voice oily like his hair.  "So
tell me: what is your name, little girl?"  His Spanish was thick and accented,
almost hard to make out. But he spoke slowly enough for her to understand.
	Angel didn't answer.  She was brave.  She wouldn't give him anything he
wanted.
	"Oh, a silent one, are you?" The zoanoid chuckled, moving forward. "Not
for long.  But I'm more polite than you.  I am Dail, the commander."
	Angel knew he wasn't, or he was only the commander of this camp.  She'd
seen the real commander make a speech on television once.  He was a tall bald
man, with a tattooed face and a huge bulge on his forehead.  His name had been
hard to pronounce.
	She shook the thought aside, standing straighter.  She wouldn't run
away.
	"Little girl, do you know why you were left here for last?"  Dail
smiled, not waiting for the answer she wouldn't give. "Because I picked you out.
When I found out that Zoalord Krumeggnic had ordered all the detainees too young
for processing to be executed, I realised this was a good chance to reward my
men, who had worked so hard to smash the pathetic resistance in this sector.
But not you, my pretty little white-haired orphan.  You are MY reward, for
working so hard."
	Angel had her back to the wall.  She wasn't scared; it just felt good to
feel the rough concrete blocks at her back.
	But a moment later, she couldn't help but be scared.
	Dail smiled again, but this time his smile got wide, wider, wider than
any smile should be, and his mouth was suddenly filled with long, sharp teeth.
His hair dissolved away from his head as spikes emerged from his scalp.  His
face distended forward as he hunched over as if he was carrying a heavy weight;
but even as he did bend, he was towering further and further over her until he
was like a giant, and his uniform exploded off his body, which was now covered
with green and brown scales and bony spines.
	Angel had seen zoanoids, but never so close.  Never ones that were going
to kill her.  She bit her lip to stop herself from screaming, but she couldn't
stop the weakness in her legs, as she almost fell back into the corner.  She
couldn't stop shaking.  She felt tears forming at the corner of her eyes, but
blinked ferociously to keep them away as she tried to stand up straight again.
She wouldn't cry.  She'd be brave.
	"It's no use, little girl," Dail laughed in his now-hissing voice.
"You'll scream, when I pull off your limbs and eat your entrails!  The only
question is," he mused as he stepped towards her, "which limb will I start
with?"
	Angel couldn't do it.  Her hands were clenched into fists, so hard it
hurt, but she couldn't raise them above her stomach.  The monster was stepping
almost daintily towards her, its head brushing the ceiling, and she couldn't
move.  So she closed her eyes.  She wouldn't scream.  It would be easier not to
scream if she couldn't see the gaping jaws or the tongue flickering towards her.
She said a prayer.  Not to be saved, because Papa had always told her God didn't
grant selfish prayers, but for the hope that some day the Americans or someone
else would stop the zoanoids.
	And yet, salvation came anyway.
	Her eyes were closed, so Angel didn't see what happened.  She just knew
that, after a moment, there was a strange sound, and she had not been touched by
the zoanoid.  It was a trick, she knew it was a trick, just to make her scream,
but she opened her eyes anyway.
	Dail had been dragged back halfway across the room, and was kneeling on
the ground.  One of his arms hung limply, the elbow twisted back so sharply that
Angel thought it must be broken.  The other was trying to claw at his attacker.
	Angel stared, not quite believing, because the person attacking the
zoanoid wasn't any older than she was.  Maybe not even as old.  But one arm was
wrapped under the zoanoid's chin, forcing his head back and mouth closed, and
the other had snapped onto the wrist of Dail's good arm, holding it away from
his head.  He had light brown hair, and his skin was pale, so pale he had to be
a foreigner.  He turned his face slightly, and Angel couldn't help but gasp,
because the zoanoid must have hurt him badly... but no.  His eye had been ripped
out brutally, but the gashes in his face were dried, and no blood poured out.
It must have been an older injury.
	The boy smiled at her.  Despite the struggles of the much larger
monster, he didn't seem to be exerting himself at all.  "Good morning, Angel."
His Spanish was perfect; he could have grown up in the same neighbourhood.
	But he hadn't.  She'd never seen the boy before.  And yet, he knew her
name?  She hadn't told anyone her name, not since the battle where her parents
had died.  It was the only thing she had left of them; she didn't want to give
it up.  But this boy knew it.
	The boy nodded at her.  "I will explain later.  But right now, Angel, I
need your help."
	"M-me?" she said, speaking before she thought.  The boy smiled at her
again.
	"Yes.  You see, I cannot kill this beast.  It is not my way.  And yet, I
can't leave it here to summon its friends."
	His gaze travelled downwards.  Angel looked down as well.  There was a
knife on the floor.  At first she thought it was, anyway, but looking closer, it
was very strange-looking.  Almost like a huge thorn, but with a handle.
	"Don't worry," the boy said. "That weapon will surely pierce even the
hide of a zoanoid.  Please, Angel, if you-"
	He cut off abruptly.  Dail spasmed.  Angel paused.  She stared at the
hands holding the thorn-knife, which was buried deep in the exposed throat of
the snake-like zoanoid.  The small, tanned hands were shaking slightly, covered
in the red blood that spurted from the wound. After a moment, she realised the
blood-covered hands were hers, and then she remembered grabbing the knife even
as he had spoken.
	She wanted to be happy.  She wanted to be angry.  She was brave.  She'd
taken her opportunity.  But her hands were shaking, and they wouldn't stop even
after the zoanoid's body spasmed convulsively one last time, then went limp. The
boy tossed the body to the side.  The knife was torn from her hands when that
happened, but they were still held forward, still shaking.  Angel tried to stop
them.  But they wouldn't.  She wouldn't.  She was shaking, and couldn't stop.
She felt the wetness at the corner of her eyes again, but she couldn't blink it
away now.
	So she looked up.  The boy was there, looking down at her.  He was
smiling slightly, but his one remaining eye was cold and glassy.  Not cold like
the reptilian eyes of Dail had been, but cold like... like space.  Like
something a thousand years and a thousand miles away.
	He wasn't taller than her, she suddenly realised.  They were about the
same height.  But he was looking down at her.  Because his feet weren't touching
the floor.  She stared at them, floating a foot above the filthy, blood-soaked
tiles, and then raised her eyes to his again.
	"Are you an angel?"  In the Bible, God had sent angels, long ago, to
punish the wicked of Egypt.  She couldn't think of what else he could be.
	The boy laughed slightly.  "No, that's you."
	"How did you know my name?" It sounded stupid to her as she asked, but
it was the only thing that came out of her mouth.
	"Because I've been looking for you, Angel."  He turned, and walked on
the air.  "Come.  Let's get out of this place."
	Angel followed the boy out the door.  When she emerged into the morning
sunlight, she stared.  The camp was deserted and silent.  But not empty.  Giant
plants had grown from the sandy soil.  They weren't trees, or anything else
Angel had seen: huge flowers, purple and green vines, and huge stems that ended
in bulbous mouths and gnashing teeth.  Here and there around the plants were
remnants of Chronos uniforms; a broken helmet was there, and several large damp
spots dotted the ground.
	Angel looked down at her hands.  The blood was gone now, having
disappeared sometime.  She remembered seeing the body of Dail dissolving, out of
the corner of her eye, when she left the room.  Her stomach lurched, but there
was nothing in it to come up.
	A woman was walking towards them.  She looked foreign too, but Asian,
and was wearing strange, colourful clothes.  She looked at Angel once, and then
said something in some language to the boy.  He replied to her in the same
language, then waved her away.  She shrugged and moved back towards one of the
plants.  Then the boy turned to Angel again.
	"Angel, what happens now is up to you."  He waited for a moment, but she
was silent, so he went on, "I came here looking for you.  But you aren't my
servant.  If you do not wish to follow me, I'll take you to America.  You'll be
safe there."
	"But... who are you?" Angel didn't like the sound of her own voice.  It
didn't sound brave; it was weak and scared and uncertain.  She didn't want to
feel like that.
	"I am called Chris," he said in a voice that contained no trepidation,
no hint of impurity, no human doubt.
	"What... what can someone like me do for you?"
	Chris turned away, staring towards the rising sun.  "I can't tell you
that now, Angel.  I can only tell you that it's important for me, but it will be
extremely hard for you.  And because it will be so hard, I won't force you.
Again, if you want, I'll take you to America and to people who will take care of
you.  You can grow up and be whatever you want, and you will be safe."
	Angel stared at the back of the boy.  She'd never been to America,
though she'd always wanted to go someday.  She'd been excited when Mama told her
the Americans were coming; she'd wanted to meet one.
	But they hadn't come.
	They hadn't saved her parents.  They'd abandoned them to the monsters.
Maybe they'd wanted to come, but they still hadn't.
	"I want to come with you!"
	Chris didn't move.  "Are you certain?  I will offer you the choice to
leave me three times, Angel.  Three times, and no more.  Each time, it will be
harder for you if you stay.  Don't stay because of what I did for you.  You will
be happier-"
	For the second time, Angel cut off his speech.  "I don't care!  I want
to help you!  Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it!"
	And now he turned back to her, and he was smiling again.  "Very well.
Then we should leave, before the monsters come."

*

- February 2nd, 1993, 13:21: Southtown, United States of America -

	Shingo Tsukino tried not to cry. He rubbed his sleeve against his nose
and sniffed loudly. He wasn't really paying attention to where he was going. He
was just walking, towards where he had no idea.
	No, it wasn't towards anything. He was walking away, no, running away...
he was running away from them. He passed by a group of young men lounging on the
side of a building. They didn't even give him a second glance. He was just
another kid, one of many that lived in the city these days. They were young
toughs, the kind that would have probably wanted to make trouble only a year
ago. But today Southtown was peaceful. These days, you couldn't start a fight
if you tried.
	The S.T.A.R.S. were here. Shingo looked up and saw one walking down a
side street. The blue uniform, with the golden patch on both shoulders. Everyone
gave the woman a wide berth. Everyone stared at her in awe. They knew. They knew
she was the only thing standing between them and darkness. The horror stories
were retold daily. Raccoon City. Arizona. Nevada. Nobody wanted to make trouble
because that would draw the ire of the supermen that were saving the world. The
thin blue line between them and chaos.
	Shingo cursed and kicked a stray can. He hadn't really been aiming at
her, but the aluminum missile flew with terrifying accuracy right at her.
Shingo felt his heart stop. Why couldn't he have been that accurate yesterday?
	The woman's hand snapped up and caught the can without her even looking.
Her fingers curled around it, cracking the thin metal. She paused and looked at
him. Shingo stared back, his heart beating a mile a minute. She was beautiful,
with blonde hair in a short bob cut and a face that seemed open and honest. She
narrowed her fetching blue eyes and walked towards him. He was rooted to the
spot. He was afraid.
	She said something to him, but it was in English. He suddenly felt his
fear dissolve. He had been here almost a year now and he still barely could say
'hello'! God, he hated this country! He hated this stupid language with its
rules that kept changing with every sentence! He hated being left out!
	"SHUT UP YOU FOREIGNER BIMBO!" he screamed at her, tears streaming down
his cheek.
	Her eyes narrowed. Shingo stared defiantly back at her. Then she smiled
unpleasantly and began speaking in accented but perfectly understandable
Japanese. "Because you're obviously a refugee, I'll let that one pass, kid."
	Shingo was so surprised by this that he felt his anger fading away. He
tried to grab onto it, but it just slipped through his fingers like mist. The
woman knelt down in front of him. "I heard about your homeland. Tough break,
kid. But that's no reason to take it out on us."
	"I..." He sighed. "I'm not angry because of that." He grit his teeth.
"I'm angry because I can't DO anything about it!"
	"Hmm?" she murmured, tilting her head to the side.
	"My sister is over there fighting them!" he declared. "She was one of
the ones that stayed behind! She had powers! She could fight monsters!" He
clenched his fists and stared at the ground, the tears now beginning to blur his
vision. "And what am I doing? I'm stuck here while she could be dying! I'm not
doing anything but running away!"
	"You're too hard on yourself, kid-"
	"MY NAME IS SHINGO TSUKINO!" he declared defiantly. "I'm sick of running
away! I want to do something about it. Ukyou wouldn't have run away! He was a
man! He would have stayed and fought!"
	"Ukyou?" The woman waved that aside. "Listen, ki... Shingo. We're making
a scene. Come on inside, I'll buy you a drink."
	It wasn't an invitation. She grabbed him by one ear and dragged him into
what he realised was a bar only after the cigarette smoke hit his nostrils. He
yelled and protested and tried not to cry harder as she dragged him up to the
bar, bodily lifted him onto a stool and only released him once she was also
sitting.
	She ordered something from the greasy-looking bartender while he sat and
fumed. A moment later she shoved it into his hand and he took a drink. It tasted
bitter, but not unpleasant.
	"Name's Mary, kid," the woman introduced herself. "Most people call me
Blue Mary, but seeing as how you're a brat, you can stick to Mary."
	"Mary..." He felt better already. Kind of mellow now that he was inside
and talking to someone who wasn't treating him TOO much like a kid.
	"I can understand what you feel, Shingo," she explained, downing a can
of beer in one gulp and giving a loud sigh when she was finished. "It's hard
watching people you care about fight and being unable to do anything about it.
That's why I joined S.T.A.R.S."
	"But you can fight, you have special powers or something..." he
murmured. He took another few drinks and felt a bit better.
	"Nothing you can't get from years of hard work, Shingo." She smiled and
flexed. "Listen, this is kind of a secret, but they have a special school here.
We're teaching kids about your age how to-"
	"I know," he cut her off. "I... was turned down."
	"Turned down?" She blinked.
	"Doctor Tofu did my tests personally." He took another drink. He wasn't
even noticing the taste by now. "He's a... well, not old friend of the
family..." He laughed, although he wasn't really sure what was funny about that.
"He said I have potential... but not enough." He sneered and swung his glass,
swaying on the stool. Mary steadied him with one hand. "HAH! Apparently everyone
has potential! Lots of potential! But... BUT... BUT BUT BUT! They only have time
for the BEST, you see. Only the best. No second stringers. No losers!" He
laughed again.
	"Shingo, I'm sorry to hear that." She paused. "You have to understand
that there are only so many people we can spare to teach. Chronos may have let
up the pressure, but there are worse things. Shadowloo agents. Millennium
sleeper cells. Darkstalkers in the forests. Every martial artist is a valuable
asset at this point. Maybe in a few years..."
	"Hah... HAH!" He blinked at her. Why was Mary sitting on both sides of
the stool? "I don't HAVE a few years!"
	"I... well, maybe I can spare some time to give you a few pointers
and... Shingo?" Shingo was having a hard time focusing on her words now. "Ah,
man. I think that was a little too strong for you. Sorry kid, guess I should-"
Her voice cut off as the bar rapidly rose to meet Shingo's face.
	It must have been some time later when he woke up because it was dark
out. He moaned and clutched his head, sitting up in bed. At first he thought the
loud crashes were coming from inside his skull, then he saw the flash of
lightning outside. A few second later the thunder rolled again and he moaned,
clutching his delicate ears. Just what he needed right now.
	He glanced around. He was back in his own room. It was small, barely big
enough to fit his bed and a modest desk for study. He rolled over and sat up,
still clutching his head. Damn, what had that devil foreigner woman done to him?
	There was a sudden bang and Shingo started. The window had flown open.
He stared at it, as the rain began to fall inside. He realised he should get up
and close it, but he hurt too much to.
	"Ukyou would do it..." He murmured. Ukyou was something of an idol to
him. Ukyou might not have been the most famous martial artist, not anymore. But
he had been the first. The first big break out. A man in black who didn't take
crap from anyone. A man who dealt with his enemies up front and personal. He
had never met Ukyou, but that only magnified the mystique. Dr. Tofu refused to
talk about him, and neither did Genma or Soun or anyone else who had actually
met him. Well, except old lady Saotome. But she only complained about Ukyou
doing cool stuff. Adults didn't get it.
	Sighing, Shingo walked over to the window, getting his pyjamas wet. "I
wish I could be as strong as Ukyou..." he murmured as he reached for the window.
	"That, my boy, can be arranged." Shingo screamed and fell back as a dark
figure with glowing white eyes appeared in the window. There was a flash of
thunder and the newcomer's white teeth gleamed as he smiled down at the boy. "In
fact, I think we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement."

*

- May 26th, 1993, 17:03: Ohtori Academy, Japan -

	"Ami, we don't have to do this!"
	So it had begun.
	The book she had been holding - she couldn't even remember the title -
fell from her loose fingers to clatter on the ground.  Ami opened her eyes as
she turned around, the blinding headlights of the red sports car setting her
shadow dancing across the surface of the dueling arena.  The head of her shade
rested directly before Usagi's feet.
	Ami almost smirked at the poetic imagery of it.  Games.  Akio's games,
no doubt.  Nothing here was real.  Nothing except herself, and her companion,
and Usagi, and the Rose Bride.  They fought in a battlefield of no more
substance than a daydream.  Her visor let her see it, but also see through it,
as if it were no more than a light fog.  She reached up to touch the side of her
visor, and the memories flooded into her, viciously, like a stream of icy water-
	"I don't know what to do." She was at the airport again, and Akane was
in front of her.  The magic of her visor screened out the distortions of the
youma's attack, but Akane could only close her eyes to fight off the vertigo.
She was helpless, but she was still fighting.  She was relying on Ami to help
her.  Ami, who had never started a fight in her life, whose reaction to bullies
at schools had always been quiet acquiescence. "I don't know the first thing
about fighting," she protested.
	"Don't let your confidence waver!" Akane shot back, but gently.  There
was a strength in that voice, the strength that came from knowing you were
fighting for your sister and for your friends. "I believe in you. I trust you
won't let me down."
	"Ami!"  Usagi's voice sounded desperate now.  Tears glittered in the
corner of her eyes. "Please listen to me! You have to see-"
	With a sudden, savage jerk, Ami ripped the visor from her eyes.  The
blue crystal cracked in her grasp, and a hot pain ripped through her palm.  She
hurled it to the ground, savouring the pain of it, looking around at the
illusion Akio had created, that now seemed as real as anything in the world
could be.  "I see perfectly fine, Usagi." Ami said calmly, as her blood dripped
on the stone tiles.  "Let's begin."
	Miki had moved up next to her without her noticing.  He grasped her,
turning her to the side.  A soft gasp escaped her lips as she fell back into his
cradling embrace.  His hand hovered directly over her chest, cupped over the
blue crystal brooch of her Senshi uniform.  A light, like moonlight reflected
from a dark ocean, began to flow into his hands.  Ami knew what was happening
next.  She closed her eyes, picturing the sword coming, and instead-
	"Pathetic," the zoanoid sneered.  The long sword of his arms slowly
moved forward, the humming edge of the blade forcing Ami against the wall.  "At
least attempt to put up a fight!"
	What was Ami supposed to do?  She had done all she could.  She had
created her fog, and the creature had laughed at her.  She had tried to flee,
and it had run her down.  She had tried to fight, and it had kicked her to the
floor with contemptuous ease.
	"I can't believe that I, Thancrus of the Hyper Zoanoid Team 5, have been
wasted on such as you!  Without your friends, you're nothing, little girl!
Nothing!"
	Ami opened her eyes when her hands settled on the hilt of her sword.
She stood up straight, allowing Miki to vanish back into the background.
Makoto's sword, she had been told, was a simple oaken practice sword.  But not
Ami's.  Hers was a work of art, an impossibly precious and delicate rapier of
coral and seafoam.  It was as insubstantial as the dreams they fought in, but
just as powerful.
	She pointed it at Usagi.  "Draw your sword, Sailor Moon."
	Anthy reached around from behind Usagi, her hand reaching for the girl's
heart.  Usagi closed her eyes and fell back, and suddenly her power exploded
around her.  Ami could barely keep her footing as Usagi's sword was summoned.
She had almost forgotten what it was like-
	"No need," Shampoo said.  "Run.  Either we enough, or nobody enough."
And then she and Sailor Moon were gone, leaving Ami and the others sitting at
the base of the Chronos mountain.  The old woman was still unconscious.  The
twins muttered to each other in a corner.  Makoto looked furious with herself
for not acting when the others had returned to fight the monster Gyro to save
Akane.  Rei... Ami couldn't tell what Rei was thinking.  She didn't really know
Rei well enough.  But if she had to guess, she would have thought Rei was
afraid, but not of the same things they were.
	And time dragged on.  For what could not have been more than minutes but
seemed like hours, nothing changed.  And then...
	The power exploded over their head.  It was pure.  It was immeasurable.
It was Good.  There was no other word that fit.  It was all things warm and
beautiful.  And Ami gasped, realising with awe that she was, in some small way,
connected to it.
	And then came her voice, ringing through their heads, through the room,
through the entire mountain.  Ami could almost see her struggling.
	"No... I can't do it alone!" Sailor Moon screamed. "I need your help!
Everyone! Please! Help me!"
	And Ami raised her wand to the sky, and knew that this was her Purpose.
To be there when the Princess needed her.  To be a pillar on which she climbed
to Heaven.
	Usagi's sword, of course, was far grander.  Far grander, in fact, than
any other sword in this world or all others.  Looking at it, you knew somehow
that it was that primordial sword, the ur-sword, the sword beside which all
others were revealed to be nothing but pale imitations.
	Ami yelled as she lunged forward and attacked.  It felt good.  And for
the briefest of moments, she drove Usagi back.  But that was only because Usagi
had not been willing to strike the first blow.  Slowly, step by step, Ami was
forced to retreat.  She bit her lip as one barely-blocked blow shuddered through
her body like a wave.  Resisting Usagi was like resisting a force of nature.
But then Usagi's attacks ceased.
	"It's not too late," Sailor Moon pleaded.  The pitying look in her eyes
reminded Ami-
	"Aren't you going to say hi?" Akane whispered, and there was pity in her
eyes.
	Ami tried to smile.  She was used to this.  Her mother had sat her down
and explained this to her many years ago.  She was a doctor.  A healer.  An
important person.  People NEEDED her.  And sometimes that meant she needed to go
away, even when Ami wanted her.  It was hard.  But because she did, people
lived.
	"She's busy," Ami said calmly, watching as her mother expertly tended to
the injuries of Akane's father.  They had only been separated for a few days.
Ami could wait a little longer.  People NEEDED her mother, after all.  "I'll
give her a hug when she's finished with your father."
	Ami leaped away from Usagi.  She clenched her sword, the hilt slick with
her blood and sweat and seawater.  "I never thought I could overcome you like
that, Usagi.  You've always been stronger; I knew that.  But I don't... I WON'T
believe battles are only won from strength!"
	Kozue had taught her that.
	And as Ami's hands whipped apart and she summoned her magic, she
remember the day she hadn't been willing-
	"You don't deserve Miki."
	Ami clutched her cheek; it was warm where the girl had struck her.  Ami
knew she was Miki's little sister; the resemblance was remarkable.  But where
Miki's face was kind and noble and accepting of a girl who had been thrust into
a situation she didn't understand, Kozue Kaoru's expression held only contempt.
	"You don't have the guts Miki needs." she sneered.  "You don't have the
strength."
	And for a moment, Ami's cheek flushed again, but this time with anger.
Who was this junior high school girl to tell her she didn't have strength?  She
was a Sailor Senshi!  She'd fought monsters that would make Kozue white with
fear!  She could transform right now and show her-
	What was she thinking?  She couldn't do that.  That wasn't what she had
been given her power for.  She had been given it to...
	...protect people.  Not hurt them.
	And then Kozue turned her back on her.  "Stay there on the floor.  Don't
get near Miki again, or you'll get worse next time."
	Ami heard's Usagi's cry of alarm as the fog filled the arena.  She
dashed forward.  It wasn't quite that Ami could see through the fog she created:
it was that it was HERS.  She didn't need to see, when she walked through the
mists of her magic: she simply knew where the enemy was.
	And Usagi did not.
	Usagi screamed again as Ami's sword appeared from the opaque mists and
slashed out at her.  The strike missed her golden brooch by centimeters, and a
strip of her collar fluttered away.  Usagi tried to strike back, but Ami merely
melted away into darkness again and waited for her next opportunity to strike.
	There was nobody here to help Usagi.  Not like Ami had helped Akane.
There was no pillars left for her to lean on, now.  Ami smiled-
	"Your smile," Akio said, leaning back in the red sports car.  His long
hair and his open shirt flapped in the wind.  The street lights were coming by
faster and faster.  "It is pleasant, even if it is an illusion."
	"What are you talking about?" Ami asked cautiously. She glanced back.
Miki sat in the back seat, his arms huddled around himself.  He had looked
miserable ever since he had dragged Ami out in the middle of the night for this
ride with the Chairman.
	It was a trap, of course.  Ami knew that.  Akio had told her as much,
casually, when he had arrived.  But walking into a trap with eyes open, one
could discern its mechanism.  This wasn't real.  Akio couldn't hurt her.  She
knew that.
	"I'm talking about this life you've created for yourself, of course,"
Akio said smoothly.  He wasn't even looking at the road anymore; instead, his
gaze was directed upwards, at the stars.  "Isn't that planet up there yours,
Sailor Mercury?"
	Ami looked.  She had studied astronomy, and knew he was looking in the
right general region, even if she couldn't be certain without a telescope.  She
said as much, and he laughed.
	"The problem with Mercury is that it is so small, its light is difficult
to see without special equipment.  But Mercury is one of the most interesting
planets.  It is the one nearest to the Sun, after all.  And the Sun is the
source of life.  So, naturally, one would think that Mercury would be the
strongest of all.  But it is too close to the Sun. Instead of being the
strongest, it's been worn down so much by that closeness that it barely shines
at all."  He shifted the gears, sending the car hurtling forward even faster.
"Perhaps, if Mercury moved away from the Sun, its light would shine so strongly
that all the people of the world would look up at it for guidance."
	Ami leaned back in the chair, the wind whipping her hair around her
face.  "I think Mercury is happy where it is.  It knows its place in the
cosmos."
	"Ah, is that right?" Akio mused.
	A hand brushed against Ami's cheek.  She gasped, and the pale hand
darted away.  She turned to stare, but Miki's face was looking away from hers.
He was flushed.
	"Not everyone can survive being so close to the Sun," Akio said.  Ami
looked back at him, just as he grabbed the top of the windshield and he was
flipping over it and the street lamps were coming so fast that they were a
strobe light and somehow the car was going faster and faster...
	Ami struck, and Usagi staggered backwards, a few golden hairs flying
through the air.  She retreated as Usagi clumsily counterattacked, ducked under
her guard and lunged again.  This time Usagi fell to one knee.  But still she
blocked Ami's follow-up.  The two of them strained for a moment, and Ami could
see the tears flowing from Usagi's eyes.
	But they weren't for Usagi's own plight.
	They were for Ami.
	They were pleading for her to stop.
	Ami felt rage flow through her, and she snarled-
	Kozue was buried halfway through the wall.  Plaster clattered to the
floor around her, and dust filled the air enough to obscure her crumpled form.
Ami was breathing heavily, standing there.  Her fist was shaking.  It hurt.  But
it was somehow the best pain she had ever felt.
	"Kozue!"
	Ami raised her hand, blocking Miki's path to his sister.  He was white-
faced and shaking.  But there was something in his eyes as he looked at Ami,
too.  Something that had been there since the car, since he had seen her
transform into Sailor Mercury.
	It was what had been missing from his eyes all along.  It was the
weakness, the holding back, that his immature clinging to his dream about Kozue
had instilled in him.
	But there was a new dream shining in his eyes now, and Kozue had no part
of it.  His eyes were those of an adult now.  And Ami knew her own eyes shone
just like his.  They moved towards each other, and touched as if for the first
time.
	With a scream, Ami hurled Usagi back.  Her sword dropped to the ground
as she fell.  Ami realised, she KNEW, that this was it!  This was the moment!
If she could only cut off Sailor Moon's transformation brooch, if she could
seize the victory before her, her destiny would change!
	"You don't have the strength to stand alone, Sailor Moon!" Ami screamed,
and it felt good, better than good.  "You needed Akane!  You needed Shampoo! You
needed Rei!  You needed Makoto!  You needed me!  But now all of us are gone!  We
didn't need you!  How do you plan on making your dream come true without anyone
to stand on to reach it?"
	Usagi raised to one knee, and her hand rested on the hilt of her sword.
There were no tears in her eyes now.  Her face was set in firm, unyielding
lines. "I will find a way."
	Usagi could not possibly defend herself in time.  Ami's blow was already
falling towards her.
	And then there was blinding light in her eyes.  She gasped painfully,
and felt her sword deflect harmlessly off the facets of the silver crystal.  She
staggered back, holding up her hand to block the light.  But then another beam
of light struck her, and another, and another, from all sides, and she realised
they were the headlights of the car, and there were hundreds, surrounding her.
She stood in the halo of light, blinded, and she felt her fog burning away and
she tried to raise her sword to defend herself as she stepped backward and...
	She heard Usagi's yell, and there was a feeling like wind passing over
her skin, and something fell from her chest and clattered to the ground.
	All at once, the lights went out.
	Amy sank to her knees.  And as she did, she felt the power of Sailor
Mercury leave her with a dreadful finality.  She stared for a long moment at the
transformation pen that lay on the ground before her.  It had snapped in two.
	Usagi was walking back to join the Rose Bride.  She had, at some point
when Ami had been blinded, transformed again.  She was now clad in a long silver
gown with golden trim.
	Miki was beside Ami now, but didn't have the courage to speak.  Usagi
turned back, and her gaze was full of compassion and love and all things warm
and beautiful.
	"Don't worry, Ami.  I understand now.  You don't have to fight for me
anymore.  Nobody needs to sacrifice themselves for my dreams."
	And then she left, and Ami collapsed to the ground, clutching herself,
and even Miki's warm comforts couldn't stop her crying for a long, long time.

*

- November 19th, 1993, 01:21: Beloretsk, Russia -

	The snow was coming down heavily outside, and the tiny fire seemed
impotent against it. Donovan stood in the doorway, looking out into the deserted
streets of the city. In the distance, the Ural Mountains loomed, fading in and
out through the heavy snow. The city itself faded beneath the blanket of white.
The only sign of life was the two sets of footprints that led up to this door.
Even those were fading as the heavy snow consumed everything.
	Donovan made the superior sign of the Buddha and the beads on his
shoulder floated into the air. Small arcs of blue lightning flashed and licked
across the softball-sized beads as they slowly floated apart and began to
encircle the small home on the outskirts of what had once been a thriving town.
Donovan closed his eyes and chanted sutras, the force of his holy conviction
only fueled by his demon blood. The beads settled around the house, a chain of
blue electricity forming. The orbs settled into the snow like corpse heads, and
with a single blinding flash the energy field stopped. Donovan opened his eyes.
Nothing would get in this house without his knowledge or consent tonight.
	He turned and closed the door behind him. Anita was sitting next to the
fire, her head bowed. Her large brown eyes were fixed on him. As usual, he could
not determine the emotion behind her gaze. She still clutched the headless doll
to her breast. He frowned and walked to the fire himself.
	He sat against the wall, folding his legs before him and resting the
massive demon blade Dylek across his knees. Then he placed his elbows on the
shining metal and raised his hands before he began a few simple prayers. It was
a poor position to start a battle from, but he was confident he would have
enough warning from his barrier to react appropriately.
	Anita continued looking at him, her doe-like eyes enigmatic. He frowned
at her. "Get some sleep," he prompted. She just looked at him. As usual, she
didn't speak. She hadn't spoken since he had met her. Since he had saved her
from the darkstalker that had slaughtered her entire family, her entire village,
in front of her. The demon had been inhabiting the straw doll she carried,
feeding off her life energy. It had grown incredibly powerful, for Anita was
something special. Donovan had once consulted a bodhisattva about her and the
great sage had nodded and spoken of her destiny. Anita was a chosen one, a
prophet. Perhaps the next great prophet of God? The wise man had not known.
	Ever since, Donovan had been looking after her. It struck him as unwise,
to take such a small child into such constant danger. Living as a hunter of the
creatures of the night was not the safest occupation, especially not these days.
The demons no longer confined themselves to deep forests and back alleys. They
ruled the lands openly. They rallied armies of abominations and made war on each
other.
	Donovan had been busy the last few years. In his wake he left nothing
but dead monsters. He did not care where they hid, or what fortresses they
constructed. With his holy power, his demon blood and the dark blade Dylek he
tracked them down and slew them. He did this without asking for reward or
approval. He knew there were others out there who would not lift a finger to
save a thousand lives unless there was money to be had. There was that Tendo
woman, for instance. She was obviously concerned only with the wealth of her
'clients'... but since all the clients she had referred him to had been in dire
need of salvation, he journeyed where she bid.
	Now, that might well be the death of him.
	Anita leaned back, her child's face lit eerily by the flames. She could
sense his disquiet, his anticipation. She knew they were being hunted. When he
had first arrived in this frigid city, he had thought that the Tendo woman might
have sent him here to deal with a Millennium raiding party. The undead war
machine was known to send out such units from time to time. Their relentless
push eastward into China had left too many dead towns in their wake. Even
Donovan could not stand in front of their marching armies. But a raiding party?
Maybe a half dozen freak chip vampires, a horde of ghouls and zombies and
whatever twisted mutants their scientists had wanted to test? Donovan knew he
could hold his own against such odds.
	But Beloretsk had not been destroyed by vampires. The town had been
quiet when he had arrived. Even the wind had died, letting the snow fall in
silent sheets onto the ground. There had not been a single thing alive in the
town, no people, no animals, no plants. Donovan had stepped into the place and
felt a chill run down his spine. It had taken him a moment to identify it. The
very spirit of this place was dead. Not twisted and tainted like the places
where the undead dwelled too long. Just dead. Whatever plague had struck this
place, it had been quite thorough.
	And it wasn't gone.
	Donovan looked up sharply.
	"Anita, get behind me."
	The girl responded slowly, but with simple efficiency. Donovan did not
rise. Instead he closed his eyes and chanted. The words were prayers handed down
through his order for centuries, sacred sutras passed down to mortal hands by
the divine Buddha. As he chanted the barrier leapt to life. Through the cracks
in the door, blue light flooded. It pushed its way through the walls. It burned
its way past his eyelids. He felt Anita shift uncomfortably. Sweat rolled down
Donovan's brow as he chanted. Faster and faster the words came, but always in a
clear and precise voice.
	Hours passed.
	What kind of enemy was this? The pressure on the barrier had not
relented. It had not increased or decreased or varied in the slightest. It was
just constant. The unyielding force of it was maddening. It was like trying to
hold back the ocean, like trying to lift up an entire mountain range. Finally
Donovan missed a word.
	The barrier buckled instantly. The light flashed once, brighter than
before, then died.
	Donovan stood up. The demon blade Dylek floated up in front of him. He
made a sign with his hands and the monstrously curved tip of the weapon rose to
point at the door. The thick metal blade gleamed, the elaborate runes along its
edge flickering with shadows. The curved-in top of the blade was serrated with
long spikes on the inside, and the carved eye on top of it gave the entire
weapon the semblance of life. The weapon quivered as it floated in mid-air.
	Donovan narrowed his eyes and made another gesture, chaining the weapon
with his will. Dylek was a terrible weapon. Not really a blade, but a demon in
the form of a sword. It delighted in slaughter and death. It had taken all of
Donovan's considerable skill and conviction to chain the weapon to his will and
turn it against the enemies of man. As a monster slayer, the blade had no equal.
As a dealer of death, it was unmatched. And yet the demon blade was afraid.
	The door opened and the enemy walked into the room. Donovan had long
since learned not to be deceived by appearances, but even he was taken aback by
the child before him. She was short, thin, with a body that couldn't have been
more than ten years old. Her face was beautiful: serene, even. She had large
eyes the colour of tarnished bronze and short black hair that fell softly to her
neck. Her outfit was as pale as the snows outside: white collar and skirt, boots
and gloves over a leotard of shining white material. On her back, just behind
her neck, was a huge bow of bleached white, with long ribbons that hung down to
her knees. The only colour came from the eight-pointed crystal star that hung
just above her chest, a star that glowed faintly purple. The entire outfit was
torn and shredded, as if it had been dragged across a rough surface for a
long, long time.
	The child looked up at him. Her flesh was pale, the white of a skin
without life, like that of a vampire. But a red line traced its way down her
cheek, edging along her nose and dripping from the end of her chin. It was
blood, blood that welled constantly from a symbol carved into her forehead.
Donovan was fairly certain that the inverted 'h' was a symbol of Saturn, a Greek
god.
	"Leave this place," he ordered.
	"Do not resist," she replied, stepping further into the room. "I am
the messenger of God. He has sent me to you, Donovan Baine. I have come to
deliver you from this life of agony into which you were born."
	"How do you know my name?" he demanded.
	"I told you, I am the messenger of God." She stretched out her hands, a
gesture of peace. "You desire release. All your life you have struggled, Donovan
Baine. Born the half-breed bastard of a demon, you have always felt the call of
your heritage. It has filled you with rage and pain, with a constant desire to
hunt and kill. You have turned to religion for relief, but it has never helped."
	"I am a master of myself," Donovan informed her.
	"You are lying to yourself." The girl looked at him, and her look was
filled with such pity and remorse that Donovan felt his resolve crumbling. That
was not the expression of a monster. "What have your chants done for you,
Donovan Baine? How much has your prayer saved you? All your discipline, all your
torment, it has done nothing to calm the demon in your blood. That is why you
have taken up this life. That is why you struggle. Not to save the lives of the
humans, but to revel in the bloodshed. You direct your rage and pain against the
demons, but for you it is never enough."
	"I will not listen to your lies," Donovan proclaimed, but his voice
wavered. His hand was shaking. Sweat was pouring down his cheeks. How could she
see so far into his heart? How could she know his secret doubts? He had mastered
disciplines that should have rendered him immune to the mind tricks of demons,
but this girl was saying things he had not been willing to say even to Anita...
the girl whom he had slowly come to tell everything.
	"The Great Buddha teaches us that life is suffering. Only by
surrendering ourselves can we achieve happiness. By clinging to this life, by
struggling and fighting and hating, we only prolong our pain and the pain of the
world. Why do you turn your back on his teachings? Do not fear me. I am a
messenger of peace. I bring an end to pain. I bring a release from this world."
	"SILENCE!" Donovan roared and gestured sharply. Dylek leapt forward,
screaming through the air so fast it blurred. The girl raised one hand and
caught the handle of the blade. Donovan stared as the girl looked at the weapon.
	"Dylek does not follow you because you defeated it, Donovan Baine," she
told him. "It follows you because it recognises an evil greater than itself. It
wishes to see you continue this fruitless crusade until your heart is so deep in
shadow that when you turn around you will never find your way out." As Donovan
watched, the colour began to seep from the blade. The shine of the weapon began
to vanish, a creeping dullness that ran up the edge of the blade. Dylek twisted
and snapped in her grasp, but could not get away. "But with me, it can serve a
much greater purpose. The instrument of my power was taken from me, hidden from
me somewhere on this globe. Until I find it, I can not bring peace to everyone.
Until then, this shall do as a suitable replacement."
	"NO!" Donovan gestured sharply and flames rushed out. The girl twisted
the blade, parrying the flames which vanished as they touched the sword. Another
gesture and Donovan summoned ice, raining slick spikes down on her. She gestured
and the blade floated from her grasp, spinning above her head as the ice too
vanished into smoke. Donovan clapped his hands together and changed stances, and
lightning flashed around him. It struck out in streams, a dozen bolts snapping
forward like thrusting swords. The girl didn't even move, as Dylek itself
floated down to shield her from harm. For a moment she was hidden totally behind
the blade that was nearly twice as large as she, then the sword floated back
over her shoulder and hovered patiently, like a waiting dog.
	The girl took a step forward. "I see you do not understand my message."
	"Your message is a perversion!" Donovan snarled.
	"The people of this town did not understand either, Donovan Baine. But
now... now they understand. I can make you understand."
	Donovan had never feared anything in his life, but he was terrified now.
But suddenly the girl stopped. Donovan looked down. Anita was standing in front
of him, her arms thrown to both sides to block the messenger's path. The
headless doll had been thrown into a corner. The messenger looked at Anita for a
long moment with her tarnished bronze eyes.
	"You are not the Messiah," she informed the girl and gestured once.
Dylek sprang forward and suddenly Donovan was moving. His body flew in front of
Anita and the long blade buried itself deep in his gut. He screamed, because the
blade was cold. It was cold like the vacuum of space. It was cold like the death
of a star. He realised dimly that the weapon had become a conduit for her power,
much like it had once served him. Donovan toppled forward, his head coming to
rest at the messenger's feet. Dylek rose up, tearing through his midsection,
ripping him in half. He coughed.
	"DONOVAN!"
	It was the first time he had ever heard Anita speak. He smiled and
reached for the pale girl's leg. He had to stop her, give Anita enough time to
run.
	"She won't escape." The messenger looked down at him with pity. "God has
no need for false prophets. I am the Messiah of Silence. The messenger of the
End of Days." She knelt down next to him and laid a hand on his cheek. His hand
clutched at her ankle. "But I will spare you the pain of seeing what must be
done. I am not cruel, Donovan Baine. It is the world that did this to you. Find
peace." He felt her chilling touch running through his body, and darkness began
to cloak his vision. The last thing he heard was her holy sutra, the message of
the end of days.
	"Consign yourself to Oblivion."

*

- April 30th, 1994, 14:05: Mount Phoenix, Qinghai Province, China -


	"Go, Lady Kiima!"
	"Get her, Lady Kiima!"
	Angel rolled backward, barely avoiding the sword slash that would have
taken her head off.  She came up to her feet, grimacing at the stinging line
that had been drawn across her shoulder.  Shifting back a step, she took hold of
her sword with both hands, and let out a long, slow breath.
	Kiima hovered not quite three meters away, her huge, snow-white wings
beating slowly to keep her aloft.  Her short white hair was plastered to her
scalp, and sweat glistened on her long, muscular legs.  But her grip on her own
sword, a bejewelled scimitar with an edge like a razor, was firm, and her large
violet eyes flashed in contempt.  "Is that it already?" she sneered.  "Is that
how you groundlings fight?  If you don't-"
	"-attack, you have already admitted defeat," Angel finished Kiima's
favourite maxim for her with a grin.  Kiima scowled at the impertinence, which
was enough of an opening for Angel to attack.  Her legs carried her up into the
air, and she aimed a wild slash, but the Phoenix woman merely slipped to the
side and backhanded her as she flew past.  Angel rolled again on impact with the
ground. That was the first thing Kiima had taught her.  If throwing someone
repeatedly out the windows of a mountain fortress could be considered a teaching
method, in any case.
	"You can't fight Lady Kiima in the air, groundling!" came the catcall
from the open door.
	"Was that supposed to be your idea of an attack?" came the voice of the
other Phoenix outside the training aerie.  Harsh barking laughter, like that of
a crow, followed.
	Angel rose to her feet, concealing her little smile.  "Nope."
	As Kiima darted in again, her silver blade flashing, Angel leaped
backwards towards the wall her otherwise ineffectual attack had left her near.
Her heel caught, just as she knew it would, in the divot that had been knocked
from the wall by Kiima three passes ago.  And then she was soaring upwards.  A
snort from below Kiima confirmed Angel's hopes before she even looked down.  The
Phoenix woman had pursued her, planning to cut off the arc of her leap.
	But Kiima, who was used to fighting in the open air, had momentarily
forgotten about the ceiling.
	A flip, the soles of Angel's soft slippers kissed the rough-hewn stone
of the ceiling, and then she was shooting back down again like a bullet.  Kiima
could have skewered her easily, but only at the cost of Angel slamming full-
speed into her, sending her sprawling from the air.  So there was the ever so
slight moment of hesitation as the bird-woman considered her options before a
lightning-fast beat of her wings thrust her to the side.  That hesitation meant
she couldn't quite get out of the range of Angel's sword.
	This time Angel didn't roll, instead catching herself on the floor with
one palm and flipping with her remaining momentum to her feet.  She was grinning
as she heard the startled gasps from outside the door.
	Kiima hovered in the air above her, half-turned away.  Her eyes
flickered to the vivid scarlet line on her left forearm for a single
disinterested moment, then settled on her diminutive opponent below.
	"Are you proud of yourself?" she asked, her voice that dangerous sort of
quiet.
	This was the point where you should run away.
	Unfortunately, behind her was only the stone wall of the mountain.
	Kiima's smile bared all her teeth, including her fangs.  It was never a
pretty sight.  "SUICHOU SENZAN YOKU!" Her wings suddenly came down so fast they
were a blur-
	When Angel woke up, Koruma was bandaging her wounds.  She glanced
around, noticing bemusedly that while she was lying on the floor of the training
aerie, she was not in fact in a puddle of her own blood.  It was just sort of
oozing.  Which meant she had in fact dodged Kiima's thousand wing attack better
than last week.  She grinned a little, which only lasted a moment before her
body reminded her it was in tremendous pain.
	Koruma had noticed she was awake, which naturally prompted him to start
talking.  "Ha, you thought a cheap trick like that could beat Lady Kiima?"
	"No," Angel sighed.  "I just wanted to actually hit her for once."
	"Like that proves anything!" Masala sneered.  He was standing against
the wall, arms folded.  His dull green hair was partially hidden by a bandage, a
souvenir of his own earlier 'sparring session'.  "No groundling can ever beat
Lady Kiima!"  He flexed his speckled wings for emphasis, then winced, rubbing
one aching muscle.
	Koruma laughed his crow's laugh again, tightening the last bandage on
Angel's shoulder until it hurt.  He also deliberately fluffed up his coal-black
wings as he stood beside the other Phoenix teenager. "That's right!  I mean," he
said, his voice mockingly sorrowful, "I know you're jealous because you'll never
have Lady Kiima's awesome body, but you're just setting yourself up for more
pain!"  He smirked, looking pointedly at Angel's boyish chest.
	"I'm twelve," she reminded him flatly.
	"It doesn't matter," sneered Masala.  "Everyone knows all groundlings
grow up to be fat and ugly because they're too heavy to get off the ground.
You'll never have Lady Kiima's perfect chest!"
	"Or her milky-white thighs!" chimed in Koruma.
	"Or her slender arms!"
	"Regal cheekbones and-"
	"-pert behind!"
	"-succulent lips... hey, what are you staring at?"
	Angel only pointed, smiling.  The two Phoenix stared at her for a long
moment, then their faces slowly drained of colour.  They spun, already babbling
panicky excuses, then stopped as they realised no-one was there.  They spun
around again.
	"Hey, she wasn't there, you little..."
	That was when Angel threw the bucket of water meant for her to wash up
in on them.
	The two older boys coughed and spluttered for a moment.  In their
Jyusenkyou-curse triggered human forms, they looked much the same, though
without their wings, claws and fangs, they lost much of their intimidation
value.
	The fact that they were clumsy, untrained, and oh-so-very-slow in those
forms took away the rest of it.
	"You little brat!"
	"We're gonna get you!"
	The bucket slammed into Masala's head as he took a step towards Angel.
Koruma snarled and threw a punch that went wildly off-target as his sparring
session-injured arm twinged.  Angel grabbed his arm, pulled him off balance, and
sent him sprawling across the rough stone floor.  Masala was sitting up, moaning
and gingerly touching the lump on his forehead.  Angel kicked him in the side,
and he went down again.  Then she picked up the bucket and hurled it at Koruma,
who barely scrambled out of the way.
	"That was a dirty trick!" he growled, his dusky brown skin flushed with
anger.  He did not, however, try to get up to resume his attack.
	"You two started it." She stuck out her tongue at the older boy.
	He looked about to retort, but suddenly blanched.  "Uh, L-lady Kiima,
you're back!"
	Angel rolled her eyes.  "At least come up with your own trick, dummy."
	"And what trick is that?"
	Angel spun, her cheeks flaming.  Kiima stood in the doorway; behind her,
Masala looked to be trying to turn invisible.  "Ooops.  Didn't think you'd, uh,
be back so soon..."
	Kiima ignored her, looking around and fixing all three of them with a
withering gaze.  She obviously hadn't washed or changed yet, which wasn't
normal, but explained her quick reappearance.  "So what exactly happened here?"
	"She ambushed us!" Masala immediately piped up.
	"Yeah!" echoed Koruma.  The Phoenix teenagers were always more quick-
thinking when it came to trying to get out of trouble.  "She must have been
upset you beat her up, Lady Kiima!  She jumped us when we weren't looking and-"
	"And what?  Thrashed you, it looks like." Kiima snorted.  "Two of my
finest men, beaten by a little groundling girl."
	"She splashed us with cold water!" Masala protested, but his voice died
to a nearly inaudible squeak when the Phoenix woman turned her gaze on him.
	"Idiots! Do you think that if the mountain were invaded by zoanoids,
they would fight fair and not use water on you?"
	"Lord Saffron would stop them and-"
	Kiima whirled on Koruma, her eyes like icy little amethysts.  "So what
you're saying is you're completely useless?  Not necessary for the defence of
our mountain?  That I'M useless?  Is that what you're saying, Koruma?"
	Koruma, stricken mute, merely shook his head.
	"Good.  So, to prove it to me, I expect you two to walk the perimeter of
Lord Saffron's domain, and determine that no-one has managed to infiltrate it.
I think this is a very urgent use of your talents.  Too urgent for you to stop
to fetch hot water.  Do I make myself clear?"  Two silent nods.  "Excellent.
You're dismissed." A heartbeat's pause, and then, "Get out of my sight!"
	The two Phoenix guards scrambled out of the room.  Kiima rounded on
Angel, who tried to shrink a little bit.  "And as for you..."
	Angel resisted the urge to close her eyes.  Doing that just prompted a
smack on the head and sarcastic query about whether she was sleeping.
	"...you have a visitor."
	Angel stared at her.  "What?"
	"You heard me."
	"But... who?"
	"Who else?" the Phoenix woman snorted.  "After that little stunt, don't
make me revise my estimation of your intelligence level downward again."  She
turned, striding away.  "Follow me."
	Angel hurried after her, her thoughts whirling.  It had been almost
eleven months since Chris had left her with the bird people 'while I take care
of some other matters too dangerous for you right now'.  She'd assumed her
saviour would be back after a few days, but after Kiima started (reluctantly)
training her and several weeks had passed, she wondered if she'd ever see him
again, or if she'd... failed him somehow.  Not been worthy.  She'd spent all of
her scarce free time for a few days watching for him to approach the mountain,
then cried herself to sleep when nobody had come.  Then she'd made a conscious
decision to give up both habits. Whatever the truth was, she was going to be
brave about it.  After a few months, she had almost forgotten all about it.
Well, not really... it was more like she had forgotten to think about it.
	Kiima halted so sharply Angel nearly slammed into her, and turned to
stare coldly at her.  "Your friend is in audience with Lord Saffron.  You can go
wait for him."  Angel blinked.  "What, you think I care about meeting some
groundling?" the Phoenix woman snapped.  "I have other duties.  Besides, I don't
know how long they'll be talking."
	Angel nodded.  "Okay.  Well, umm, thank you for your training, Lady
Kiima."
	"Don't thank me," the woman growled.  "I just followed my orders from
Lord Saffron."  Angel started to turn away, but then Kiima's clawed hand fell on
her shoulder. "Wait.  He might want to see a demonstration of your abilities.
You'll need a sword."
	Angel froze.  She'd not even thought to retrieve the scarred, ugly sword
after regaining consciousness.  "I'm sorry!" she blurted.  "Don't worry, I know
the way, I'll just go get it and-"
	Kiima's grip on her tightened, keeping her rooted to the spot. "There'd
be no point in that.  You tried to defend yourself from my thousand wings with
it.  The pieces of the blade were what inflicted most of those cuts on you."
	Kiima released her shoulder, and Angel turned, opened her mouth to
apologise, and was cut off as something was thrown at her.  She caught it
reflexively, and stared.  The large, sea-blue jewel on the pommel of Kiima's
sword winked at her.  The blade, even sheathed, was surprisingly light.  Where
her old sword had been a battered hunk of iron-grey metal, this was gleaming
quicksilver, designed to slash through the air with the least resistance
possible.  It was over twice as long as the old blade, but even resting in her
hands felt more than twice as easy to handle.  She looked up.
	"What?" Kiima snapped. "I said you'd need a sword."
	"But-"
	"I'll retrieve it from you before you depart.  So much as scratch it,
and you won't be living to do so!"  She paused, looking down at the cut on her
forearm speculatively.  "I suppose you're not too terrible an embarrassment to
my abilities.  Considering you're a groundling, it's not as if much could be
expected."
	Angel stared at her.  In all the months of training, the Phoenix woman
had been impatient, dismissive, indifferent, and occasionally cruel.  But that
was the closest she had ever come to a compliment.  "Th-thank you..."
	Kiima turned away suddenly.  "I told you, don't thank me.  Now go wait
for your friend."  She was silent a long moment, but just as Angel was beginning
to tentatively step away, she added, "I'll see you later."  Then she began
striding down the hall, the soft feathered boots that hid the claws of her feet
noiseless on the polished stone.
	 Angel passed several other Phoenix on the way to the throne room.  A
few waved at her; one scowled.  Most ignored her as they went about their
business.  They were used to her, now.  And not just her.  When she had come
here, some Phoenix had never seen a 'groundling' with their own eyes.  But over
the year, more and more people had visited the mountain.  Most normal humans,
villagers from the area that the Phoenix had claimed; a few had been dangerous-
looking men with exotic animal features and elaborate costumes.  Some of the
Phoenix, like Koruma and Masala, liked showing off to or teasing the outsiders.
They, like everyone else, had thought better of harassing the strange animal-
men, though.
	Technically, the only entrance to the throne room of the king of the
Phoenix Tribe was by air.  It rested near the very summit of the mountain, so
Angel clambered out a window when she was about as near as she could get.  She
had gotten very good at climbing up and down the mountain; she hardly had any
choice, since the winged Phoenix had little use for stairs between the countless
levels, plateaus and chambers that they had carved from the mountain over the
centuries.  A few careful leaps later, and she landed on the balcony that
bordered the throne room of Saffron.
	The massive doors of white stone and inlaid gold were closed.  Angel had
climbed up here before, once, just out of curiosity, and they had been closed
then too.  There had been guards there, then, but it was deserted now.
Saffron's guards would more accurately be called his messengers, though, so that
wasn't very unusual.
	Angel sat on the balcony wall, her legs dangling over the precipice, and
resigned herself to wait.  From her vantage point, she could see where the
village had once been.
	It wasn't black and smoking anymore, of course.  It had been two months
ago.  Angel hadn't seen Saffron.  Like everyone else, even Kiima, she had been
safely hidden in the mountain when he emerged.  Nobody had seen what he had
done, but they all heard and felt it.  The huge roar had shaken the entire
mountain. It sort of reminded Angel of one time when jets had flown very close
over the roof of her home during the war.  A blast of heat had accompanied it.
All but the most exterior caves of Phoenix Mountain were always warm; so warm it
was like Mexico in summer.  But the wave of heat that had ripped through the
mountain had been at least ten degrees warmer still. Mercifully, it had ceased
quickly.
	Neither Angel, nor Koruma or Masala, knew what Saffron had attacked. If
Kiima knew, she didn't tell them, just growled when the subject had been
mentioned.  But afterwards, Angel had rushed out to the slope of the mountain
and stared at the ruined earth still glowing with heat, the pillar of smoke
rising into the sky.
	There had been a mountain that the village was at the base of.  It
wasn't as large as the mountain of the Phoenix, but it was still a mountain.
Now, it was gone.  A flat, raised plateau was there instead.  The top of it was
smooth and almost shiny, like melted cheese.
	She leaped up on the balcony ledge, spinning around, as she heard the
ever so slight scraping sound of the huge marble doors opening.  They were
amazingly quiet, but so were all other doors in the mountain - the bird people
liked it that way.  She managed to catch a glimpse into the golden room beyond
as the guards pulled it closed. The terribly bright glow beyond hurt her eyes a
little, and the blast of heat that emerged caused her to wobble a bit on her
perch.  She could make out that there was... something... behind a veil at the
far end of the room.
	And then the doors were closed again.  She blinked the spots away from
her eyes, and on the third blink, she saw him.
	Chris hadn't changed much.  He was wearing Chinese clothing, now.  But
in over a year of travelling, he had not grown at all.  Aside from occasional
strange changes in the pattern of his scarred eye, Chris seemed ageless.  His
feet were motionless as he glided across the stone floor towards her.  Angel had
seen him walk, a few times, when they had been in populated areas.  But he
usually preferred to send Link into such places instead.  She had never seen him
sleep or eat, either.
	"Angel.  Not very afraid of heights anymore, it appears.  I see you've
trained hard here."  His voice was calm and casual, as it always was when he
spoke to her.  "Did you enjoy yourself?"
	Angel suddenly felt a little self-conscious standing on the ledge,
looking down at him.  She hopped to the stone floor.  "Yes," she responded.
"Well, I guess.  Lady Kiima is a tough teacher..." she broke up, flushing.  She
didn't want to complain.
	He, however, chuckled. "I figured she would be.  But I knew you could
take it.  I also see you've learned Mandarin very well."
	Angel blinked, then laughed as she realised he had, in fact, been
speaking to her in that language. Just as in Spanish, his accent was flawless.
"I guess I have."
	"But then," he mused, "I rather expect you might have a talent for
languages.  Make sure to try and pick up whatever you can.  It could be useful
to you."
	Angel nodded.  Not quite sure what to say, but wanting to say something,
she blurted the first thought that entered her mind. "Where's Link?"
	"Visiting Jyusenkyou.  She wanted to pick up some things, and I wanted
some water from there, as well."
	"Oh, okay..." she trailed off, as Chris turned his head to regard her
intently with his one piercing red eye.
	"And lastly, Angel, I see you have Kiima's sword."
	Angel started, nearly dropping it. "Oh, uh, right. She just lent this to
me, if you wanted to see... she's going to come back for it..."
	"Is that what she said?" Chris mused, and the corner of his mouth
quirked up.  "But I think maybe not.  I'm told she has, in fact, gone out to
patrol Saffron's lands, and won't be returning until long after we depart."
	"Oh..."  Angel looked down at the sword in her hands.
	"Perhaps she meant you to keep it.  A gift, for a talented student."
	"I don't think so..."
	"And yet she knew she wouldn't be back for it when she gave it to you."
	Angel stared at the sword for a long moment.  That didn't seem like
Kiima at all.  And yet... and then she looked up again as Chris spoke, his tone
suddenly serious.
	"But the point might be moot.  Angel, you've been here for a while.  Do
you want to remain?"
	Angel didn't respond.  She just looked at him.  He turned, his gaze
sweeping the landscape, lingering for a moment on the vanished mountain.
	"I told you when we met, Angel, that I would give you three chances to
leave.  I have done several favours for Saffron; you'll be allowed to remain
here, if you want.  As I'm sure you know, it's safe here.  Possibly one of the
safest places you'll find.  While many dark powers war over this land, none are
willing to commit the resources to fight Saffron over this tiny patch of remote
territory.  And he has no intentions of leaving.  You could stay here, Angel, if
you wanted.  No monsters will invade this place; they've learned better.  If I
take you with me, you won't have that.  It won't ever be safe where I'm going."
	"D... don't you want me to come with you?"
	Chris chuckled. "Of course I do, Angel.  I chose you for a reason.  But
you don't owe me anything.  I won't be angry if you stay.  It's the best thing
for you: to grow up where you'll be perfectly safe.  But the decision is yours.
Think about it as long as you like, and then tell me what you want to do."
	For a moment, Angel almost thought she would stay.  While she didn't
have any close friends, and Koruma and Masala picked on her, most of the Phoenix
had come around to accepting her.  She ate regularly, and while Kiima's training
was harsh, she didn't have to walk all day, like she often had with Chris.  And
he was right... this was safe.  Of course if she stayed, she'd have to give the
sword back, but...
	Then she looked down at the blade and scabbard, and suddenly, she
remembered what Kiima had said earlier.
	"So what you're saying is you're completely useless?  Not necessary for
the defence of our mountain?  That I'M useless?"
	She'd been angry.  Not that Kiima didn't often seem angry, but it was
always a restrained, cool temper.  She almost never let loose so much
unrestrained fury as she had in chewing out Koruma for what he had said.
	And suddenly Angel knew why Kiima had given her the sword.
	Because when the mountain had to be defended, neither Kiima nor her men
HAD been necessary.  They'd had to hide, just like everyone else.
	Phoenix Mountain was safe.  It didn't need guards.
	But where Angel was going, she'd need a sword.  Because it wouldn't be
safe.
	"I'm coming with you," Angel said firmly.
	Chris nodded.  "I'm glad."  He smiled then, one of those slight smiles
that made Angel think he was laughing to himself, and looked out at the steep
precipice that was their only exit.  "I'm also glad you're not scared of
heights."


*

- August 13th, 1994, 17:21: Kyoto, Japan -

	Kyoto had once been a city of shrines. Nestled in one of the fertile
valleys in the great mountains of inland Japan, Kyoto was a holy site. For
centuries it had been the seat of religious and secular authority in Japan. But
the Great Famine had changed everything. The shrines of Kyoto were empty, filled
with nothing but dust and memory.
	While the people of Japan had starved as the earth refused to yield
fruit, they had turned to their gods. They had prayed. The lines had gone on for
kilometers. But there had been no answer. Not from the gods. So the people of
Japan had turned away from the gods, and to their true saviours.
	Now, the men of Chronos walked these streets. They had altered their
look slightly. Gone was the impersonal blue body-suit and its dehumanising
helmet. Every Chronos soldier now wore friendly-looking blue and green uniforms.
They wore caps. They smiled and their eyes shined. They tracked down lost
children and gave directions.
	You saw them on the street. On the billboards and on the TV you saw
them. They smiled happily and told you about how great it was to be a zoanoid,
to have the power to make a difference. "Join the struggle, help to save our
land!" they said, over and over. The flag of Japan flew with the seal of Chronos
safely in the background. It was a powerful message. It was a strong message.
	It was a lie.
	The building wasn't exceptional. It was ten stories tall, not much in
this modern world and certainly nothing compared to the massive towers that were
now under construction in Tokyo. The only thing strange about it was the large
amount of communications equipment on top: satellite dishes and radio towers and
other, stranger devices. On the side of the building was a long banner with the
phrase "Japan Satellite Network" written plainly in both Japanese and English.
	Inside, the anchorwoman was preparing for another crack at the bat. She
was getting one of the few precious breathers during the live broadcast she
could take. Her job was grueling, but she did it with a smile and a nod. She
received the news and she reported it and it uplifted people. It gave them hope.
It told them they were making a difference.
	Akane couldn't really blame her. Nabiki's file had been pretty
extensive. Shioko Konoe had been dying of cancer when Chronos had come. Her hair
had been shaved off for the chemotherapy. Her cheeks had been hollow and her
eyes sunken. She had been dying. Then they had given her a new lease on life.
They had given her health, beauty... life. All the asked in return was her free
will.
	It was easy to forget that people like Shioko were not the enemy. All
the woman had asked for was life, and that's what she had been given. If Chronos
used her as an example of everything good that a zoanoid could be, how could she
say no? Serving as a poster idol for Chronos was the least she could do.
Becoming a zoanoid had changed her life. It had saved her.
	Akane glanced down at her watch, brushing the strands of her wig out of
her hair. One minute to airtime. She glanced across the room. Kyosuke was in the
shadows, his short straw-coloured hair the only patch of colour next to his grey
outfit. His glasses shone slightly. Akane glanced up. The techs were behind the
thick glass of the control booth, and Akane could see a shadow moving up behind
them. That would be Satsuki and Marz. Akane reached into her satchel and touched
her weapon, making certain it was still there. She tapped her watch twice. The
signal given, she started moving.
	"Hey, you can't be in front of the..."
	The man carrying the clipboard crumbled around Akane's fist and she
shoved him aside without breaking stride. There were gasps and shouts. She saw
two security guards reaching for their billy-clubs but Kyosuke was on them
before they could even blink. They crumbled soundlessly to the floor.
	"What's going on here?" Shioko exclaimed.
	"I'm sorry about the interruption. But we have a message to send," Akane
explained.
	"You there, stop!" A man launched himself from the side of the room,
moving far too fast for a normal human. Akane slipped back and her hand slipped
into her bag, and she hesitated. The man came at her, but didn't transform.
Akane nodded and whipped out her sword. He gave a hollow grunt and flew back,
smashing into the wall with enough force to knock a few tiles loose.
	"You killed him!" the anchorwoman shouted.
	"No..." Akane hefted her wooden sword. "He's only unconscious."
	"You're rebels!" another man shouted, and this one did begin to
transform. His skin began to bulge and fur started to erupt from his flesh. The
seams of his suit tore and burst apart as he expanded to twice his normal size.
Before he was even finished Kyosuke was upon him. There was a flash of white
light and a low groan and the zoanoid crumbled to the floor. The stink of ozone
filled the room.
	"Thirty seconds, Akane," Kyosuke informed her.
	"Good." Akane turned to the woman, who was staring at her wide-eyed.
Then she began to growl. Akane frowned and dropped her wooden sword. Her hand
flashed as she retrieved a second sword and placed it at the woman's throat in a
single motion. The reporter's eyes widened as the tip of the steel blade dug
gently into the nape of her neck. "Please, don't." Akane sighed. "I don't want
to, but I will."
	"Wait a minute... you are..." Shioko's eyes widened.
	"Akane Tendo, yes." Akane removed the wig with one hand. "And you've
just been recruited, Ms. Konoe. I need to deliver a message to Japan, and I need
you to do it for me."
	"I'll never help you!"
	"You already are." She turned to Kyosuke. "Time."
	"Three seconds... two..." He gestured sharply to a nearby camera and the
light turned on. Akane smiled. Good old reliable Marz.
	"Ms. Konoe, if you would introduce me?" Akane asked calmly.
	The woman growled but Akane nudged her a little with the blade. She
tried not to grimace. She had hoped for more cooperation, but some things
couldn't be helped.
	"I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen..." Shioko coughed and Akane retracted
the blade slightly. But as she spoke, her professional instincts took over. "It
appears that the offices of the Japan Satellite Network have been taken over by
terrorists. I am, as you can see, being personally held hostage by the leader of
the terrorists, Akane Tendo."
	"Good evening, everyone." Akane smiled at the camera. She hated being
the one to do this. It should have been Hinata. Or maybe even Mamoru. Someone
more photogenic. "I won't take up too much of your time here. I just thought you
people should see what Chronos' true face is." Akane flipped out the diskette
from her bag and dramatically slammed it home into the cardreader on the table.
So far so good. "In five seconds this screen will be replaced with a rapid
series of data files. If you have a record option on your screen, hit it now
because a lot of this data will be sent too fast for human eyes to perceive."
Akane waited a moment. "What you are seeing is reports. Reports on food and
medicine distribution. Reports on zoanoid recruitment. Nothing fancy, nothing
sexy... but if you examine the reports you will see one thing.
	"Chronos is lying to you.
	"The Great Famine ended over a year ago. Chronos already has the
technology and the resources to revitalise all the farm land. They don't. They
don't send more than the bare minimum amount of food and medicine to fulfill our
needs not because they can't afford to, but because they know that starving
people are desperate people. They want our nation to be subservient to them for
the next hundred years and they have a plan to do just that..."
	Akane trailed off as the light on the camera turned off. She looked up
sharply at the control booth. A voice came over the loud speaker. "They finally
cut us off, Ms. Tendo."
	"How much got through?"
	"Almost all of it." There was a pause. "I can't say how many people
received..."
	"It's good enough."
	Akane stepped away from the woman. "Thank you for your help, Ms.
Konoe." The woman hissed and rose up to her feet. Akane frowned at her and
stepped back, continuing to point the blade at her throat even from this
distance. "Don't do anything stupid. I didn't come here to kill you, but I will
if I have to." She paused. "You have a choice to make. Either let me go, or die
fighting for what you believe in."
	The woman's eyes narrowed. There was a sudden explosion and one of the
walls blew inward. Akane ducked reflexively, covering herself. She saw a dark
figure in the dust, then there was a loud hiss and a boom. The creature exploded
in a shower of gore as its body was torn apart by the rocket. A second figure,
this one much slimmer and more shapely, stepped through the dust.
	"Akane, move!" Fevrier shouted. "We have a hyper zoanoid strike force
incoming, ETA twenty seconds!"
	"Right..."
	There was a loud roar and Akane spun, her sword flashing up in a long
arc. The form that crumpled over the weapon wasn't monstrous. She had silver
skin and long filaments of metallic hair. Her eyes were pupilless white, but
still human somehow. The tips of the claws on her fingers had stopped a fraction
of an inch from Akane. She fell to the ground. Akane sighed. "Wrong choice."
	As she ran to the back of the building where Kyosuke waited, Fevrier
caught up with her. "Did you...?" she asked.
	"No..." Akane gestured with the blade, which was flawless and shining.
"I used the flat."
	Fevrier frowned, but said nothing.
	And that's when the hyper zoanoids arrived.


*

- September 3rd, 1994, 8:31: Masaki Shrine, Okayama Prefecture, Japan -

	Rei hated being naked in a tube.
	It really wasn't even the naked part. While Rei hated that, it wasn't
really something she PROFOUNDLY hated. It wasn't the tube part, either. At
first, that part had scared her. But, over time, you get used to anything. What
Rei mostly hated about being naked in a tube was that she had, in fact, gotten
so used to it.
	She glared out of the translucent green goo at her captor. Rei had
crossed her arms over her breasts and crossed her legs as best she could to hide
as much of her nudity as was possible. Her captor didn't even have the decency
to look afraid of her glare that promised a thousand hells of retribution. Rei
would have even settled for her looking annoyed or even diabolically amused at
Rei's futile hatred.
	What also really annoyed her was how cheerful and happy her captor
looked. Washuu Hakubi didn't look like a diabolical mastermind in the slightest.
She appeared, to the unwary, as a precocious child. She was short, with a plump
little face and happy green eyes. Her red hair was styled with several locks
fanning the side of her head so that they looked vaguely like crab's legs. She
wore a brown and green jumper of some kind in a fashion that Rei was not really
familiar with.
	She was humming happily and tapping away at a keyboard. The keyboard was
actually nothing more than a thin layer of light that floated in mid-air before
her. Rei often couldn't even see any icons or letters on the board. Sometimes
she thought that Washuu just played with the thing to keep her hands busy while
her brain did the important work.
	Rei wished her captor would at least look at Rei occasionally. But aside
from checking a few floating holographic displays that showed various arcane and
apparently scientific facts about her, Washuu didn't pay any attention to Rei at
all. Rei was about to consign herself to another few hours stuck in this
situation when an unexpected saviour showed up.
	"WASHUUUUUUU!" the cry began, high and plaintive with just that tiny bit
of annoying childish peevishness. "I need your help, WASHUUUUU!" The woman that
the voice belonged to ran into the room in a completely undignified manner. She
was tall, with tanned skin and long blonde hair that was tied up on her head.
Great streams of tears fell down her cheeks, and her face was distorted with
childish sorrow. She wore a uniform that might have been that of a foreign
policewoman, complete with badge and a jaunty little cap.
	"Mihoshi, I'm busy at the moment," Washuu said in a distracted tone. Her
voice was more refined and adult than any child's voice had a right to be.
"Can't you come back later? I'm very close to making a breakthrough here..."
	"This can't wait, Washuu!" the older-looking but considerably younger-
sounding woman whined. She made a grab at the mad scientist, but Washuu's chair
hovered back a few feet. Having missed her target, Mihoshi overbalanced and
toppled forward. This caused her face to collide with Rei's tube. Rei winced in
sympathy.
	"Washuu, you have a naked lady in your tube," Mihoshi pointed out. Or
Rei assumed she said as much, since her voice was distorted by the fact it was
pressed against the glass.
	"I know that, Mihoshi." Washuu sounded exasperated now.
	"She doesn't look happy." Mihoshi leaned back and blinked owlishly. Then
her face lit up and she smiled. "I know, I'll let her out!"
	"No!" Washuu warned even as Rei nodded vigorously. She would have
shouted, but it was hard to say anything comprehensible when your lungs were
full of green goo. Mihoshi, probably ignoring both of them, was absently pulling
on and prodding all the pieces of equipment attached to the cylinder in which
Rei floated. For a moment, Rei dared to think this might be a good thing.
	For a moment.
	Two minutes, several dozen electric shocks, a few crushing impacts
against the side of the tube, a couple of bone-jarring seconds of multiple
gravities and one beaning in the head with a metal washbasin that Rei still
wasn't certain she wanted to know where it had come from later, Rei was free.
The tube was retracting into the ceiling, leaving Rei panting on the floor,
lying in a pool of green slime that had been flushed from the bottom of the tube
with her when the mechanism had finally begun to retract.
	"My research..." Washuu sighed. "And I was so close this time, too."
	"Thank you..." Rei murmured and rose unsteadily to her feet. "Mars
Power, Make Up!" she shouted once she was there. The wonderful thing about her
transformation was that it not only gave her clothes, it also cleaned off any
refuse from her brief captivity. "Now, if you'll excuse me!"
	She stormed past Mihoshi, who was just sort of watching her oddly.
Washuu called out to her but she wasn't listening. She was getting out of this
nuthouse and she was doing it NOW. She realised that Washuu could stop her at
any time. The fact that she could repress Rei's powers seemingly at whim was
enough proof of that. But she was confident that at least the little sadist
wouldn't try that hard to stop her if she made it clear she had experienced just
about enough of her tender mercies.
	Rei had made it all the way to the door leading out of the lab and back
into the house when she found her way blocked. She glared up at the man standing
between her and freedom. He looked down at her impassively, his oddly young
burgundy eyes flashing behind his square-rimmed glasses. He didn't look like
much. He was taller than her, but not especially tall. He was old, with iron
gray hair tied back at his shoulders and a jaunty little cynical moustache. His
face was that of a man who had once been strong and handsome but who had
shrunken with age, although he managed a little dignity in the fine lines of
his cheeks and forehead.
	Rei glared at him and tried to push past, but he placed a hand on her
shoulder and restrained her. She snarled.
	"Is that any way to leave? After I've extended you all the hospitality I
have?"
	"Hospitality?" Rei shot back. "I didn't see you doing anything to stop
HER-" Here Rei pointed back at the figure of Washuu who had followed Rei:
Mihoshi had as well, but she looked kind of absent and Rei wasn't paying much
attention to her anymore, "- from doing whatever she damn well pleased to me."
	"You weren't hurt." He crossed his arms. "Besides, you need to
contribute something, right?"
	"Contribute!" Rei took a deep breath. "For what?"
	"For me training you, of course." He smirked. "That is what you came
here for, isn't it?"
	Rei glared at him. He was right, of course. She had come to this shrine,
specifically to learn from the revered old master of it. Rei's family had been
the guardians of the Cherry Hill temple for generations and she had a lot of
connections in the religious world, many of which she hadn't even been aware of
until she had become a hunted fugitive willing to take any offer of shelter. And
they had all said the same thing, talking about the priest of the Masaki shrine.
More importantly, they talked about how the lands around his shrine had been the
only place in all of Japan not hit by the Great Famine.
	Even more telling was the fact that Chronos had not realised this. Rei
had come to this place to discover the secret of his magic. How did he resist
such a catastrophe? How did he evade the all-seeing eye of Chronos? She had
wanted to learn, to grow in the secrets of her own culture.
	What she had found here was... disappointing, to say the least.
	"More importantly, when you leave, where exactly do you plan to go?"
Katsuhito Masaki pulled his hand away, his tone becoming sombre.
	This made Rei pause. She glanced down at her feet. The red heels she
wore shone in the soft light of the spacious lab. They were part of her Sailor
Mars uniform. The uniform was a symbol of her power. But what good was that
power?
	Not for the first time, Rei suddenly regretted leaving Ohtori. Had it
really been so bad there? Certainly the entire place was a patchwork of
illusions and lies. Certainly it constantly nagged at the edges of her senses.
Certainly she could never forget that Akio, their host and protector, was as
vile as a snake. Certainly she had woken up screaming for three weeks straight
after seeing the truth about his sister...
	No. She didn't regret leaving. She regretted many things about Ohtori.
She regretted the shouting match she had gotten into with Usagi before leaving.
She regretted the words she had said. Words like 'head in the sand' and
'deliberately ignorant' and 'self-important deluded fool'... But it had been
easier at the time to sever her ties to Usagi so finally that Usagi would have
no desire to come with her.
	Because what Rei had know was going to happen to moment she left had,
indeed, happened. She had been on the run. She had been hunted. She tried to
make a difference. She tried to fight the monsters. She could, after a fashion.
But... but...
	"If you stay here, you may be able to make a real difference." Katsuhito
said softly.
	Rei bristled and stepped back. "Oh really? How is that, then?" She took
a deep breath, reviving her outrage with a small act of will. "You can't teach
me anything, Katsuhito... or whatever your real name is." She pushed him aside.
"I came here expecting to find a master of Shinto arts. Somebody who could teach
me how to tap my chi. Teach me about the power of the spirit. But instead what
do I find? A refugee from an alien empire, an intergalactic policewoman that
makes Usagi look graceful and a million-year-old genius with a fetish for
tubes!" She started out the door. "You aren't a Shinto priest. You're an alien
from a thousand year old empire with superpowers masquerading as a human being."
	"So are you," he replied dryly.
	Rei rounded on him and her fist lashed out with all the speed of her
magically enhanced reflexes. He caught her hand with one palm and smiled at her.
"Don't even compare me to you people!" She frowned. "I may not remember the
Silver Millennium, but I am damn certain that we would NOT have sat around while
one of our worlds was being conquered by homicidal monsters and torn apart by
demons, no matter how much of a backwater it was!"
	Finally that mask of amused detachment broke and for the first time
since she had arrived Rei saw real emotion flicker across Katsuhito's face. She
stumbled back, suddenly afraid at the brief look of rage, but it was gone as
quickly as it had come. He looked at Rei for a long, dangerous moment, then he
turned to Washuu and addressed her in a calm tone.
	"That reminds me of why I was actually coming, Washuu. It appears
Galaxia has taken the Peliades."
	This news caused Mihoshi to break out into sudden tears. "That's right,
I forgot!" Mihoshi grabbed Washuu and began to swing her back and forth as she
wailed and complained. "Now I can't leave, Washuu! I just came here to make a
report and I was supposed to go right back and I know Tenchi was at that battle
and if they lost as badly as he says he must be hurt and I know that Ryoko and
the others must all be there and I can't be there to help him and I want to go
back to Jurai so that I can be there to help him and I can't because Galaxia has
the entire sector and there's no safe path and Washuu, Washuu please tell me
you have some way of getting us there safely..."
	Mihoshi finally had to take a breath. It was only then that she realised
she was holding a plush doll that was merely shaped like the petite scientist.
Washuu, on the other hand, was talking to Katsuhito.
	"That is bad." She frowned and cupped her chin. "That means that all the
conventional drives can no longer get us through to Jurai or vice versa. The
entire planet is cut off from the Galaxy Police and the Alliance."
	"Yes." Katsuhito sighed. "It gets worse, however. Galaxia has a new
ally. A young man was at the battle, one who produced the Wings of the Light
Hawk."
	"You're kidding!" Washuu gasped.
	"No..." Katsuhito frowned and shook his head. "I didn't believe it was
possible for a human to do it until my grandson did, but now there appears to be
another, and he appears to be working for our enemy."
	"That means we might not even be able to Gate back..." Washuu threw up
her hands. "If Galaxia has access to the Light Hawk Wings, she has access to
matter conversion and could intercept a treeship in transit. It would be suicide
for anyone to attempt to come here now."
	"Yes..." Katsuhito murmured.
	Rei frowned. She glanced back and forth between them. She had the odd
feeling this conversation was mainly for her benefit. Still, her outrage would
not be quelled so easily. "I'm very sorry to here about your... whatever it is.
But I don't even understand half of what you said. Light Hawk Wings? Treeships?
Galaxia? What does any of this have to do with me?"
	"It has everything to do with you," Washuu pointed out as she spun and
faced the girl. "Because the enemy that is menacing Jurai and the rest of the
universe is one of you."
	"One of me?" Rei blinked, not certain what the odd false little girl
meant.
	"A Sailor Senshi," Washuu explained. She stepped back and a large screen
appeared in the air. On it was projected a view of the planet Mars. Rei glanced
at it, feeling an odd emotion stirring within her at the sight of the planet.
"As near as I can figure, what you are is some sort of energy tap. It works
remarkably similarly to the Juraian treeships. The roots of a tree of Jurai,
Katsuhito's homeworld, grow into subspace... a sort of null space that exists
conceptually if not actually beneath our own. These roots allow a treeship to
draw on the power of the mother tree of Jurai, much like a trained mystic or
martial artist can draw on their own life force. In a similar manner you - and,
presumably, others like you - draw on the life force of entire planets." She
gestured at the projection, which showed a little animated icon of Sailor Mars
as the planet scaled down to fill only half to screen. Little animated lines ran
between the two, making the childish figure dance and glow with an aura of
flames. "The same thing is true of Sailor Galaxia."
	Here Washuu shifted the image on the viewer. It showed a stern-faced
woman now. She had blonde hair, but it was mostly hidden behind an elaborate
golden headdress. She wore a suit made of gold plates that had a skirt and
collar much like Rei's uniform, but there the resemblance ended. Her skin was
black, as black as the void between the stars; and her eyes were red like
burning suns. Her image shrunk until she was placed alongside an image of the
rotating galaxy.
	"Galaxia is a pirate or warlord... we're not certain. She never has made
any sort of contact except random attacks on peaceful worlds. The point is that
she is like you, except that instead of being a channel for the power of a
single world, she is the channel for the power of the entire galaxy." Washuu
snapped her fingers and the image vanished. "Except that isn't the problem. If
it was, we probably could have still defeated her."
	"What is the problem then?" Rei asked, curious despite herself.
	"We don't know." Washuu frowned. "She has a power which goes beyond just
the energy you would expect. Somehow Galaxia is tapping into a power source even
greater than that of Tsunami, the first tree of Jurai. And it grows stronger
every day. That... that is why I leapt at a chance to study an actual Sailor
Senshi up close." Washuu turned to her. "Whatever this power is, this force she
calls 'chaos', I have to find the secret to it. I was hoping that by learning
the mechanism behind your own powers, I would unlock that secret, but every day
that is looking less and less likely." Washuu closed her eyes and sighed. "And
now... and now she might have an ally who can match our most potent weapons..."
	Rei looked down at the ground. She felt for them. She really did. But
what was she supposed to do about it? This was some war being fought by empires
so vast they covered entire galaxies. It was a war fought across lightyears and
parsecs with weapons and forces she couldn't even comprehend, much less stand up
against. She couldn't even face Chronos.
	"I'm sorry," she said softly. "What I said was uncalled for."
	"Apology accepted." Katsuhito clapped her on the shoulder. "So... do you
still plan on leaving? Washuu tells me she is making fantastic headway into
understanding your abilities. She might be able to tell you how to unlock even
more of the potential energy within you." He paused. "Or you could run out into
the world and get yourself killed. It's your choice."
	Rei thought about it for a few seconds. "Fine." She looked at Washuu.
"But do I really have to be NAKED in the tube?"
	"No." She blinked and then a grin of manic glee crossed her features.
"But you're so CUTE when you're all indignant!"

*

- September 17th, 1994, 10:21: Tokyo, Japan -

	"So how do you plan to deal with it?" Sin Rubeo Amniculus asked bluntly.
His robes made a soft sound as they trailed along the polished metal floor.
Purgstall paused and thought about the question for a moment.
	"We don't," Purgstall said at last. "This 'resistance movement' is
nothing more than barely coordinated children. Tell Gyro that since neo-zoanoids
are under his command, he is responsible for dealing with them."
	"Are you certain that's wise?" the other zoalord said, frowning. "Gyro
tends to be rather... spectacular when he deals with something. Remember
Arizona."
	"Yes..." Purgstall sighed. "But I have my hands full, and with Arkanphel
in seclusion again..." He trailed off. "Let us say that I rather prefer Gyro's
naked ambition to the plans of the other zoalords. At least I know where he
stands."
	Amniculus nodded sagely. "True. But there is still the problem of how
the rebels got their hands on that data, and what we will do now that it is out
there."
	Purgstall paused again, and then he smiled. "It's unfortunate, but I
think it can play to our favour. We release some data to the media. Let them
know that we have indeed discovered a way to refertilise the soil. But... we
also point out that the process is still experimental and we didn't want to risk
damaging the ecosystem any further. Then we point out that one of the things
keeping us from deploying the solution is the harassment of the rebels." He
paused. "In a few months, we'll begin the refertilisation process. We've already
placed all of Japan in our pocket anyway."
	Amniculus laughed. "You have a quick mind, Frederick." He rubbed his
chin with the back of his hand. "Defang the resistance and gain a public
relations victory all in one fell swoop. I can see why Arkanphel placed you in
charge of our civilian relations."
	Purgstall inclined his head briefly in acknowledgement of the
compliment.
	"But there is the matter of the leak."
	Purgstall frowned. "I know what you're thinking."
	"Really?" Amniculus walked over to a monitor and tapped a few buttons.
The display flipped on, showing a large metal room deep below their location. A
young girl in a skimpy outfit with a huge red braid was riding around on the
back of a Gregole, laughing as she chased a green-haired young woman about.
"These girls are dangerous, Purgstall. We have no way of tracking their
movements. This... 'magic' they wield allows them to do practically anything.
They could be leaking information to the enemy at any time."
	"I don't think they are," Purgstall insisted.
	"What makes you think that? Why should we bother trusting them?
Especially when it would be much simpler just to accede to Valkus' request and
turn them over for processing..."
	"That is MY decision to make." Purgstall angrily turned the monitor off
with a flick of his hand and an imperceptible pulse of electricity. "They came
to ME for sanctuary, and I promised it..." Purgstall trailed off. He remembered
clearly the day six months ago when the girls had simply walked into his office.
He had blinked as the red-haired one had leaned over his desk, flashing him her
barely existent cleavage, and winked.
	"Hey! You're the guy in charge, right?" she had said. He hadn't had a
chance to reply before the one with long pink hair had responded for him.
	"Of course he is. More importantly, he's also the one who blew up our
circus and destroyed Zirconia."
	"Hey! Great!" The leader had smirked at him. "That means you HAVE to
take us in! You blew up our house and everything! You owe us!"
	"So, where do we sleep?" the green-haired one had broken in.
	"I want a pony!" the blue-haired one leapt in.
	"Yeah, give her a pony. And we'll need personal masseuses," the leader
continued.
	"And a manservant!" the pink-haired one added.
	"And a manservant. Each."
	Purgstall shook his head, dispelling the memories. Amniculus was looking
at him oddly and Purgstall realised he was smiling. He schooled his features.
"Those girls... they may be strange. But I think experimenting on them would
accomplish nothing." He crossed his arms. "The powers they have are unlike
anything we've ever seen."
	"Neither was chi," Amniculus crossed his own arms. "And Valkus still
managed to turn that into a weapon for our use."
	"Ah, is that all you think of us as, weapons to be used?"
	Amniculus started. Purgstall did not. He was used to Cologne appearing
and vanishing whenever she wished. The old woman was remarkably spry. He turned
to regard her. She was perched on the back of his chair, calmly smoking a pipe
and looking for all the world like she had been there for the last week.
	"I wouldn't think of belittling your skills," Amniculus said carefully.
"But... you have to admit that Valkus' work has greatly improved the power of
those martial artists we have managed to recruit."
	Cologne smirked. "Yes. They make impressive killing machines." She took
a puff of her pipe. "Tell me... how many died when you sent them against
Saffron?" Amniculus frowned. That disaster was still a sore point for him. "Your
problem, Amniculus, is that you think the answer to everything is a bigger
stick. Sometimes, more can be accomplished by one you would consider
insignificant than by even your mighty god Arkanphel."
	Amniculus inclined his head. "An interesting premise." He turned to
Purgstall and bowed. "If you'll excuse me, I have a war to run. Shadowloo just
destroyed ten square blocks of Hong Kong. Plus Gill and his organisation raided
one of our labs in South America last night."
	Purgstall frowned. "I put a hole through him the size of a cannonball."
	"Apparently Gill is harder to kill than we thought." The door hissed
closed behind Amniculus, cutting off any reply Purgstall might have made. He
sighed and rubbed his side.
	"Does it still hurt?" Cologne asked.
	"No..."
	"You're lying." She tapped the chair. "Sit down."
	Purgstall sighed again and did so. She hopped down onto the arm of his
chair and began to poke at the area. Immediately he felt the tension and pain
fade away. "There. You people are superb at treating the body, but not so much
at treating the spirit. The injuries Gill inflicted on you run deeper than
flesh."
	"Thank you," Purgstall murmured. He looked at her. "You... look
terrible."
	"I see my help was appreciated," Cologne replied acidly.
	"You're getting weaker," he commented. "I can feel it."
	"You're not so strong with chi yet!" Cologne informed him. "I haven't
taught you a fraction of what I know!"
	"That only makes it more obvious." He leaned back. "It's your
granddaughter... ever since you learned of her death, you've been withering
away."
	Cologne leapt onto the table. But she refused to look at him. After a
moment, she spoke. Her voice was not the dry cracked voice of an old woman. It
was hard and brilliant, like polished steel. "I can't afford to be withering
away. I have a man I need to kill."
	"You'll never get anywhere like this." He paused. "You've been training
with the girls, haven't you?" She refused to answer. "That's why you asked me to
spare them. So you could develop tactics and skills that work against people
with that kind of power. But they're too much for you. You're pushing yourself
too hard."
	"And if I am?" she snapped back. "What is it to you?"
	He paused. "Amniculus is my dear friend, but we do not agree on
everything. You aren't a weapon." He looked her in the eyes. "I don't see why
you won't let us help you. In the vats, we can rejuvenate you. You'll regain
your youth and..." He trailed off before finishing that thought and coughed into
his hand. "You'll live a long, long time."
	Cologne frowned at him. Then she leapt from the table and began to hop
with her cane along the ground to the exit. "I don't want to be your slave."
	"I'm not talking about turning you into a zoanoid!"
	She turned back, caught by the sudden conviction in his voice. He sat
there, confused. He had no idea where that had come from.
	"I'll think about it," she said and left quickly.

*

- January 11th, 1995, 20:48 (Earth GMT): Imperial Palace, Planet Jurai -

	The particular corridor where Seiryo finally cornered Princess Ayeka
Masaki Jurai was one of the more spectacular ones. On one side was the walls,
and on the other a dropoff into a chasm several dozen stories deep, with only a
finely filigreed guardrail between an unwary pedestrian and a deadly fall.
Seiryo had managed to back Ayeka up against this guardrail, which she was paying
more attention to than she was to him, understandably.
	It was easy to understand why Seiryo was so interested in the young
woman. She was a picture of elegant, sophisticated beauty. She had medium-length
magenta hair with two long ponytails that extended from the nape of her neck and
fell down almost to her knees. Her face was soft, with the kind of smooth
features that only came from cultured living and breeding. She wore a long
purple kimono with gold stitching up one side forming an elaborate picture of a
sunrise and a red sash tied properly around her waist. She was, in fact, the
iconic princess.
	Which was why she was far too well-bred to respond to the boorish fop
and his bumbling and obviously unappreciated advances with the indignation she
quite rightly felt.
	"I hope she does clobber the pink-haired twit," Touga's unseen companion
remarked silently.
	"What, and ruin such a perfect opportunity? You of all people should
appreciate the value of what is about to happen," he responded internally.
	"Really, Lord Seiryo," Ayeka was saying in a sort of absent-minded tone.
Once again, she was paying more attention to her footing than to her pink-haired
prospective paramour. "I appreciate your... uh... how shall I say... attentions?
Yes. But really, I have... uh..."
	"You have nothing to worry about, my beautiful princess," Seiryo
remarked in what might have been a smooth tone if his voice had not been three
octaves too high. Seeing that Ayeka's attentio