- 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 attention was distracted he took the
opportunity to seize her wrist with his hand, which he began to bring to his
lips. Of course, this had the effect of actually throwing the girl slightly off
balance. "Your father, in his infinite wisdom, has seen fit to betroth us as is
the ancient custom of OUR people." There was, of course, a vicious emphasis on
the word 'our' there, that Ayeka and her two companions could not miss. "Unlike
some, I can make time off from my string of astounding military victories to
spend with such a beautiful flower..." And here he began to lift her hand to his
lips.
	"Watch and learn," Touga informed his immaterial companion as he
responded to his cue.
	"Really, Lord Seiryo. I was under the impression you were rotated off
the front lines by request of his most glorious Emperor Azusa after the disaster
in the Peliades Cluster." Touga allowed his voice to ring out loudly, but kept
it unfailingly polite and respectful. He was a guest here, after all. "I'm
certain your... historical contribution to those events had more than a little
to do with why you were sent back here."
	"ARE YOU IMPUGNING ME!?" Seiryo shrieked and whirled on Touga in such a
fury that he completely forgot the princess. He so totally forgot her that he
released her hand and the force of his momentum sent her stumbling back. With a
small squeak the back of her knees hit the insufficient guardrail.
	The milieu slowed to a crawl as everyone began to turn towards Ayeka in
slow motion. And just as she was slipping over the edge Touga was there, his
long arm cradling the small of her back and drawing her into him just tightly
enough that he could feel the heat of her body.
	"Careful, Lady Ayeka, this precipice is perilous," he said softly into
her ear. A soft blush crept across her features as he placed her safely in the
ground and stepped back.
	"P-princess Ayeka!" Seiryo gasped. "I never..."
	"I think you've done just about enough!" a crisp voice snapped as one of
Ayeka's companions stepped in front of him. She was a willowy woman with
porcelain features and short silver hair tied back in a ponytail. Her soft
violet kimono rippled as she thrust her finger into his chest. "Why don't you go
be a disaster somewhere where people WON'T get killed?"
	"But, Lady Tennyo..."
	"NOW, Seiryo!"
	The colour drained from the fop's cheeks. He paused long enough to cast
a glare at Touga, which Touga met with the most genuine and sincere-looking
smile he could fake. Then, not quite running like a whipped dog, he retreated.
	"Thank you, big brother Touga!" the youngest of the girls there chirped
up, stepping into his view. She was the kind of girl who was irrepressibly cute,
with her sweet little urchin smile and dancing childish eyes. And yet she was
also on the cusp of a stately womanhood, caught in those few tender and
wonderful years between awkward child and mature woman. He smiled and knelt in
front of her so that their eyes could meet levelly.
	"It was nothing, Lady Sasami," he responded, reaching up as if to pat
her head and then allowing his hand to pause and hesitate near her cheek before
he let it drop again. "I am only glad that your sister did not suffer a nasty
fall." Sasami blushed and nodded.
	"I probably could have taken care of myself," Ayeka said, but her tone
was uncertain. "Though I will thank you for getting rid of..." And here her
voice became full of resent and revulsion. "My fiance."
	"I'm only too glad to be of service to the royal family," he said,
turning to face her and rising in a single smooth motion. "That is why I came to
this magnificent planet. The fact that I happened by when I did is... LUCKY
CHANCE!"
	Touga, to his credit, did not quite scowl or stand in shock as the three
blinked long and slowly at his sudden uncharacteristic outburst.
	Making his excuses, Touga vanished back to the quarters he had been
assigned in one of the less affluent sections of the palace. Now that he was
alone he did allow himself to scowl slightly as he stared into a mirror. "I told
you not to do that," he said.
	The youma in the mirror had the good sense to at least look slightly
bashful at his evenly delivered admonishment. Kairos was pretty much the yin to
his yang. While she was no doubt beautiful, with the same alabaster skin he had
now, hers was a rounded feminine beauty to his slim masculine features. Her hair
was done in practically the same style as his, with a long lock of darker green
hair on the opposite side of her face to his own pale red forelock. While he
preferred the stately appearance of his charcoal-grey uniform with its red
piping and golden epaulets, she wore a body-hugging, heavily-sequined leotard
and fishnet stockings that left very little to the imagination. A long peacock
feather was tucked in her hair opposite her forelock. The only feature they
shared now was the eyes, which constantly displayed the symbol of a card suit.
Right now hers was a club. His, he knew, was likely a spade, though he never
could tell.
	"I'm sorry," she lied convincingly. "But you keep us cooped up in this
palace all the time, and I think I'm just going to EXPLODE unless we DO
something soon..."
	Touga sighed and tossed his forelock to the side. In the mirror, Kairos
mimicked his gesture perfectly. "Kairos, the reason we were sent here was so
that our Queen could establish diplomatic ties to the Jurai Empire. Diplomatic
ties require some diplomacy, which is hard to do if you have me spouting off
random insanity in the middle of negotiations."
	"I don't see why you need me along for this..." Kairos pouted and
crossed her arms. Touga felt himself mimicking the gesture.
	"It's not like we have much of a choice but to work together now," Touga
reminded her. "Like it or not, we are partners forever, you and I." He paused.
"Or would you prefer Tethys had left you cleaning up the refuse in the sixth
level of the Dark Kingdom forever, like Queen Beryl wanted you to?"
	Kairos flounced a bit and sighed. "Stupid humans always have to ruin our
fun by making SENSE all the time." She looked at him and batted her eyelashes
slightly. "If we're stuck here, can't we at least have sex with someone? I swear
that Tennyo woman would do you in a second if you asked."
	Touga only smiled. "All good things, my partner... all good things..."

*

- February 3rd, 1995, 17:24: Mengcheng, Ningxia Province, China -

	Alone on the backroads of China, one could almost forget the way the
world was. The man who should have been dead huffed, breathing out a small cloud
of silver mist, and pulled his cloak tighter about his neck. It was getting
colder as nightfall approached. There were no more travelers at this time of
night, and no traffic in this direction anyway.
	North of here, the mountains and heavily irrigated valleys gave way to
desert and eventually the desolate wastes of Mongolia. Beyond that was the even
more sparsely-populated eastern provinces of Russia. Chronos was supposed to be
in control there, but they commanded the places only in name. Certainly if you
were in a big enough city, you had a large army of zoanoids and a garrison of
the more advanced types to protect you... but less than a week's walk from any
of the cities and you lived on your own. Things stalked the night up there. Men
with the heads of beasts. Creatures that lived on blood and souls and worse
things. They fought like hell and even a martial artist in his prime was hard-
pressed to defeat them. The wanderer pressed his hand to the scars a werewolf
had given him. The scars that by all rights should have gotten him killed.
	South of here you went through the war zone. Shadowloo controlled
Thailand, Vietnam, Burma and most of the subcontinent down there. Chronos
controlled the entire east coast of China and most of the civilized lands. They
didn't fight openly. There were no armies marching or massive battles... but war
was being waged. Hardly a day went by when some experimental hyper or neo-
zoanoid didn't engage in a duel with one of Shadowloo's fanatical agents. Entire
towns had been leveled by just two people slugging it out without a care for the
civilian casualties. The wanderer had seen two of them cut the top off a
mountain and send it tumbling into the valley below, killing thousands.
	No, nobody in their right mind went south. The wanderer rubbed his back.
It still ached when the weather got cold like this. A memento of the fight with
that neo-zoanoid who had confused him for a Shadowloo agent. Yet another time
he should have been dead.
	That left west. Up until last year, it had been relatively safe. Then
Millennium had come. Everyone had seen them coming. They had pushed through
Europe like a plague, devouring everything in their path. Their forces had cut
around Turkey and through Russia and Afghanistan until they'd hit China. The
wanderer hadn't been in that part of China since their tanks and their bombs
and their hordes of undead killing machines had arrived, but he had heard the
place was pretty bad. The living envied the dead in those places controlled by
Millennium.
	Thankfully they had run into Qinghai. Just like everyone else, they had
been met at the borders by the golden phoenix king. Just like everyone else,
their armies had perished under his all-consuming flame. It was the first time
the wanderer grudgingly decided he didn't hate the guy. He might have been a
bastard preventing him from reaching Jyusenkyou... but at least he was an even-
handed bastard.
	The wanderer watched as the sun set. Behind him, around a dozen bends in
the road, was the city of Mengcheng. The people in it were afraid. So far their
town had been so remote it hadn't been touched by Chronos or Shadowloo. It was
far enough away from the Millennium vanguard that they were still a rumor
whispered quietly at night. But they were afraid because they knew that darkness
was coming for them.
	It always started the same. The Cult started popping up. Those who had
survived, those who had been driven mad by what had happened. They started
showing up in small numbers, whispering in the dark to anyone stupid enough to
hear. The all gave the same message.
	Submit. Rejoice. Your suffering has come to an end. Consign yourself to
Oblivion.
	The wanderer had fought a few of them. He had tried to talk sense into
them, but it never seemed to work. He knew that a lot of them waited for their
Messiah to come. None of them were ever heard from again. Others ran ahead of
her. They spread her word. They spread her gospel.
	And they were growing.
	That ended tonight. The wanderer slipped his heavy umbrella off the
ground and balanced it on his shoulder. His pack groaned under the weight, but
he just continued sitting. She would come. She always came. There were fifty
dead cities in her path, a perfect straight line leading here. Any fool could
follow it.
	The wanderer grimaced. Once, the one fool that couldn't have would have
been him. He had come to China to get lost. He had come to China to get away
from Japan. To get away from HER. But for once in his life he could not get
lost. He would set his goal on some backwater town he chose at random from a map
and, as certain as the sun rose the next morning, he would get there. Not once
in the last three years had he ever gotten lost.
	He just... had no place to go.
	Except here, tonight. Because he was standing between a town of over ten
thousand people and the end of the world. He sighed and wished he'd remembered
to bring a can of beer.
	He almost didn't notice her until she was right on top of him. He had
expected to hear her coming a long time before she arrived. But she moved
without a sound. She walked on the ground, but her soundless stride was
unnerving. Ryouga stared at her. This tiny slip of a girl. This pretty, pale
faced young child who couldn't have been more than eleven... this was the
Messiah of Silence?
	She wore an outfit he recognised vaguely. It was familiar, but not
immediately. It brought back memories of Japan. Memories of... he pushed those
thoughts aside. Her clothes were not nearly so important as her weapon.
	It was huge. Two meters long and as thick across as a man's chest. The
tip of the blade was wickedly curved, with serrated prongs along the inside of
the curve to give the impression of a mouth. The entire blade was dull,
unnaturally so. The moonlight seemed to fade along the edge of the blade,
seeping out of the air like a painting faded with age.
	The little girl had stopped five meters from him. He just sat on his
pack, balancing his umbrella on his shoulder. The wind whistled softly through
the air. She gazed at him with her tarnished bronze eyes. Her expression was
soft, regretful... pitying.
	"You've come to stop me." It wasn't a question, but he felt the need to
reply anyway.
	"Yeah, I guess I have." He unlimbered his arm and stood up. "I can't let
you get to those people."
	"Why, Ryouga?"
	He frowned. He had never used his name once since he had gotten to
China. He hadn't used it once since he had left Japan. No... even further back.
He hadn't used that name since that day, three years ago. To the people of China
he was nothing more than a legend. Just the nameless wanderer who walked into
town and set things right before moving along.
	"Because it's the right thing to do." He pointed his umbrella at her.
"So... you coming at me?"
	"You, who have suffered so much... you already seek the release of God."
The Messiah opened her arms as if to embrace him. "Your reckless wandering is
over, Ryouga Hibiki. Come to me and find what it is you seek."
	"I don't think so, lady," he growled.
	She frowned and gestured once. Suddenly the blade slipped from her back
and flew through the air. It was a neat trick, but Ryouga had fought enough
demons that he wasn't too surprised. His umbrella came up and he smashed it on
the side, sending it wide. One eye followed the blade as it arced back through
the air towards him, while the other stayed on the girl.
	"You keep seeking these reckless confrontations, Ryouga, and you've
never asked yourself why, have you?"
	Ryouga did his best to ignore her. The strength in that floating sword
was tremendous. He made the mistake of catching the next one head on, and almost
got skewered. His knees buckled and the blade bit halfway through his umbrella
before stopping. He stared at the edge of the blade as it sawed methodically at
his weapon. Then he snarled and kicked it free before leaping back.
	"You should have died that day, back in Tokyo."
	The demon blade ran along the edge of the ground, tearing a trench in
the earth with its passage. Ryouga  slid to the side and roared. Green light
exploded from the back of his fist and the blade was sent flying off the side of
the road. He discarded the useless hunk of bamboo.
	"You wanted to. It was the only way to end the pain you felt inside. The
pain of betrayal. The pain of knowing that everything you had believed in had
been twisted and perverted. You just wanted it to end. But SHE took that from
you, didn't she?"
	"Shut up!" Ryouga roared. The blade had caught itself in mid-air and
come back at him. Ryouga jumped to meet it. The green glow of the Shishihokodan
flashed around his body. It was a tight aura, nothing so crude and simple as the
blasts he had been limited to three years ago. He had not spent the last years
idle. Three mighty blows sent the blade quivering back... but they weren't
doing anything to damage it. Anything mortal would have been destroyed by those
strikes. He knew his own strength. He had blown tanks to shrapnel with less
power than he'd put into those blows.
	"And ever since you've been looking for release. One battle after
another. Each one a hopeless cause. How many times should you have died, Ryouga?
The time you had your intestines ripped out? The time you had your spine broken?
What about when the mountain had collapsed on you? Or the dozen other times? You
should be dead long since, Ryouga. But you aren't."
	Ryouga danced back. His technique was strong. Pulling the Shishihokodan
in tight around his whole body gave him amazing strength and stamina. But he was
heavy as a tank and almost as slow. He had once fallen through a poorly built
bridge into a fifty story chasm because he'd forgotten about that. It was making
it hard to keep ahead of the blade. And he knew that getting hit by that thing
was not a good idea.
	"You were taken from His embrace, Ryouga. You should have gone on to
Oblivion that day, but she took that from you. Now... now you are doomed. You
will wander this earth and suffer forever. That is the power of her wish. You,
Ryouga, will never die."
	"Then I guess I'm going to win this, right?" He chuckled, but the
confidence was false. He had felt that blade dig into his umbrella. He had felt
the weapon just drain away all the chi in his umbrella. It was like it was a
black hole, just sucking in everything near it. He could feel even the near
misses tugging at his aura. When he was forced to deflect the blade with his
palms a little more of his chi was sucked down the endless well that was in that
blade.
	"No, Ryouga. Because you can't win. This fight is destined. You see, you
may have noticed I've been coming here for a long time. I have. But not for that
city you protect so well. I came for you."
	"I don't believe you," Ryouga shot back. He stood in front of the blade
as it came in, spinning through the air so fast it was nothing more than a
blurred disc. He crouched and at the last moment pushed all his power down.
There was a mighty blast as he was rocketed into the air. The demon blade
continued past him and buried itself into the rock he had been standing in front
of. He landed quickly and spun to face the Messiah. If he couldn't beat her
weapon, he would have to beat her directly. No matter how innocent she looked.
	"I know how much you suffer, Ryouga. I suffer the same way, denied the
embrace of Oblivion until the end of days," she said slowly as he charged at
her. He screamed and pulled back his fist, concentrating all his power. She
wasn't even trying to dodge. "And releasing you from this life is the least I
can do after the kindness you showed me, Ryouga."
	"Ho... Hotaru?" It hit Ryouga like a falling mountain. He stalled in
mid-step, his fist coming to a halt inches from her nose. She hadn't moved a
finger to defend herself. Now that he could see her better, up close... he could
see it. Beyond the blood welling constantly down her cheeks was a face he
remembered. It was the same little girl. The little girl he had saved that
day from Vega. The girl he had protected from her demon-possessed father. "My...
my god, what happened to you?"
	The only answer he got was when the demon-blade erupted from his chest.
He screamed and collapsed, blood geysering from his mouth. He felt a creeping
cold seep through him as the blade slowly supped on his life force. "No..." He
moaned and reached for Hotaru. "I won't..."
	"All that fighting does is prolong the agony, Ryouga." She knelt next to
him and smiled, a smile filled with empathy and love. "Consign yourself to
Oblivion."
	And for a moment, he thought he would. Then it happened. Just like in
Mongolia. Just like in the south. Just like a dozen other times. Something
inside him exploded and he screamed. He rose up and reached down to grab the
handle of the blade sticking from his back. With another scream he jerked it
free. He could feel the still heart of the demon blade, of Dylek, in his grip.
It had submitted to Hotaru. It served her willingly.
	He snarled, feeling the same power overwhelm him as had every other
time. It was always different, but always the same. In Mongolia, he had felt his
muscles grow stronger and his fingertips sharpen to blades as he'd torn the
werewolf in two. Against the neo-zoanoid, his spine had fused back together and
he'd felt his chi triple, than quadruple as it rose to match his opponent. The
neo-zoanoid had been surprised when suddenly Ryouga had matched its strength,
and he'd broken it in half with a single blow.
	Now... he could feel the Silence in him. It was bigger than anything
else. It was inevitable. It waited for him. It waited for everyone at the end of
time. But it would have to wait until then, because his body was already
adapting, already changing. Heat returned to his limbs as his body simply
assimilated the Silence like it had everything else that had ever tried to kill
him.
	Ryouga stood over Hotaru for a long moment, breathing heavily. There was
still a gaping wound in his chest. It was bleeding onto the ground heavily. But
he didn't care. He knew he would live. The question was... what did he do now?
	"I see." Hotaru nodded sadly. "So this is your purpose." She turned
around and began to walk away, back in the direction she had come.
	"Wait a minute!" he shouted. "We aren't finished yet!"
	"Of course not," she acknowledged, stopping to look back over her
shoulder. "We have a lot more to do yet, you and I."
	"What? What are you talking about?"
	"God has a plan for you, Ryouga Hibiki, the wanderer who can never die."
She turned her back to him. "I'm sorry. He can be cruel at times. But sometimes
you have to be cruel to be kind, so don't judge Him poorly." She began walking.
"You will be my guide. I knew that once I confronted you, my purposeless
wandering would end, but I didn't guess this was how. You... you are the one
chosen to lead me to the end of days. Together, we will usher in the end of the
world."
	"Are you insane?" Ryouga shouted, because she was getting further away.
"I will NEVER work with you! You may be... you may be her, but that doesn't mean
I want to help you!"
	Hotaru paused and looked at the sky for a moment. "Very well then. I
will continue my work as I see fit then. One day I will find the Silence Glaive
and bring peace to this world. If I have to slaughter every living creature on
this planet until at last Ukyou can't hide it from me anymore... so be it."
	Ryouga felt his heart skip a beat. "Every... single..."
	"You know you can't stop me." She looked back over her shoulder at him,
raising an eyebrow. "If I refuse to fight you, your power can not defeat me.
Like you, I can never die." Then she turned around and started walking again.
"Or you can accept your destiny and be my guide. Perhaps you can find a way to
lead me to my destination without unnecessary suffering. Maybe, in the end, I
will not be forced to butcher my way across the Earth. You can lead me down the
path your destiny has carved for you, or I can find my own. Either way, I will
get where I'm going.
	"After all, I have nothing but time."
	Ryouga stood in the darkness for a long time after Hotaru had vanished
from sight. He thought long and hard about what she had said, about everything
she had said. He shook his head. He just couldn't believe she was gone... the
little girl whom he had clutched in his arms. The girl he had protected from
maniacs and monsters. No... that was the one good thing he had done. The one
good thing to come out of his ill-fated trip to Tokyo. He refused to accept it
was over.
	He released Dylek and it hovered in the air in front of him. "Well, what
are you waiting for? Lead me to her."

*

- July 30th, 1995, 8:00: Mount Minakami, Japan -

	ZX-Tole didn't like these monthly reports. In the first place, he was a
soldier. His place was in the field. He preferred the naked honesty of warfare
to these subtle political games. Even when his prey was elusive and deceitful,
they were still honest in their trickery. You knew where the enemy stood. They
wanted you dead, and you wanted them dead. It was a brutal sort of life, but the
kind that he had grown to respect.
	But these reports were just an excuse for political gain. ZX-Tole didn't
know how his reports were received and interpreted by the twelve zoalords, but
he knew that the actual facts would be twisted to fit someone's agenda long
before they could actually be translated into anything worthwhile. With
Arkanphel having withdrawn from the world nearly a year ago, the zoalords were
jockeying between each other for position and prestige.
	As if any of that mattered.
	"Fear not, friend ZX-Tole!" Ikazuchi said, clapping him on the shoulder
in a gesture of manly camaraderie. "We have accomplished great things in the
names of our lords these last days. Indeed, in fact, we have perhaps done
services so mighty they will have no choice but to heap upon us glowing praise!"
Ikazuchi did not look that much different in his human form. His hair was glossy
black and tousled, his eyes a confident blue. He preferred large baggy pants and
a gi top to ZX-Tole's own business suit. ZX-Tole shrugged out of his grasp and
grunted noncommittally.
	"Don't get your hopes up, kid," ZX-Tole said as the elevator continued
to rise. "The higher ups are not easily impressed by a few random darkstalker
slayings and ghoul hunts."
	ZX-Tole wasn't certain what he felt about Ikazuchi. The kid was
annoying. He had a pompous air to him at all times, even when he was being
thrashed about. He saw his status as the first neo-zoanoid as marking him as
the pinnacle of human evolution, a fact which he often professed. But despite
his arrogance, ZX-Tole had to admit he was damn useful in a fight. He obeyed
orders; reluctantly, but with a startling speed and skill. ZX-Tole frowned and
bowed his head.
	These neo-zoanoids were scary. He knew they hadn't been... as finely
processed in the mental department as even most hyper zoanoids. Most of their
original personality and memory had been left intact, because even Valkus knew
that their real power came from their acquired skills, and not just the genetic
modifications Chronos had gifted them with.
	But they were powerful. So powerful they left most hyper zoanoids in the
dust. Only the elite of the elite, the most rare models like himself, could
compare. Thancrus had grown so annoyed at being outshone he had volunteered for
experimental modifications. ZX-Tole grunted again. He just hoped the scientists
didn't knock fifty years off his life span. ZX-Tole had already lost two
friends: he planned on losing no more.
	"You worry too much, commander!" Ikazuchi laughed and turned to their
other companion, who took up half the elevator all by himself. "What think you,
our new and dearest friend?"
	"I am... RED CYCLONE!" the man shouted, his eyes bulging dangerously.
ZX-Tole stared at him and shook his head. Red Cyclone was impressive: even
outside of his battle form he was a wall of muscle, covered in scars. ZX-Tole
just wished he would wear something besides a pair of red shorts.
	Derzerb chuckled. He was taking up most of the rest of the elevator,
with his massive body crammed into a suit that strained to hold him. He was
slightly taller than Red Cyclone, but had much less overall mass. ZX-Tole had
been surprised to learn that the neo-zoanoid had in fact been that massive
before processing.
	Too bad about how dumb he was.
	There was a chime and the door opened slowly. There were no corridors
here. The elevator opened right into the meeting room. The chamber wasn't large,
and was lit only by lamps underneath the crescent shaped table, giving
everything in it an eerie underlit quality. ZX-Tole strode forward and stood at
the center of the table, the rest of his team moving out to flank him.
	Commander Gyro sat on a raised dais, on a throne of chromed metal. The
only overhead lamp in the room was directly above him, casting him in a pool of
light. He had his back turned to them, examining a viewscreen that took up most
of the far wall and was currently showing a mosaic of images.
	"The Elite Five are reporting as ordered, sir!" ZX-Tole shouted.
	"Ah, ZX-Tole, so good of you to show up," Gyro said, as if he hadn't
been perfectly aware of their arrival. He spun in his chair to face them. ZX-
Tole noticed he was carrying some sort of device in his hand, but aside from it
appearing organic and being made of black metal, he could tell nothing about it.
"Please, sit down, all of you."
	The chairs made a light hissing sound as they were moved for people to
sit. The chair under Red Cyclone groaned ominously for a moment, but held.
	"What have you to report?" Gyro asked casually. He had probably already
probed all their minds, but liked to have things spelled out for him. ZX-Tole
nodded and played along.
	"Just the usual, sir." ZX-Tole laid his hands on the table. "Three
malefic paranormal entities, fifteen combat-modified bioweapons, fifty freak
chip units and assorted reanimated corpses. We also captured two unlicensed
martial artists, which have been placed into the neo-zoanoid program as per
standard operating procedure."
	"And the resistance?" Gyro asked, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming
eagerly.
	"Alas, Commander Gyro, Akane Tendo has eluded us once again." Ikazuchi
sighed expansively. "I do not know what foul agency has tainted her pure virgin
mind, but she continues to refuse my advances and does not accept the ultimate-"
Gyro glared and Ikazuchi flew from his chair, blood spurting from his nose. He
landed comatose on the ground. ZX-Tole didn't move a muscle. Derzerb chuckled.
Red Cyclone snorted like an angry bull, but he always did that.
	"As Ikazuchi was saying, sir, the top priority target has still been
able to elude us." ZX-Tole frowned and decided to volunteer his opinion. "I
think she must have a line into our plans. In all our attempts to capture her,
we've only run into deserted safehouses or extremely well-prepared ambushes."
	"I will not accept that a single HUMAN girl could possibly be
consistently outsmarting the elite of Chronos," Gyro growled. "It is only a
matter of time before you locate her."
	"Yes, sir." ZX-Tole paused. "We do have other problems we could be
dealing with, sir."
	"I have other teams assigned to them..."
	"And most of them are dead," ZX-Tole responded quickly. Seeing Gyro
frown, he quickly added. "With all due respect sir, I believe these enemies may
be too much for lesser zoanoids to deal with. We've lost three teams to this
'Death Messiah' so far, and an entire battle group was wiped out by her and her
new bodyguard.
	"Plus there is the actually active Sailor Senshi. While Akane may lead
us to Sailor Moon, we have much more to worry about from Sailor Mars and Pluto.
Both of them have managed to strike significant blows against Chronos facilities
all over the world. Plus, I believe that the woman 'V' who works with Ranma
Saotome is also a Sailor Senshi." He paused. "That might explain why both are
able to slip off our radar so effectively after a strike. In fact, the two of
them alone have done more damage to Chronos in terms of actual material
resources and lost zoanoid units than the Resistance, the other Sailor Senshi
and the Death Messiah combined!"
	"I am well aware of how much damage they have done," Gyro intoned,
crossing his arms. "Trust me. I have plans to deal with this... Ranma Saotome.
He is nothing more than a thorn in my paw, one I can pluck out at any time."
	"Yes, sir..." ZX-Tole bowed his head. "And then there is Lotus
Infinite..."
	"Bah!" Gyro swept his arms wide. "I won't entertain ghost stories, ZX-
Tole."
	"There's simply no other explanation, sir." ZX-Tole stood up. "I've seen
enough evidence that I believe this assassin must exist."
	"A woman who can get into any facility, no matter how well-guarded and
warded? A woman who can kill any target with a single strike in absolute
silence? I believe there may be an assassin working for some agency out there,
perhaps even a very gifted one. But one that can be a threat on the magnitude
that Amniculus suggests is sheer folly."
	"What about Gill, Commander?" ZX-Tole asked quickly. Gyro frowned. "Gill
had three times fought zoalords to a standstill. His army was well on its way
to conquering all of Australia. Then, one day, he was just dead. Sliced clean in
two. When strike teams descended on his headquarters, not a single one of his
servants or bodyguards had been touched... but all the data on the genetic
manipulation techniques his organization employed had been stolen and wiped
clean. SOMEBODY with the power to kill a zoalord-class being is out there... and
they could strike anywhere. We have to track down Lotus Infinite."
	"Our first priority is Akane Tendo." Gyro stood up. "Don't presume to
test my magnanimity, ZX-Tole. I will not authorize you to make a wild goose
hunt. No... capture Akane Tendo. Bring her to me. I must find out what she knows
about the location of Sailor Moon."
	ZX-Tole bowed his head. "Yes, Commander."
	"Good." Gyro strode from the room, disappearing through a door that
vanished seamlessly into the wall. ZX-Tole kept his head bowed for a long
moment, then sighed. He walked over and picked up Ikazuchi. "You two, head to
the helipad and book a trip back to Tokyo. We start at square one again."
	"And you?" Derzerb asked.
	"I'm getting this idiot to the medlab. I just hope the Commander didn't
blow out too much of his brain. He didn't have much to start with."

*

- April 11th, 1996, 16:02: Masaki Shrine, Okayama Prefecture, Japan -

	"I certainly appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid the answer has to be
no."
	The words hung in the air for a few moments. Angel tried her best not to
fidget. Chris, of course, was as unflappable as ever. But then again, his feet
probably hadn't fallen asleep from sitting like this. At least Link looked
almost as uncomfortable as Angel felt. Angel had even heard her mutter something
about 'stupid Japanese customs' under her breath in Chinese. Angel allowed
herself a small smirk at Link's obvious discomfort. At least there was one thing
Angel could do better than her.
	"I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss him, Katsuhito!" The red-haired girl
sitting behind the old fart called quickly, grabbing him by the shoulder. Angel
had overlooked her at first, considering the girl was a few years younger than
she was. She had just assumed that it was another of the priest's students or
something. But considering how solemnly the old fart was listening to her, she
upgraded her estimation. "This boy can offer us a lot more than just vague
promises of protection from Chronos!"
	Chris inclined his head slightly, but his expression remained
unflappable and his glassy eye unreadable. Link frowned at the girl. For some
reason, it always looked more natural when Link frowned.
	"This boy here is a lot more than he seems," the girl explained.
	"What do you mean, Washuu?" Katsuhito asked. His glasses gleamed as he
tilted his head, hiding his eyes from view. Chris merely raised his eyebrow.
Link's frown, however, deepened.
	"He doesn't exist!" she exclaimed, standing up and pointing at him
directly. "I've had my computer scanning them since they stepped onto the
grounds, but you know what I learned..." There was a long pause. "NOTHING! I
mean, at first I thought it was an extremely sophisticated cloaking field. But
it isn't! I've penetrated every possible level of cloaking, and he just doesn't
exist!"
	"He's remarkably ambulatory for a figment of my imagination," Katsuhito
pointed out dryly. Angel resisted the urge to chuckle, but she was leaning
forward with interest. Chris, for all that she trusted him and followed him
without question, had never really told her anything about himself.
	"Well I certainly wouldn't presume to argue with the greatest scientific
mind in the universe," Chris replied with a slight smile. "Clearly, if Washuu
believes I don't exist, I must not."
	Washuu nodded and slapped Katsuhito on the back. "See. He knows I'm
always right." Link snorted derisively, but everyone ignored her.
	"Of course," Katsuhito drawled. He removed his glasses and cleaned them
with a pristine cloth. "For those of us who aren't as intuitively perceptive as
you, perhaps you could explain?" He said this last part with a sort of resigned
sigh, the kind of tone a man would use to describe a job he hated but had been
stuck in for fifteen years.
	Washuu smiled. "But of course..." Washuu coughed into her hand, cleared
her throat and then, in a puff of smoke, was suddenly clad in an outfit that
resembled some sort of school uniform. She was also standing behind a podium in
front of a chalkboard that hovered idly in mid-air. Neither of these had been
there a few seconds ago. Angel stared. The old man gave her a sympathetic sort
of shrug.
	"The key, you see, is cross-dimensional equilibrium," Washuu explained
as the words appeared in large white kanji on the board. Angel blinked. Her
Japanese wasn't good enough to get past that hiragana and katakana stage yet,
but she could still somehow easily make out the words. "Though the use of the
word 'dimension' in this instance is actually incorrect, or rather
misrepresentative."
	Washuu tapped the board with her pointer and the image chained to a
spinning globe. "This is the universe. It exists in a constant state, with
matter and energy obeying certain observable physical laws. Humanity is only now
beginning to understand these basic physical principles, such as Quantum
Mechanics and String Theory. But the fact is that this is only part of the
picture."
	The image shifted and the globe seemed to distort and snap apart until
there were two globes on the board now. "In reality, the universe is determined
by probability equations. Every event that occurs has a certain base probability
of having occurred the moment before its actual occurrence. When the event
occurs, it then becomes 'set', and that becomes our reality. But that is only
the part of the universe we observe. You see, before an event occurs, EVERY
event that could have occurred will. But we only OBSERVE one of them."
	Washuu turned to tap the two globes. "However, it is also possible that
we could observe the other outcomes as well. And, in fact, we do. This is what
leads to the creation of 'other dimensions', or to use a term more meaningful
but slightly inaccurate, 'parallel universes'. You see, we all in this
universe-" She tapped on the globe and a '1' appeared above it. "-observe one
action while the us in the other universe '2' see a different one. Perhaps even
wildly different.
	"Everyone follow that?"
	There was a long silence.
	"Right then, moving on.
	"The reason I call the use of the term 'parallel universe' an incorrect
one is that while many theorists state that these events have nothing in common,
I believe they are wrong. In fact, all these events have one thing in common...
the observer!"
	Washuu caused a tiny little deformed caricature of herself to appear
between the two globes, which began to look back and forth between them. "You
see, the entire difference between the two universes is meaningless without the
context of an observer. It is, in fact, the very act of observation that DEFINES
reality. Not in terms of the wishes of the viewer translating into what happens,
but in terms of what is happening being defined by our ability to observe it.
	"The key to this comes when you realise that the observer is present in
both universes, but they are still the SAME observer. All of the possibilities
occur at the same time, but don't diverge. The universe is infinitely large.
It's preposterous to assume that universes simply 'split off' from each other
into some sort of 'macro-infinity' or other such nonsense. That means that all
the observed universes, and the observers, are occupying the same space and
time... but are unaware of each other."
	As she had been speaking a second Washuu had appeared on the board. The
two were looking in opposite directions and wandering around each other with
large question marks blinking over their head. "That is... unless you learn how
to look properly." The two Washuus bumped into each other and leapt up, before
they turned around and began to chatter, via speech bubbles.
	Angel just sort of stared. She could feel her eyes widening and her
mouth opening in dumbfoundment. She realised she must look like an idiot, but
she couldn't help it.
	"You see, if a person were aware, even unconsciously, of an alternate
version of themselves they could, in fact, CHOOSE which of the two possible
universe they observe. Let's take an example:"
	The screen cleared and suddenly a little deformed picture of Angel
appeared on it. A brief surge of annoyance ran through her, but Katsuhito
placing a calming hand on her shoulder before she could object. A gun appeared
in the drawing in front of the Angel figure.
	"Let's say we have an event. In one universe a gun is fired: the
projectile cuts through the air and hits our poor observer, killing her
instantly." Angel winced. Did she have to include the fountain of blood from the
forehead? "But say that our observer was able to witness the outcome of multiple
universes? Well... in most cases she would still die." Angel winced again as her
avatar was ruthlessly gunned down a few more times in quick succession. "BUT, if
she was very much in tune she could, eventually, observe a universe where the
bullet did NOT kill her. Perhaps the bullet lost kinetic energy due to a freak
wind gust or some other equally implausible event." The bullet this time bounced
off of the Angel avatar's forehead and the girl in the picture began to dance
around with little fans. "This is, in fact, the basis of most martial arts in
this world. Students like Katsuhito here develop their own internal awareness of
possible universes. As they grow in power, they can branch further and further
away from the 'base' universe into the truly improbable." There was a short
animation of the little Angel jumping between skyscrapers. "Of course, they are
only aware of the single universe in which their efforts were successful and not
the trillions of others were they experienced various gruesome demises." Angel
covered her eyes, unwilling to watch. She did hear a little kiddie scream that
sounded too much like her own voice fade away as if falling.
	She only opened her eyes when Washuu cleared her throat.
	"Now, of course, there is a limit to this. Some events are not just
improbable, they are literally impossible under the current circumstances. This
occurs most often because a sequence of events that occurred before the current
moment have rendered it impossible." The background behind the Angel avatar
changed. There were hundreds of blinking stars and a tiny little Earth spinning
in the background. The avatar blinked and then began to choke and cough, right
before she was fried to a crisp by the rising sun and its ultraviolet rays.
Angel felt a little queasy. "See, some things are just impossible because there
is no quantum possibility of them happening. BUT... there exists few rare
individuals with access to something more." The avatar was suddenly replaced by
one Angel didn't recognise. It was a girl with long black hair wearing a Shinto
priestess' robes and carrying a hoe. She too began to choke and cough. "These
individuals have access to a higher ORDER of awareness and can observe universes
that are much further removed from their own in probability. Literally allowing
them to choose to observe universes in which seemingly impossible things
happened, like humans developing the spontaneous ability to breathe in space."
The girl glowed and suddenly smiled, holding up her hands in a 'V' sign. "Of
course, this too has its limits depending on the power of the individual." The
sun rose behind her and this avatar too was instantly burned to a crisp. Well,
better her than me, Angel thought.
	Washuu collapsed her pointer and the blackboard vanished. She nodded
smugly.  Angel noticed Chris and Link exchange a glance.
	"Fascinating," Katsuhito said slowly, placing his glasses back on. "But
what does this have to do with our visitor?"
	"Allow me to hazard a guess," Chris broke in. "The interesting thing
Washuu has observed is that I am not observable from any other perspective but
this one. There is no other universe where I have come to visit you."
	"Exactly!" Washuu clapped her hands together. "This boy exists in
literally only a single quantum possibility. Which is impossible, and not just
impossible like the impossible things some people can do, but fundamentally
impossible! His existence does not branch out into any other universe. From the
perspective of every other alternate version of us but the ones observing him in
this single universe, he does not exist!"
	"I see..." nodded the old man, sipping from a cup of tea.  "But what I
do not understand is how this relates to me, or to his request to have me look
after his young ward."
	Angel scowled.  Honestly, she hoped Chris couldn't get the old fart to
agree.  She'd lost track of how many martial arts masters, freakish old hermits,
and other weirdos she'd been left with in the last couple of years.  She wanted
to go with Chris, help him with whatever it was he was doing, not sit around
learning yet another language or chi trick or martial arts form.  She wasn't the
strongest person around yet, but she was no weakling!  She could help!
	But she knew she'd be just left here, or somewhere else.  Probably here.
She'd never seen anybody end up refusing Chris.  He always seemed to know what
they wanted.
	"I want to study him, of course!" Washuu proclaimed.  "He's not like
anything else I've seen!  Any favour is a fair price, don't you think?"
	"You aren't the one who will be doing the taking care," Katsuhito
pointed out dryly. "I have my hands full with one apprentice."
	While the two had argued, Link had leaned over and was whispering in
Chris's ear.  Angel's scowl deepened.  She didn't like Link much.  LINK always
got to go along with Chris.  And while she was never exactly rude, every time
Angel talked with her, she got the feeling Link was laughing at her.  Angel bet
Link knew what she'd been chosen for.  But she would never say anything.
	"Well, in thanks for your hospitality," Chris cut in smoothly, "I'd
certainly like to help you out.  Washuu, though I'm afraid I can't stay, I could
certainly give you something to analyse.  Would that be alright?"
	"Well, maybe..." the little scientist said dubiously. "I certainly want
to run a few tests, but I don't know if they'll give me all the information I
want.  But yeah, I definitely want to try!"
	"Outstanding." Chris raised his right arm.  Then he touched two fingers
of his left hand to the pale flesh of the arm, right below the elbow.  Then
there was a sudden flash of purple flame, followed immediately by a wet thump as
the severed right forearm landed on the wood.  No blood emerged from it; the end
was black, like well-cooked meat.
	Everyone simply stared at that for a long moment.  Angel looked up at
Chris's face, but he didn't seem to be in any pain; he was smiling slightly.
	"I trust that will be sufficient?"
	"Ewww!" Washuu commented. "Just... eww!" Then she grabbed the severed
limb and run off into a closet door underneath the stairs, giggling madly to
herself.  Angel resolved, if she did end up staying here, to avoid Washuu as
much as possible.
	The old fart had regained his composure quickly.  He took another sip of
his tea. "So... that was the power of the Orochi, eh?"
	"A little bit of it," Chris agreed.  Angel smirked a little to herself,
feeling a bit better. Even if she was being left behind, at least she knew the
truth here.  Chris always told the people they met that he was the heir of the
Orochi, who was some Japanese god or something.  But he'd told Angel, long ago,
that that was just the story he used.  What he really was, he'd said to her, was
a lot different than just someone with the power of the Orochi.
	Of course, he hadn't said what that was.  Angel sighed.
	Katsuhito sat down his tea and looked at Chris.  His eyes narrowed
behind his glasses. "Well, I'm afraid that, as I said before all of this, my
answer to your request must be no.  No matter how special you are, or how much
you help out my red-haired friend, this is still my household, and no one will
live here without my consent."
	"Of course not," Chris nodded.  "I certainly appreciate taking on an
apprentice isn't easy, and that I've given you no reason to trust me.  But I'd
like to make it worth your while to do so."
	"Do not mistake me.  Your offer to protect us from Chronos is
interesting.  But we've avoided their attentions so far, and even if they are
conducting a search of all Japanese shrines as you say, I trust in Washuu's
defences to keep us unnoticed."
	"It is a risk," Chris noted. "Your other apprentice has drawn attention,
in her forays outside this shrine. A simple search of the pattern pinpoints this
place.  And Chronos has grown more and more familiar with the signs of metahuman
activity, be it magical, chi-based, or technological.  Even with Washuu's
genius, it only takes one overlooked curious energy emission to draw all sorts
of the wrong kind of attention.  Are you willing to risk zoalords taking a
personal interest here?"
	"If what you say is true, I'd far prefer not to have a child here in any
case.  Forgive me, but I have no way of knowing you can deliver on your claims."
	Chris chuckled. "Fair enough.  But that's not the only thing I can offer
you."
	Katsuhito sighed. "Oh?"
	"Don't be so dismissive.  I know a lot of things, Katsuhito Masaki."
Chris leaned forward, tapping two of his remaining fingers to his unmutilated
cheekbone. "For instance, I know that's not your real name, Prince Yosho of
Jurai.  And I know that when some of your former houseguests left this world,
they took with them three gems of incalculable power.  Finally, I know that
without those gems, the Juraian tree near this shrine that has been sustaining
your life in your centuries on Earth has been losing power... and you, in turn,
are starting to age.  Mortality is hanging over your head now, and that must be
a novel experience for a man who grew up expecting to remain young for eons."
	Angel blinked. Remaining young?  She couldn't imagine anyone calling
that decrepit old fossil 'young'.  But maybe he was aging really fast?
	If Chris knowing all that had startled Katsuhito - or Yosho, or whatever
- he didn't show it.  "You do seem to know a lot."  He took another sip of his
tea. "There was no offer in that revelation, however.  So go on."
	"It's quite simple.  I will, at the moment, take care of the Chronos
problem.  And my companion will take a sample of your very precious tree.  When
we return, we will know how to revitalise it... and you.  So payment both on
delivery and return.  Would that be acceptable?"
	The old man yawned, scratching idly at his ear. "You promise a lot.  How
do I know your companion will succeed?"
	"You don't have to worry about that," Link snapped peevishly. "Space
trees, real trees, there is no plant I can't understand and make grow!  I've
handled stranger things than your tree, don't you worry.  I won't say how long
it'll take, but within a few years at most - and that's if I'm busy with other
things too - I will make that tree more energetic than it ever was!  It'll last
a thousand years more if I want it to!"
	"I'll vouch for that," Chris nodded.  "I'm aware of the complicated
nature of Juraian trees, but Link here is a prodigy of rare talent.  She will
succeed.  I guarantee it.  And as for my promise to deal with Chronos... as you
say, if I fail, Angel will be in danger.  I won't allow that.  No, I will make
sure Chronos never comes here." His lip quirked up.  "Don't worry.  I have
something they want a lot more than any shrine or vigilante Sailor Senshi."

*

- April 12th, 1996, 5:08: Masaki Shrine, Okayama Prefecture, Japan -

	Angel frowned down at the wooden practice sword. Kiima had never made
her practice with a wooden sword. The old fart was standing in front of her,
adjusting his glasses with one hand and holding another bokken in the other. The
sun was rising over the mountains, glittering on the lake.
	Nearby that girl Rei was standing in a long field. They hadn't really
said anything to each other last night. The girl had merely entered the house,
grabbed a slice of toast and walked up the stairs, presumably to collapse
unconscious in her room. Angel had thought she was vaguely familiar at the time,
but it was only seeing her hoeing the fields that she recognised her. It was the
other girl from Washuu's lecture.
	"I see you're used to getting up early," Katsuhito noted. Angel nodded
and yawned slightly. "Well, from that sword you were carrying around, I take it
you fancy yourself a swordswoman?"
	Angel gave him a half-lidded stare. Then she shrugged. "Listen, can we
just skip this part?"
	Katsuhito raised an eyebrow. "Which part?"
	"The part were you call me a sniveling worm who can't possibly
understand the secrets of your technique and goad me into attacking you. Then
after a long and humiliating fight where you roundly trounce me up and down the
yard I finally learn humility and yadda yadda yadda..." Angel waved her hand
dismissively. "I've been through this eight times in the past two years. Hermits
and geezers and other freaks all with what is apparently the secret awesome kung
fu. And frankly, compared to the hundred-year-old bald guy with one arm tied
behind his back who lived in a cave and smelled like piss, you are not very
intimidating."
	"I see..."
	"So maybe we can skip the standard beating and you could, ya know, just
show me your forms and techniques and actually teach them to me?"
	Katsuhito rubbed his chin slowly. "Hmm. But if I'm not going to
demonstrate my technique on you with unnecessary violence... how am I supposed
to display it?"
	"I don't know..." Angel cast her eyes about. "What about her? She's not
doing anything." She pointed at the girl in the Shinto priestess robes, who was
obviously out of earshot.
	"An excellent idea." Katsuhito agreed and jogged across the field. The
girl turned around and blinked.
	"Katsuhito? What are yo-ARGH!"
	What followed was very informative. Angel took notes.
	Katsuhito pointed his bokken down at the priestess's battered body. "Did
you catch all that?"
	"Most of it," Angel said, looking up from her notepad.
	"Excellent." The old man paused and looked at Rei a moment longer.
"Although it seems that Rei will not be capable of completing her chores for
some time. Thus, we need someone else to hoe the carrots."
	Angel blinked as he tossed the hoe to her. She stared at it. "You're
kidding, right?"
	The old man, however, was pulling Rei up onto his back. "There are ten
fields in total. And Washuu created a special breed of carrot that grows so fast
it can be harvested weekly. I expect Rei's injuries will take at least that long
to heal."
	"Hate... you..." Rei gasped as the two jogged off.
	"STUPID OLD FART!" Angel shouted, leaping and waving her hoe and bokken
at his retreating back. But he was ignoring her. After spending a few minutes
creating new and inventive swear words by combining the various dialects she had
learned Angel's throat got sore and she stopped.
	"I don't even like carrots," she muttered and turned to the field.
	The heat was oppressive as the sun began to rise. Yesterday there had
been a cool breeze off the lake. Angel frowned and snarled as she hacked at the
ground. She was secretly convinced that Washuu had a hand in the lack of
refreshing breezes.
	"Oh dear, you look hot!"
	"GAH!" Angel leapt and began to swing her hoe around in a deadly arc.
Only at the last second did she realise that the person standing there was just
another of Katsuhito's guests. She managed to halt the momentum of the blade
with an effort of will, keeping the tool from taking off the girl's head by only
centimeters. The girl was just smiling.
	Mihoshi was someone Angel had gotten more of a chance to meet yesterday.
She was a tall beautiful woman with tanned skin and long golden hair. She was so
cheerful that Angel had taken an instant liking to her. Plus, she claimed to be
a 'galaxy police' officer. Angel had no idea what that was, but she didn't
really doubt it. She had, after all, encountered just as weird things.
	"What are you doing out here?" Angel asked. She took the chance to drop
her hoe and leaned on it. Mihoshi held out a jar filled with water and floating
ice cubes.
	"Like I said, you look hot. Here."
	"Uh... thanks..." Angel said. She grabbed the jar and took a long
swallow. But that did little to fight off the heat, so she just dumped the rest
over her head. Her long white hair plastered itself in front of her eyes, so she
spent a few moments pushing that aside. Mihoshi giggled.
	"I just heard that Mr. Masaki was forcing you to do Rei's chores. And
you don't look nearly as tough as Rei does, so I thought you could use a break!"
	Angel blinked. "Uh... thanks..." She bristled for a moment, but decided
the blonde girl was just too nice to have meant it as an insult. Then she raised
an eyebrow, and a wicked little smile crossed her features. "Say, you're from...
outer space or the future or something, right?"
	"Yes! But I'm not supposed to tell the natives that." She slapped her
hands over her mouth. "Oops. Could you forget I said that?"
	"Said what?" Angel winked.
	"The part about me being from outer space."
	Angel gave her a long look. "Okay."
	"Thanks!"
	"Anyway, do you have any... you know, secret alien technology that could
help with all this fieldwork?"
	Mihoshi blinked. Then she giggled and hit herself on the side of the
head. "You know, I never thought about that! I wish I had! It would have helped
out Tenchi a lot!" Angel refrained from asking about Tenchi. Some instinct told
her that was a bad direction to steer the conversation if she wanted to get the
girl to help her out. "Here, let me just call it out..."
	The girl pulled a small pink cube out of... somewhere and began to twist
and spin it, like a puzzle box. Angel frowned, wandering what that was going to
accomplish. Then she screamed as a giant swirling hole into darkness and
lightning opened up almost directly in front of her.
	Out of the hole came a ship. It was a spaceship. Angel couldn't really
think of any other way to describe it. It looked like a spaceship. A big
spaceship. A big spaceship that had come out of a wormhole about a meter above
the field.
	"Oh shit..." Angel cried and grabbed Mihoshi before jumping away. A year
on Phoenix Mountain had made her good at leaping, and she managed to clear the
field despite the extra weight before the ship crashed into it with a sound like
an avalanche. Great gouts of earth rose up on both sides of it as the nose of
the ship cut a trench four meters deep in the earth. Finally the machine settled
down, a large cloud of dust descending over it.
	Mihoshi smiled, a few beads of sweat coming down her brow. "Oops. I
forgot to adjust the vertical hold again."
	"Yes, I think you did..." Angel said slowly.
	"You're going to clean that up, of course."
	Angel spun around to see Katsuhito standing there, his robes rippling in
the breeze that had been caused by the crash. He stared at Angel, the light
glinting dangerously off his glasses. Angel looked over her shoulder. There were
sparks leaping from the ship. And a large chunk of rock was being melted by
those sparks.
	"Uh... you mean her, right?" Angel asked, pointing at Mihoshi. For her
part, Mihoshi was just sort of fretting and rubbing her hands together,
completely ignoring them both.
	"I believe 'you' can be plural."

*

- May 5th, 1996, 2:13: Bisonopolis (formerly Bangkok), Shadowloo (formerly
Thailand and surrounding areas) -

	"Rose... stop... please... I... can't..." Pluto gasped as her legs
finally gave out. She fell hard, her cheek scraping along the paving stones. She
moaned and tried to lever her hand underneath her.
	"We have to keep going," Rose said harshly. But she knelt down and her
hands were gentle as she lifted Pluto up. She draped the shorter woman's arms
over her shoulder and the two began to limp down the street.
	It was night, but there was no dark in this city. Even on these streets
near the fetid, polluted docks, the refuse of the all-night parties wandered.
They passed a band of drunk college students. Probably out celebrating their
graduation, or perhaps trying to forget their failure. If it was the latter,
Pluto pitied them.
	Failure was not something tolerated in this city.
	A few of the party-goers and flesh merchants that filled the city eyed
the two women as they passed by. But none approached. None offered to help.
Violence had never been a stranger to the people here, but with Shadowloo in
control, it was an accepted fact. Those with strength took what they wished,
those without it endured and trained until they were strong enough to take it
back.
	Or they vanished.
	"How... much... further..." Pluto gasped out.
	"Not far. The boat should be waiting for us at the pier. We can take it
downriver to the ship and be out of here before dawn..." Rose trailed off. Pluto
knew what went unsaid. They had failed in their mission... again. Pluto wanted
to frown, but she was too busy gulping air into her burning lungs to make any
sort of expression.
	They turned the corner and suddenly there was the river. It glittered
darkly in the night, deep and ancient. Pluto almost smiled. There was the tiny
skiff that should have been waiting for them, floating innocently in the water
and tied to the pier by a single rope. But... there was nobody there.
	Rose stiffened. "It's a trap," she warned. Pluto nodded grimly and
pushed herself away from her partner.
	A body came tumbling out of the darkness. The young man was scrawny,
clad in rough leather garments and had a general look of malnutrition to him. He
had been one of the few people in the city willing to help them. Rose had even
vouched that his intentions were genuine. But now his face was a black mess, his
hair matted with blood. He collapsed bonelessly to the ground at their feet.
Pluto crouched beside him and felt for a pulse.
	She sighed and stood up.
	Bisonopolis did not reward compassion.
	"Well, ladies, you led us on a merry chase, I'll give you that."
	The man that stepped out of the shadows was tall and built like a
weightlifter. His skin was dark-complexioned and he a wide-brimmed red fedora
was pulled low over his eyes. He wore a sleeveless white shirt and a red tie
loosely around his neck. In his right hand he carried a thick brown baseball
bat, matted on one side with red gore. He tapped the bat against his shoes and
grinned.
	"Jack," Rose intoned. "Didn't you learn anything last time?" She held up
her shawl and it began to radiate soul power, the purple glow casting sharp
relief on the pier.
	"Ayup..." Cracker Jack held up his free hand and gestured. Out of the
shadows three lithe figures emerged. They were young women, each clad in
identical black body-stockings that hugged their bodies almost indecently. They
differed primarily in build and hairstyle. The one in the centre was also
wearing an iron mask, red pits of light glaring balefully from the eyeslits. She
was flanked on either side by almost identical Chinese beauties, one carrying a
staff and the other a pair of nunchaku. "S'why I brought back-up this time."
	"You think three Dolls can defeat us?" Pluto asked, managing to put more
contempt into her voice than she felt. Her and Rose had been on the run most of
the night and were exhausted, while Cracker Jack and his Dolls were fresh. It
was easy to underestimate the slow-talking Shadowloo goon, but he had a cunning
brain that had caught Pluto off-guard more than once. It appeared this would be
another situation they would escape by the skin of their teeth.
	"Hey! Don't start the party without me!"
	Pluto managed not to wince. She and Rose both looked over their
shoulders with identical indifferent expressions. But Pluto could read Rose like
a book. The woman was worried. The man running up the street, backed up by more
than a dozen Shadowloo stormtroopers, was the reason they were both running.
	Balrog was a massive black man with a face that looked like it had
collided with a bus... and won. He wore a purple shirt with the arms torn off
and ragged jean shorts. On his hands were the tools of his trade, large red
boxing gloves. Usually they were meant to soften blows, but Pluto knew for a
fact that they were lined with lead. At least she hoped so. Considering that he
had nearly broken her in half with a single punch, she hated to think what his
strength would be like if he ever got intelligent enough to take off those
gloves.
	"Jack! You were going to steal all the fun again!" Balrog accused. His
voice came out with a slight lisp and it had the halting quality of someone who
had received one too many concussions.
	"Naw, B, just waiting for you to arrive, man..." Jack smiled and waved
his bat at the duo standing between him and Balrog on the pier. "Well, ladies?
I'd ask you to surrender, but I think since you worked B here into a sweat so
much, he might just pummel you unconscious on general principle, ya know?" He
stretched and his joints popped. "So, what say we get this party started?" He
smirked. "Bangkok... uh, Bisonopolis IS famous for its nightlife, after all. No
need to disappoint the tourists."
	Rose glanced at Pluto and Pluto instantly knew her intentions. It was
not telepathy, although Rose was capable of such things. But four years of
constant fighting with each other, four years of depending on each other to
survive... it had built up a subconscious link between them. Pluto knew exactly
what moves Rose was planning, and Rose knew exactly how Pluto was going to act.
They would have to split up. Rose would distract Balrog while Pluto tried to
take down Cracker Jack and the Dolls.
	It wasn't a winning plan. But then again, what other choice did they
have?
	As soon as Pluto and Rose broke eye contact, everything happened at
once. The Dolls came in quickly, the leader flashing through the air feet-first
in a tight spiral. Rose was spinning and screaming, a flash of soul power
erupting from the tip of her shawl. Pluto danced to the side, putting her long
practice with martial arts to the test. The Doll flashed just beyond her, but
Pluto ignored her. One of the Chinese Dolls was coming in and Pluto stepped
forward, ducking under her staff. The senshi's hand came up, clenched into a
fist.
	"DEAD SCREAM!" she roared, unleashing her magic at the last possible
second. The Doll tried to jerk to the side, but the blast of purple light hit
her like a cannon. She was sent flying into a stack of crates hard enough that
she passed through a cloud of splinters and just kept going. Her partner was on
Pluto a fraction of a second later and Pluto was forced to parry her flail with
one arm. There was a loud crack and she hissed as her arm broke, but she had
kept the strike from splattering her brains across the pier.
	Then she heard Rose gasp. She spun and saw the woman staggering as the
masked Doll struck at her with a barrage of punches and kicks. Rose finally
managed to push her back, but that was when Balrog finally closed with her. His
first blow caught her in the gut, bending her over his fist. His second blow was
so fast that all Pluto saw was a black blur. Rose staggered back, her head
snapping back. Balrog grinned as he stepped back and began to wind up.
	Rose was wide open. If he hit her, she would likely go down. Pluto began
to build up another magical shot... when Cracker Jack laid into the side of her
head with his bat. For a moment her world was darkness and shooting pain, then
she slowly opened her eyes. She moaned and pushed herself up.
	And blinked.
	If she didn't know better, she could have sworn someone had stopped
time. Rose was sitting on the ground, Balrog's fist inches from her skull. The
masked Doll was standing just behind him... no, not standing, floating. She had
been caught in mid-leap, just about to perform a flip as she flew over Balrog's
head at the woman. Pluto could see the dozens of Shadowloo troopers, their bulky
black armour glistening in the moonlight, just standing there with their guns
leveled at the fight. Not one was moving a muscle. Pluto glanced to the other
side and saw Cracker Jack still standing with his bat extended, obviously not
having recovered from the swing that had nearly taken her head off. The Chinese
Dolls were not that far from her, both caught in mid-attack as they had been
about to pounce on her.
	"What's going on?" Rose asked, confused.
	Pluto looked again. She could see Balrog's muscles rippling as they
tensed and untensed. His eyes were bulging and rolling around madly, his mouth
stuck in a rictus grin. She glanced over and saw Cracker Jack was in much the
same state. His eyes were fixed on her, and she could see his body shifting ever
so slightly.
	"They are frozen... for now."
	Rose sprang to her feet and Pluto spun around. A ball of magic gathered
in her hands and she glared at the person who had saved them.
	The woman was standing on the water of the river. She was beautiful,
with skin that could have been either blue or white, it was hard to tell in the
half light. Her long blue hair fell down onto her skintight dress, which had
lace cuffs that hid her hands and a skirt that rippled like water down her
thighs. She was looking up at the two of them with amusement. Pluto frowned,
and then she probed the woman's power.
	Her eyes widened and she gasped. Rose was at her side instantly, her
hands hovering close but not quite touching. The woman on the water smiled.
	"It's good to meet you again, Sailor Pluto, Rose." She laughed, a sound
like water tumbling down a brook. "Though we keep encountering each other during
battles."
	"Tethys..." Pluto said finally. It was the symbol on her forehead that
Pluto finally recognised; a golden crescent open to the air with a stylized
lightning bolt on one side. "I'd heard you'd gone up in the world. Though I
thought you were content to sit in your kingdom and brood."
	Tethys smiled. "If that's the way you feel about me, I can unfreeze
these hounds and let them tear you to shreds." When neither Pluto nor Rose
responded, she continued. "Really, Sailor Pluto, I expected more from you.
Bison's capital? His very fortress? Whatever made you think you could break in
there undetected?"
	"I..." Pluto didn't want to admit she had known it was futile from the
start. But she had to try. Bison was the last person to see Ukyou alive, except
possibly for Major Kreig. By all accounts, she had died in England, died
valiantly fighting Millennium. But... the dreams had continued. "I needed to do
it."
	"Of course you did," Tethys said, smiling and gesturing towards the city
with her hands. "You needed to find Ukyou. But to kill her? Is that why you're
so determined to find her?"
	Pluto didn't answer. Rose frowned. That was a touchy subject. It seemed
strange, that Rose of all people should be the one most concerned with killing
Ukyou at this point. But... Pluto shook aside the thought.
	"That's my business."
	"No... not if you want to live." Tethys rose into the air and began to
walk towards them, the air serving as stable a base as the water had for her. "I
have unfinished business with Ukyou. You... you and I might have similar goals."
Once she was less than a meter away Tethys held out her hand. "If you come with
me, we can work together."
	"Why should I work for a monster like you?" Pluto snarled.
	"Because..." Tethys' eyes flashed. "This world is harsh and cruel and
full of evil. But I... I plan on putting an end to that. You see, Pluto, Ukyou
is not my enemy. She is my enemy's tool. Just like you are. Just like we all
were. Come with me, and I can put an end to chaos." She paused. "One way, or
another."
	Pluto considered her choices for a moment. She looked at Rose, but the
woman just gazed back at her calmly. Rose, she knew, trusted her judgement. They
could argue, and had, at length. But in the end, when it came down to it... Rose
believed in her. It was a terrible burden.
	"Fine." Pluto reached out, then her hand stopped a few inches from
Tethys. "But don't think this makes me your slave, or that I trust you for a
second.."
	"I don't expect either." Tethys smiled. "I expect you to do what you
know is right, Sailor Pluto. Even when it's the lesser of two evils."
	Pluto hesitated a moment longer. Then she closed her eyes and took the
dark queen's hand.

*

- February 15th, 1997, 14:45: Ohtori Academy, Japan -

	It never snowed at Ohtori Academy. That was the first thing that ran
through Nanami's mind as she entered the grounds. She didn't know where the
thought came from, but there it was, nonetheless. A part of her insisted that it
wasn't true. She remembered snowfall while she had been living here.
	But it had never actually been snow. It had been that kind of pristine,
perfect snowfall. It was the kind of snowfall that poets wrote about and that
filmmakers loved to use as a backdrop to sadness. You never slipped on a nearly
invisible film of ice at Ohtori. You never stepped into a deceptively deep
puddle of freezing cold slush. Snow here was storybook snow.
	"You're nervous?" Helios said softly.
	She reached out and rubbed her hand through his mane. His hair was
smooth as silk, soft as goose down. She wondered idly if she looked strange
there, stroking an animal only she could see. But she dismissed the thought.
	"No, I guess I just... I'm not certain if I'm up to this?" The question
flowed off her lips and she sighed.
	"We could leave," Helios offered, and sounded very approving of that
idea. Nanami turned to regard him. It was very hard to read his face, with its
deep equine eyes. The flashing light of the golden horn on his forehead gleamed
softly. She smiled.
	"We need her." She patted him on the head. "After what you showed me..."
	Nanami took a bracing breath and started forward. She didn't want to
leave. It had been too hard to find this place. When she had left three years
ago, she had always imagined that she would be returning here with her brother.
She would be returning to welcoming arms and friends. But something here didn't
want her returning.
	Ohtori was a place separate from the dark world outside its walls. Here,
dreams still existed. But if it hadn't been for Helios's ability to pierce the
illusions around it, they never would have returned.
	And Nanami was fairly certain of who was at the heart of these
illusions.
	The chairman's tower was just as she remembered it. The archaic elevator
still dinged softly as it admitted her. Of course Helios had no trouble
following her. His body was as much ephemeral as it was physical reality now,
and he could follow her anywhere. He could always protect her. But just to be
safe, Nanami removed the heart-shaped bell from her pocket, the one that allowed
her to bring him fully into this world.
	The elevator door opened with another pleasant chime and Nanami stepped
forward into the spider's lair. He was waiting for her, draped provocatively
across a low green divan. His shirt was open to his navel, exposing the strong
lines of his chest. He was swirling a glass of brandy in one hand. He smiled as
she entered the room.
	"Nanami Kiryuu. It's so nice when old students return," Akio greeted her
in a voice like sweet music.
	Nanami flushed slightly, but she felt Helios nuzzle her side. She took
strength from his presence and stepped forward. "Akio... you know why I'm here."
	"You've come for the Princess, of course," he replied, inclining his
head slightly.
	"Yes, and you're not going to stop me." She put a lot of force into her
words. His illusions had no power over her, not while she had Helios and the
Golden Crystal to protect her.
	"I would never dream of it," he replied. He straightened slightly. "But
what if she doesn't want to go?"
	"That's her decision to make," Nanami said, but she hesitated. She had
never considered that. No... no. Sailor Moon had to come. "If I show her what
I've seen, she WILL come!" she insisted sternly.
	"I see." He took a drink of his brandy. "What have you seen, to make you
so certain of things that haven't happened yet?"
	Nanami paused. Now, Helios' touch could not bring her comfort. Her mind
still shied away from the thing that he had shown her. He had never meant to
subject her to that. He had never thought that Elysium could get that bad. She
didn't really blame him. But still...
	"Nothing..." Nanami breathed. Akio raised an eyebrow, promoting her to
continue. She took a deep breath. "I've seen it, Akio. The end of everything."
	Akio took a deep drink. "Once, there was once a beautiful place called
Elysium," he said softly. Nanami blinked. How had he heard that name?  "All the
beautiful dreams of everyone on Earth came together in this place, and created a
world so breath-taking, so perfect, it could exist as nothing more than a
dream." Here he paused to gaze at her meaningfully. "But one day a terrible
witch came to this place. She was after the heart of this world. She captured
the world's protector and for a while it seemed all would be cast into darkness.
	"But there was... an event. It was like something great and terrible
touched the edge of Elysium, the land of dreams, and for a moment it was made
real. In that moment the guardian escaped, taking the heart of the dreamworld
with him. But he left behind his physical body, and could only exist in our
world as a pegasus. A creature so unreal he could only survive in a beautiful
dream."
	The moisture evaporated from Nanami's mouth. He knew. She had no idea
how he knew. It was impossible. Helios had told her that Akio's power was not
based on dreams. It was a perversion of dreams. It was the blinding illusions of
sin. But he knew. He had no connection to Elysium. There was no way he could
know what they had found there.
	"And so the guardian found a pure-hearted maiden. A maiden whose brother
had vanished into the darkness. Together they set off on a long journey to find
him... but in the end, all their paths led them back to Elysium. And what they
found there was... nothing." Nanami flinched. "There was no evil witch. There
was no conquered land. There was no guardian. There was nothing. An endless
void, a silent abyss. The dreams and hopes and fears of all mankind that had
once given shape to a place of incomparable beauty now poured endlessly into
that ultimate darkness.
	"And the maiden and the guardian stood at its threshold for only an
instant, but in that instant they looked into the yawning well of the void, the
face of the end. They saw Oblivion."
	"Shut up!" Nanami shouted, holding out the crystal bell like a ward.
"How do you know this?"
	"Tsk." Akio took a drink. "Am I supposed to shut up, or answer your
question?"
	"You know what I mean!"
	Akio smiled. "Sailor Moon can't defeat this enemy, Nanami Kiryuu. You
may as well ask her to defeat the concept of death, to put an end to war. There
are some things that no amount of mere power can change. Some things are just
inevitable."
	"I don't accept that!" Nanami snarled. She looked at Helios. "He won't
be trapped like this forever! He can be human again!"
	"Ah." Akio chuckled throatily. "So that's it."
	"Sailor Moon will do it. When I tell her what is happening in Elysium,
she'll come." Her eyes narrowed. "And she'll leave you. Once she sees what the
world is really like out there, she'll never come back. She won't stand for it."
	"If Sailor Moon leaves this sanctuary, it will not end well," Akio said.
	"For you maybe," Nanami smirked and crossed her arms.
	"For the world." Akio leaned back. "If Sailor Moon rides out to face
this Oblivion she will be consumed... but worse yet, she will ensure its
victory. You see, the problem with inevitable things is that nothing of this
world can prevent them. It takes a special force, an impossible force to do so.
But already the realm of Elysium is wounded. Another impossible thing made a
part of it real... and Sailor Moon's power comes from what is real. She will
draw on the power of all the souls on earth, all their good thoughts, all their
pure intentions. She will call for help from the world of dreams to every living
person on this planet. But that cannot stop Oblivion. Only an impossible thing
can."
	Nanami blinked. For some reason, she got the impression Akio was no
longer talking to her.
	"If she confronts it, all she will do is make it REAL for everyone on
earth. And once they feel it is real... it will be. It will touch the hearts and
minds of every living being. Not all of them will have a Golden Crystal to
protect their fragile souls from that yawning abyss."
	"You're saying that by fighting Oblivion, she'll only give it a way to
attack Earth directly?" Nanami responded.
	"I believe I am," Akio said. He took a sip of his brandy. "But if you
want to go talk to the Princess, then by all means do so. I'm as certain as you
are that she will throw away her life, throw away everything, to fight this
great injustice."
	"You won't try to stop me?"
	"Of course not." He opened his hands. "All I have are words and
illusions. I have already done everything I ever will to defeat you in this
quest. There is nothing more that I can do."
	Nanami inclined her head slightly, then turned around.
	The boy that was floating there was pale. He couldn't have been more
than ten years old, and an awful gaping wound existed where one of his eyes
should be. His feet hovered a half-meter above the ground. His brown hair
floated above his head. Nanami blinked.
	"He's right, Nanami," the boy said softly. His tone was sad...
regretful. "There are battles that the people of this world can't win. But don't
worry. There will be a perfect possible future, one way or another."

*

- July 1st, 1997, 15:03: Autonomous Region of Hong Kong -

	"... yes, I'm quite certain Mr. President," Nabiki purred into the
phone. She flicked at the bubbles along her knee with her free hand, popping
them one by one. With each burst they released a faint smell, rose or jasmine or
something. Nabiki didn't really care. It had been the most expensive one
available. "No. I'm certain that no one has any idea they've been compromised."
	She paused, not really bother listening to him for a few more minutes.
The sunlight was creeping in past the curtains again. She frowned and made a
mental note to have them replaced. She was paying good money for a luxury suite
and she would be damned if there was any problem with it. She almost considered
going over and fixing the shade herself, but since she was neck-deep in a
bubble bath at the time, she changed her mind.
	She just forced her eyes away. The light always hurt a bit after she had
been forced to use her abilities at full power. Weeding out information from the
minds of Millennium agents was like sticking your hand into a septic tank. It
never felt pleasant, and you always needed to clean yourself thoroughly
afterward.
	"Listen, I hate to cut you off, Mr. President," Nabiki lied. "But what
you do with the information I provided is your own decision. Eliminate the
sleepers. Follow them. Send them cookies. I don't really care. Our business for
the day is concluded. And speaking of business..." She smiled winsomely. She
knew he couldn't see it, and she resisted the urge to send him a little mental
image of it as well. There was no need for anyone to know quite how... much her
abilities had grown.
	"Yes, the usual accounts will be fine. As always, it's a pleasure doing
business with you, Mr. President," Nabiki replied crisply and snapped the phone
closed with one hand. She let the cell drop to the ground beside the bed and lay
back. It was amazing how far technology had come in the last five years. That
reminded her to check and make certain her tech stocks were doing well.
	But later. For now, she would rest. She had to try and forget about the
things she had seen in that man's head. He had met her like most of her marks.
Just another man looking for business. And like most men, he knew where to go
when he needed something done soon.
	It had been mercenaries. A few martial artists to be hired for a raid on
a Chronos-controlled lab in the Balkans. Nabiki never trusted vampires. So she
had distracted him by asking hard questions. She was in the service of providing
the best, of making certain that every client was satisfied. She had asked
questions about what kind of raid it was, what the objective was, why they
needed martial artists, and so on.
	The man had been only to happy to reply. They wanted data on Chronos
bio-weapons. They wanted the raid not to be traced back to Millennium. They
wanted to place the blame on America, if at all possible.
	It had been the mention of America that triggered it. A flash of memory
about a man standing on a street corner with a suitcase. Nabiki had kept
smiling, kept asking the right questions. But while her mouth moved on
automatic, her mind had slipped into his mind like a midnight breeze. Unseen and
unfelt she had plumbed the depths of his memory, dragging out the names of a
dozen sleeper agents all across America. Foolish men and women, infatuated with
the idea of living forever. People willing to kill for it.
	It sickened her. Some things weren't worth any price.
	So she had smiled and made terms with the man. She had promised to get
in contact with two of the best free agents she knew. And she would. She was a
woman of her word and always lived up to her end of the bargain. Those were the
rules, after all. You couldn't win the game, if you didn't play by the rules.
	Nabiki blinked suddenly and rose up in her bathtub. "Speaking of people
who break the rules..." she grumbled and sighed. She didn't even know why she
bothered keeping her 'bodyguards' around. Certainly she owed the old man a lot.
But looking after two teenage martial artists for him was not her idea of fun.
	At least the young, brash one with his skateboard and pigtail reminded
her in an amused way of Ranma in his younger days. The other one, his taller,
more serious older brother... he reminded Nabiki of... Nabiki shook the feeling
off.
	Sometimes you win the game. Sometimes you lose. The game goes on.
	Then again, she couldn't really blame them for letting these intruders
past. Zoanoids, vampires, darkstalkers and other horrors, that they could
handle. These four required a more... delicate touch.
	The door exploded inward, taking out a good chunk of the surrounding
wall with it. Nabiki frowned, just knowing that would come out of her security
deposit. In the smoke stood four lithe, childlike figures. They giggled, their
voices echoing in the room. Nabiki sighed and waved some smoke away from her
nose.
	"Nabiki Tendo... we are the Amazoness Quartet! And in the name of the
Dead Mo-"
	The green-haired one bopped the red-head on the back of her shoulder.
"That's Chronos."
	"Right, in the name of Chronos, we are taking you in for question..."
The red-head trailed off. "OHH!" she clapped and made a small sound of joy. "Is
that authentic French bathing salt!?"
	"Yes, it is," Nabiki responded, gesturing to the half-empty container.
"Would you like to try some?"
	"Really?" she and the pink-haired one shouted, jumping up and down.
	"You can't get that ANYWHERE anymore!" the pink-haired one declared.
	"Not without the right connections, CereCere." Nabiki corrected.
	"You get all the good stuff, Nabiki!" the short one with the braided
blue hair whined.
	Nabiki gave her a mocking smile. "Come now, PallaPalla, it's one of the
benefits of being the queen of the black market, you know."
	"You guys, why can't we be queens of the black market?"
	"Because we work for Mr. Purgstall and Ms. Cologne," the green-haired
one grumbled, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. She, unlike the
others, was wearing her 'civilian' outfit, a denim vest and tight jeans with
stars emblazoned on them.
	"I keep offering you girls a chance to work for me, but you keep turning
me down," Nabiki pointed out mildly.
	"You do?" the red-head blinked.
	"Yes, VesVes... I do."
	"When?"
	"Usually right before I'm forced to wipe all your memories."
	"Oh..." The bluette nodded vigorously and smacked her fist into her
palm. "Now I remember!"
	"You do?" CereCere sounded amazed.
	"Well... not really. But it does make sense..."
	"C'mon guys. Let's just magic her and get back home. I'm missing the
Zoanoid Hyper Wrestling!" JunJun complained.
	"Fine, I guess I won't take up any more of your time." Nabiki yawned.
"I've already picked you all clean anyway. It's so refreshing to dive into nice
clean, unpolluted minds every now and then. Reminds me there are things worth
playing for." She waved at them. "Goodbye, girls!"

*

- July 1st, 1997, 16:03: Tokyo, Japan -

	"She most definitely wasn't there, Mr. Purgstall!" VesVes concluded
sharply. She and the others were standing at rigid attention. Well, as rigid as
they got. Well, none of them was slouching. He eyed JunJun and she looked
sheepish for a moment then straightened. None of them were slouching when they
thought he was looking.
	It was a start, right?
	Purgstall sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "Is there anything
else?"
	"Well, she wasn't there..." VesVes murmured, scratching her chin.
	"She also said to tell you hi," CereCere added after a moment's thought.
The others all agreed and nodded.
	"Also, she was a penguin!" PallaPalla insisted suddenly.
	"You're right!" JunJun agreed, slapping her on the back. "How could we
have forgotten the best part?" She looked at Purgstall triumphantly. "It
explains everything, Mr. Purgstall! We can't find her because she's not a
person, she's a penguin!"
	"A penguin..." He eyed them all warily.
	A flush ran up their collective cheeks. "A warm water penguin,"
PallaPalla explained helpfully.
	"Well, that explains it then..." He rubbed his temples, trying not to
let the headache he always got when trying to deal with Nabiki Tendo develop.
But he knew it was too late. "You're dismissed, girls."
	"Yay!" PallaPalla ran around in circles, her arm outstretched. "Let's go
tease ZX-Tole!"
	"That sounds great!" JunJun agreed, running after her.
	"No!" Purgstall let his hand drop. It was too late. They had already
vanished, their magic orbs winging off through the sky.
	"Don't worry, I'll go set'em straight, Mr. Purgstall!" VesVes declared
just before she and the last Amazoness vanished. Purgstall groaned and leaned
forward in his chair.
	"She's just mocking us, now." Cologne said, speaking up for the first
time since the quartet had arrived.
	"Who? VesVes?"
	"No, Nabiki Tendo." Cologne walked over, her long black hair whispering
against the fabric of her silver dress as she came up behind him. "I don't know
why you bother trying to bring her in. Nothing less than a zoalord can fight her
telepathy."
	"I..." He moaned softly as she began to massage his temples. Her healing
magic went to work quickly and he felt his headache vanishing before it fully
formed. "Thank you."
	"My pleasure." She slid up onto the desk, crossing her long legs as she
did so. This caused the hem of her dress to hike up, displaying far too much
thigh for Purgstall's comfort. He very purposefully kept his eyes on her face.
	"I just feel I have to try." He frowned. "All I want to do is talk to
her. With her gifts, she could make a fantastic asset to Chronos. Her natural
power... imagine if we enhanced it with even rudimentary processing! Imagine if
we used a zoacrystal on her!"
	"You're getting carried away again, Frederick," she chided him, her
almond eyes laughing. "Nabiki is a valuable resource even out of Chronos. She
works for the highest bidder. Plus... she is the only one who knows anything
about... him."
	Purgstall didn't have to ask. He knew who the subject was suddenly
about. He frowned and crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. "I understand
your desire to get back at him for what he did to your family, Cologne. But...
after what he did... Arkanphel himself has declared that he isn't to be harmed."
	Cologne hopped down from the table and began to walk towards the door.
"I don't follow Arkanphel, Frederick."
	Purgstall watched as the door closed behind her. He sat and stared at
the door for a long time.

*

- October 19th, 1997, 17:09: Masaki Shrine, Okayama Prefecture, Japan -

	"Mihoshi, hand me the knife, would you?"
	"Sure thing!  Here it- eeeek!"
	Without looking, Angel whipped one hand behind her.  Two fingers snapped
around the blade of the knife flying towards her back, and then she flipped it
over her head and caught it by the handle.  She calmly started chopping the
cabbage.
	"Wow, Angel, that was neat!"
	"Not much, really."  But Angel was grinning.  "Are you alright?"
	"Oh yeah, I just tripped.  I'm reaaally sorry!  I'm just a klutz in the
kitchen, I guess!"
	Which was consistent with how she was everywhere else, but Angel didn't
mind.  She'd long since learned how to keep out of the way of Mihoshi's frequent
disasters, letting someone else - preferably Rei - take the brunt of the damage.
Well, usually.  Somehow, the blonde girl still took her off-guard sometimes, but
it wasn't like she meant anything bad by it.
	"No problem," Angel replied.  "Could I get you to stir the soup?"
	Mihoshi answered cheerfully in the affirmative.  That was why Angel
found it impossible to dislike the older woman.  She was so... enthusiastically
nice.  She really wanted to help; she was just so tremendously bad at it.  But
she kept trying.  It was impossible to dislike someone who so obviously wanted
the best for everyone, no matter how many stumbles there was along the way.
	"OWWWWW!  Angggggeeel, I burnt my hand!"
	"That's okay, I'll get to it in a second.  Do you need a bandage?"
	"No, it's okay, it's just a little," Mihoshi sniffled.
	Angel finished chopping the vegetables and stepped over to the pot,
giving it a quick stir.  She didn't exactly LIKE cooking, but it beat hoeing the
fields any day.  This was doubly true since Rei hated doing the fields, and also
usually hated Angel's cooking.  And anything that pissed off that acid-tongued,
bullying, stick-up-her-ass know-it-all couldn't be all that bad in Angel's
books.
	"Wow!  Hey, Angel, is it some sort of fireworks show today?"
	"Huh?  Not that I know of.  But you've been in Japan longer than me,
anyway."  Angel peered out the window Mihoshi was staring through.  At first,
she thought that Mihoshi was right, but a moment later she saw that the lights
in the sky weren't fireworks but rather beams of brilliant, multicoloured light.
	"No, Mihoshi, those aren't fireworks.  They're some sort of light beams.
It isn't your ship, is it?"
	Mihoshi shook her head, her blonde curls tossing.  "No, definitely not!
He's still in subspace, I'm sure."  She suddenly looked worried.  "Maybe we
should tell the others about it?"
	"No, the old man and Washuu are in her lab doing something or other
until dinner..." Angel suddenly grinned. "And Rei's hoeing the fields.  Mihoshi,
handle dinner.  I'll go check it out."
	"Maybe I should come with you..."
	"No way!" Angel said, then amended, "It's probably nothing.  I'm just
going to go take a look.  If it's dangerous, I'll come back and get you, okay?"
	"I guess..." Mihoshi began dubiously, but Angel was already moving.
	"Don't turn the stove up or down, make sure you pay attention and stir,
and DON'T let anything catch on fire!" Angel threw over her shoulder.  Mihoshi
usually didn't do anything she specifically had been told not to do.  Of course,
that left plenty else to go wrong, but even Mihoshi could probably handle a
simmering pot for a little while.  She dashed up the stairs to her room, grabbed
her sword, and hopped out the window.
	She hadn't been quite truthful with Mihoshi.  She figured it had to be
SOMETHING dangerous, some sort of intruder, maybe a zoanoid or something.  Which
was exactly why she was going.  She hadn't had a chance to use her skills since
the last disastrous raid she'd gone on with Rei, months ago.
	If it did seem too dangerous, she'd go get somebody.  Probably.  But she
wasn't going to let a little risk get in the way of finally getting a chance for
some action. Even if it was zoanoids...
	Her hand tightened around her sword's hilt.  Especially if it was
zoanoids.
	But it probably wouldn't be.  Chris had said Chronos wouldn't bother
them when he'd left eighteen months ago, and they hadn't.  So maybe some martial
artist?
	As she dashed towards the forest, the lights were fading.  But she could
also see their source - it was that one tree, the really big one with the weird
ruin or whatever around it in the middle of the woods.  Of course, that was the
old man's tree!
	Angel forced herself to run faster, and all thoughts of running for help
fled her mind.  Sure, the old man was annoying sometimes, sure he made her do
stupid crap, sure she was positive he was holding back from teaching her all his
best stuff, but no way was she letting anybody mess with his lifeforce!  That's
what Chris said the tree was, or something like that...
	She burst into the clearing like a bullet.  Though the sun was only a
red globe on the horizon, the entire area was lit by a soft glow coming from the
tree's branches.  There was a figure standing next to the tree, with some sort
of huge dark creature next to her.
	Angel could've hit the two of them without making a single sound, but
the old man had pounded into her that she should never attack without being
certain of her enemy.  So she deliberately let her foot splash into the pool of
water around the tree as she advanced.  The figure standing there turned around,
and Angel halted.
	"Link," she breathed, her mouth saying the words before she had really
even realised who she was looking at.  In the year and a half since Angel had
last seen her, she had changed considerably.  Not that she looked much older,
but she was now wearing elaborate, flowing clothing of rich green silk, like an
empress or something.  The light from the tree illuminated a hundred glittering
shards of some blue crystal that was woven into her clothes.  Her hair, longer
now, was drawn up in a elaborate style, and held in place by pins.  Large
earrings, bejeweled with the same blue crystal, hung at the side of her face.
Her earthy brown eyes were the same though, and that little frown that Angel
knew so well.
	"Ah. I should have guessed you would come, little prodigal."  Her eyes
glinted, carrying across the superior smirk her mouth never quite managed to get
right. "Just in time."
	The monster with her had turned to face Angel as well.  It looked
something like a centipede, only twenty feet tall with legs of wood and a body
of brambles and leaves.  Its polished ebony eyes stared coldly at Angel, and a
hiss escaped from its gnarled wooden mandibles.  Below the head, Angel could see
the blue seed-like object that was always on Link's more impressive creatures.
	"What are you doing to that?" Angel said.  She wished her voice sounded
surer, more confident.  She wasn't scared of the monster.  She wasn't scared of
Link either. But Link knew more.  She knew more than Chris had ever told Angel.
	"Don't be an idiot.  I'm doing exactly what I was supposed to do when we
gave you to the old man," Link sneered.  "I can't reverse the deterioration - at
least not under these conditions - but I can certainly halt it for a time with
some tinctures.  He won't age anymore, not for at least a century or so.  It's
simply a matter of plugging some holes in the energy loop and... well, why I am
bothering explaining it to you?"  Link turned away.  "You have more important
things to talk about, anyway."
	Angel opened her mouth to ask what Link was talking about, but the older
woman just gestured impatiently, her attention once again absorbed by the tree.
Angel turned...
	And saw him.
	Chris was easy to spot even in the encroaching darkness.  His hovering
form was wreathed in violet flames that crackled around him, but did no damage
to the surrounding vegetation.  Dimly, in the back of her mind, she realised he
had two arms again, but this somehow didn't surprise her.  His gaze was locked
on Angel.  For a long moment, he merely stared at her as she stared at him.
Then, without a sound, he turned and glided back into the forest.  Angel, not
knowing what else to do, followed.
	He moved slowly, allowing her to catch up.  Angel had grown a lot since
she'd last seen him.  Her hair was longer now, just barely falling over her
eyes.  Her body was filling out, and her physical prowess had grown in leaps and
bounds.
	But Chris had not changed.  Once, they'd been nearly the same height.
Now, even though he floated a foot off the ground, Angel could easily look over
his head.  His child's face and body were changeless, with only the torn out eye
standing apart from his smooth, pale complexion.
	"It's good to see you again, Angel."  His voice, too, never changed.
Calm, steady, ageless despite its child's tenor.
	"Yes, I'd almost..." Angel hesitated.  She didn't mean to say 'forgotten
about him', because she hadn't, but...  "...started wondering when you would
come back."
	"That's all right.  You've changed a lot since I last saw you.  But
then, you've changed a lot since we first met.  You're 16, now.  An adult, by
most reckoning.  It's about time you were treated like one."
	He stopped, turning to regard her.  The reflections of the silent purple
flames danced in his remaining eye.  Angel could see her face there, too.  But
nothing else.  His gaze was fathomless.
	"So, Angel, would you like to know who I am?"
	For a moment, she almost said 'no', but then caught herself and bit her
lip savagely.  This was what she'd been jealous of Link of.  This is what she'd
asked herself a thousand times.  Who was Chris?  What did he want her to do?
Why her?  But for the moment, "Yes" was all she could say.
	He smiled slightly.  "Answering that isn't simple.  Perhaps it would be
more accurate to ask what I am."  He let his gaze drift upwards, to the pale orb
of the moon overhead.  "I am from far away.  Farther away than you have ever
travelled, farther even than your friends and their friends could travel on
ships through galaxies and beyond the galaxies.  I was born in a universe beyond
this one.  And there, I died as well."  His head snapped down, affixing her with
his gaze again.  "But it was no ordinary death. I died so I could be chosen.
Chosen to come here, to this place and time, to save this universe."
	Once upon a time, she might not have believed it.  But she'd seen 20,000
year old mad scientists and alien princes and men who could catch bullets in
their chopsticks.  And she knew, she'd always known somehow, that Chris wasn't
like them somehow.  Something different.  More distant.  Less human.
	She licked her lips, tasting the copper of her blood from the one she'd
bitten.  "If... if that's so, then why... me?  I mean, why have you taken me
with you?"
	He turned and began moving through the forest again.  Not knowing what
else to do, Angel followed, and then he began to speak again.
	"It's been years, but I'm certain you remember how we met, and the
circumstances of the time.  I'm sure at the time, you could not understand what
had happened to you, to your family, to your home, to your town.  But now you
know the sad, undeniable truth: you were merely at the wrong place at the wrong
time.  Caught between Chronos and the Americans, two great powers who cared
nothing for you or your family, and crushed between them.  The fortune of war.
You weren't the only one.  Not there, and not then.  Millions of people have
been like you.  But it was you I sought out.
	"Most people, in your situation, would die, or futily fight, or join up
with one side or the other for survival.  You wonder why I came for you, Angel?
It is because I knew you could be different.  Different from them, and different
from everyone else.  Just like I am."
	"What do you mean... different?  I'm not... I'm not some other universe
person too, am I?"
	He chuckled.  "No, not at all.  I'll explain what I mean.
	"There are three types of people in this world that some would call
heroes or warriors.  You've met some of each.  Kiima of the Phoenix people, for
instance.  She has strength and the will to use it, but she cannot, for she is
so outshone by the god-like being she serves that she can take no true action of
consequence.  So her strength goes wasted, her will impotent.
	"Katsuhito Masaki is another.  He has power, more power than he has
shown you.  Know he is one of the great warriors of Earth.  But he will never
use his power.  He will stay here, with his tree and his peace, and make no
action except to defend himself.  Though he is not evil, he is essentially
selfish.  He has made the decision to use his power just for himself, for his
peace only.
	"Rei Hino, you might think, is different.  She has power, and she goes
out into the world and uses it.  She may destroy a zoanoid, cause damage to a
factory, save a child.  All of these are good things.  They make her feel good."
	At this, he suddenly stopped again, whipping around to face her as his
aura of flames rose around him.  His voice rose for the first time Angel could
ever remember, cracking like a whip.  But his gaze remained steady, cold, boring
into her.
	"That is ALL that it does!  Nothing Rei does amounts to anything in the
face of the world.  She will never overthrow Chronos.  She will never save the
planet, or even this country.  She has power, but she has no direction, no
ambition, no stomach to do what must be done to effect real change.  She does
little things that make her feel good, and people call that a hero.
	"It isn't enough.  All it takes, Angel, is one madman with enough power.
One Arkanphel driven insane by age and loss, one Galaxia fuelled with the power
of chaos, one fat chuckling vampire pushing the big red button.  One person
could wipe out the planet despite the best intentions of all the Kiimas and
Katushitos and Reis.  Nor are they the only ones, or the most powerful.  The
entire universe is at risk, every moment.  That's all it takes.  One moment, and
it all could be lost forever.  Certainly, they can be stopped.  Certainly, they
have been up until now.  But they only need to succeed once, Angel.  In the ages
between now and eternity, they only need to win once, and it's all over.  Trust
to these heroes, no matter how good their intentions or marvellous their skill,
and the only end is destruction.
	"But I am different from them.  I exist on a different level.  In my
grasp is the power even greater than the universe.  It goes by many names: I
call it the Third Circle.  This power which I - and nobody from this universe -
can wield is greater than the sum of every power that has ever or will ever
exist. I have not yet completely mastered it, but already I have made a god bow
his knees to me.  With it, nothing can oppose me.  With it, I am eternal.
	"But even the infinite power would mean nothing if I was like them.  It
is not just that I am more powerful that separates me from someone like Rei.
Power alone, no matter how unstoppable, is useless if the wielder doesn't have
the strength of character and will to do what must be done to safeguard
existence.
	"I do.  I see what must be done.  And do not fool yourself as to my
intentions, Angel.  What I am going to do will not be kind.  It will not let me
or you feel good about ourselves like Rei does.  It will be terrible.  It will
be monstrous.  Good people will die.  Many will suffer.  But in the end, I will
do what all the Reis and Katsuhitos and Kiimas and even Saffrons and Washuus
never can and never will: I will lop off the heads of every serpent that
threatens this world.  I will sweep them all aside, so that humanity may
continue to exist.  The world I create will not be a utopia.  It will be a harsh
existence that breeds strength and will and power, and I will make sure it is
so, so that whenever a new serpent arises, heroes will arise to destroy them.
And I will be there to ensure it always happens, every time, without fail.  And
this will continue now and forever after.  No, it's not a utopia. It's not the
world that Rei would like to create.  But unlike her, I can create it.  I will.
It is not a perfect future.  But it is the perfect possible future.  And
creating that future, saving you all, is what I've come here to do."
	Angel could only stare.  She hated being caught flat-footed.  She liked
knowing the situation, knowing the score.  Kiima had told her, and she always
agreed, that it was better to know you were off-balance and work from that then
believe everything was under control until you hit the dirt.  Angel had met a
dozen different masters, all of which were far her superior.  As much as she'd
grown, she was always steps behind the next teacher.  And though it rankled
sometimes, at least she admitted it.  She knew the score.  She worked with what
she had.
	But she didn't know the score here.  She couldn't even imagine it.  So
she asked again: "Why me?  What do you need me for?"
	Chris had swung around and was moving again.  Angel fell into step in
his wake.  When he spoke, his voice was again smooth, cold, like the surface of
a lake at night.  "I told you, Angel, I chose you.  I could have told you this
right away, but in truth I wanted to keep it from you as long as I could.
However, you are an adult now.  You have the right to know.
	"Absolute power can corrupt.  Because I am so far above the lives of
humanity, the danger exists that I could lose my connection to them.  So I have
decided, in order to keep my footing secure and always be aware of the
consequences of my actions, to never take a life.
	"Unfortunately, the simple fact is that to bring about the perfect
possible future, people will have to die.  And if I can't do it, who shall?
Certainly there's many ways around this, but what I desire, what I NEED, is an
ally. Powerful and reliable, who will accomplish the tasks I can't or won't
personally, including killing those who need to die to safeguard the future.
That is the role I hope for you to fulfill, Angel.
	"No, don't say anything yet.  I told you when we met, Angel, that I
would three times give you the choice to leave without oweing me anything.  This
is that third time.  You can say no, and don't worry, I won't resent you.  I
won't even blame you.  What I'm going to ask of you is a terrible thing."
	Suddenly they were out of the forest.  A cool breeze was blowing,
brushing Angel's hair back.  She was going to say something.  Something, she was
sure.  But his next words came first, and she would never remember what it was
she was going to tell him.
	"I want you to kill Mihoshi Kuramitsu."
	She stopped, and so did he.  She felt blood pounding in her ears, as if
she'd been through a workout.  Her feet felt a thousand miles away.  Her mouth
was dry.  "What?"  It was all she could say.
	He didn't turn around.  The purple flames burnt low, like a gas flame.
"If you choose to stay with me, I will explain to you every time if you ask, why
somebody - anybody - needs to die for the perfect possible future.  In this
case, it is because Mihoshi has knowledge, and her greatly advanced spaceship,
and her dimensional technology and paraphenalia.  It's barely possible I could
simply take the latter two, but I need her knowledge to make proper use of it.
I can get that.  But only if she is dead.  I need that technology to use as a
bargaining chip.  So I am asking you to kill her."
	"Y-you can't."  Angel felt tears in the corners of her eyes.  She'd
waited for this.  She wanted to know ever since that day in the Chronos camp.
She'd dreamed of what it was she had been chosen for.  She's wondered what Chris
truly wanted from her.  It was supposed to be something wonderful.  It wasn't
supposed to be like this! "You can't ask me to do that!"
	"I'm afraid I have."
	"But there must... there's got to be something else..."
	And now he did turn his head to look at her, and she flinched at the
sight of the gaping wound in his head.  "Of course there is.  I never wanted to
give you no choice, Angel.  I am proud of how far you've come since I met you.
I was proud of you even then, for not giving up in the face of death.  I love
you, as a father loves a daughter, and for that love, you will have the choice I
promised you.  I will leave here shortly; it's too dangerous to stay.  If you
don't come with me, you have my word that I will not do or cause any harm to
come to Mihoshi."
	"But you said you needed-"
	"Of course.  That was too strong a word.  I don't NEED it.  I will find
other ways.  Not getting it may set me back only a decade.  A decade more of
war, of killing, of more villages being crushed, of risk that at any instant
someone might end it all.  That is what I am asking you to sacrifice one life to
avoid.  But you don't have to. You can stay here.  You can keep your conscience
clean, just like Rei and Katsuhito.  You can live the life you want.  It will be
easier for you, and probably happier.  I will understand if you do this.
	"But I'll be honest: it's not what I want.  I want you by my side, from
this moment onward.  I want to be able to answer all your questions.  I want
your help, so that we together can create the perfect possible future.  That is
what I want.
	"But you're an adult now, Angel.  I won't dictate your future.  So
choose.  Choose now, because soon I must be on my way."

*

- March 5th, 1998, 14:21: Southtown, United States of America -

	"...walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no
evil..."
	Ono watched as the S.T.A.R.S. began to lift the flag from the coffin.
They folded it with great care and solemn ritual. He tried to keep his gaze
level, his eyes from clouding over. The four of them were just children. He knew
each of their names. They had been with him for seven years, graduated top of
their class.
	Each of them was a living weapon. A weapon forged by him. He knew well
what they could do. They could leap three stories into the air from a standing
start. They could punch through two-inch thick armour plate with casual ease.
They could block bullets with their hands. He remembered well the time Genma had
walked into his office and placed the sub-automatic rifles on his desk. The man
had looked at him and said that they needed to start using them in the "pop
quizzes" they threw at the academy.
	Ono had been aghast at first. He had been against the idea of randomly
assaulting their students at all hours of the night and day. Ambushing them at
lunch, in the toilet, when they were asleep... it was too much. Genma had made a
persuasive argument and Redfield had been willing to listen to him. But, in the
end, the decision was Ono's. They'd both agreed to let him sleep on it.
	The next day a file of footage from the recent skirmishes with Chronos
troops in the Mexican no-man's lands had shown up on his computer. There had
been no return address and he was pretty certain the information inside was
intensely classified, much like the information on the three other academies
S.T.A.R.S. supported through the Canada-American territory. The footage had been
of the neo-zoanoids.
	That day, the first "pop quiz" with automatic weapons had been
conducted. One student had "mustered out".
	Ono squeezed his eyes shut and started taking deep breaths. He couldn't
keep thinking like that. It was just like graduation. He had to stand there and
shake the children's hands. He had to tell them they were ready. He had to be
willing to let them go. He couldn't imagine them under that flag. He couldn't
imagine them never returning.
	"You okay?" A friendly hand clapped on his shoulder.
	Ono opened his eyes and looked at Sakura. She was smiling, that same
dazzling smile that was on all the channels these days. She was wearing a black
dress, but one cut so tight and with such a brief hemline that you hardly
noticed. Her face had matured quite a bit in the last seven years. The baby-fat
had mostly faded away, giving her a sleek, sultry sort of face with smoldering
eyes and thick lips. She had grown maybe an inch, just enough so that you knew
this was now a woman. That was a fact that Sakura Yamazaki never let anyone
forget anyway, however.
	"I'm fine..." He trailed off and then repeated himself, his voice
sounding less thick this time, "It's just..."
	"I know." Sakura looked down towards the casket. Seven marines were
raising their rifles and the first loud crack went off as the coffin began to
lower into the ground. "I'll miss him, too. Terry was... he was a truly decent
man." Then she patted him on the shoulder again. "The world will miss him, Doc."
	"Yes..." Ono didn't correct her. He couldn't. She was right, after all.
This was a dark day for America. He glanced down the line of "important people"
to Mary. She was clutching the flag to her chest and just looking down into the
grave with a hollow expression. It made sense that she would get the flag. The
two of them had never married, but everyone knew how deep their relationship had
grown over the last few years. "Excuse me..." He pushed away from Sakura and
headed in her direction.
	The last echo of the rifleshots was dying out as he reached her. He
placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned to look at him. He was about to ask
her if she needed any help when it suddenly struck him that he had never learned
her last name. Oh, he was certain he had it on one of his files somewhere. Mary
had spent a great deal of time at the academy, teaching courses on espionage and
sabotage. But everyone just called her 'Blue Mary' and left it at that. The
absurdity of the thought suddenly made him want to giggle. He suppressed it
well.
	"Hey, Doc..." Mary sighed. "I... I'll be fine. It's not like..." She
sniffed. "You know. For years, he wouldn't have anything to do with me. He kept
telling me how everyone he had ever loved had died. Even when I finally caught
him, he kept insisting that he would outlive me, how he didn't want to bury a
wife..."
	"Mary, I'm sorry."
	She was about to say something when her words were cut off by a loud,
menacing growl. Half the funeral spun to face the noise. Swords and guns and
other weapons appeared in hands as if by magic. Ono himself had drawn a quintet
of acupuncture needles from his pocket. He had started carrying them around ever
since that Millennium assassin had snuck into his house three years ago. He
still had the scar.
	But the growl wasn't coming from a zoanoid, or a undead abomination or
anything monstrous. The bike was huge, a massive chrome and black-leather
machine that was half the size of a car. It gleamed in the sun as it raced up
the cemetery, plumes of black smoke erupting from its exhaust pipe. It was the
kind of machine that guzzled gas so much that they had been outlawed by the
rationing boards.
	But exceptions were made. The driver kicked down, swinging the bike to a
stop with enough force to drag a furrow in the manicured lawn. He got off
lazily, the sheathed katana on his right hip banging against the motorcycle. He
wore a red bandana and black shades. His face was thin but rugged, with a good
three days worth of blonde stubble. He wasn't slim or thick, but the muscles on
his exposed biceps rippled as he adjusted his black leather vest. On the back of
the vest, spelled out in red paint that dripped like blood, were the words
'Lone Wolf'. He walked forward, idly flipping a cigarette free from his pocket.
	"Who is it?" Mary asked. She hadn't looked up from the descending
coffin. The reactions of the other people here were mixed. Some people, the vast
minority, were giving the newcomer poorly concealed glares. Ono was among their
number, as was anybody else who had actually been forced to interact with him.
Most of the others had begun to talk in hushed whispers. The students, the
S.T.A.R.S., the officials and the few members of the press allowed to attend
all gazed at him in open eyed wonder. Ono couldn't really blame them. It wasn't
every day you saw a living legend.
	"Who else?" Ono answered acidly.
	"Shingo..." Mary said, sounding even more tired.
	"Hey, Teach," Shingo called, waving and walking over. "Sorry, I woulda
been here sooner, but I just heard."
	"No doubt..." Mary mumbled as Shingo approached.
	Shingo smiled, the cigarette clenched in his teeth flaring as he drew a
deep breath. He glanced at Ono and his smile faded slightly. "Doc."
	"Mr. Tsukino," Ono replied stiffly.
	"Heh. Still don't like me?"
	"You're a bad apple, Mr. Tsukino." Ono frowned. "I'm still trying to
unteach the lessons you keep giving my students."
	Shingo laughed and flexed a little. "Hey, Doc. Don't mess with success.
I AM the top agent of S.T.A.R.S., aren't I?" He grinned wider, and Ono couldn't
contest that so he stayed quiet. "Single-handedly saved all Manhattan from a T-
Virus bomb, defeated three neo-zoanoids in one on one combat, the only agent
every to successfully break into Monument Valley and return alive..." He trailed
off at that last part.
	Everybody's eyes turned to the casket. Shingo adjusted the collar of the
t-shirt he wore and cleared his throat. He had the good grace to look ashamed,
for once in his life. "Not that Terry was a bad agent... I mean, I idolized the
guy. I didn't mean no disrespect, Teach..."
	"None taken." Mary looked up at him. "You don't have to call me that. I
don't have anything more to teach you."
	Shingo considered this for a moment. Then he looked down. "Yeah, but you
were the only one who believed in me, Teach. I gotta respect that. Listen, I
know this is hard for you. Why don't we... ya know, get together later? At the
old bar? You know the one. We can knock back some hard shots and remember the
good times."
	"You're still underage," Mary replied evenly.
	"That ain't never stopped me before." Shingo grinned. "Who's gonna turn
down a genuine, one hundred percent hero of the Republic?" He laughed. "No
baseline has the cajones to turn us metas down."
	Ono bristled a bit, thinking of his wife. But before he could say
anything, a hand smashed into the back of Shingo's head, staggering him
slightly.
	"Hey! That hurt, you ass..." Shingo's shout died off slowly as he turned
to look at a very pissed Sakura Yamazaki. She reached up and grabbed his collar,
dragging him closer. Shingo was only a few centimeters taller than her, so it
wasn't a long trip. "Oy! Sakura! What's your problem?"
	"Don't ask me what my problem is, you lech!" She snarled. "Are you
trying to get into her PANTS? At a time like this?"
	"Why?" Shingo smiled rakishly. "Jealous?"
	Sakura's face flushed red. "NO I AM NOT JEALOUS!"
	She slugged him in the gut and all the wind blew out of his lungs as
Shingo slumped to his knees. She turned and started to stalk away, muttering,
her fists clenching and unclenching.
	"Aw, c'mon, Sakura!" Shingo got up slowly, still clutching his gut.
"Don't be that way! You know I only got eyes for you!"
	"Me and any woman impressed by your real American hero garbage!" Sakura
shouted over her shoulder. Shingo began to stagger-run after her and she picked
up her pace so she was just fast enough to stay out of his reach.
	"I'm sorry, Mary," Ono sighed. "Shingo... he means well..."
	Mary was smiling now. She shook her head. "No. Don't worry about it."
She looked around at all the people staring at the retreating spectacle of
Shingo and Sakura. "No wonder they're America's darlings. The rags must have a
field day with those two."
	Ono frowned. "Yeah." He sighed. "I just wish you had told me he had such
potential. The kids at my school... they may have it tough, but at least I teach
them discipline. If you had let me help, maybe he could have turned out
better..."
	Mary glanced at him, blinking slowly. "Doc, I wish I could have said I
saw it. But I hardly taught the boy a thing. God knows where he got so good."
	Ono frowned, then pushed that thought from his mind. He had bigger
things to worry about that the morality of one martial artist.

*

- August 17th, 1998, 19:45: Davos, Switzerland -

	It was the kind of bar that showed signs of once having been well off,
but had fallen on hard times. The counter was polished wood, something expensive
and artistic, but now it was covered in nicks and scratches despite the forlorn-
looking bartender's attempts to polish it with a greasy cloth. The booths must
originally have been very private, designed so that sound didn't carry very far.
But now many of them had been ruined by various levels of damage, probably from
bar fights.
	In one of the booths a young woman sat, calmly sipping on a beer
straight from the can. She was beautiful, with short brown hair and large blue
eyes. She wore a denim vest and a blue skirt, with long white leggings on her
shapely legs. She was sitting there, looking like any other young woman stopping
by a bar for a drink on her way back from work. Maybe she was waiting for
someone. Maybe she was looking for someone. Such things happened all the time.
	But she stood out by her very normalcy. In the next booth over, three
monsters sat. One was a huge man with green skin like an alligator's and a huge
horn on his forehead. He was leaning back, chugging four pitchers of beer at
once while the other two monsters hooted and urged him on. Further down the bar
a quintet of pale-faced young men wearing military pants and muscle shirts were
talking calmly. In their hands they carried several pouches filled with a red
liquid that was not wine. Here and there other men and women sat. Some had
animal features, the ears of a cat or bat-like wings. Some were covered in scars
and muscle, carrying enough weapons to start their own war.
	"Hey, check her out." It was one of the zoanoids speaking, a huge furry
ape-man with huge bat-like ears. He gestured over the shoulder of the big green
one at the young woman calmly drinking her beer. "Wonder who she works for?" he
asked.
	"Uh..." The other zoanoid, this one a creature covered in rippling
muscles and a face like a dog whose skin had been peeled away, scratched his
chin. "She don't smell dead."
	"Maybe she's a frog?" the huge one said blearily. It had consumed a vast
quantity of alcohol, and even its superhuman constitution was struggling to keep
up.
	"Nah." The comparatively small ape-man waved his hand. "Frogs are always
nervous, ya know? Look like they're about to explode or something. She's too
calm to be a frog."
	"American?" the skull-headed zoanoid suggested, tapping its bony jaw.
	"Maybe..." The ape-man paused. "But I don't think so. No S.T.A.R.S.
patch. And she ain't a Templar. Not if she's drinking." He paused and a wicked
smile crossed his inhuman face. "I think she's a mercenary."
	This caused all the zoanoids to straighten and smile. They began to
chuckle as they stood. The woman didn't look up as they loomed over her. She
didn't even look up when the huge green-skinned monster set his giant
hand down on the table, the weight of his body cracking the hardwood surface. It
did make her frown slightly.
	"Hey, babe, you know what the great thing about Switzerland is?" the
ape-zoanoid asked while his larger companion virtually held her in place.
	The entire bar had quieted by this point. Everyone was looking now. The
woman took a moment to answer.
	"The luxury hotels?" she responded in a bright, happy voice.
	This caused everyone to laugh. "No. What's great about this place is
that we can all be here." The zoanoid gestured around the room at all the
occupants. "A week ago, I was trying to kill half these people. Heck, that
fucking leech at the bar ripped the throat out of a good friend of mine." The
vampire in question raised his bloodbag up in acknowledgement, smiling with too
many teeth. "But here, in this country, we all act nice." He paused. "Do you
know why?"
	The woman frowned, her forehead wrinkling in an adorable fashion.
"Something in the chocolate?"
	A few more chuckles circled the room. "No..." the zoanoid responded
dryly. "Because everyone agreed this place was neutral ground. Even that crazy
Major realises he can't fight a war on seven different fronts at once. So, right
here, in a country directly between four major powers, is where they set up
neutral ground. It didn't take long for the Americans to send over some troops
too. I guess everyone needs a place to talk to each other. Even if it's just to
try and distract people while you stab them in the back."
	"Thank you for the political lesson," the woman answered dryly.
	"Hey, I ain't finished." The woman frowned again, but he continued. "You
see, the reason I'm not over there trying to tear that vampire in two is because
all the higher ups said not to. And anyone who kills someone from another
team... well, the result isn't pleasant. There are two zoalords here, and that
guy from the Dark Kingdom and a few other heavy hitters. You do something to get
out of line and they DON'T ask questions, ya see?"
	"Yes, yes. I suppose this is leading somewhere?"
	He smiled. "But that particular treaty doesn't apply to free agents."
The woman's frown deepened as the zoanoid continued. "And my friends and I... we
really want to tear someone in two, what with that pissant leech smiling at us
all night and us not able to do a thing about it."
	"Hey, asshole."
	There was a loud rustling as everyone in the bar shifted their attention
at once. The newcomer was a handsome young man, with tousled black hair done up
in a short braid at the nape of his neck. He was tall, his frame filled out
with sleek muscle, and he wore a blue jacket and a pair of black silk pants
tucked into heavy boots. His face was lean and cocky. He walked up to the green
zoanoid and placed a small human hand on its shoulder.
	"Leave the lady alone."
	"Back off, hu-" The giant's words cut off abruptly as it went flying
into the bar with enough force to shatter the wood into a cloud of splinters.
Everyone blinked. Most of them hadn't even seen the move. Those that did were
beginning to back up.
	Ranma smiled.
	"Gregole!" the dog-faced zoanoid roared, and swung at the intruder.
Ranma resisted to urge to yawn. Instead his hand came up sharply, the ball of
his thumb smashing into the Broyze's jaw with enough force that the thing's neck
snapped like a twig. He sidestepped the suddenly limp zoanoid as the momentum of
its swing carried it to the floor. The final zoanoid was backing away.
	"You... you... you're...!"
	"Ranma Saotome," he introduced himself. "And in case you haven't heard,
I'm the best there is."
	The zoanoid turned to run, but Ranma was on it in a flash. He tapped it
lightly on the back and released just enough chi that it flashed visibly as a
small white spark. The Ramotith flew through the bar, and then through the wall
out into the darkness of the street without pause. Ranma calculated that it
would probably go through the next two buildings before it stopped. It might
even survive.
	"Ranma Saotome!" one of the vampires roared, leaping to his feet. "The
Major wants him dead!"
	"Ah, he's just pissed cause I tore his arm off that one time," Ranma
quipped as he spun to face the five vampires who were leveling firearms at him
now. Ranma smirked, suppressing the anger he felt. Mentioning that had only
reminded him how CLOSE he had come. If that Huntress hadn't shown up, he could
have finished off the Major once and for all. But as it was, the guy who had
killed Ukyou was still alive. He raised his arms, deciding to take out his
frustration on these losers. "Tell you what, I'll send him some of yours. Just
to celebrate old times."
	The vampires were about to fire when five lances of golden light shot
out from behind Ranma. They were caught so flatfooted by the unexpected attack
that the beams hit them each in the heart. A moment later, there was nothing
left but floating clouds of dust. The bar began to empty as everyone took the
most convenient exit. Ranma turned, his smile dissolving.
	"Damn it, Ranma!" Minako snarled. The last traces of her magical
disguise were unraveling around her, her long blonde locks replacing the mousy
brown hair that had been there a moment before. "What did I TELL you... EIGHT
TIMES before we came here?"
	"Uh... make certain you get a room with a good view?"
	Ranma's head rocked back as Minako slapped him.
	"Don't kill anyone..." Ranma said petulantly.
	"That's right!" she hissed, placing her fists on her hips. "This was
SUPPOSED to be our vacation! Not even we can fight monsters all year long!"
	"But they were going to hurt you!" he protested.
	Her expression went as cold as ice. "Are you saying I couldn't have
handled them myself?"
	"Uh..." Ranma decided to sidestep that one. "Come on, Mina... I'll make
it up to you with one of my famous backrubs!" She glared at him a moment longer.
"And a footrub!" She continued glaring and Ranma sighed in defeat. "I'll do the
cooking for a week."
	She smiled happily and leaned in to kiss him. Ranma was smiling goofily
when she finally came up for air. "Come on, you lummox. You're going to have a
hard time cooking while we're on the run from a bunch of zoalords... again."

*

-July 6, 1999, 2:33: Above the area of Septfontaines, Luxembourg -

	"You should sit down when the helicopter is moving."
	Area ignored the well-meant advice and continued to move back and forth
in a tight circle, her mouth set in a thin, tight line.  She knew she was
pouting, but didn't care.  She'd been so close.  SO close to cracking the secret
of the T-Ashford virus.  And then came the message, delivered in person by Agito
Makashima: France's "secret friends" had a vaccine prepared to deliver.
	Area smiled slightly for a moment, thinking of Agito.  That hunk of
prime Japanese beef didn't stop by the labs often enough.  But then she went
back to frowning.  So close.  So close, and yet here she was: second again.
	It wasn't that she really didn't want a cure as soon as possible.
There'd been a major scare as a collaborator had nearly put the virus in the
Paris water supply.  And it wasn't as if Area's position and prestige were in
any real danger.  Biogenetics wasn't even her strongest subject, whereas their
"secret friends" seemed to specialise in it.
	But she couldn't find it in herself to be gracious about the whole
thing.  Damn it, she HAD been so close!  It hurt her pride as a brilliant young
gorgeous (well, okay, at least above average-looking) scientist to be outdone in
anything!
	"Area, please sit down.  I wouldn't want you to get hurt-"
	She wheeled on the owner of the good advice.  "Oh, leave me alone!  You
don't understand ANYTHING, Remy!"
	He let his mouth clamp shut, looking even more dour than usual.  One of
the Gendarmes in the helicopter, the larger one, laughed.  "Best let her be,
General."
	"Can't deal with any woman when she talks like that, General," the other
Gendarme - a shorter, wiry man with a thin moustache - said.  His eyes were
twinkling.
	Remy, head of the Gendarmerie des Chevaliers and hero of France, sighed,
crossing his arms and fiddling with one of the zippers on the arms of his
leather jacket, as he often did when he was irritated with something.  "Very
well.  Do what you will.  You always do, after all."
	Area deigned to ignore them all, continuing to move back and forth.  At
least she could use the necessity to study the new vaccine to get out of her
lecture this afternoon.  It was very prestigious and all that to be a guest
lecturer at SUPAERO, she knew, but she hated taking time away from her lab to go
try to pound knowledge into the head of a bunch of snot-nosed brats, most of
whom didn't know the first thing about aeronautics anyway.  Area had made her
first ornithopter as a science project in third grade - she just couldn't deal
with all these SLOW people.  Although, it was kind of cute when some of them
asked for autographs.
	Area turned again, facing towards the front of the craft, and so she got
just enough time to open her mouth to warn them before the missile hit. Fire
washed back from the cockpit and Area realised she was screaming but no sound
came out. The helicopter jerked, spinning abruptly to the side and jerking back,
flinging her off her feet. Her head smashed into the corner of a chair and stars
exploded across her vision. Her glasses fell. She could hear screams and shouts,
and a sharp mechanical scream as the instruments that had survived the explosion
began to let off alarms and sirens.
	The helicopter was in a spin, a part of her mind told her. She could
picture it in her mind, the large vehicle gyroscoping through the air, a long
stream of dark smoke erupting from where its cockpit should be. She had wanted
to ride up front, she recalled briefly.
	"...yourselves, the ground..."
	The voice swam out of her consciousness again and then Area felt herself
being lifted up by strong arms. She looked down and saw Remy looking at her. His
long pale blue hair floated around his head, forming a halo. He was screaming
something at her, but Area still couldn't hear him. He turned to shout over his
shoulder and there was a flash of darkness as the side of the helicopter opened
up. She saw two men jump from the falling vehicle.
	They had to be insane. There was no way they could survive a fall from
this height. Then a second later she and Remy were flying out of the same hole
and they were in open space. For a moment she floated in the buoyant air, the
vertigo of the transition almost overwhelming here.
	She heard two loud cracks, and below her two paragliders opened up. Oh.
Well, they would be safe. Then she realised that Remy was not carrying a
parachute, and neither was she. Below them the long midnight blue line of the
Eisch River was growing larger and larger.
	Area heard it before she saw it. Her head was clearing and she looked up
quickly. It was moving in almost faster than her eyes could follow. A small
dart-shaped plane, barely five meters long and with a wingspan not even twice
that across. It spun and jerked through the air with unnatural agility.
	Remy was screaming, but Area couldn't make out the words over the rush
of the air and the roar of the approaching rocket engines. Then she knew what he
was saying. He was trying to warn the Gendarmes. It wouldn't have done any good.
	Area was familiar with the design. It was the principal aerospace
superiority fighter employed by Millennium. They took the chassis of an old
World War II fighter, tore out everything except the darkly improved engine and
guns, placed a vampire inside and let it go. They were frightening, not just in
their performance either. Area knew that with a vampire pilot they could pull
turns at close to Mach 4, and hit targets with unnatural accuracy. But they were
also cheap and easy to build.
	The paragliding Gendarmes didn't stand a chance. The Komet flashed
between them like a bird of prey. Area didn't even see the thing fire. She just
saw the gliders explode into a million pieces, a fine red mist erupting across
the sky.
	Then Remy was pulling her around on top of him and they hit the water.
It was like hitting a layer of concrete. Area almost lost consciousness for the
second time. But she wasn't about to give up that easily. Her hand shot down and
tapped a control on her boots. A second later she was flashing out of the water,
landing on the shore. She waited a brief moment. The impact had jarred her loose
from Remy.
	The lean young man came out of the water a second later. His jacket had
come off partially and his thin white t-shirt clung provocatively to his
chiseled chest. His eyes had lost that sullen dullness that usually filled them.
Now they were hard, cold grey orbs like carved ice. There were soft thuds nearby
as a few more of the Gendarmes landed safely. One landed in the river, but
managed to cut himself free before the current carried his chute too far away.
In the distance, the whine of the Messerschmitt's engine was returning.
	"Four..." Remy snarled. "Out of fifteen..."
	"We have to find cover!" one of the men was screaming. "That thing is
coming back to finish us all off!"
	"Fuck that!" another cried. "We're all going to die. They were expecting
us! It's a goddamn trap!"
	"Shut up!" Remy snarled, and instantly there was silence. He rose up to
his full height, his cold grey eyes surveying the survivors. "If we don't come
back from this mission, thousands of people die. Failure is NOT an option."
	"How do we fight that thing? We don't have any anti-aircraft weapons!"
the first Gendarme replied. "They went up with the helicopter."
	"You idiot," Area said, snorting and crossing her arms. "I didn't just
design those rifles of yours for taking out vampires personally. UV lasers may
be especially effective at vapourising undead, but they're still lasers. As in
speed of light. I don't care how fast that thing is, if you can see it, it's out
of the sky."
	"But we can't see it!" he complained.
	"Give me that!" Remy snapped, grabbing the rifle from the soldier's
hand. It was one of Area's best pieces of work. A compact weapon about the size
of a hunting rifle, made out of space age polymers that reduced the weight
significantly. The power cell could charge up the UV projector and create a
sustained beam for almost thirty minutes, or more if you used short bursts and
let the battery recycle between shots. She would have liked to increase the
damage output; as it was, the beam was inferior to most conventional bullet
weapons. But Area knew for a fact that armour was not one of the Komet's strong
points.
	Remy, of course, didn't care about this. He strode out to the shore of
the river, his damp hair flowing down his back. He raised the stock of the rifle
to his shoulder and carefully lined up his shot. Area could just see the
aircraft as it began its attack run. If it had another high-yield missile, not
even Remy could survive a direct hit.
	It never got a chance.
	The actual blast of the rifle was invisible, of course. But Area had
added a visible blue 'tracer' after one too many mishaps on the battlefield.
The Messerschmitt's wing therefore seemed to shear off a fraction of a second
before the lance of light actually reached it. The plane veered sharply, pulling
into the mountains. A moment later, there was a distant explosion.
	"We can't assume that killed it," Remy pointed out, tossing the rifle
back. The soldier almost fumbled the weapon, but the panic had left his
features. Area smiled. Of course. Remy had not just been defeating an enemy. He
had been reminding these men that they were with a Gendarme. That they were
Gendarmes.
	Seven years Millennium had been trying to crush France like a bug. Seven
years of invasions, sabotage, bombings, and terror attacks. For seven years the
only thing that had stood between France and annihilation had been the
Gendarmes. Sometimes Area forgot that, working so often in the lab. Sometimes
she forgot who exactly she was making weapons for.
	A loud beeping grabbed Area's attention. She looked down at her gauntlet
and frowned.
	"I'm picking up motion nearby, but nothing on the heat sensors."
Everyone knew what that meant.
	"Get into the river," Remy ordered, gesturing sharply. Area and the
soldiers followed suit. Remy stepped down to the shore and then turned to face
the woods along the bank. It was a scant two meters between him and the
darkness. Remy looked down at her gauntlet. She wished she'd thought to bring
Cancer with her, but that weapon was a little too large for the confines of a
single helicopter. Not when she was sharing it with almost twenty men.
	The ghouls came first. The ghouls always came first. The Gendarmes
didn't even bat an eye. The thin blue lines of their rifles tore through the
undead like a thresher through grass. The woods behind the shamblers exploded,
the laser setting off a series of fires. Remy didn't move. He was holding a pair
of short grey tubes in his hands. When the light caught them just right you
could see it glint off the monofilament wire that was stretched between them.
	Then came the actual threats. The first one burst from the top of the
trees and flew out over the river. It was a twisted parody of a human form, a
corpse that had been bent and mutated until it more resembled a hunting cat than
what it once was. Except, of course, for its all-too-human face and its laughing
cry.
	One of the Gendarmes yelled and tried to hit it, but his shot went wide.
The thing was coming right down at him. Area snarled and stepped forward, the
gauntlet on her hand exploding with a corona of blue lightning. It flew from
her wrist like a cannon, catching the thing in mid-air and tossing it into the
water. But the hit had done nothing more than scorch the thing. And there were
three more coming.
	Remy leapt up to meet them. He flipped, his entire body spinning
backwards as his foot carved a crescent of blue light in the air. The attack
cleaved one of the things in two. The others were getting past him, but he
didn't pause. Even as he was recovered he snapped out his arms, releasing one of
the grey tubes. The monofilament snapped out, twirling around the neck of the
beast. Its headless corpse crashed into the center of the roaring river.
	The third landed on top of one of the Gendarmes. He had a chance to
scream before the beast's human mouth clamped down on his exposed neck. Area
could only stare for a moment as blood spurted out from between the monster's
lips. Her only coherent thought was that she needed to add some sort of collar
to the body armour.
	The other soldiers caught the thing between them with their rifles, the
beams of their lasers carving it into three smoking pieces. Remy was on the
shore, screaming and slashing his arm forward. There was a crack like thunder
and a disc of light spun from his arm, smashing into another hound that had
burst from the woods. Another followed just after and Remy charged to meet it.
	Area could only stare. She had been in a few battles. Before the world
had gone insane, she'd used her gadgets to fight a few martial artists. Heck,
she was a fighter herself. But she had never been in any battle like this.
	A roar and the sound of water erupting behind her brought her back to
her senses. She spun around, watching the hound she had knocked back rearing out
of the water less then a meter away. She threw her arm in front of herself. She
might have screamed.
	Then there was a flash of golden light. Area blinked, taking a few
moments to realise she was alive. She opened her eyes all the way, half
expecting to see Remy standing in front of her. But that wasn't Remy.
	"Hey, you must be Area, right?  Cool, take this."
	Area caught the metal case instinctively, blinking.  The woman standing
in front of her was younger than Area, maybe eighteen or so.  Using her now free
hand, the woman jerked her sword from the skull of the dead hound and rinsed it
in the water.  It was a rather nice-looking sword, not that Area paid much
attention to low-tech weapons.  It had a jeweled hilt, but otherwise the slim,
curved blade looked nicely effective.
	The woman herself wasn't French; Area thought she looked Hispanic, not
that she'd known many of those where she'd grown up in Aurora.  She had skin
sporting a healthy tan and stark white hair that fell down over one eye but was
brushed back on the other side.  The exposed side of her face sported a tattoo
of golden ink; it didn't seem to be anything in particular, though looked sort
of like a tribal symbol or stylised lightning bolt.  Her ears were pierced
multiple times, sporting studs and a dangling golden loop.  She wore a
scandalously tight pair of black jeans and a loose sleeveless t-shirt with a
tattered bottom.  She would have looked like any rebellious teenager, were it
not for the odd tattoo and the sword, which she returned to a scabbard strapped
to one thigh after rinsing it off.  She glanced at Area, and her eyes glittered
with amusement while she full lips twisted into a crooked grin.  "You all right,
there?"
	Area flushed slightly, realising she'd been staring.  "Uh, yeah.
Thanks.  And you are...?"
	Before the newcomer could answer, Area turned sharply at the sound of
more splashing, only to relax as she saw it was Remy and the rest of the team.
	"We've got to keep moving," Remy said tightly.  "This won't be the only
group in the area.  It was too well-planned an attack-" he caught up short as he
saw the newcomer.
	"Don't stress it," the woman said.  "I took care of the rest of them for
you."
	"Angel?"
	"Awww, you remembered me!" the woman said, splashing forward and
throwing her arms around Remy.  "That's so sweet, you being a big hero and all!
Here, you got some zombie gook on your jacket..."
	Area didn't like where this was going at all.  "Remy, you know her?"
	Remy now looked a bit uncomfortable.  "Well, she is actually a...
liaison of our contact."
	Angel released Remy, turning around and winking at Area.  "That's right.
We noticed the activity in the area and I came out to meet you.  Seems SOMEBODY
knew you were coming."
	Remy suddenly looked worried. "Did they know where..."
	Angel shook her head, cutting him off.  "No, there's not been any recent
vamp activity in Mersch.  Too much running water in the area for their liking.
And even when they do occasionally swing a scout through, they never notice
anything.  Don't worry, stud, we're well-hidden."
	"Wait a minute," one of the Gendarmes, the same short mustachioed one
as before, interrupted.  "You mean to say you came here all by yourself,
mademoiselle?  And dealt with... them?"  His larger companion from before, Area
noticed uncomfortably, was nowhere to be seen.  And the twinkle in his eyes was
gone.
	Angel seemed blithely unaware of the suspicious glares directed at her
from the Gendarmes. "Well, I don't like to brag, but..."
	"Angel is a special operative," Remy cut in.  "Despite her youth, I have
no doubt of her abilities... or of her word."
	The Gendarmes relaxed slightly.  Area rolled her eyes.  Remy probably
could tell them she was the Virgin Mary and they'd ask for blessings.  Sometimes
she thought she and Agito were the only ones not awe-struck by him.
	"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Remypoo," Angel purred, leaning in
too close to him for Area's liking.  "Anyway, you guys better start hiking
back."
	"We came here to get some research..."
	"She's got it," Angel jerked a thumb at Area, who suddenly remembered
the metal case. She stared at it for a moment, then clutched it tighter.  She
wanted to be back in her lab already.  The nerve of that Major Kreig and Alexia
Ashford, trying to murder her!  HER, Area, greatest scientific genius in all
France (since she moved there)?  Maybe she'd been beaten to the punch for an
actual vaccine to the T-Ashford, but just wait until they saw what she DID with
it!  They'd regret ever messing with her!
	"Anyway, Remypoo, I'd love to tag along with you guys, but I actually
gotta get back.  You're lucky you came when you did - I'm heading out later
today."
	"Oh?" Remy said, pausing as he was already turning around.  Area slogged
through the muck of the river - it wasn't fun doing this in rollerblades - to
get between him and the (obvious bad influence) woman.  "Where are you going?"
	Angel grinned and waggled her finger.  "Sorry, Remy, we're buddies with
you French and we really appreciate the use of this no man's land, but some
things are still secret.  I've got a special mission."  She stretched her arms -
a gesture that made the sodden state of her shirt more obvious - and twirled
around.  "So I'm afraid we must be parted, and no more peeks of this hot Mexican
ass for you, sweetie!"
	She patted the posterior in question, prompting a few chuckles from the
Gendarmes.  Area elbowed Remy sharply in the ribs, and he coughed slightly and
raised his eyes skyward.
	"One question, though..." Angel threw over her shoulder, grinning that
crooked grin again.  "Whatever possessed you guys to send your big hero, your
top scientist, and a bunch of you Gendarmy guys?  A lot of eggs in one risky
basket, wasn't it?"
	Remy paused a long moment before responding, but when he did, his voice
has lost what little good humour it had, lost even its frosty air of command.
It sounded tired, the same tiredness Area had only heard a few times before,
when he'd talked about his past.  "Because we're the only ones.  I couldn't
order any soldiers to go; it's suicide to take on Millennium without
fortifications.  And we couldn't let any Gendarmes outside the border without
backup; as it is, today has already been a disaster."
	"Backup?"
	"Me.  And Area.  We're the only backup there is.  I thought it was
enough."  He glanced over at the remains of the helicopter, and the crumpled
body of the dead Gendarme, bobbing gently in the waters of the Eisch.  "I was
wrong."
	Angel had turned her head forward, so Area could not see her face
anymore.  But when she spoke, she too had lost all the playfulness in her voice.
Instead, it sounded hard, and older than she looked.  "I understand.  Make it
back safe, Remy.  Good luck."

*

-July 9, 1999, 12:07: Tokyo, Japan -

	"...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-"
	"Turn that off!" Akane snapped a little peevishly. There was a soft
click as someone flipped off the television. The image collapsed into a single
line of white before vanishing altogether. She sighed and rubbed her forehead.
The chair beneath her creaked as she leaned forward and stared down at the
whorls and eddys in the grain of the wooden table.
	"Don't like great governor Purgstall's speeches?" Akira asked softly.
Akane looked up. It was hard to believe that the young woman sitting across from
her was the same girl that had left almost... seven years ago? Had it really
been that long? Akane shook her head, both to answer Akira's question and to
dismiss her own.
	"He's a monster," Akane pointed out. She reached out and grabbed the
neck of her beer bottle. The brand here was terrible, but then when you were the
most wanted fugitive in all of Chronos, you didn't ask for much.
	"He seems to be doing fine," Akira pointed out before she took a swig of
her own. "Say what you will about Chronos and how they came to power... the
trains run on time."
	"We were doing fine before they showed up," Akane felt the need to
insist.
	Akira shrugged. She had a little frown on her face. It was the frown
that had really placed her in Akane's mind. That same quietly sad little frown,
like Akira was privately very sorry that you had to notice her. But at the same
time, she projected a greater aura of... authority now. It wasn't really that
you got the impression that she was in charge. It was just that you got the
impression that she KNEW things.
	Maybe she did. It had been seven years. Akira might have matured in more
ways than one. Akane glanced idly at the worn black leather of Akira's outfit.
It was covered in dust and creases, with the front of her jacket open so the
buckles dangled. Underneath it she wore a grey muscle shirt. Akane sighed. SHE
certainly hadn't "developed" that much in the last seven years.
	When Akane looked back at Akira's face, the girl had a tiny little smile
there. Akane flushed as she remembered another little fact about Akira. But the
smile wasn't teasing or joking. Akane also remembered that smile. She could only
use one word to describe it... brave. It was a brave smile. They kind you had on
your face a few months after your father's funeral.
	"Listen..." Akane frowned and rolled her bottle along the table. It
banged up against the wrapped package in which she carried her blade and her
bokken. "Chronos are not nice people. I've been fighting a war with them for
seven years, I should know. Do you think there is a single nice thing they have
done that we haven't forced them to?" She frowned. "We'd still be importing food
if we hadn't gotten the truth out. They'd still be kidnapping potential martial
artists out of their homes if we hadn't started fighting them so hard on it that
even their papers couldn't cover up the truth anymore. They would-"
	"Akane, Akane..." Akira held up her hand. "I wasn't being serious." She
frowned. "I've had a few run-ins with Chronos."
	"Really?" Akane looked up at her. "Where? I haven't heard much about you
these last few years. I guess you keep a low profile... unlike Ranma. What's
been happening with you?"
	"I'd... rather not talk about it." Akira lifted the half-empty bottle
and downed it in one gulp. Her hair was longer, Akane noted. It fell down to her
shoulders now, but was still in the same bob-cut.
	"So... is that why you came back?" Seeing Akira looked confused. "Have
you finally decided to give up?"
	Akira stared at Akane for a long moment. "No. I'll never give up." The
words weren't said with any special conviction or resignation. She said them
with the same tone of voice you would tell someone that the sky was blue or that
the earth rotated around the sun.
	"Akira... Ukyou's dead." Akane let go of her bottle and looked the young
woman right in the eyes. "I talked to Ranma. I'm certain you have too. He told
me what happened. Ukyou ran off on a suicide mission against Millennium and she
never came back."
	"She isn't dead."
	"Then why haven't we heard anything about her?" Akane crossed her arms
and Akira looked away. "Ukyou wasn't the kind of person who vanished into the
background. Wherever she went... things happened. She was like a hurricane. She
swept into a place and when she was gone, nothing was ever the same again. Ukyou
wouldn't have been laying low for seven years. She'd have DONE something by
now." Akane tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She was pretty
certain she succeeded.
	"I know..." Akira frowned again. "I know this is selfish and foolish and
that..." She sighed. "I know that I could be doing more with my life. I know I
could help you make a difference. I could follow Ranma, maybe. I could even join
the French or the Americans and fight for something important..." Akira met
Akane's gaze again. "But I won't give up. It's just... not in my nature, I
guess. I don't surrender."
	Akira stood up, the sound of her chair scraping on the floor. "I'm
sorry I brought up bad memories, Akane. I shouldn't have come..."
	"Nonsense!" Akane slapped her hand on the table. "What happened between
me and Ukyou is ancient history. What's happened since then can't be changed. At
least let me contact Daigo. He'd be overjoyed to see you. I think he and the
boys are somewhere in Okinawa..." Akane frowned. It was times like this she
hated the cell structure they had been forced to adopt.
	"Don't worry about it." Akira smiled her brave little smile again. "Just
tell him I said 'hi' next time you see him. You probably have important work to
do."
	Akane frowned as Akira turned to leave. Finally she let out an explosive
breath and reached into her pocket. "Akira, before you go..."
	Akira paused and looked over her shoulder. Akane flung the white
envelope at her so fast it blurred in the air. With the speed and power Akane
had put behind it, it could have flown straight through a tree without pausing.
Akira caught it between two fingers without even changing positions. She looked
at the envelope.
	"Nabiki dropped it off to me a few days ago. Said I should give it to
'an old friend' if I saw one soon."
	Akira chuckled wryly. "Your sister likes playing cryptic, doesn't she?"
Akira shook her head. "Do you know how many times I've walked into a hostel
somewhere with a note like this waiting for me? Telling me about some dangerous
Chronos experiment or some Millennium-inspired doomsday cult or demons haunting
a local village or..." Akira trailed off slowly. "I don't think I've ever even
met her face to face."
	"Well?" Akane stood up, leaning over the table with her palms on the
wood.
	"Well what?" Akira blinked.
	"What does it say?"
	Akira blinked again, then tore it open and read the short note inside.
Her brow furrowed and she tossed the note to Akane before leaving again. Akane
also caught it with two fingers. She looked it over.
	'In payment for services rendered:
	Please contact a man by the name of Zoicite. He doesn't have the answers
you seek, but he knows who does.
	We're even,
	Nabiki.'
	"Zoicite?" Akane muttered, but the door was swinging closed.

		To Be Continued...



Author's Notes:

Epsilon: The alternate title for this chapter is "Blade and Epsilon's A Series
of Unconnected Vignettes."

Blade: (too busy editing character guides to pay attention)

Epsilon: The really sad thing is that no one even reads the Character Guides.

Blade: What?

Epsilon: Nothing. But aside from that, the reason Blade is so busy at the last
minute is because... uh, this chapter and last chapter were LONG! 330 and 290
kilobytes respectively. This chapter is fifty two THOUSAND words LONG!

Blade: Yeah. Meaning these two chapters took up about as much time to write as
three regular chapters.

Epsilon: Which partially explains why the six chapter buffer I had insisted on
before we started releasing this fanfic has shrunk to... to... (sob softly)

Blade: Zero.

Epsilon: I was SO CLOSE! Just ONE SCENE! One FIGHT SCENE away from having
Chapter 22 finished!

Blade: (patpat)

Epsilon: I am inconsolable! I am disconsolate! I am desolate! I am crestfallen!
I am... (consults thesaurus.com)... I am funereal!

Blade: Riiight. Anyway. What this means for you, the reader, is that unless
Aaron can finish chapter 22 AND chapter 23 by the end of March we might have to
skip a month. Now granted, he wrote something like 150k in a week and a half but
then his brain melted down and he had to take a break.

Epsilon: Yes. (sigh) But there is good news! Since next month is April the 1st
anyway we decided to release a neat special surprise on that day, regardless of
whether or not there will be an actual update of the fanfic.

Blade: Yes. It involves Epsilon drawing over one hundred pictures. But other
than that, we will not say more.

Epsilon: So... tune in next month for what might be another chapter, plus a
special treat regardless!

Blade: And on that note...


*

	"My name's Angel, what's yours?"
	"Akira."


			Hybrid Theory Chapter 22: Forgotten