Indeed....nice.

We'll be seeing some action soon. That's what I really enjoy writing.

Another long one.

~ Chapter 3 ~ Scene 3 ~

Isei explored Roppongi for the better part of the day and he now had a working map of the area in his head. The young man left his senses open and alert, soaking up information about this new world like a sponge. In this way, Isei heard some very interesting things over the course of the afternoon.

For example, he found a certain amount of discontent with the government, which was currently undergoing a momentous transition. Government, something that always manages to become increasingly convoluted and inefficient given time and population growth, was definitely the most popular topic for conversation over the exchange of goods and services. A close second was some scandal about a popular singing girl who had appeared in a pornographic magazine. When the virile young warrior realized a ?magazine' was a collection of images of naked women, he became a bit more interested in current events than he might ordinarily be. But back to the subject at hand, it didn't surprise Isei in the slightest to find out the new ruling body was made up of Sailor Senshi. Some things never change, he thought sardonically.

The sun was setting when the gray-haired man decided it was time for a drink. He sniffed out the nearest scent trail of alcohol and navigated the orange-tinted streets like a native. The amount of foot traffic didn't change significantly as the work day ended and the nightlife began, but he was amused to see the streetlights flickering on across the city. Isei himself could spot a prey item at fifty yards on a cloudy night. But it seemed humans, despite their round-the-clock activities, had rather pitiful night vision. These musings aside, the man's long stride eventually carried him to a bar which declared itself "Kanpai" in scrawling yellow letters.

The bar's interior had a spartan appearance: utilitarian tables and chairs, small booths sectioned off with simple latices, and a long wood-top bar taking up one full wall. Despite the lack of furnishings, Kanpai apparently made good business. Perhaps patrons were drawn by the in-house band who played behind a wire mesh fence. But judging by the way the shaggy-haired front men mangled his guitar, Isei doubted it.

As Isei walked in, the bartender was in the middle of a conversation with the bar's bouncer. <That's why I love this place. The music sucks and the beer is watered down,> the burly American confided to his equally muscular friend, <but the slant-eyes flock here to get a taste of ?gen-yew-ine' American style.>

Isei didn't understand the derogatory remarks that passed between the two foreigners, but he was also the only patron with good enough hearing to pick out their conversation over the din of the band as they played an off-key rendition of ?Achy Breaky Heart'.

<Here comes another sucker,> the dark-skinned bouncer muttered as Isei approached.

The bartender forced a smile that seemed to show all his teeth, minus two bicuspids, and spoke in horribly accented Japanese. "What can I do ya for?"

Isei took a seat at the bar, purposely avoiding the bouncer's challenging sneer. He would have preferred to wipe that ugly expression of the black man's face, but he recalled Itchy's warning about starting trouble, and quelled his urges. "Mead," the gray-haired youth replied through gritted teeth.

The bartender's smile flattered. "I don't think we got none o' that, boy. Care for something else?"

"Then just give me the strongest stuff you've got."

"Ah! That would be good ol' Russian vodka!" The bartender took out a tall bottle of somewhat colorless spirits and poured a shot glass' worth. A bit of it splashed over the side and steamed as it hit the counter. "This'll sure put a fire in yer belly," the American said with a wink and a nod.

Isei downed it without batting an eye. "Leave the bottle," he instructed.

The bartender hesitated only a moment, but didn't argue because he knew how expensive the vodka was, so he was set to earn a tidy sum from this young man. Since the gray-haired youth remained quiet in his seat, the bouncer decided to move off into the crowd to hit on some of the younger woman while his boss attempted to look busy washing glasses. Two songs later, the crowd had doubled and the bottle of vodka was empty. The young man was feeling a bit disappointed by Earth's alcohol and stepped down from his stool to leave.

Isei had barely taken one step when he felt the bartender's hand on his shoulder. "Aren't you forgetting something, boy?" he asked with mock cordiality. The fingers on his other hand rubbed together in the universal sign for money.

"I don't pay for swill," the younger man answered. Unbeknownst to Isei, he was about the utter the single most clich? line in action movies: "And if you want to keep that hand, I suggest you remove it."

The bartender's grin slid off his face and his features set into a stoney grimace. Before he could respond, the bouncer strutted forward with that damn sneer on his face again.

"Is there a problem here, boss?" asked the black man.

"Yes, there is. This bum doesn't want to pay his tab."

The two Americans were speaking loudly and clearly, as if wanting to attract attention. It worked, because a number of patrons ceased their drinking and chatting to see what would come next, like drivers on the road slowing down to watch an accident instead of stopping to help. The bartender obviously wanted to make an example of Isei, but tonight, he happened to pick the wrong target.

As the bouncer reached for Isei's jacket, the bartender's grip tightened on the young man's shoulder. With practiced ease, the gray-haired warrior snaked his arm around the bartender's in a simple joint lock. Isei's other hand snatched the bouncer's wrist and twisted his arm around his back, then pinned the black man to the bar. Both men swore and struggled to escape the young man's grasp, to no avail.

Desperate, the bartender's free arm windmilled behind him until it came to rest on the wooden stock of a hidden shotgun. Pre-loaded, all he had to do was level it at the troublesome patron's head. Isei didn't recognize the weapon, but he didn't wait to find out how it worked. With a sharp snap of his arm, Isei shattered the bartender's elbow, causing the man's aim to go astray. The shotgun went off into the ceiling, eliciting screams from the other patrons, many of whom immediately bolted out the door or into restrooms. Releasing the bouncer, Isei grabbed the bartender by the hair and slammed his face into the sturdy bar top. Blood and splinters sprayed into the air.

The dusky-skinned bouncer stepped back and massaged his shoulder. He knew he wouldn't be able to get to the shotgun where it had fallen behind the bar. "Oh, it's on now, bitch!" the man barked, trying to bolster his wounded bravado.

Unloading a flurry of punches that would make any boxer envious, the bouncer tried his damnedest to land a blow on the gray-haired man. It all looked like slow-motion to Isei, who dodged easily. His own fist lanced out with a lightning fast jab that flattened the bouncer's already squashed nose. The black man reeled back and clutched the bloody mess in the middle of his face, but anger and pride kept him from backing down.

"How ?bout this!!" he yelled, feigning a punch. The actual attack came in the form of a kick to the groin.

The young warrior sighed. Sure, it hurt, but he had endured far worse in the past. This was like getting poked in the eye: It was more annoying than painful. "A big target like that and you still can't do any damage?" Isei reprimanded. "You're not even worth my time."

Isei clenched his fist and swung a blow right into the bouncer's solar plexus. The black man's breath came out in a great big WHOOSH, but that was the least of his worries. A string of sickening crunches indicated the man's ribcage had been shattered by the punch's sheer force and Isei was sure there would be some organ damage too. Internal bleeding is a painful way to die, he thought, as the bouncer collapsed at his feet.

"Lookee here, fellas," came a new voice. Isei turned to watch as several sunglasses-wearing thugs piled out of the private booths. They were yakuza, though Isei didn't know that, and the leader was carrying a large jug of sake. "This is the kinda nonsense the boss wants us to stamp out," he explained casually to his followers. He drew a hidden tanto out of his jacket, then drank a mouthful of sake right from the jug and spit it on the blade. Droplets of rice wine arched in the air as the leader twirled the sharp weapon, obviously accustomed to knife fighting.

Isei's grin was genuine and he faced the yakuza with confidence. The look in his golden eyes made a couple of the younger thugs take a step back. "Good. I was afraid the fun had ended just when I was getting warmed up."

The leader was unimpressed by the gray-haired man's cocksure attitude and charged forward with his long knife aimed for Isei's belly. The warrior easily led point off-target with a forearm block and a palm strike to the forehead snapped the yakuza's neck. He quickly stepped aside, allowing the leader's momentum to carry him into the bar, where he then fell, unmoving.

That's about when all hell broke loose. The yakuza thugs swarmed over Isei like a pack of rabid hounds, but even they were no match for a full-grown wolf. Those few patrons who had remained now stampeded out all available exits, save the handful who were so drunk and rowdy as to want a piece of the action. Isei broke a man's chin with his elbow, then picked him up and threw him into his comrades. More than a few tried to swipe at the gray-haired warrior with knives, but these he would turn back against them, spilling yakuza blood on the plain wooden floor. The air was filled with the sounds of splintering furniture, breaking bone, and screaming men. This was a straight-up brawl, completely lacking any of that Hollywood grace and chop-socky martial arts nonsense.

Only the house band decided to watch the carnage, feeling brave behind their wire barrier, but that changed when Isei planted his foot in one thug's chest and sent him sailing into the fence. The shaggy-haired frontman fell to his ass and crab-walked his way backstage, soon followed by his terrified bandmates.

When all was said and done, nearly a score of men were laid out on the red-stained floor, groaning in pain or--if they were unlucky--silent. Isei himself had taken a couple lucky hits and his jacket was shredded by some close calls, but he was otherwise none the worse for wear. Actually, the young warrior was feeling quite chipper. His final days during the Silver Millennium were spent in a cold sort of numbness, a feeling that stayed with him through his imprisonment, so he'd almost forgotten the adrenaline rush of delivering a sound ass-whupping.

Perched on the bar, which was now broken in the middle, Isei took a swig from the lead yakuza's sake jug. "Not bad," he commented to the unresponsive room. There was no one left conscious enough to form a proper response. But most of them would live. Probably.

If anyone had thought to call the police, the authorities sure were taking their sweet ass time. Apparently, "bar brawl" didn't rank high on the To Do list of the local police station. As such, Isei left the bar uncontested. The night was young and he was just starting to hit his stride.

Isei's clan had an old saying: It wasn't a good night until you've had a good drink, a good fight, and a good woman. That meant there was only one thing left to do.

~~~~~

Hooray for random violence!

Good one. I think that Isei's attitude explains quite a bit about why he was locked up by Serenity and crew. hehe. Man like that'll cause a lot o' trouble. Oh well, what fic is any good without a little Yakuza bashing?

The only editorial comment I have is that it would've been nice to see a little more detail in the fighting, but what you did is fine. That's really only a personal preference.



I look forward to the next installment.

Good, I'm glad that came through.


I'll keep that in mind, but I'd like to mention that I'm trying something different. I started out writing DBZ fanfiction and barely an episode passed when there wasn't some big, over-the-top brawl. I like to think I did a pretty good job of writing the action, but they all had the same rhythm and flow.

With this story, I want the writing to project the mood. This fight is just a casual trouncing for Isei, so there's plenty of humor and I didn't get too explicit. As the fighting gets more serious, expect to see shorter sentences, more brutal details, and an overall tenser atmosphere. I hope. ^_^```

No, it came through pretty clearly, actually. Don't get me wrong, I liked it a lot, but I'm just giving another point of view. Right now I'm only about a chapter or three away from writing an incredibly long string of action sequences, so I've been pretty sensitive to them, and been trying to take into account different ways of representing them.

Gotta love city wide riots....

I think this is my best scene yet; another long one.

~ Chapter 3 ~ Scene 4 ~

In a sub-basement of the Tenou Condominium, Haruka Ten'ou (no relation) was busy tuning up her race car. For a more or less standard stock car, it was her pride and joy. Driver skill always counted for something on the track, but it was this excellent vehicle that had carried her to a number of amateur championship competitions, trophies for which lined a wall in her apartment upstairs. She was one of the few Senshi with a modicum of fame in her civilian persona, at least among the racing community. And just as it so happened, Senshi business is what had kept her off the track for a while, but Haruka always found time to dote on her precious automobiles, including a motorcycle and her street car, a cherry red Ferrari 512M.

Haruka had taken the stock car out for a test drive today and noticed the handling was a little wonky, so she decided to spend her day in the garage. It was dirty work, but that certainly never bothered her, and that was probably why she was so liked by the pit crews. Many professional drivers considered themselves above the manual labor involved in maintaining a race car and this tomboy promised herself she would never be that arrogant. Satisfied that the necessary adjustments had been made, Haruka wiped her greasy hands off on her overalls and packed up her tools.

"Have you been cooped up in here all day?" asked a cultured voice from the entrance of the garage.

The Senshi of Uranus smiled, but didn't turn around at first. "Are you jealous that I'm spending so much time with my car?" the tall woman countered. She carefully closed the hood. Some of the macho mechanics liked to slam it down with an impressive THUNK, but Haruka knew that only put extra stress on the lock and hinges.

"You wish," replied Michiru Kaiou, a.k.a. Sailor Neptune. "If I didn't know better, I would think you purposely irritate me just because you enjoy the make up sex."

"Hi, honey. How as your day?" Haruka inquired facetiously. She turned and sat on the car, taking note of Michiru's short black skirt and elegant silk blouse. Its color matched the hue of her aquamarine hair and had a rather provocative neckline. Complimenting the ensemble were black stiletto shoes, silver stud earrings, and watermelon-red lipstick. Haruka whistled appreciatively. "My, my! Don't you look delicious."

Michiru did a little pirouette, moving with preeminent grace. Haruka got the urge to leap forward and do something lewd, but she held it in check. "Why, thank you, dear," the shorter woman answered with a giggle. She never let it go to her head, but Michiru always liked to be complimented.

"Did you have a concert today?" Haruka asked, pointing at the violin case in her lover's hand. They usually ran pretty late into the night, so it was a surprise to see the dedicated musician come home so early.

"No, the next one isn't for a while yet. Today was just a standard dress rehearsal," Michiru answered. "But the conductor had to call in sick, so we practiced a couple pieces on our own, then decided to call it a day."

"It's nice to get a break once in a while," the taller woman responded.

While they chatted, Michiru closed the distance from the door to the car and she now stood a scant foot from her lover. Haruka smiled and slid off the hood of the car, then reached to put her arms around the aqua-haired woman, but Michiru slapped her hands away.

"Don't you dare," she chided playfully. "You're absolutely filthy and I won't let you ruin these nice clothes."

"Then I guess you better take them off."

"Fresh," the shorter woman said with a coy little smile.

Haruka stuck out her tongue. "Spoilsport. Being dirty is half the fun."

Still smiling, Michiru raised one dainty hand and ran it through Haruka's boyishly cut honey-blond hair. She pulled the taller woman's face down to meet her own and the two shared a slow, passionate kiss. Judging by the distinct flavor Haruka picked up, it seemed her lover's lipstick was flavored. Again she tried for an embrace and again the shorter Senshi fender her off, breaking the lip-lock by taking a step back.

"I said: no," she repeated with what was now a smug turn of her mouth. Michiru knew what she was doing to the other woman and she also knew the amount of teasing was directly proportional to the eventually intimate encounter. "I know you can't keep your hands off me, but try to restrain yourself until later. Besides, I don't think there's enough room in the backseat of your car."

"Oh, I think you'd be surprised how spacious it is," said Haruka as she crossed the room to clean up at the stainless steel mechanic's sink. "Whether or not it would be comfortable with all that roll cage tubbing is another matter entirely," she added as an aside.

Haruka unzipped her overalls and tolled it down to her waist, wearing only a red tanktop underneath. From behind, Michiru enjoyed the view of her lover's long, supple frame. "Hotaru will be coming home soon," the aqua-haired Senshi began, "and I want to get started on dinner."

"Oooohhh no," the honey-blond Senshi moaned under her breath, cringing at the memory of Michiru's last horrendously cooked meal. If the annoyed ?tsk' was any indication, the shorter woman heard her comment.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Michiru snapped. "I guess my cooking just isn't good enough for little miss race car driver." She spun on her heel and strode from the garage with Haruka jogging after her, hurriedly drying her hands on a clean towel.

"Come on now, honey. I, uh, didn't quite say that," the taller woman replied, trying to be diplomatic. Michiru was walking rather quickly to the elevator, but Haruka had a longer stride and she caught up easily. "It's just that, well, I want you to take it easy tonight. This is one of the nights when Setsuna comes over for dinner and with all four of us here, I wanted to try out a new recipe I got from Makoto."

"And what would that be?" Michiru said, jamming the ?up' button for the elevator.

"It's called a ?menage a quatre'," the Senshi of Uranus responded in a husky murmur.

Sailor Neptune turned around as the brass-finish doors opened. "You big pervert!" she berated. That's what she said, but Michiru couldn't help but crack a smile.

With Haruka leaning forward and Michiru backing away, the two entered the elevator. "I thought you liked French food?" the taller woman wondered.

"Well...go on," said her partner. She was trying--and failing--to maintain an air of disinterest.

Haruka bowed her head and kissed Michiru along her neck in the way she knew her lover liked. "Let me tell you about the ingredients..."

The two Outer Senshi had plenty of time to discuss the evening meal. Michiru moved in with Haruka after the Great Darkness. The condo they now shared was on the top floor of the building, all the better to sneak away as Senshi and leap off the roof. Also, the elevator was tourist- and romantic-friendly, with a glass outer wall and a slow pace that provided an excellent view of the Tokyo skyline. The sun had just set and the orange tint of dusk still clung to office windows and metal signs, but the sky itself was a gorgeous spread of blue-black velvet, dotted with twinkling starlight.

When they reached their destination, the two women tumbled out of the elevator, spooking an elderly gentleman who lived in the only other penthouse suite. He was a good-natured fellow amused by their lesbian antics and bade them a pleasant evening as he left for his own night on the town. Their urges satisfied, however temporarily, Haruka and Michiru walked to their apartment door. The taller woman took out her keys from the overalls' pouch and unlocked #1127 with a soft click. Just as it opened, she recognized the distant voice of Sailor Pluto.

"Oh, I didn't know Setsuna was here already." Haruka raised her voice to greet the elder Senshi, but Michiru silenced her a finger on the taller woman's lips.

"Do you hear that?" Michiru asked in a whisper.

Haruka shrugged and removed her lover's hand. "Hear what?" she replied in kind.

"A man's voice. Did you or Setsuna invite anyone else?"

"Not me, and she would have said something sooner. You know how Setsuna hates brining things up last minute." Haruka strained her ears and now she heard the second voice as well. The conversation sounded calm, but neither woman could make out what exactly was being said from the front door.

The two crept down the hall towards the living rom and the voices grew more distinct. "Is that all?" the man was asking. "Is there anything else you can tell me that might be important?"

"Ah...well," Setsuna began. The pair of sneaking Senshi didn't get to hear what would have come next because Michiru stopped so suddenly that Haruka bumped into her from behind and both women stumbled through the entrance of the living room. Setsuna's head snapped up in surprise. Her face was unusually drawn and there were dark circles under her eyes.

"Hi there, Setsuna," Michiru greeted, recovering much more smoothly than her lover. "Who's your guest?"

The man was sitting in a chair with his back to the door, having never reacted to their bumbling entrance. "Good evening, ladies," he said urbanely. Before any other questions could be posed, the man leaned forward in his seat and pressed something small into Sailor Pluto's palm. "Why don't you get some rest? Take these if you want. They'll give you a full eight hours sleep and keep away the nightmares."

Setsuna looked at him sharply, brow furrowed.

The man raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Just a lucky guess," he explained. "I promise I wasn't peeking into your head."

The haggard woman mumbled her thanks, then raised her voice for the benefit of the other Outer Senshi. "May I use your guest room tonight?" Setsuna asked. "I'm sorry, but I don't have much of an appetite and I really am quite tired."

"Go right ahead," Michiru answered. Haruka nodded in agreement.

"Thank you," the elder woman said. Addressing the seated man as well, "Good night, then." Setsuna made her exit, walking past her curious hosts and into the hall.

"And you are?" asked Haruka. She casually circled around the room to cover the only other door out, just in case.

The man stood, smiling calmly. He pulled a business card out of the breast pocket of his white lab coat. Michiru strode forward to take it, but as she reached out, a hologram was projected from its surface, showing the monogram ?O.W.' They only knew a handful of people who could make that happen.

"You're from the Omega Web," Sailor Neptune said by way of confirmation.

"Indeed. My name is William. Dave put me in charge while he's off dimension hopping with Strike Fiss."

"I thought you guys were big on non-intervention? Or is this just a social call?" Sailor Uranus questioned.

"That's our standard operating procedure, yes, but we do what we must if the situation calls for it. Unfortunately, I'm here for a very serious reason tonight and there were some things I needed to ask of Sailor Pluto."

"Don't tell me we have to save the world again, already?" complained the tall Senshi. "I was hoping we'd have a longer dry spell this time."

"Let's just say that this isn't something you'd want to ignore. First let me ask you, did either of you hear or see anything out of the ordinary two nights ago?"

"That was the night of the full moon, right? I can't say I remember anything peculiar. But then again, by eight o'clock, Michiru and I were in bed--oof!"

"Sleeping," the aqua-haired woman finished, having crossed the room to jab her lover in the ribs. "We were sleeping."

William scratched his nose to cover an amused smirk. "Right. Well then, let me bring you up to speed. Two nights ago at the Web, we detected a strange energy signature on the Moon and tracked it as it approached Earth. But we lost the signal right before it entered Tokyo." Haruka smacked her forehead and Michiru didn't look much happier. "My thoughts exactly. We don't know who--or what--it is and any attempts of relocating it have proved futile. Short of scouring the city with Omega Webbers, we had pretty much run out of options."

"Don't you guys have that Point Calculator thingy for situations like this?" the honey-blond woman demanded.

"That's also part of the problem. This new visitor is a completely unknown factor and we need SOME kind of data to input before we can make any accurate calculations. We don't know anything about this ourselves and there are no records of it in the old Moon Kingdom's computer."

"Which is why you came to ask Setsuna," finished Michiru.

"Exactly. As the Guardian of Time, Sailor Pluto actually predates the Omega Web. I thought she might know something we don't."

"Did you get what you came for?" Haruka inquired.

William sat back down and sighed. "Not as much as I would have preferred, but she definitely gave me some useful information. Let me give you the abbreviated version: Mister Mysterious is a man who goes by the name Isei of Ro'ou. He's a criminal from the Silver Millennium who was imprisoned magically for the crime of wiping out an entire planet."

Michiru looked unruffled, but the arch of her eyebrows betrayed her alarm. "Wait just one moment. My memories of the Silver Millennium are quite clear and I don't remember anything of the sort."

"No, you wouldn't. Sailor Pluto said this all happened before any of your generation of Senshi were born," the Omega Webber explained. "A trial was held with a council of every planetary ruler in the solar system. Isei refused to say anything in his own defense and he received a near-unanimous conviction. But instead of executing him outright, Queen Serenity used the power of the Silver Crystal to seal Isei in a magic tomb. Pluto doesn't know for sure, but she thinks the spell just wore off, given the thousand or so years it was cut off from the Silver Crystal during the Great Darkness."

Haruka perched on the back of a couch with a sour expression on her face. "I just know this is going to get ugly. Does this Isei guy have any kind of powers that we should look out for?"

"None that Pluto mentioned," William replied, "but I got the distinct impression from what she said that this Isei isn't entirely human. Whatever it is, he managed to annihilate an entire planet." The man raised one fist, then opened it in an exploding gesture, mouthing the word ?boom'. "You might want to get the word out to the other Senshi."

Michiru nodded. "We'll let them know first thing in the morning." She paused. "I don't suppose you'd like to stay for dinner? We'd normally be preparing a meal for four tonight."

"Thank you, but no. I just recently ate one of our Omega Web super snacks that's supposed to provide a week's worth of nutrition. It tastes like dirt, but that's modern technology for you," he said with a chuckle. "Good night, ladies. I'll show myself out." William disappeared in the trademark shower of golden light.

For a time, neither woman said anything and the condo was silent. "I think I hear Hotaru at the door," Haruka noted. "Should I go tell her now?"

"No, I'll do it," said Michiru. "You have cooking duty tonight and I could use a good meal right about now."

Further down the hall, towards the bedrooms, Setsuna had been listening in on the conversation. William told her teammates the general gist of what she revealed, but there were still more details that Sailor Pluto had left out of her own testimonial. Now that the conversation was over, the emerald-haired woman entered the condo's guest rom and quietly closed the door behind her.

It was furnished rather nicely and even had one of Michiru's own paintings, a pastoral scene that Setsuna suspected was from the younger Senshi's old home on Neptune. Despite the comforts and luxuries, the Senshi of Pluto didn't expect to be getting much sleep tonight. She set aside the pills that William gave her and slowly undressed for bed, absorbed in her thoughts.

Setsuna couldn't afford to hide from the dreams that had plagued her since Isei's return. She felt herself losing focus and the dreams were a window into her own past, which had become cloudy over time. They were memories of that harrowing time, long blocked out to spare herself the emotional pain. Setsuna saw herself as a young girl, she saw old friends, she saw past enemies, and she saw Isei. Those days weren't always easy, but life as a Senshi never was, especially for someone new to the job. What concerned her the most was a lingering mystery from those early years.

At the trial, Isei didn't defend himself. Why? He was an outspoken man with a strong personal code. Certainly, he wasn't the kindest or most compassionate person Setsuna had ever met. But he would never take the fall for a crime he didn't commit. Was his silence an admission of guilt? Was Isei capable of slaughtering a world of innocents? His own clan? His own sister? No, Sailor Pluto decided. There was a piece of the puzzle missing and she needed to face the nightmares in order to find it.

Curling up under the sheets, Setsuna clutched her pillow like a child with a security blanket. In her dreams, she was crying.

Hmm, interesting. The plot thickens!

I thought that the Haruka/Michiru scene was handled pretty well. I also like the fact that you made their apartments resonate with the character's personalities. The painting and the references were a nice, subtle, and effective touch.

Good work, and keep 'er comin'!

Hayuck.

(spits chewing tobbaco into his empty coffee can)

<looks around> Is there more? Huhuhuhuhuhuhuh? Is there?

Ah, so someone does care.

I'll be writing more eventually. But a lot of things kind of got me off track. Like playing Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. And reading Halo books. And working on my sprite comic. And helping my mom move. And my new weekend job. And trying to tolerate my dad's War on Pigeons.

So yeah, I've got a lot of distractions. But that means I have more time to plan in my head, so ultimately, the story should come out better. Sorry for taking so facking long about it.

Ever wish you had a machine that could read your thoughts instead of having to type things out? Gosh, I could get so writing done. </wishful thinking>

I hear that. Boy, do I ever hear that.

Hell with making it do the writing.. have it make them into movies... the characters will look just how you picture them in your ideas... the voices sound just like you imagine... the scenes flow right... cameras right where you want them.. just have it read your mind and make the movie....

<looks around; sees nothing has changed>

Soooo...is there more? Huhuhuhuhuhuhuh? Is there? Isthereisthereisthere?

^_^

Sorry it's taking so long to write more, but ANi20XX is taking up a lot of my attention right now. I keep falling behind with the sprites and making new comics.

Unfortunately, writing is something I have to be in the mood to do and I've just been too depressed lately. Seems like every little thing is coming back to bite me on the ass. It's a real battle between a lack of opportunity and a lack of confidence.

Sorry to hear things haven't been going that well on the writing and fronts. Hope you feel better, and good luck with everything. What you've come out with here kicks ass - don't let it stop now!

It's a miracle!


~ Chapter 3 ~ Scene 5 ~

The time was exactly twelve minutes before four o'clock A.M. when the private elevator to the Deluxe Executive Suite of the Grand Hyatt Tokyo opened and six black-suited men stepped inside. At first glance, they might appear to be nothing more than commonplace businessmen. Some young, some old, all with a clean-cut hairstyle and dressed in the conservative fashion of the modern board room.

But upon closer inspection, certain other details betrayed something deeper. A scar here, a burn there. The hint of a tattoo under a sleeve or collar. The tell-tale bulge of a concealed weapon. These men were another sort of executive, respectable by day and secretive by night, dealing in affairs that no law-abiding citizen should. Though a relatively small and young organization in this subversive culture, they have a reputation for ruthlessness and brutality. These are the captains of the Roppongi Yakuza, the Akashoku.

At the head of the pack was a stocky man with a pouchy face and bloodshot eyes that surveyed the executive suite with the look of a bored monarch. Ieyasu Kato was a busy man by anyone's standards, acting as CEO to the Kato Civil Development Corporation and as head of the Akashoku, both of which were founded by his father. Though he had a strong work ethic, Ieyasu was by no means a personable individual.

"What do you think, father?" asked a scrawny man that hovered around the boss. "I'm quite proud of this particular project and I guarantee its future success." Iwao Kato was the Oyabun's only son, despite the elder man's many mistresses. A sniveling youth who developed a clingyness to power in his formative years, Iwao somehow managed to accumulate a good r?sum?, but nevertheless could not win the approval of his stern patriarch.

Ieyasu snorted by way of response and continued to ignore his offspring.

"I wanna know who the fuck called an emergency meeting this late at night?" grumbled a foul-mouthed captain at the back of the group. He rubbed one black-rimmed eye, flashing a gold Rolex. "We can't all run fucking night clubs. I need my goddamn sleep."

Another fellow, an attractive politician with impeccable fashion sense, yawned his assent. "This will absolutely ruin my complexion. I have a photo op tomorrow, babies to kiss and whatnot. I think somebody is going to get fired tonight," he said with an air of nonchalance. The complainer shuddered. Despite appearances, the image-obsessed politico was the most bloodthirsty of them all, perhaps not surprisingly.

"It sure wasn't me!" squeaked a pudgy lawyer with Coke bottle glasses. He alone among the Akashoku was not a gangster by choice, but he got results and was already in too deep to leave.

Such was the chatter among the captains, all of whom were perplexed by this late night rendezvous. Solitary in his quietness was Nara the Snake, whose intimidating looks and venomous demeanor tended to ward off any attempts at conversation. His narrow eyes were hidden behind a pair of reflective sunglasses, but they were surely scanning the room--and his cohorts--in search of betrayal. The distressing and suspicious interruption of his normally productive enterprises had made him wary to the point of paranoia. Nara's movements were as lithe and sinuous as his namesake, and he would have been totally silent if not for the occasional clink of metal beneath his suit. There could be no doubt that the Snake's fangs were sharpened for battle.

"Quiet, all of you," commanded Ieyasu. His voice was low and raspy, the voice of a man that smoked too much.

The assemblage came to a halt at the pair of ornately carved and polished wooden doors that lead to the executive suite's meeting room. As if on cue, the doors were opened by Gennai and Toyozo Mori, looking grim and dressed for business. That is to say, inconspicuous civies that were easy to discard should they be splattered with blood. The Mori brothers wordlessly ushered the yakuza captains inside the meeting room which was lit mainly by the nocturnal glow of downtown Tokyo through the long, bullet-proof windows.

A heavy oak table occupied the majority of the room and at the far end sat Amano Hasegawa, face hidden by shadow. A brass cigarette lighter stood on the table and his hand played over the flame. He said nothing at first, entranced by the flickering orange dance that licked at his fingers. The six captains milled about, confused by the scene. One man cleared his throat and Amano raised his eyes in belated notice of their presence. Two points of brown sparkled darkly in the radiance of his lighter, then they disappeared as he snuffed it out with his palm.

"Ah, you're here! Come in, come in! Please, take a seat," he said with a genial manner. The seemingly transformed yakuza rose from his own place at the head of the table, beckoning the Oyabun forward like an old friend. Several captains grumbled in disapproval, but their host payed no heed.

"So what's the fucking deal, Hasegawa? You call this meeting?" demanded the complainer as he sunk into one of the high-backed leather chairs. Ieyasu took the offered position, flanked by Nara and his son with the remaining captains seeking their own comfortable spots. All looked to Amano expectantly, with mixed expressions of curiosity and disgust, as he paced by the windows. No one noticed as the Moris made their exit, locking the only doors in or out.

"I'm terribly sorry for disturbing you all from your normal activities," Amano began, "but I just couldn't wait to tell you all about my latest business venture. I'm so excited!" he said, sounding as giddy as a school girl.

"Well, spit it out then," the politician said with a sigh.

Amano faced the window for a moment, savoring the anticipation. As he turned, none of the captains caught the dangerously challenging sneer before it was once again replaced by a winning smile. "Gentlemen, you're looking at the next head of Kato Corp," he answered.

There was quite a bit of laughter at that, but the tension level in the room went up a notch. Iwao looked more flustered and insulated than amused, but his father remained as stone-faced as ever. Nara shifted in his chair, one hand ever so carefully slipping into his pocket.

Hasegawa's smile did not falter. "You laugh," he continued, "but the simple truth is that the lot of you are fat, complacent toads, content to horde your wealth with no thought to the big picture. We have been given a rare opportunity and the time to strike is now, while the iron is hot. But you fools don't have the necessary ambition. That is why I have decided that I must now take sole command of the Akashoku, in order to more properly guide this once noble organization back towards its once glorious potential."

"You're fucking nuts!"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You can talk to us that way!"
"Utter nonsense...'

"Quiet!" roared the Oyabun and everyone immediately ceased their exclamations. Ieyasu leaned back in his seat and looked at Amano as if noticing him for the first time. There was no particular hint of anger, just a faint interest. "Of course, we'd be happy to hear the educated input of any valued member in our society," the boss rasped with tactful diplomacy. Iwao suddenly developed a nervous tick under his left eye.

"Thank you, sir," Amano replied with an inclination of his head. "Please don't misunderstand me, gentlemen. I don't intend to lord over you all like some kind of egotistical dictator. Heavens no, that would be unseemly and terribly inefficient. I'm just going to kill you all and be done with it."

The meeting room filled with the squeal of chairs being pushed back, as well as the staccato of clicks from various firearms being drawn and cocked. "You go too far!" the politician stated, glossy black pistol in hand. A rattling under the table indicated the plump lawyer had dove for cover.

"Not far enough, I say," Amano countered. The room seemed to darken just a bit and in the gloom, Hasegawa's form took on a menacing presence. It was like the shadows collected around him, supporting him, puffing him up with a swell of power. The complainer, a somewhat superstitious type, reflexively reached into a pocket with his free hand to grasp a childhood charm.

Oyabun Kato casually pressed a small panel on the table top and a hidden compartment lined with expensive cigars opened. He withdrew one and removed the wrapper, giving it an expert whiff. "Iwao, give me a light." The boss ordered. His son looked more surprised at being addressed directly than at Amano's bold proclamation, but after only a moment's hesitance, he reached into his jacket pocket in search of one.

Amano strolled forward and the captains kept their guns trained on his head, but he made no threatening motion. All the same, Iwao staggered out of his seat and shrunk away, clutching a small black box. "Use mine," Amano offered. The hand that placed his simple brass lighter on the table was traced with black veins, like some kind of tribal tattoo. Boss and subordinate stared each other down, neither giving ground in the battle of wills.

Eight minutes passed before another word as spoken. Ieyasu closed his heavy-lidded eyes and smirked; the expression appeared foreign on his stoic countenance. "You've grown some big balls, Hasegawa," complimented the Oyabun. "It's too bad I don't tolerate such insubordination. You might have finally shown some value to the Akashoku."

"You talk like I won't act on my words," Amano noted.

"You won't be able to once you're dead." Oyabun raised the still unlit cigar to his mouth. "That wasn't a cigarette lighter Iwao grabbed, it's a beeper. I gave him the signal to summon the security."

The other captains turned their heads at the sound of an elevator ding from outside the meeting room. There was the stomping of several feet and some shouts, then the gunfire commenced. Several of the gangsters sought cover, but it proved unnecessary as a metallic thundering of bullets proved the doors were armored. The booming report of Toyozo's imported Desert Eagle punctuated the symphony of death like a drum. Everyone in the meeting room waited for the end of the din when the last man died.

A knock. "All clear, boss!" called the voice of Gennai Mori.

"And therein lies your mistake, Oyabun," drawled Amano. Ieyasu finally began to look worried. "The men you assigned to me may be hideously stupid, but they are excel at the art of killing."

"I knew it had to be you," came a sullen hiss. Nara the Snake rose from his seat like a cobra out of a basket, having remained calm throughout the violent exchange. His jacket opened to display a bandolier of wicked knives, the weapon of choice for a man who took pride in his work. "I had you pegged as a troublemaker from day one, Hasegawa. Everything you have and everything that you've become, you owe to us. But the miserable wretch that you are, you turn on us now."

The deadly yakuza's thin lips curled. Quick as a whip, he struck. A four-inch dagger sailed across the room like a dart and sunk deeply into Amano's chest to the hilt, piercing his heart. Mild astonishment fluttered across the man's face, but he showed no sign of pain. When the snake bites, sometimes you're already dead by the time you can react. The assembled men expected the traitor to fall, but he did not. Quite the contrary, Hasegawa looked down at the knife poking through his breast pocket with a silly little grin. He reached up and tentatively touched the rough-textured handle, then slowly withdrew it with a squelch of torn flesh. The blade was clean.

"Waste of a good suit," lamented the evidently immortal gangster, setting the dagger on the table next to his lighter.

"W-what the fuck are you?!" asked the foul-mouthed yakuza, raising his old charm in front of him like a shield. The pretty-faced politician was looking pale as he crossed himself. A whimper came from under the table.

"Better," was Amano's flippant reply. His attention returned to Nara, who preferred to question his own aim rather than accept any kind of supernatural prowess on the part of his fellow captain. "As for you, that little stunt just kicked you to the top of my list."

Hasegawa's black-veined hand stretched clear across the table and clamped down around Nara's head. Bulbous muscles that didn't belong on a human frame exploded from Amano's sleeve and propelled his victim into the opposite wall, holding the Snake suspended a good foot off the ground. Nara's sunglasses had gone askew and one beady black eye widened, staring down the length of Amano's mutated appendage. In a flurry of movement, the grotesque arm twisted, spinning Nara against the wall by his head. It lasted mere seconds before the yakuza came to a stop, but the effects were clear. His neck mangled, the once formidable gangster now hung like the broke minute hand of a clock.

Amano released his victim and the disgusting arm retracted, sliding back into his sleeve and retaking an otherwise normal appearance. Quite composed, the monstrous yakuza straightened his tie. In his peripheral vision, Hasegawa was heartened to see his comrades flinching at his every move. Ieyasu was paralyzed in his chair, pale as a sheet. Sweat rolled down his pouchy face like rain.

That's right, Amano thought. Show me your fear. It tastes so sweet. It gives me power!

From outside the meeting room, Gennai and Toyozo stood guard--however unnecessarily now. All the most expensive suites in the Grand Hyatt were sound-proofed, so no one else would have heard the battle and think to investigate. But they remained dutifully at their post, trying very hard not to be shaken by the sounds of rending flesh and tortured cries that wafted out from under the meeting room door. The brothers exchanged a haunted look, but they were just too loyal--or perhaps too stupid--to run when they had the chance.

At last, the doors opened again. The stench of blood that greeted them made Gennai gag, but Amano stepped out looking as if he'd just strolled through a field of roses. Neither hitmen dared to look inside, for fear that the scene of carnage would be too much even for trained killers to stomach.

Meanwhile, their boss crossed to the mini-bar and prepared himself a drink. "Congratulations, gentlemen," he said over the tinkling of glass and ice. "You've been promoted."

~~~~~


I wish I could write dialogue like Tarantino. That's always the kind of thing I hear in my head when trying to write for gangsters.

Niiiiice, man; it took me a little while to get back into things after not having read this series for awhile, but it kicked ass nonetheless. I can't wait to see what happens next.

Thanks, I just hope this isn't a fluke and I can keep up the writing for a while. Things don't start to get interesting until chapter four.

Well, it certainly has been a while. I won't go into why my story's been stagnant for so long, but I've recently had an overpowering urge to keep writing. I did some touching up of the first few chapters, including a significant rewrite of the Chapter 3 bar brawl.

http://www.saikyopowaa.com/stuff/SMOfanficVer2.txt

I'll post some Chapter 4 scenes later in the week, but for the time being, here's a conceptual sketch of Isei:

http://www.saikyopowaa.com/visual/bw19coolisei.gif

And the caption for that picture:

Come too close to me and I'll grate off that shit-eating-grin with my six-pack.

~ Chapter 4 ~ Scene 1 ~


?Get out! He did NOT say that!?

City life agreed with Isei. The fulfillment of his every possible desire was within reach. As the strongest warrior and thus leader of his clan, the alien was never at a loss for bed partners back home. He was heartened to see it was just as easy?no, easier!?here on Earth. Imagine: scantily clad women just walking right up to you with a proposition!

?He most certainly did. I swear, the nerve of some people.?

Of course, it stung his pride a little to find out they expected money in return. It seemed that?s all anyone cared about around here, but fortunately, Isei was wise enough to scavenge some cash from his fallen opponents before leaving the bar. To the victor go the spoils, they say.

?So then what?d you do??

Sniffing around (pun intended), he?d happened across a pair of lovely ladies, both of whom were wearing a subtle Artemisia perfume that drew in the sharp-nosed warrior. Isei dug a crumbled wad of paper from his pocket. Their eyes lit up, not believing their luck, in regards to either the amount he was willing to spend?not that Isei had any understanding of the foreign currency?s value?or the hunkiness of the client.

?I ripped open a keg and dunked him in headfirst. And get this, the bastard started drinking!?

Isei hefted the slumbering girl on his pack into a more comfortable position. The rays of early morning sun still looked orange, like dawn, from filtering through the haze of Roppongi?s back streets. It had been a long, long night and the younger of the two was completely exhausted. The man?s storm cloud head was beating a thunderous rhythm from all the sake they?d consumed. Needing some air himself, he gentlemanly offered to walk the hookers home.

?That is TOO funny!? Sanae wiped the tears from her eyes and stifled her laughter long enough to indicate they were closing in on her apartment. ?There?s my place, see the sign??

The alien looked up and took in the sight ahead. The building?s gaily decorated edifice was punctuated with a massive neon sign, turned off for the daylight hours. It depicted a voluptuous gal wearing nought but soap bubbles. Isei couldn?t read the Japanese that proclaimed it ?best time to be had in Tokyo?, but was experienced enough with the kind of activities one could undertake while bathing. Some of his favorite coital memories took place in the volcanic hot springs.

?Ooohh?? he intoned, eyebrows arching. ?Still haven?t gotten enough, eh? You?re insatiable.?

?Like you?re one to talk!? Delicate hands massaged the prostitute?s posterior as she continued, ?I?m gonna be walking funny for a week. But, no, our boss owns this place too and there are apartments for ?employees? above. Me and Kimiko are roomies.?

?Care to invite me up?? Isei said with a wink.

Sanae slapped his broad shoulder. ?Oh, you! Sorry, but the bossman says living quarters are off-limits to clientele. Besides, we?re gonna need SOME sleep before our next shift starts. We usually ain?t up this...late...? She trailed off, noticing something amiss when they approached. ?Weird, that?s a lot of people. We do some pretty brisk business, but there are way too many here for the normal morning crowd.?

Unseen until they grew closer were an ambulance and police patrol car. Peace officers were holding back the crowd while paramedics wheeled a sheet-covered figure through the double doors on a stretcher. One hand stuck out; it was wrinkled and emaciated. A few veins were visible beneath the waxy skin and appeared black from the blood turning to coagulated sludge. Several girls were huddled just inside the lobby, crying and being comforted by their coworkers.

Isei?s nostrils flared, taking in a foul stench. No one else seemed to notice the overpowering odor. Stranger still, the warrior recognized it as something he didn?t expect to find this far removed from home, across the chasm of time and space. He peered at the crowd, but saw nothing save the curious and puzzled bystanders.

?OH MY GOD!!? Sanae shrieked. ?What the hell happened here?!? She plowed through the police line towards her friends. They hesitated to stop her when the glowering Isei followed.

?S-Sanae,? stuttered a soap girl dressed in a fluffy pink robe. ?It was h-horrible. Me an? a bunch o? tha girls were wit this stuffed shirt, y-you know the type. But he was, like, a machine and stuff. Just kept goin? and goin?.? She clutched herself and shuddered. ?He had tha dough, so we d-didn? think nothin? of it, yeah? But then he got all stiff like and keeled over. Had a goddamn heart attack or somethin?, right with Mizuki on toppa him!?

Most of the crowd seemed to be hanging around to get a free peek inside the soap land more than anything, so only Isei was really watching the corpse. The hand twitched. Fingers that should have been frozen with rigor mortis began to curl.

The alien warrior hurriedly shrugged off his burden, leaving the still sleeping girl with her stunned associates. ?Take her, quickly!? he barked.

?Hey, what?s up with you?? Sanae demanded. She was about to say more, but his dark scowl silenced her.

?Things are about to get ugly.?

~ Chapter 4 ~ Scene 2 ~

Haruka would have liked to think it was her short skirt and long legs that convinced the security staff to let her enter the Diet Building. She may have been a lesbian, but there was a special appeal in beguiling the opposite sex into submission. It was amusingly effective, anyhow.

However, the leggy blonde had to admit that it was more about what exactly she was wearing than what she wore didn?t cover. Few women would feel comfortable in public clad in a brightly colored sailor fuku, let alone have such a confident bearing. As it were, Sailor Uranus was unmistakable as a Senshi and?despite herself not being immediately involved in the federal restructuring process?was granted immediate access.

While construction progressed on the Crystal Tokyo Palace where the Inners would ?rule? from, it was here in the home of the current Japanese government that they operated. The Diet Building was a sizable structure that bustled with activity, especially these days. But consulting the directory did little to inform Haruka where the Senshi?s offices were. She was convinced there were three times the letters and numbers necessary to designate something just a couple floors away.

Taking the stairs to cut down on the amount of awkward gawking she?d have to endure, because everyone had their limit, Sailor Uranus set out for the halls where she hoped to find her inner system counterparts. Every attempt to ask for directions was met with either vague indifference or stammering incoherence. They still had a lot of work to do, Haruka deduced. And it became clear very quickly that aimless wandering wouldn?t get her anywhere.

After a while, the Senshi of Uranus found herself following a cute young secretary in a cobalt blue business suit with a similarly-hued bob cut. The knee length skirt was conservative enough, but it accentuated the curves of her hips nicely. Eventually, something clicked into place.

?Why, is that Miss Mercury?s buttocks I am admiring?? Haruka called.

The ?secretary? froze. Bull?s eye!

Ami turned, her face wearing a carefully crafted expression of politeness. ?Have the Outer Senshi finally decided to make themselves useful, Miss Uranus?? asked Ami.

?What do you need our help for?? Haruka replied sweetly. ?You?re doing well enough on your own.?

?Thank you so much for the vote of confidence,? Ami dead-panned. ?Now, I have quite a lot to do around here. Unless you came to tease me, please, just get to the point.?

?Stressing much?? the taller Senshi ribbed. She had to jog after Ami, who had withdrawn from the conversation as swift as a ninja. ?What is it with chicks running away from me lately?? she grumbled. ?Hang on! I?m sorry, all right! I?ve got something important news, seriously!?

The young Mizuno stopped abruptly and leveled a glare at the tall blond that said ?no more nonsense?. ?We can talk in here,? she instructed, opening the frosted glass door that bore her name.

To say the office was cluttered didn?t quite cut it. Haruka swallowed her witty observation about the ?state of affairs? and took the proffered seat. ?Where?s our little moon princess??

?Usagi is at a summit meeting with the Emperor. He?s little more than a figurehead, but if we can gain his official support, it will bolster our approval ratings.?

?Yeach, politics!? the blond Senshi spat.

?A necessary evil. So? What?s this important news??

?The boys from Omega Web dropped us a line last night. Seems an old troublemaker from the Silver Millennium has showed up across town.?

As Haruka shared as much as she knew, Ami perched on the edge of her desk, lips pursed and looking methodical. ?Better late than never, I suppose,? she said when the older Senshi was finished.

?...I beg your pardon??

By way of answer, the Senshi of Mercury extracted a television remote from the mess upon her desk and flipped on the plasma screen mounted on the adjacent wall. It was already tuned in to a live news broadcast. Uranus initially thought it was some accident being reported on, given the mass pile-up of vehicles. Then a wave of hysterical motorists who?d abandoned their automobiles bolted past the cameraman?s hiding spot, followed by quite possibly the ugliest monster Sailor Uranus had ever scene. Even the most bizarre looking Negaverse creatures didn?t hold a candle to this slime-coated tentacle fiend.

?Whoa!? Haruka jumped to her feet. ?Why are you just sitting there?! Let?s get going!?

?We?ve known about this almost as soon as it began. Before you started following me, we had just finished organizing a unit to deal with it,? Ami explained. ?Jupiter and Venus are en route as we speak. I trust they can handle it.?

?And if they can?t?!?

?They?re being backed up by the A.D. Police that we are having specially trained for just such an occasion,? she continued in the sort of patient tone one normally reserved for instructing children. ?Now, if you don?t think that?s sufficient, we would be grateful if the Outer Senshi would help us defend our citizenry.?

Sailor Uranus clenched her gloved fists, but kept her temper in check. ?That?s the same attitude you Inners had during the Silver Millennium. ?Our way or the highway?. Bah! That high-and-mighty crap pisses me off!?

?I don?t recall asking for this responsibility,? the Senshi of Mercury replied, her voice glacial. Ami rose to her full height and?while laughably short compared to Haruka?she was no less imposing in her defiance. ?But it?s ours now and we?re doing the best we can. What we DON?T need are people that aren?t pulling their weight! Are you with us or against us??

The two Senshi glared at each other for a while. The sounds of combat and terror coming from the television was all that kept the atmosphere from getting too tense. ?I guess I?m done here,? Haruka said at last. ?We?ll take care of this ourselves, then. Try not to get in our way,? she added before storming out. At least, she had enough decency not to slam the door.

With her energy expended, Ami sank into her plush chair. Her head rolled back and a weary sigh escaped her lips. ?Way to screw that up, Mercury. You really must be stressing out.?

~~~~~

I never really intended for Ami to have such a large role, compared to the Outers, but the more I plan things out, the more important she becomes. You may notice a certain line being transplanted into this scene; it didn't sound right coming from Usagi.

And I do enjoy writing for Haruka.

~ Chapter 4 ~ Scene 3 ~

?That?s not what I want to hear,? Amano Hasegawa growled into the receiver. Sitting behind the giant oak desk in his spacious office, every high-tech luxury was available at his fingertips, but he was not in the mood to enjoy any of them. An engineering report sat on his desk and an incompetent foreman was on the phone. ?I?ll grease the wheels with the zoning board. You just get those tunnels dug!?

The Mori brothers sat in a small lounge across the room, watching television. Rather, Gennai was trying to watch while mixing himself a drink at the bar and Toyozo pretty much ignored it, busy with cleaning his prized Desert Eagle. Various parts of the hand cannon were organized on the coffee table before him. But no worry, he kept at least two other loaded pistols on him at all times.

The younger Mori glanced up as his brother stepped away from the bar with a Cosmopolitan, giving him a disapproving frown. ?How unmanly,? it seemed to say. Gennai sneered his response. Sipping the fruity drink, he ignored Toyozo and faced the muted TV. He started flipping channels until a segment of breaking news caught his eye.

?Wuh-ho!? Gennai exclaimed, dropping his beverage. He fumbled the remote in an effort to raise the volume.

?Keep it down!!? his irate boss snapped immediately.

?B-boss!? stuttered the hitman. ?Ya got??

?Don?t make me come over there, Gennai,? the yakuza warned, a dangerous and now-familiar tone to his voice. Even as he said that, Amano felt a strange twinge at the edge of his consciousness.

?I think mebbe ya should, boss! Lookit dis!?

He swivelled the flat screen around on its long neck. Normally, it would have been too far away for someone at the desk to make out much, but Amano had abnormally acute vision. His curiosity piqued, he zeroed in on the television. The possessed gangster was unsurprised to see the Palegas curse he?d planted the night before had born fruit. That distressed salaryman?s soul wasn?t twisted enough to create a Sin Beast at full power, but it served as a fair test of an Earthling?s potential. Amano was pleased to see his child running amok.

Then something else appeared on the screen. An athletic young man with wild gray hair, boldly chasing the monster.

Knives stabbed into Hasegawa?s brain, flooding him with a terrible sensation. Was it pain? He was so used to the blissful numbness that he couldn?t identify it. Hazy memories overlaid his vision, pulling him into the distant past.

A cave. No, a grand chamber hewn from the rock. It was hot. Shouting. A threatening presence.

Traitor? It is you who betrayed us! While you grow soft, surrounded by decadence, we have struggled against our enemies! The warriors need leadership and I will be their hero!

The hallucination passed. Amano?s subordinates were too occupied goggling at the television to notice their boss? seizure. He was sprawled across the desk, papers scattered. A puddle of sweat stained the engineering report.

?Isei,? the yakuza gasped. He clutched his head as the migraine subsided. Hasegawa wore leather gloves all the time now, but a sliver of skin was visible between them and his sleeves. It was a molted greenish hue, sickly looking, with that living tattoo of black veins pulsing a frenetic tempo. ?Where...do I...know that name from??

?Say what, boss?? Gennai called over his shoulder, eyes still glued to the tube.

Amano vaulted over his desk and crossed the room in three bounding steps. The Moris were taken aback as he landed heavily next to them.

Snatching the remote out of the hitman?s hamfist, Amano jabbed the rewind button on the built-in live video recorder. While an attractive female anchor appeared to be talking in reverse, the yakuza was focused on a box in the corner of the screen showing the live feed from their cameras in the field. The two subjects in question zipped backwards into position and Amano advanced frame-by-frame, stopping when he had a clear shot of the seemingly reckless youth.

He stared at the image for a long time, somehow having recollection of somebody he?d never met.

Amano stood up straight and combed his greasy hair back into place. ?Find that man,? he ordered. His subordinates regarded him quizzically. ?I have eyes and ears all over the city. Get the word out to every two-bit low life, con-man, and thug on the streets. I refuse to believe no one has any information on that man!?

The sibling yakuza still hesitated.

?Find him!! NOW!!!?

This scene is double-long, so I'll chop it in half.


~ Chapter 4 ~ Scene 4 ~ Part 1 ~

If the monster looked bad on TV, it was far worse in person.

The middle-aged salaryman had successfully managed to achieve what so many others could only hope for: death by marathon sex. While his apparently dead body was being wheeled out of the soap land, it sprang up off the stretcher with all the vigor of, well, a coma victim. But the initial moments of zombie-like clumsiness were deceptive.

Muscles that were weak in life now bubbled under his waxy skin with violent strength. Bones and ligaments distorted, creating new joints with no heed to normal anatomy. Sores blossomed into octopus-like suckers and rows of spines tore through the pale flesh. A hunch that swelled on his back suddenly ripped open along its sides, gasping in air like fish gills and spitting back out an unidentifiable mucus. His hands split open between the fingers and the bloody tearing continued up his arms until they were completely segmented into a bundle of wildly flailing tentacles at the shoulders.

The salaryman?s head blew out from the bottom and the fragments of his jaw bone sprinkled the street. In its place were long, jagged fangs and far too many tongues. Drool cascaded down his chest and around the distended belly, to where?perhaps most disturbingly?a similar transformation was taking place in his genitals.

This creature, with no shred of humanity left in its mutated form, was the embodiment of perversity. A ?Sin Beast?.

Isei, unsurprisingly, was the first to act. He charged the monster, tackling it and plowing its slimy bulk into the ambulance. The alien warrior jumped back out quickly and slammed the doors shut, buying them a precious few moments.

?Everyone get out of here!!? he shouted to those fools whose instincts to flee from danger weren?t kicking in. He grabbed a stunned paramedic by the collar and shoved him away, propelling the man a good ten feet. ?I SAID RU??

The sound of rending metal overwhelmed Isei?s warnings. Tentacles exploded through the van?s chassis. One caught the distracted Isei, swatting him across the street and through the plate-glass-and-velvet-curtained display of a sex shop, scattering its exotic toys.

Tearing through the heavy frame as if it were no stronger than a house of matches, the Sin Beast emerged with a triumphant, slobbering warble. Roppongi?s finest broke out of their horrified paralysis. Taking control of the situation, as much as one could considering the circumstances, the peace officers ushered panicking civilians into the relative safety of the surrounding buildings.

A detective who had been inside the soap land questioning the management now burst through the double doors and gaped at the scene of carnage unfolding. He was no rookie; quickly assessing the situation, the detective drew his sidearm and began to empty its clip into the creature. Bullets had no affect other than drawing its attention.

In retaliation, the Sin Beast?s tentacles lashed out and grabbed the detective about his arms, legs, neck, and torso. He was yanked into the air and suspended for the beast?s inspection while struggling as a fish on a line might. When it decided the man was not worth further consideration, the tentacles flexed and tore him apart, flinging body parts in all directions.

One female officer managed to keep a cool head and dashed to her patrol car. Ordinary beat cops not equipped with traditional firearms were instead compensated by a variety of less-than-lethal weapons, should use of force be absolutely necessary. But the flustered policewoman somehow knew pepper spray and tasers wouldn?t cut it here.

Feeling the monster?s vile gaze on her, she dared a look back. Its protruding eyes focused on her mini-skirt clad bottom sticking out of the driver?s side door. Blood-splattered tentacles undulated rhythmically, in a trance. It then dropped off the roof and began half-walking, half-dragging itself towards her.

Thinking fast, the policewoman piled into the compact automobile. She fumbled with a newly installed lock box between the seats, occasionally glancing over her shoulder at the approaching nightmare. With every squishy step, it gained speed and momentum. Frantically, she tore open the lid, revealing a meticulously arranged onmyoudou pentagram straight out of the Heian Period. She pressed a marble-sized crystal into the last critical position, thereby activating the pre-arranged spell.

KZZAT!

The Sin Beast?s mutated form barreled into the field of energy, rebounding with a crackle of electricity. Frustrated, it beat impotently against the barrier that denied it access. The ancient magic held firm. With the monster distracted, other officers scrambled to their cars and erected the simple ward that was now a standard issue emergency spell, using it to provide cover for the cowering civilians.

They radioed in for backup.

Meanwhile, Isei stumbled out of the ruined sex shop, shaking his gray-haired noggin. Been a while since I was hit that hard, he thought in a daze. The alien warrior looked up and wasn?t surprised to see what feeble measures the Earthlings had taken as defense. These peace-loving fools had no idea how to handle a Sin Beast. He grasped a street sign and ripped its pole out of the cement.

?Oi, Palegas!!? he hollered at the monster?s back, swinging the improvised axe at his side to get a feel for the balance. The thin metal sign wouldn?t cut very well, but it was better than nothing. ?What in the gay blue hell are you doing around here? I WAS in a good mood. You killed my buzz, ya fucking goo-ball!?

The Sin Beast turned to regard him, its bloodshot eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets at any moments. Tentacles thrashed menacingly and it chittered in a way that could only indicate anger. It launched an attack, but Isei easily danced out of the way. Morning light glinted off the No Parking sign as he brought it down in a flash, severing two of the slimy appendages. It shrieked.

Isei charged in and swung his weapon, catching the monster he called ?Palegas? across the head. Metal bent uselessly, wasting most of the attack?s force, but the Sin Beast staggered all the same. Taking the twisted pole in both hands, Isei brought the jagged end down into the chest of waxy, emaciated flesh. Tentacles on its other side crept low and snagged his ankle, jerking the warrior off balance and causing him to miss the vital points by only centimeters.

They grappled, hand and fist against sucker and claw, but Isei?for all his might?was at a disadvantage. The mutant gained the upper hand (so to speak) and encircled Isei?s limbs, pulling him taught. A spare appendage looped around the sign post and pulled it out with a sickening squelch. The gaping wound didn?t heal as one might expect, since its body was essentially an animated corpse, but neither did the monster seemed bothered by it.

It warbled at Isei, teeth and tongues bristling like a demonic flower. Unimpressed, the alien warrior roared back, flashing extended canines and sharp carnassials; not the sort of dental work you?d find on your run-of-the-mill barbarian. The inhuman resonation struck fear in the hearts of all in earshot, giving even his opponent pause.

Only feigning weakness, Isei?s hands broke free of their restraints and closed around the monster?s head like a clamp. He cracked skulls with it once, twice, three times. Dents in the Sin Beast?s skull oozed gobs of coagulated blood. Stunned, its multi-jointed legs turned to jelly. The warrior hefted his foe and drove it headfirst into the asphalt. He wound up...and kicked!

The grotesque creature tumbled helplessly and crashed into a parked car. It rose shakily, wrapping its slimy tentacles around the car for support. Isei approached confidently. The Palegas leaned forward, straining against its grip on the automobile, then in one smooth motion resembling that of a trebuchet, tossed its load across the street. Isei bent over backward, just barely able to avoid losing his head.

He fell hard. The car fell harder.

It screeched over the black top and collided with the buildings behind him, knocking over a fire hydrant. High-pressure water geysered into the air and rained back down, dousing the two combatants.

?You?re a stubborn one, all right,? Isei conceded, rising to a kneel. Glowing, his eyes became two points of shimmering gold over a broad grin. An eerie vapor emanated from his body, but it did not dissipate as steam would and instead gathered around him in a swirling aura. ?But so am I.?

Thrusting his hand forward with a cry of ?White Fang!!?, the energy coalesced into the long jaws and hollow eyes of a lupine predator. It rushed in a gale towards his opponent, tearing through asphalt and abandoned cars with ethereal fangs. The Palegas leapt away and latched onto the side of a parked semi, closely followed by the ghostly wolf.

It chomped the truck in half. Diesel sprayed out of the tank. Wires connecting the tractor to the trailer short-circuited, lighting the fuel. Boom. Isei felt a satisfying shockwave blow over him as the area was engulfed in flame. However, the smile was wiped off his face when the Sin Beast leapt out of the fires, its waxy hide crispy, but intact.

?Must be a little rusty,? the alien noted under his breath.

~ Chapter 4 ~ Scene 4 ~ Part 2 ~

Making no effort to continue their battle, the monster fled and Isei was forced to give chase. He had to keep the pressure on so the Sin Beast didn?t get sidetracked by other prey. He tailed it out of the back alleys and onto a main thoroughfare where they dodged traffic, clambering over the hoods of startled motorists. Blaring horns and screeching brakes surrounded them in a cacophony of mayhem.

It reached the other side first. Swinging around a telephone pole, it dropped down a broad staircase that descended below street level. Isei sneered. He didn?t know the area well enough to take a shortcut and head it off at the pass. Forced to follow blindly, he jumped the railing.

The stairs opened into a new chamber, that was tiled all around. It was lined with columns, benches, booths, and all manner of mechanical contraptions that seemed to exist only to impede one?s progress through the cathedral-like expanse. Bystanders stampeded out of the way of the ferocious pair. The Sin Beast uprooted a turnstile and chucked it in Isei?s direction. He dodged around a news stand, which exploded in a flurry of paper.

The mutant creature muscled through the closing doors of a long metal carriage, eliciting a chorus of terror from its unsuspecting commuters, who crowded away from the entrance in panic. Isei closed in, but it was rolling away! He leapt from the edge of the platform, reached into the darkness of the tunnel...

Got it!

Holding fast onto the outer frame, Isei gritted his teeth as the quickly accelerating carriage nearly dislocated his shoulder. Cement scraped his back and he climbed around, looking into the carriage through the emergency exit?s window. The Palegas thought it was safe from the pursuer and playfully stalked its trapped victims.

CRASH went the heavy door as Isei kicked it in. The slab of metal and plastic landed on the Sin Beast, pinning it to the cold floor. The alien warrior leapt in and upon the surprised monster, slamming it down again.

?Move to the front!? he ordered, trying to hold the creature down long enough for the innocents to escape. Barbed tentacles flayed his arms. He punched around the sides of the door, keeping it at bay. ?Just you and me now, goo-ball,? he snarled when they were finally alone.

The Sin Beast threw off its burden at last, but Isei had already slipped away. He grabbed it by the feet and swung the creature?s twisted form, smashing a row of windows and plastic seats. It kicked back at him with multi-jointed legs and the alien warrior was propelled down the cabin, into shaped steel support bars. Both combatants sprang to their feet. The Palegas pounced, reaching for Isei with what tentacles it had left.

He met the beast with a haymaker that rammed into the monster?s chest. CRUNCH! Ribs caved in. WHOMP! The following body blow ruptured its swollen belly, guts spilling out after the retreating fist. The floor dented as Isei bowled his opponent over and?POW!?delivered the final blow, pulverizing its face and beating all the fight out of it once and for all.

Standing over the fallen Palegas, Isei gulped in air that stank of rotting flesh, feeling slightly out of shape. That tended to happen when one was paralyzed in suspended animation for a millennia or two. He was vaguely aware of the carriages slowing down.

The monster was laid out, yes, but wet gasps meant it was still alive?alive as one could be in such a state. Isei pulled a broken support bar from the wall. This time, he aimed carefully.

?I?ll put you out of your misery,? the warrior said, pity obvious on his face.


Hotaru looked up from her cram school notes.

She didn?t get to see her father much anymore. Aside from his daughter living with her Outer Senshi comrades, Professor Tomoe was busy working with the government regarding interaction between emerging magicks and human physiology. But he was delighted all the same to hear his daughter intended to follow in his footsteps. K.O. University had a superb biology program. But Hotaru got the feeling her teenage life of sporadically uneventful contentment was once again about to be punctuated by life-altering Senshi business.

?Repeat: There is an emergency situation on the south-bound Oedo Line train. It will stop permanently at this station so its passengers may disembark. Please evacuate in a calm and orderly fashion. Make room for the authorities to take appropriate action.?

While her fellow commuters began to leave the station to the soundtrack of indignant murmurs, Hotaru casually ambled to the end of the platform and slipped out of sight around a column. The rumbling of the train could be heard deep in the tunnel. She reached into her purse for her transformation wand, just in case. It pulled into the station and the automated doors opened, none too soon. The passengers came pouring out, their haste in direct proportion to their proximity to the rear-most train car.

As luck would have it, the ?emergency situation? was taking place in the car now closest to Hotaru?s position. It was empty except for a single man who was imposingly tall, dressed in tattered, bloody clothes. His eyes were downcast as he wielded a metal pole and speared it into the floor. Hotaru, something of an empath, felt a wave of sadness emanating from the car.


The mutated body of the Sin Beast decomposed right before Isei?s eyes, somewhat regressing into a more human form. Normal folk would have retched, but the alien warrior had seen worse before. What he felt was not disgust, but a remorse and resignation that no ?normal folk? could understand.

The already-dead salaryman?s unfocused eyes pointed approximately in the direction of the warrior above him. Even without a jaw, he managed to gurgle something that sounded like ?Thank you.?

A woman screamed.

Isei?s head jerked up as he was brought back to the present. He realized, of course, what the scene might look like to a passerby. Lying beneath him were the mangled remains of a barely recognizable person with a pole driven through his heart. Not the sort of thing you?d want to see on your way to the market.

What concerned Isei more was a mystical aura he had just became aware of. Sort of like how animals can ?feel? whether a person is good or evil, it was a sixth sense that even the best mages couldn?t wield with one-hundred percent accuracy. The aura was distinctly feminine...and very powerful. Every fiber of Isei?s being tingled. Though it was not a wholly unpleasant sensation, he knew the situation had just gone from bad to worse.

?Senshi.?

~~~~~

And thus ends Chapter 4. Since it appears individual scenes don't warrant any sort of comment, I guess I'll hold off until another full chapter is ready.