Hello, all. Against my better judgment, I have been convince to
write a sequel to SM: Gray. That was ~2 months ago; the piece is
getting near completion, so I figured I'd start sharing it with
everybody.
Since this is the first installment, I'll put up the various
warnings so you know what to expect:
Spoiler Warning: This fic contains a few, very basic spoilers
for Sailor Moon, nothing really beyond the "I guess those characters
didn't die" level. It is, however, a *sequel* to SM: Gray, and contains
significant spoilers for that piece. For those of you who want to read
this without looking at Gray, I've put a quick explanation and character
guide further down. Gray is still available in its entirety at
http://bloodgod.pc.cc.cmu.edu/smgray/index.html. (Note slightly
different address.)
Content Warning: Reasonably dark, though not I think
gratuitously depressing. I'd rate this R for graphic violence,
language, and adult themes. (Translation: sexual content, but no actual
hentai.) It *is* highly weird in places, so don't say I didn't warn
you.
Length warning: Roughly the length of Gray, probably ~80,000
words once completed. Currently stands at 19 chapters, ~60,000 words.
Style Warning: I tried a kind of strange style, messing with
triple first person. I think it worked okay, but its experimental.
Copyright: Of course, I own none of the characters from the
show, and do not intend to infringe on copyrights.
I'm getting a website set up for this piece pretty soon. Should
be ready by the next installment.
Spoiler Space:
Anyone left, after all that? I'm surprised. =)
I plan to put one chapter per post after this -- I was hesitant
to post the first chapter by itself since it's not really very fan-ficy.
=)
Anyhow, onward. A brief summary of new characters left over
from SM: Gray:
Jahara: Most powerful of the Unforgiven, formerly Guardian of
Power Incarnate. He wandered to Earth in order to take his revenge on
Resh. At the end of Gray, he leaves Earth with Hotaru in tow. Jahara's
spaceship/home base is the Aegis.
Eridu: Unforgiven, formerly Guardian of Knowledge and Deceit.
Came to Earth as part of a plot to repeat the universe-crushing disaster
that created the Unforgiven, and as part of that plot gifted Ami with
several lifetimes worth of magical training. Eventually thwarted, he
left Earth for parts unknown.
Resh: Master Vampire and dark sorcerer. Resh fled to Earth one
step of Jahara, seeking to hide in the glare of the magical nexus at
Tokyo Tower. Used by Eridu in his plot to entrap Ami, killed by Rei in
the final battle at Tokyo Tower.
Shard: Bounty Hunter and gunslinger extraordinaire. Switched
sides after falling in love with Rei and helped to defeat Resh.
The Sa'an: Mysterious inter-dimensional empire. The Sa'an use
magically controlled soliders as cannon fodder, and were responsible for
the fall of the Unforgiven homeworld.
At the conclusion of SM: Gray, Hotaru left to accompany Jahara
and Ami decided to do a bit of exploring. They both had many amusing
adventures that might even be recounted someday. End of Days begins
roughly three years later.
(Confused or interested? Read Gray. =) The URL is above, and
if that doesn't work e-mail for a complete version.)
Oh, one last warning at the request of my editor. This is *not*
a crossover. Tsunami is an original character, and has nothing to do
with anyone else bearing a similar name. =)
** is emphasis, [] is character thought or internal communication, <> is
Grid communication.
As always, I'm anxious for comments of any sort. Please let me
know what you think: khaine@mindless.com, ICQ: 53426521, AIM:
khaine1310. And once again, many thanks to my excellent pre-reader and
editor Zombie, who is responsible for getting me to write fanfic in the
first place.
End of Days
Part One - Homecoming
Chapter One - May 22, 2002
Tsunami
Have you ever had one of those dreams that you were
absolutely convinced was real? The kind that stay with you when you
wake up, so they affect your mood for hours. The kind so real that when
something strange happens afterwards, you're half-convinced you're still
dreaming.
Yeah, me neither. Until last night.
I was in a room of some kind -- settings never seem to
be very detailed in dreams, you just accept them -- watching. There was
a table in the middle, kind of a hospital-style thing, all plastic and
brushed metal, and on the table was a woman.
She was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen, which
is odd because if pressed I couldn't describe her features in any more
detail. Long hair, I guess, that hung off one end of the table. She
was naked, but mostly obscured by the other figures crowding around her,
ringing the table or kneeling on one end of it.
Vultures, I thought, and wasn't quite sure why.
The figures were all dressed in black. Not the black of
the Legions -- a Legionnaire's armor is all shiny black and chrome and
mirrored glass, very 80s. This was dull black, raw iron black, rough
and lusterless. All-enclosing, like a suit of armor. They all had
their hand inward, like they were feeling the woman or something, very
strange.
Now the hell of it was, I knew it was a dream. I know
what I said before, but it was sort of both at the same time --
absolutely real, and a dream. That makes no sense, does it? Think of
it like this: it was real *somehow*, but I knew it wasn't part of the
usual world.
But I wasn't scared or horrified, not really. I
remember thinking it was pretty strange, as sex fantasy dreams went, but
nothing more than that. So I walked around the bed to get a better
view, and realized I'd been wrong.
The black figures were taking the woman apart.
They were doing it very methodically, with surprisingly
little blood. Bit by bit, they were ripping out her entrails with their
bare hands. I didn't see what they did with the pieces, because at that
point I couldn't bear to look any longer.
Then there was a...a sort of presence next to me. I
have no idea what it looked like, because I didn't look, but I could
feel it there, watching me. I had to ask.
"Is this real?"
The presence shrugged.
"Not as such. It is, however, a reasonably accurate
allegorical representation of as much of the situation as your mind is
able to grasp."
And then I woke up.
Look, I told you it was weird.
I lay in bed for a moment, silent.
It was morning. I had awoken, as I almost always did, a
few minutes before the alarm clock went off. I treasured those few
minutes, lying warm and secure underneath the covers, with no
responsibilities or worries until the bell went off. I was free to
think about whatever I wanted.
Except this time the pillow was drenched in cold sweat,
and the sheets, thin as they were, felt like clammy, tentacled hands on
my skin. I kicked them off in a sudden fit of revulsion and rolled out
of bed with a groan.
Ugh. Monday morning.
A quick shower cleansed some of that feeling, and by the
time I headed downstairs, nice and clean, I was actually in pretty good
spirits. That changed quickly enough. Ryu was home -- a rarity -- and
actually awake -- a miracle -- and that sent things downhill pretty
fast.
To be more specific, he was at the kitchen table, eating
bowl of instant ramen and washing it down with beer. I rolled my eyes
and did my best to ignore him, heading past towards the fridge for my
own breakfast. I hoped he'd return the courtesy.
"Morning, Tsunami!"
No such luck, apparently. It's never good when he's
cheerful. I kept walking and opened the fridge, searching for the cold
milk and granola bars I subsisted on before school. I heard Ryu's chair
scrape back from the table, and tensed just before he put his hands on
my shoulders.
"What's the matter? Haven't got a greeting for your big
brother?"
"Please get your hands off me, Ryu." He'd been out all
night -- I could smell the alcohol on his breath, so strong it almost
made me gag. His clothes were never clean at the best of times, but now
they were spotted with something that look suspiciously like blood, and
he reeked of the various vile substances he and his Null Zone friends
were always smoking.
Found it. I reached into the fridge and grabbed the
milk just as Ryu slid his hands down from my shoulders and around to the
front, squeezing gently.
"You seem tense, little sister. You should relax before
school. I know just the thing..."
"I might take you up on it if I thought you could
perform. I think my weird dreams are symptomatic of my poor social
life. And now if you don't let go of me, I swear to God..."
He leered as he stepped backwards. "What are you going
to do, call the cops?"
I shrugged. "I'll take my chances. They're better then
yours."
That got him -- Ryu paled, his hands clenching into
fists. Being taken is probably the only thing Ryu's scared of. "If I
ever get so much of a hint that you're doing that, Tsunami, we'll see
what happens to your 'chances' before they get here."
"Big talk from someone who can't even walk straight." I
opened a cupboard and grabbed my morning power-up, then headed for the
door.
"Fuck you, Tsunami."
"Not likely."
Letting the door slam in his face felt good, I have to
admit. I stepped out into the bright sunlight of late May, blinking
while my eyes adjusted -- Ryu had pulled all the shades inside to spare
his head. Once I could see well enough to avoid traffic, I settled my
backpack across my shoulders and headed for the train station.
Before you get too curious: no, I've never actually had
sex with my brother. Not for lack of effort on his part, obviously, but
I don't think he really means it. Ryu lost most of his friends within
weeks of the Arrival, so he's naturally kind of bitter, and it comes out
in strange ways. If push came to shove, I don't think he'd actually
hurt me.
Probably. Unless he was really drunk, or hallucinating
on some of the good stuff the Empire puts out. So I'm careful, and I
have self-defense training I don't think he knows about.
Every once in a while, when I'm feeling really lonely, I
consider stripping down to my underwear, knocking on his door, and
seeing what happens. I haven't done it yet for a couple of reasons:
first, it would set a bad precedent for our relationship. And second, I
haven't really slept with anyone yet, and I'm not sure I want my first
time to be with Ryu. It would be kind of weird.
Ahem. Moving on.
"TSU-NA-MI!"
I braced instinctively for a collision as I saw Kyoko
barreling down the nearly empty subway car towards me, but she stopped
just short with consummate skill, holding up a hand in greeting.
"Yo!"
"Yo."
She put her head on one side. "You don't seem very
energetic this morning."
"Bad dreams. And Ryu was home and making an ass of
himself, as usual."
"Tsunami..." Her voice turned serious. "You can always
come and stay with me. I've got tons of extra room."
"Thanks. I'll keep it in mind."
There was a moment of silence, but Kyoko kept staring at
be worriedly. She takes better care of me then I probably deserve, for
reasons which have always escaped me. Kyoko is shorter than me despite
being a year older, with straight green hair that was usually kept in a
pony-tail that reached past her shoulders. She's effortlessly,
relentlessly cheerful in a way that should probably annoy me but somehow
never does.
"How about you, Kyoko? How was your weekend?"
"Great! I got to visit my grandfather out in the
country. You know he'd never seen a Sa'an? They don't have a
television or anything, and he says nobody ever bothered him."
"Lucky guy."
"Yup. He kept trying to get me to stay out there with
him. He doesn't want me to get taken."
"Girls hardly ever are."
"That's what I told him, but you know grandparents.
Worry, worry."
"Don't you ever worry about it?"
She shrugged. "There's not much I can do. If they come
for me, then I guess I get to find out what comes next."
"What a fatalist."
"You've never been even a little curious? Maybe they
take especially good people to some paradise beyond the stars."
I snorted. Everyone had their own theories about what
happened to the people the Empire claimed as its own. They were
certainly never seen on Earth again, and ideas ranged from food for some
kind of monster to forced colonization to out-and-out slavery. There
were even a few cults who worshipped the Sa'an as gods, hoping to
appease them into not taking their children or -- for the really weird
ones -- volunteering themselves to the black-armored Legionnaires.
Neither made any difference. The great black troop-ships swooped out of
the sky when and where they chose.
"You never know, Tsunami."
"If they ever grab me, I'll be sure to think about
that."
"If they ever grab you, I'll be right there with you."
That was pretty common, among people our age. Friends
or lovers pledging to spend as little time as possible apart, so that if
the Imperials came they could grab their partner and refuse to let go.
I'd always treated it as kind of a joke, but I had a sneaking suspicion
that Kyoko was serious.
Oh well. If it came to that, it'd be nice to have a
companion on the road to hell.
"Here it comes!"
I turned around automatically and craned my head to see.
This was the best part of the train ride -- it almost made the
thirty-minute commute worthwhile by itself. After a brief section of
underground, the car plunged back into sunlight, this time elevated
enough that it gave us a view across the city. The skyline looked much
as it always had, minus a few skyscrapers, and the Null Zone dominated
the foreground with its ruined buildings and constant fires. But Tokyo
Tower stabbed up against the sun like some giant dagger, and hovering
just above its tip was the bulk the Sa'an cruiser. The ship looked like
nothing more than a big black bowling ball, a sphere covered with
randomly scattered pockets, ringed at its equator by a glowing purple
band. You couldn't see them now, but the ring of purple energy was held
on by four massive stalks that protruded from the hull.
Impressive as it was, that wasn't the best part. Light
passing near the cruiser did strange things. The Sa'an ships had
shields, both material and radiation, as the Americans found out to
their sorrow. They had antigravity, so that huge ship could hang in the
sky in defiance of every natural law. And whatever strange interaction
of those fields took place near the ship splayed the light across the
entire sky, lighting up the sparse clouds with a thousand twisted
rainbows.
I stared, entranced as always. Kyoko liked to look at
the ship for pure aesthetic effect, but for me there were other reasons.
*That *was where I wanted to go. Not to some school, to learn things
that were pointless and probably wrong. Not loaded like cargo into some
troopship. I wanted to go up there for real and find out what was
inside all that black armor.
There had to be a way, and I was determined to find it.
It feels like this has always been my dream. I know
that can't be true, though, because I can vaguely remember a time before
the Arrival, when there were no Sa'an. A time when the Tokyo skyline
didn't include the mammoth shape of a starship, and students worried
about college entrance exams and homework instead of being whisked off
to who-knows-where.
It seems so distant now, though. I think of the Arrival
as my first clear memory -- I was all of thirteen at the time. I
remember the flash of light as the great ships appeared over the Tower.
The government was overjoyed -- real aliens, here in Japan! -- and they
didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. The Imperial
Legions were on the ground. After an hour, the Prime Minister announced
martial law.
After four hours, the Sa'an commander came on to
announce our surrender.
It was her I looked up to, after the Legionnaires fanned
out into the neighborhoods to establish their control. Her name was
Kaia, and she was the only Imperial who's face we had ever seen.
Everyone was astounded at first to find out that the Sa'an looked just
like us. It was her face, her calm voice that explained the new world
order over and over. And after a few months of violent resistance, when
things settled down, she became the face of the Empire.
I can remember the moment I made my decision. It was
the first night Ryu brought some of his friends home from what was fast
becoming the Null Zone. I was fourteen by then, and I watched them
drink, and fight, and drink, with a growing determination.
After all, what's left for us on Earth? They don't care
about us. But the Sa'an commanders have to come from somewhere.
The train ride was almost over. The chaos the Arrival
had caused forced the consolidation of what was left of Tokyo's school
systems, so the place where Kyoko and I were bound, once the home of the
best and brightest, had been reduced to one of the last havens of those
who still bothered. That meant it was a bit of a commute.
"So..."
I glanced over at my companion for the first time in a
while -- I'd been drifting in my own thoughts. Kyoko looked worried,
which was uncharacteristic for her.
"What's wrong?"
"Have you thought any more about...you know."
I groaned inwardly. "Kyoko..."
"I know you don't like it, but I think you were right!"
"I never should have mentioned it."
"But it could be important!"
"Important to *what*?" I shook my head. "Even if it
was real, what am I supposed to do?"
She look down. "I don't know. Something."
If Kyoko had a flaw, it was in being overly romantic. I
talk to her about my dreams -- she's my best friend, sometimes I think
my only friend. And last month I advanced a theory to her, a sort of
whacked-out idea that had come when I was half-asleep, and she'd latched
on to it.
To be blunt, she'd become convinced that I was a Sailor
Senshi.
"Look, even if the Senshi are real..."
"They are. A hundred people saw them fighting when the
first ships landed." Not me, I thought, or anyone I'd ever met.
"How could I possibly be one? They have funny suits and
special powers. I can't throw fire or shoot lightning bolts or
whatever."
"Have you ever tried?"
I mimed tossing a ball of flame, and Kyoko waved it away
with a half-hearted chuckle. "Pretty weak!"
"Oh no!" I let my face take on an anime character's
frozen grimace. "She defeated my secret technique! However will I
win?"
"I guess it is pretty stupid. I don't know. It just
seemed so *right*, somehow."
"My dreams are just dreams. You can probably deduce my
psychological problems from them -- slightly morbid, crazy family, can't
find a boyfriend -- stop laughing!"
Chapter Two
Hotaru
I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, wincing as
the sweat made them itch even worse. I felt dead -- fire running along
my limbs every time I moved, lances of silver pain in my chest with
every breath and heartbeat. My hands felt numb.
I'm going to die, I thought.
"Again." His voice was flat, emotionless as ever.
"Pick it up."
Wearily,* so* wearily I reached out for the Silence
Glaive, hand closing around its hilt in a familiar gesture. I could
feel the grain of the wood through the holes in my gloves, and I
wondered briefly where it had come from. Did some tree, in the far-off
prehistory of the Silver Millennium, get chopped down to make Sailor
Saturn a perfect weapon? Or is it simply called up out of nothing, like
my uniform? For that matter, is it even the same Glaive every time?
"Stance."
My feet protested, but I slowly clambered back up, using
the Glaive more as a walking stick then a weapon. Something in my back
went 'crunch', but I ignored it. It seemed an eternity before I was
standing, and then it took a further effort of will to the spread my
legs out, put both hands on the haft of the Glaive, and open my eyes.
"Good." Jahara turned to face me, the movement
reflected in the mirrored walls of the training room. An infinity of
nested images stared back at me, a little girl in a black and white suit
facing off against a green-haired giant. "This will be the last."
The last. Thank all the gods. I tightened my grip, and
Jahara hefted his shortsword. Though he treated weapons with contempt,
his swordsmanship was more than a match for mine.
"One more try. Are you ready?"
I nodded, wearily. Jahara smiled.
"Good. I want you to hit me as hard as you can."
The Glaive whirled almost of its own accord, evaluating
his stance and choosing an attack accordingly. Motions I'd done so
often they were automatic flicked the head around, testing his guard.
He stopped it, of course, but we were long past the point of simple
parry-riposte now. When fighting an opponent who moves like a cat on a
sugar high, you *need* to think instead of just striking. And that was
the point of this training. Being Saturn gave me the reflexes to use
the Glaive, the strength. But what happened when you meet an opponent
you can't beat with just speed and strength?
Steel met steel as we danced across the training room
floor, Jahara giving ground before the polearm's greater reach, turning
every stroke with almost effortless parries. Sweat poured off my face,
and I shifted my grip on the Glaive. He wasn't even breathing hard. Or
at all.
So what can you do when you're faced with someone who
can stop everything you throw at them? You do this: manipulate their
blocks. Every strike had a purpose, forcing the Unforgiven to assume a
particular position, making him use a style that has a weakness. And
then once you've exposed it, you strike.
His last parry left him wide open. Instead of pulling
back for another shot, I bulled forward closing the range and spinning
the Glaive until the blade whirred forward again.
Correction -- Jahara moved like a cat that had been
deboned. He twisted under the strike, impossibly fast, and brought his
leg around in a sweep kick that sent both me and my weapon clattering to
the floor. The impact knocked what was left of the breath from my
lungs, so I lay there a moment staring at the mirror on the ceiling and
feeling my blood pound in my ears.
Jahara's face, upside down, appeared in my vision.
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm dead."
His mouth quirked in an almost-smile. "That is
unfortunate." Jahara doesn't quite have *no* sense of humor. He
understands jokes -- I think he just doesn't see the point of them. "Do
you need to be helped up?"
"I'm dead, remember? You have to carry me."
I didn't expect him to take me literally, though I
probably should have. Next thing I knew I was being lifted into the
air. He could lift me with a finger, probably, but he was always very
careful.
"Jahara! Put me down!" He complied, and I tried to
stop my heart from racing. "Just give me a hand. I'll make it."
With one of his hands on my shoulder, I managed to make
it out into the corridor and all the way to my quarters. Once there, I
sank into the plush covers of the bed with a sigh of relief. There's
something about flopping into bed. Even though you hurt just as much as
the moment before, suddenly its all good aches -- not having to move is
wonderfully relieving.
Jahara remained standing. Some things never change.
When he was still, he was absolutely still; when he moved, it was either
in careful, too-slow sweeps -- when he was paying attention -- or sudden
jerks, going from one position to another without occupying any of the
space in between.
I sighed. Sometimes I forgot that I was effectively
living with a god.
"Jahara?" My voice was muffled by being face-down on
the pillow.
"Yes?"
"You're just standing there. It's kind of creepy."
"I am sorry." He didn't move, and I sighed again and
rolled over to face him.
"Look. You're trying to figure out how to say
something, aren't you? Just go ahead and say it."
"Hotaru..." He stopped.
Now I was *really* getting scared. Hesitation is not
characteristic of Jahara at all. "Come on. Do you want me to guess?
It has something to do with my visit home, and why you've been trying to
kill me in the practice room these last couple of weeks."
"I...will not be accompanying you to Earth."
I sat up.
"What?"
"I cannot. I am sorry."
"But...but you said..."
"I know what I said."
"Why?"
He shook his head. "I cannot."
"Is there something dangerous? Has something happened?
Jahara!"
But he was already leaving, spinning on his heel and
stalking out of my rooms so fast he left glittering green trails in the
air behind him. The door slid closed after his departure.
"...what's going on?"
I didn't get much sleep that night. I wanted to,
desperately, since a full day of sparring had left me bruised and shaky.
But I couldn't turn off my mind, couldn't stop thinking about what the
Unforgiven had said, so I lay in an odd state somewhere between waking
and sleeping, spinning paranoid fantasies.
What if something really had happened? I only have
memories of the Galaxia business, but I know the others have saved the
world from interdimensional marauders a number of times. If something
else had come, something bigger and nastier then they were prepared to
deal with...
But according to Jahara himself, that was impossible!
The properties of any given world -- he called them "lines of fate" --
take a toll on anything that enters that is too different from the
destination. And the Guardians of the world exist to repel threats like
that.
[But you were gone], said a traitorous little voice.
[You're the Guardian of Power Incarnate, and you left to go gallivanting
around the universe. Maybe what's left wasn't enough?]
That can't be right, though. Even without me, Setsuna
and Usagi and the others should be more than strong enough to handle
things.
[Ami left too], I told myself. [How many of them are
really still there?]
I shook my head. No sense in worrying myself to death.
Time to sleep.
[Yeah, right.]
The next morning I wandered up to the control room, full
of questions. The *Aegis* is more than four kilometers long, but
fortunately for me it's lousy with magic. Getting from one point to
another is as easy as finding a door, punching in the correct code for
the room you want to get to, and stepping through. A very convenient
trick.
Jahara was there, as he almost always was. One of his
traits, as he told me what seems like a lifetime ago, is that he's free
from boredom -- with nothing to do, he sits in the command chair,
staring out at the screens, and just does nothing. It's an ability I've
occasionally wished to share, though on the whole traveling with the
Unforgiven had been far more interesting then one might have hoped for.
"Hotaru." He dipped his head slightly in
acknowledgment. By his side, the Harbinger he called Third -- the only
other intelligent creature on the ship, as far as I could tell -- bowed
deeply.
"Mistress Hotaru. Do you require anything this
morning?"
Third was almost human in appearance, a craggy-faced old
man who wouldn't have seemed out of place back home. He dressed almost
exclusively in long gray robes, and seemed to exist only to serve the
Unforgiven. Under his skin, when the light was right, you could see a
network of sparkling silver lines. Jahara had told me once that the
Harbingers were artificial life-forms, and that Third was the last of
their kind. I left it at that.
"Breakfast would be nice, Third. And something to
drink. Thank you."
"As you wish, Mistress." He glided away, noiselessly.
Jahara was still facing away from me, stubbornly, so I
had to circle the command chair. He didn't seem pleased at my arrival,
although frankly he rarely seemed pleased at anything. I took a deep
breath and started right in.
"When do we arrive?"
"Today. In approximately two hours."
"And what you said last night..."
"Yes. If you go, you will be going alone."
"What do you mean, *if* I go?"
"I would advise you not to."
"*What*?"
"I would advise you not to."
"I heard you the first time. But...I mean...why?"
"You might not like what you find."
"What do you mean? Has something happened?" He
remained silent, and I started to fume. "Jahara!"
"I am not required to tell you anything. I have
nevertheless chosen to deliver this warning: do not return home."
"Jahara..." Despite being angry, I decided to change
tacks. "How long have I been on the Aegis?"
"Three years, two months, and six days."
"In all that time, haven't you gotten to know me at
all?"
He inclined his head, slightly.
"So don't you realize that if you just deliver some
cryptic warning, I *have* to go? I'm worried about my friends!"
"Yes."
"But you..."
He shrugged. "I am placed in a no-win situation. If I
tell you nothing, you return to Earth. If I warn you, you wish to
return even more strongly."
"You could just *tell me what's going on*!"
"I cannot."
"Just like you can't come with me."
"Yes."
I let my hands curl into fists, for all the good it
would do me. "You..."
"I am sorry. I am bound by rules that do not affect
your kind."
"I know." *Gods*, did I know. "But...but this..."
"Remain on the *Aegis*, and we can find somewhere else
to go."
"No."
There was the slightest pause. "As you wish, of course.
We will be within teleportation range of Earth in ninety minutes. I
suggest you prepare."
And that was it. That was all I was going to get from
him. Still fuming, I headed for the door; when he spoke again, it
brought me up short.
"Hotaru..." Hesitation again. This was *really* not
like him.
"What?"
"Having you on board has been...good. I would be
pleased were you to return safely."
Tears welled suddenly. Three years of living with the
Unforgiven had taught me a little bit about him, too. That was the
closest thing to a declaration of love I was going to get.
"Thanks. I'll do my best."
Django Wexler (khaine)
khaine@mindless.com
Proof Method #3: Proof by obfuscation.
"Well, we can see that the application of the dynamic alternate
symbology in the context of the word 'turtle' counterpoints the
surrealism of the underlying metaphor..."
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