Jon Carp
Greenbeans
Circles of Time: Bad Guy


This fanfic is rated R due to language and graphic imagary.

-----


You're innocent when you dream. --Tom Waits

Reality will be defined by the last man standing. --Ian Shoales




	There was nothing unusual about the man.  He was slightly shorter 
than average, with a bald head and muscular body.  His moustache was 
neatly trimmed and his beard was nonexistent.  He was wearing a dark, 
well-pressed suit, with a gray tie and black shoes.  Again, absolutely 
nothing odd about his physical appearance.
	What was strange was the fact that he was falling sideways 
through a suburb.
	He wasn't screaming.  In fact, he didn't seem to notice he was 
falling.  His suit didn't even wrinkle, despite the fact that his tie 
was flapping around his head like a rabid bat.  He blinked.
	Something didn't seem right.
	He landed on the side of a pet store with a slight "Oof!" sound.  
He stood up and brushed himself off.  He couldn't see a thing, but he 
had done plenty of research.  He knew that this was called "night".
	A rat scurried by, and he blinked again.  It was on THAT part of 
the world.  It moved... right-side up.  Bizarre. 
	Still, he wanted to be as human as possible, so he fell to the 
ground.  The rat looked up without much interest and then continued on 
its way.
	The man stood up again.  He took a step forward.  It worked.
	His face formed a smile.  "Home," he said happily.  "Home home 
home home."  Then, pleased he was able to successfully use the correct 
expression and tone to suit his mood, he walked away, in search of 
them.  
	The people who would save him.  The people who would be home.

	A voice that might have come out of his mouth (he could never 
really tell) asked what "home" meant.  Another voice said that "home" 
was love.  Yet another said "home" was pain.  And yet another said 
"home" was death.  
	The first voice asked which was better.  There was no answer.





	Years ago, he had spoken to his friend about this place, about 
how to make it into home.  She had suggested evil, but he wasn't so 
sure that was a good idea.  
	"It's easier than the alternative," she had said, in response to 
his protests.  "And our friends will be happier."
	He didn't believe that.
	"Check the statistics," she said.
	He checked the statistics.  The dominant species on the planet 
(in terms of intelligence) thought about evil fifteen times more often 
than they thought about the alternative, which didn't even have a name 
of its own in over sixty percent of the languages.  
	The numbers secure in his brain, he made his decision.  
	"Thank you," she said.  "Evil it is.  Soon we'll be happy with 
friends."





	Happy they were not.  She tried and failed to make them her 
friends, and he for one completely blamed the method.  What else could 
it have been?  She had a more than suitable amount of charisma, and her 
appearance was very aesthetically pleasing, something that seemed to 
count a great, great deal to the dominant species of the planet.  
	However, they had risen up against her, and eventually forced her 
to admit defeat.  They had fought her every step of the way, and the 
ones that she had wanted to impress most of all (the younger 
generation, the power of the future of the planet, which also happened 
to be the past, but who was counting) had led the assault.  The girl.  
The girl had hated her.
	It was the evil.  He knew it.  The evil was to blame.  
	And so he came back, trying to make his friends with something 
else that didn't even have a name in over sixty percent of the 
languages on this planet.  He didn't like it.  It directly contradicted 
the numbers.
	But a little voice in his head that happened to be coming out of 
his mouth seemed enthusiastic about the idea.  And yet another, very 
similar voice disagreed strongly.  And yet another was apathetic.  
	Dammit, he needed some new data.




	Rei had a nightmare.



	The man in the suit came upon another man, younger, with five 
o'clock shadow and scruffy hair, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and green 
shorts.  The man in the suit stopped, bowed, and then shook the second 
man's hand warmly, smiling and nodding.  "Good evening," he said.  "If 
this is, in fact, what they call evening."  Then he continued on his 
way.
	"That wasn't evil," a voice said.  "Yes, I don't think it was," 
another agreed.
	He couldn't help but be proud of himself.





	After about three weeks of wandering, he spotted two of them.  
They each had a color.  Beyond what they could see, they had a color, 
and those colors didn't even have names, much less had they ever been 
seen before.  
	They were connected, too, he could tell.  They knew each other by 
sight.  They each had a translucent rope connecting them, and when they 
sat together at a table, as they were doing now, it looked like they 
were caught in a broken spider web.  They seemed happy.
	
	"I think someone's staring at you, Rei," Makoto commented, 
indicating the general area behind her friend.
	"Really?" Rei said, not turning around.  "Is he cute?"
	Makoto regarded him.  "He's too old to be cute," she said after a 
minute.  "But he's good-looking in an old-bald-man kind of way."
	"Should I be freaked out that he's staring at me?" Rei asked, 
sipping her coffee.
	"I'm not sure," Makoto said.
	"Maybe he's looking at you."
	"Maybe.  He's not looking away, though.  He's just staring over 
here."
	"So give him a death look," Rei said with a wink.  "Show him your 
muscles.  He won't mess with us."
	"He's not blinking," Makoto noted.
	"Is he breathing?" 
	"He's... moving his lips.  He's saying something.  And... he's 
smiling."
	Rei finished her coffee.  "I think we should leave," she said, 
standing up.  "Don't look at him anymore."  They left the building, 
leaving him behind.


	He was trying to convey warmth and seriousness, but he didn't 
think he successfully got it across.  One part of him tried to tell him 
that, but most of his attention was completely on those bizarre 
creatures.  They had more than forms, they had minds, they had truths.  
	They were confused.  He liked that.  He could relate.
	

	The next day he saw another one.  She had a completely different 
color, though her body was basically the same.  There was a difference, 
though.  She was connected to him.  She knew him by sight.
	There was a rope leading from her to him, though it did not lead 
back to her.  She looked at him and stopped mid-stride.  
	"Hello," he said.
	She did her best to smirk.  "That's not a language I've ever had 
experience with," she said. 
	"You're one of them?" he asked.  "You're one of the people who 
will be my friends?"
	She scowled, but a voice whispered to him that she was just doing 
it to hide her fear.
	Fear?  But...
	He turned and ran away.  She sighed, and, thinking things that he 
could never understand no matter how long he tried, she walked slowly 
home.
	When she got there, she walked upstairs to someone who knew her 
by sight.
	"Michiru," she said.  "He's here."
	"Who?"
	"The one Setsuna told us about.  He's here."




	He was running, and had been for quite some time.  He was focused 
on the voices, which were debating what she had said and why she had 
said it.
	He was focused away from seeing, and therefore ran right into a 
young woman with straight, shiny-silver hair, a green T-shirt, and a 
bag of groceries.
	She fell down.  He continued to run.




	
	
	In his mind, he was reaching out and touching her, and she was 
understanding completely.  That's what he should have done.  He was 
strange, he was absolutely alien, and though it was inconceivable that 
he was not welcome among them, they did not understand him, and were 
therefore frightened.
	He needed to expose them to himself.  Let them see and feel him, 
let them become a part of him, and then walk away, fully aware of his 
every being, his... his beauty.
	If they could touch his beauty, they would see.  They would see.
	At least, that was the solution that the voices had come up with.  
Though there still were some dissenters among them.



	They knew they probably wouldn't come out of this one alive, and 
had sex accordingly.  From what Setsuna had told them, he was the Big 
Bad Guy.  The Big Evil even-if-you-stop-him-you'll-probably-die-in-the-
process-and-it's-most-likely-he'll-destroy-the-world Bad Guy.  
	They fucked madly, for they both truly believed it to be the last 
time.  Afterwards, they lay in bed together, watching the snow fall out 
the window through each other's eyes and yet their own at the same 
time.  The world was themselves, and they loved the world more than 
anything else.  They would gladly die to protect it, to protect 
whatever connected them forever.
	They embraced for fourteen hours straight.  Then, tears dripping 
from four separate eyes, they rose to prepare for the battle. 




	It was a scream louder than most people thought the human vocal 
cords were capable of.  A crowd of people gathered quickly.  Mizuno Ami 
was one of them.
	A man in a Hawaiian shirt and scruffy, dark hair was writhing and 
screaming on the pavement.
	"Has he been shot?" someone asked.
	It was apparent to Ami that he had not been shot.  Something was 
obviously wrong with him, but she couldn't tell what it was.  The 
vision center of her brain knew how apparent his problem was, but 
fortunately, it told the rest of her brain slowly, gradually, to 
protect her from going absolutely insane.
	Then, with something halfway between a gasp and a grunt, she knew 
what it was.
	The man had hands where his eyes were supposed to be.
	People around Ami were beginning to figure it out, and most 
turned to run, some vomiting, some not.  
	The man lurched towards Ami and grabbed her leg with his 
hand/eyes.  "I can't SEE!" he bellowed.  "I CAN'T SEE!!"
	Ami tried to pry the hands off, but they were surprisingly 
strong.  And they were continually growing fingers.  
	The man let out a high-pitched shriek as his right arm suddenly 
turned into a large toe.  Ami began to feel faint.
	The man let go as his ribcage began to collapse in on itself.  
His sternum became another heart, his left foot grew a small intestine, 
and every hair on his head spontaneously became a pair of lips.
	Ami stood and watched, unable to even blink.  




	He smiled.  Someone finally understood his beauty.  Someone had 
become a part of his world.  
	It will spread, a voice commented.  Now that it has begun, it 
WILL spread.  Soon the whole world will be touched by it.  And that is 
a good thing.
	His mouth closed.  He would not allow argument.



	Makoto held Ami close as the blue haired girl sobbed.  It was not 
a thing the present company were accustomed to seeing.  None of them 
had witnessed what she had.  The body of the man had mutated and 
twisted until only a small mound of organic material was left with 
various recognizable bits extruding.
	Ami had been ill.  A puddle of her own vomit laid near the victim 
when the Tokyo authorities arrived at the scene.  She had left before 
anyone could question her.
	The others were called when a shaken Ami climbed wearily up the 
steps leading to the Hikawa Shrine.  So far, only the Inner senshi were 
present, though the Outers had been asked to come.  Their absence was 
not surprising.
	"Ami-chan, do you want to talk about it?" Rei placed a reassuring 
hand on Ami's knee.  She squeezed it, trying to convey her concern 
while still expressing her need to know what had so disturbed the young 
medical student.
	"It was..." a gurgled sob caught in her throat.
	"It's the end of the world," Haruka's stern voice said from the 
doorway.
	A hand slid the door aside.  "Excuse us," Michiru's light timbre 
belied Haruka's earlier tone.  "But we have business to discuss."



	A man in a lab coat examined a tissue sample from the specimen 
that had been brought to him yesterday.  He had yet to sleep since it 
arrived.  
	What he was looking at was from the lining of the stomach, though 
it hadn't started out that way.  According to witnesses, this had once 
been a man's right thigh.
	Personally, he thought someone was playing a prank on him.
	The sample was perfectly health with no disease, no tearing of 
the lining, no ulcers.  It was taken from the stomach of an adult, but 
that was the most remarkable thing about it.



	And Ami felt fine.



	The restaurant was open.  It was not closed.  Noticing this, she 
went in.
	She was wearing clothing, but she was not doing it correctly.  
The skirt that was tied around her arm and the sandal on her right hand 
would tell anyone that.  She walked up to a baby wearing a set of 
encyclopedias and a monkey or two. She stared at him.
	The bank teller in the suit and tie looked back at her, for quite 
a long time, due to the fact that she was dressed in such a way that 
her bosom was completely exposed.  
	She was smiling.
	"Guitar," she said.  "Guitar guitar guitar."  Which meant, of 
course, that she was hungry and wanted to purchase some food.
	The bank teller called security.
	"Quel lyot ul treabin rel blourde," she said matter-of-factly.  
She was smelling something with her straight, shiny-silver hair.
	To her right, two large arcade machines were approaching her.  
They were her friends.  She tried to run away, but they caught her, and 
began dragging her away.  That was when she thought she started 
screaming, but in actuality she simply fell asleep.  
	



	He watched a newscast through the window of an electronics store.  
The newscaster's lips moved.  He could not hear her, he didn't need to.  
His beauty was spreading.  Others would see the beauty that he does and 
they would thank him for his gift.
	A teenager stood besides him, watching the broadcast.  "I hear 
that she looked like Gojira chewed her up, then spat up her remains," 
he informed his female companion.
	The young woman regarded him with a look of disgust.  "You are so 
crass," she walked away.
	He laughed.  It was a new experience, for he had not laughed as a 
human before.  It was an experience that he would have to find reason 
to repeat.  He turned to speak to the young man.  "Thank you," he said 
simply, squeezing his shoulder, before walking away humming to himself.



	A voice protested that they would not understand his beauty.  
That they were afraid.  Another argued that there was no better way to 
show them not to fear then by bringing it to the forefront.
	He listened to their discussion.  But the choice has already been 
made.  There was no way to stop the spread once it was started.  They 
would see his beauty, whether they accepted it or not.
	She nodded her approval.  He had made the right decision in her 
opinion.  They needed more exposure to those around them.  He should 
seize this opportunity to make Earth his home.



	The Soldier of Embrace had a bad feeling.



	The newscasts reported ten deaths today.  Two were due to an off-
shore fishing accident.  Another two were caused by an automobile 
collision.  One was under investigation, but not the same investigation 
as the last five deaths.
	Authorities were stumped.  They were unable to find professionals 
to assist in their investigation since the first scientist whom had 
examined the original remains had become a small, pink dog, much like a 
toy poodle.  His final reports had stated that the remains held no 
disease, parasites, or otherwise.
	Obviously his reports were incorrect.



	And Ami felt fine.



	He saw her again.  The one who had a rope to him, but he did not 
have one in return.  She was with a companion whose ropes were likewise 
configured.
	"Hello," he said hesitantly, stepping forward to meet them.  "You 
are my friends."  It was a statement.
	"Are we?" The taller of the two intoned.
	He considered her question carefully.  "Yes," he answered after 
much thought.  "You are my friends and I am home."
	He then thought some more.  "At least," he said, "That is by far 
the most likely possibility."
	He gathered from the voices that they would probably disagree.  
Still, he couldn't be sure.  He knew that nothing is a sure thing.
	And then they were moving apart very quickly, and he wasn't sure 
if he had initiated this new development, or if it was them, but it 
didn't matter because he was with them anyway.  He knew them by sight.  
They were his friends.  They had given up a part of themselves and 
entrusted it to him.
	It was only fair that he do the same, of course.  He had to do 
the same.  He quickly devised a plan.



	Ami consulted the records through bloodshot eyes.  She hadn't 
slept in three days, and that was probably the reason she was so tired.  
She couldn't be sure, however.  Nothing was a sure thing anymore.
	Luna, walking in behind her, yawned.  "Have you found anything 
important yet?" she asked.
	"It's physical contact," Ami said.  "I do know that.  At this 
point, you have to make physical contact with someone who's been 
affected to become so yourself.  So stay back, please."
	Luna blinked.  "You... haven't become affected, have you?"
	Ami sighed.  She put down the coroner's reports and stood up.  
"I'm going to show you something, Luna," she said.  "And you can't tell 
anybody.  Do you promise?"
	Luna nodded.  Ami undid her jeans and pulled them down.  "I have 
two knees on my right leg," she said.
	Luna stared.
	"That's where he grabbed me," Ami said, pointing.  "I've been 
feeling perfectly fine, but I woke up this morning and it was there.  
It took me all morning to learn how to walk on it."
	Ami bent all three of her knees.  Luna looked sick.
	Ami pulled her jeans back up.  "I'm sorry," she said, genuinely 
sorry.  She smiled half-heartedly.  "It's actually an advantage, when 
you think about it.  It's stronger, more maneuverable... evolution 
could start giving us two knees on each leg in a few hundred thousand 
years."
	"Ami..." Luna whispered.  "Does this mean the others are...?"
	"Probably," Ami interrupted.  Her voice was level, controlled.  
"I need to get some of the actual remains of that man, or one of the 
other victims.  I need to study them.
	"I'll sneak in tonight."


	
	"Setsuna warned..."
	"She said it could be stopped by us..."
	"The mighty Sailor Pluto imparting knowledge of the future?  I 
think not..."
	"What are you talking about?" Hotaru pushed herself the rest of 
the way through the door that had been cracked open.  Haruka and 
Michiru were lounging in the family room on a couch.  An open bottle of 
wine and two glasses set on a low table by their shins.
	"Hotaru-chan, what are you still doing up?" Michiru slipped into 
her motherly mode.  She rose off the couch to embrace her.  A habit 
that had been hard to break, even though she was nearly grown now.
	"Michiru-mama," she embraced the woman that was hardly old than 
her before repeating the question.
	Haruka motioned for her to sit down on a nearby chair.  Michiru 
returned to her position next to her lover before the blonde haired 
woman spoke.  "We were discussing the new enemy."
	They had, of course, told her about Setsuna's warning of a 
visitor from out of system.  As to him being a threat, she wasn't as 
certain.  It was her duty to protect against threats from the outer 
system, but her 'parents' could be a little paranoid about it 
sometimes.  They didn't think she took her duties seriously, saying 
that she was being influenced by the recent fad and onslaught of 
attention the 'alien' theme had received in movies and television.
	Sailor Saturn did not slough her duties.
	"Has Ami-chan come up with anything?" She asked, speaking with 
the weight the situation deserved.
	Haruka gave an annoyed sigh.  "This... plague," she used the word 
for lack of a better one, "is transmitted via touch."
	"For now," Michiru added.
	"Yes," Haruka said.  "For now.  That seems suspiciously... 
rational for this particular enemy, though.  I don't expect it to last 
long."
	"Has Ami-chan been infected?" Hotaru asked, her eyes showing 
concern but her voice showing none.
	"No," Haruka answered.  "We've been keeping regular tabs on her, 
and she feels perfectly fine.  Which is hopeful for us."
	Michiru started to laugh.  For some reason, the word "hopeful" 
struck her as funny.  Haruka went to her.
	Hotaru imagined what it would be like to destroy the world.  It 
was something she had done many times in the past, but this time was 
different.  This time she knew it might not be long before she actually 
got the opportunity to do it.  
	She blinked, and suddenly became aware that there was quite a bit 
of drool accumulated on her chin.  She wiped it away and turned her 
attention to her fellow Outer senshi.
	They were arguing.  "You know exactly what's going to happen, 
Haruka!" Michiru was shrieking.  "We're going to DIE, and then Usagi's 
going to save the day!  Why do we even DO it?!  Why the fuck do we even 
EXIST?!"
	Her mouth was usually sugary-sweet, but not today.  Hotaru noted 
that her "mother" wasn't wearing any make-up.  And that she actually 
looked better than she did when she had it on.
	Haruka didn't have an answer to Michiru's question.  In fact, she 
had been wondering that herself.
	Hotaru stood up and left the room, as Michiru began swearing like 
a drunken sailor.  
	

	Later that night, while Michiru was asleep against her side, 
Haruka considered the outburst that occurred earlier in the day.  Why 
did they exist?  Why did they try?  No matter what happened, they knew 
the results: Crystal Tokyo would raise from the ashes, and mankind 
would once again cling to life by its fingernails if nothing else.
	What about them?  No one ever mentioned their presence in Crystal 
Tokyo.  They had assumed long ago that they would die before the new 
age...
	Haruka snorted at the irony.  They had so cockily announced that 
they were 'invited by the new age'.  'Used like a doormat to the new 
age' would be more accurate.  Their age was quickly coming to an end 
after a disappointingly short run.
	Why not..?  Why not run away from all this?  Why not curl up in 
some little hole and make mad passionate love to Michiru until the 
reaper came for them?  If they were to die anyway, why not go out 
happy?
	Haruka's chest tightened.  She gasped at the sudden constriction, 
managing to not wake her lover.  The Space Sword extracted itself from 
her, to glow softly, floating, a half meter above her chest.
	"What the..?" She whispered harshly.  The sword swung around as 
the scabbard melted away to reveal the blade itself.  The point hovered 
a few short centimeters away from her nose.
	"Are you threatening me?" She growled at the defiant object.  It 
shimmered then dissipated into nothing.
	This caused her to sit up, startling the no longer sleeping 
Michiru.  Try as she might, Haruka could not call the Talisman to her 
hand.  Stunned at this development, Michiru tried likewise with hers, 
having equal success.
	"The Talismans have left us?" Michiru gasped.
	"We're as good as dead..."




	Sailor Mercury snuck down the hall toward the laboratory.  She 
stopped.  Something strange was about to happen.
	Suddenly, a feeling that was quite similar to childbirth, yet 
carried with it absolutely no pain, rushed through her body.  She 
smiled.  Then she tried to take a step, but fell to the floor.
	She looked down at her right leg.  The corruption was gone from 
her body.  She was a senshi.  Senshi are only supposed to have one knee 
per leg, and so she did.  
	She stood and, wobbling, continued on her way.
	
	

	
	Makoto didn't understand the pounding in her head.  Though 
understanding did not seem to be her overall problem.  The fact that 
years of struggling in English classes had overnight resulted in 
complete fluency was overlooked when she was channel surfing out of 
boredom and had watched a half-hour show without subtitling.
	The pounding in her head was too much to take note such minor 
details.

	
	
	"You should leave," a voice said.  "You're killing them, and you 
should leave.  You should go away from here.  You should leave.  You 
should go away from them.  You're killing them.  You're killing them 
and they are being killed by you and you should leave."
	He was trying to drown the voice out with real noise, but it 
didn't work.  It continued to whisper in his ear.
	"That is not logical," another voice argued in his other ear.  
"You do not try to kill them, and therefore it is too unlikely that you 
are doing it.  You love them."
	"Love?" a voice asked.
	"They deserve to be killed by you," another chimed in.  "They 
deserve it."
	He might have been killing them, and it might have been a bad 
thing to do.  Without hard data, he had to assume that all of the 
possibilities were true.
	"But mostly what?" a voice asked.
	"Shut up," he muttered.  That was new slang to him.  He liked new 
slang.  It was mostly a good thing.  He laughed.
	



	We're going to die, she heard someone say, and it was a while 
before she realized that no one had said it at all.  "What?" she asked.
	There was silence all around, and it was whispering in her ear.
	"I'm afraid," she thought, or maybe she said, or maybe she heard.
	I don't even know which character I'm writing about.
	There was something touching the inside of her spine, but her 
mind simply interpreted it as a beautiful, sweet caress.  She moaned 
softly.  
	Behind her, a bald man was weeping silently out of frustration.  
He was playing with her hair and stabbing her in the back and raping 
her on the floor and kissing her forehead softly all at the same time 
but she couldn't even tell or see or know.
	Why didn't she understand?  Why couldn't her brain even 
comprehend his beauty?
	"The others could," a voice whispered.  "The ones without colors.  
The ones with colors are stubborn."
	"They hate you!" another screamed from somewhere near the back.  
"They'll never be your friends!  They're just gonna fight you and send 
you away like they did to her!"
	"You hate them, you love them, you touch them and they don't 
care," one commented.  "You spend all your days thinking about them and 
we voices talk about nothing else.  They don't know or understand you 
at all, and if they did they wouldn't care, and if they did they would 
just try to hurt you."
	He examined her color.  It was a pale shade of green that had no 
name.  All he wanted to do mostly was make them his friends.  He wanted 
them to love him, mostly.
	The loudest voice smiled vocally.  "You need to force them," it 
said.  "You need to force them.  If you don't, they won't want you to 
be here.  They'll want you to go away from your new home."
	"Home?" she asked, shivering on the inside.  She had absolutely 
no idea who she was talking to.  She turned around for no reason at 
all, but there was no one there.




	Tsukino Usagi woke up one morning with an ant on her lip.  She 
gagged and spit the crawling insect onto the floor.  She picked up a 
manga on the bedside table and prepared to smack the life out of it.
	But she didn't.  She began to think about it, scurrying away as 
fast as it could.  Her lip was warm and safe.  All it had wanted was a 
place to rest, to stay for a while.  It had trusted her lip, and she 
was utterly breaking that trust by treating the ant as some sort of 
intruder.  It was impossible for her to smash it.
	She put the manga down and slowly stood up to get dressed.


	Usagi ran up the steps to the Hikawa Shrine for a meeting of the 
senshi to discuss the plague that held Japan in its grip.
	"The problem is," Makoto said, hitting her fist into her opposite 
hand, "is that we're reacting instead of ACTING."
	"Who's the enemy to act against?" Rei asked.  "I've done several 
reading and haven't come up with more then faint murmuring of voices."
	"I've been... been working on it," Ami muttered in a sleepy daze.  
"The best scientists in Japan are working... working on it."
	Usagi frowned with concern.  "You really need to get some rest, 
Ami."
	"Can't.  No one else can do the work," she stifled a yawn.
	"We all know about Ami's efforts.  What can the rest be doing?" 
Makoto drove back to the point.
	"Find an enemy for us to face and I'm at your side," Minako said.  
"Until then, what can we do but keep our ear to the ground?"
	"The Outers say there IS an enemy to fight!" Makoto exclaimed in 
fustration.
	"They also claimed that the Starlights were enemies," Rei 
reminded gently.
	"Zeal shouldn't take weight from their message," Ami piped up.
	"Exactly!  We should go out there and fight this head on!" Makoto 
grinned at having someone agree with her.
	Minako sighed.  "Again, I ask WHO?  What does this enemy look 
like?  Does he have a name?  Where do we find him?  We don't even know 
HOW he strikes!" She threw her hands up in fustration.
	"We'll keep looking," Usagi decided.  "That's the best we can 
do."

	The Outer senshi were not in attendance of this meeting due to 
having received an invitation to meet the being the Inners were 
seeking.




	Japan initiated a quarantine.  It did no good.  The bald man 
learned how to use a telephone, and called a random man in Argentina, 
who found himself physically connected to his bowl of Frosted Flakes 
within mere hours of picking up the phone in a sleepy stupor and 
muttering, rudely, "Que?"
	
	The bald man felt his tongue with his fingers.  It was beautiful, 
and the sounds it could make were beautiful, too.  He was getting more 
and more used to this body, a word he wasn't sure applied, but did.


	
	"I'm having a hard time blinking," Ami thought to herself, but 
quickly dismissed the symptom as just a psychosomatic response.  
Nothing was at all odd about her blinking.  She felt fine.
	There was evidence, she knew, and there were reactions to be made 
from it and ideas to form from the reactions, and from the ideas come 
possible actions and from the actions comes the answer and from the 
answer comes security and from security comes happiness and from 
happiness comes a feeling of self-worth.  If she was the one to study 
the evidence in the first place.  If she didn't, who would?  Nobody, 
probably, and then none of the good things would happen.  But even if 
some random schmuck picked up the evidence and made the reactions and 
formed the ideas and performed the actions and discovered the answer 
and brought about security and basked in happiness and the resulting 
feeling of self-worth, then Ami would reap the benefits, yes, all but 
the ever-important last one.  The self-worth.  That would go to 
somebody else.  And somebody else's daughter would be proud of her 
introverted, single mother who had absolutely no idea how to raise a 
child.  Assuming, of course that they were in that position.  And 
Setsuna would look up at them and go, "I want to grow up to be just 
like them, Mommy, because they saved the world!"  And then Ami would 
have even less self-worth than if the entire thing had never happened, 
and Setsuna would grow up bitter, angry, and neglected, and Ami would 
only have herself to blame.
	So she studied the evidence as hard as she could.



	Makoto held her head between shaking hands as the roar in her 
mind threatened to shatter the few shreds of sanity she clung to.  This 
pain, it was not physical.  It was not real.  She was not hearing the 
thoughts of others.
	Yet she was.
	And the things they thought were not pleasant.
	Rei.  Minako.  Ami.  Usagi... especially Usagi.  They all hated 
her.  They were still afraid of her.  They had never accepted her.  
They were using her.
	Friends?  They were never friends with her.  They had MADE her 
into a senshi, a warrior, because of her strength.  They needed that, 
not her.  Kino Makoto meant NOTHING to them.




	It's difficult to describe the place that the bald man decided to 
have the showdown, if it could be called that.  Approximately half the 
voices were, and the rest were not.  
	Neptune saw the place and felt the inside of her head explode, 
which is not what happened.  Her knees buckled and she would have 
fallen flat on her face had Uranus not caught her and given her 
support.
	When Uranus caught sight of the place, she could only stare and 
blink.  Humankind had not created it.  It was inside a building, a dark 
building, but the dark was light and the building was outside on the 
inside, a neat trick that all buildings wish they could pull off.  With 
this rather mad thought, Uranus took it in.  But then quickly had to 
stop, since it was time for her to catch Neptune and give her support.
	When the bald man saw the place, his first impression was one of 
boredom and apathy.  He had created it, so he knew what was going to be 
there before he had even started, and DEFINITELY before he had 
finished.  Still, he hoped they appreciated it.  He had tried to make 
it... homey.  Yes, homey.  That was one of the voices' favorite word 
now.  It liked the sound of it.
	He smiled, completely ignoring the little voice, somewhere in the 
back, that was whimpering, "They're going to hate us.  They're going to 
hate us.  They're going to hate us.  They're going to hate us."





	Hotaru practiced.  She only did so because she knew it was her 
duty to be ready when the time came; if it had been up to her, she 
would not have done it at all.  It was such a disappointment to have to 
stop just before the ritual was completed.  She liked it, though.  She 
liked pretending.  
	And occasionally, she would stop and think about lamps and dolls 
and grass and pink flower petals and those really tiny trees and the 
fast cars that Haruka (papa) loved to drive and seafood and ocean water 
and mud (the really thick, brown kind that was PERFECT to play in) and 
puppies and dead insects and shoes and piles of animal bones in the 
forest and the criminally insane and juggling acrobats and rabbit-fur 
coats and dark clouds that hid the sun for HOURS and moles and rabies 
and eggs and empty wastepaper baskets and hotel rooms and imaginary 
friends and multiple personalities and dead frogs that fall from the 
sky and love and kaleidoscopes and stand-up comedians and large straw 
hats and sunscreen and multi-colored dresses and Wellbutrin and her 
father and her friends and the future and the past and goats and wet 
cigarettes and asexuality and devil worship and Skittles and kindness 
and love (the other kind) and marijuana and flute music and anime and 
rectangles and Italian poetry and cinnamon toast and ugliness and bear 
attacks and everything else that was beautiful in the (meaning this) 
world.  
	And then she thought she didn't care about any of them.  
	(But she did.)





	End of the world end of the world end of the world end of the 
world end of 
	Rei became rather depressed.  Dreams about judgement day tended 
to have that effect on her.  She was getting rather sick of them.
	The end of the world.  That meant: when ya die this time, babe, 
you ain't comin' back.
	At least they would fight together.  That ensured that she would 
die in Usagi's presence.  ('Cause I know if she had her choice she'd 
spend her final hours with Mamoru and not with me.)
	Rei didn't actually think these thoughts.  She thought, "I wonder 
what terrible villain will come next, after we dispose of this guy.  
Probably another megalomaniac, red-eyed woman bent on destroying us 
all.  We're about due for another one of those."
	But when he kills us, there'll be no more red-eyed villianesses 
and Usagi won't be there for me anymore and I'll miss her.  And even if 
I'm unable to feel anything because I'm dead I'LL STILL FEEL THAT.
	She wasn't thinking those thoughts, though, so she went to the 
store to buy some cereal grains and put the entire situation out of her 
mind for a little while.




	Makoto was at the store, being interviewed by the police.  True, 
it was very late at night, but she was naïve to think that nobody would 
see her knocking over the shelves containing the snack foods and 
breads.
	She resisted the urge to beat the living shit out of the cops 
only because she had managed to let off some steam performing the very 
action that got her into this mess.  
	They let her off with a warning, because she was attractive and 
very obviously suffering from sleep deprivation.  They escorted her 
back to her apartment, gave her the bill for the clean-up, and told her 
to get a good night's sleep.
	Rei missed all this, because she walked right by the store and 
continued on to a bar, where she drank several gin and tonics, making 
herself three and a half times as depressed as she had been before.  
Some fat man hit on her, but she slapped him, never once cracking a 
smile.  She left, puked in a nearby trash can, and headed off to 
Makoto's.





	Rei's hand hurt.  She had no idea why.  There was a large purple 
mark on the palm, but she was in no state of mind to figure out its 
cause.
	Makoto had taken her in with calm panic.  She said, "Go ahead and 
take the bed.  I'm not going to be sleeping tonight."
	Rei said, "My hand hurts."
	She offered it to Makoto for inspection.  Makoto took it, 
frowning, and poked the mark gently.  Rei gave a quick yelp and quickly 
drew her hand back.  "That hurt a lot," she said. 
	"Just go to sleep," Makoto said.  "If it's not better in the 
morning, we'll show it to Ami.  You can't get hurt, Rei.  Not now."
	Rei muttered some kind of response and walked slowly into the 
bedroom.  Makoto went to the stove to make herself some more coffee.




	Rei's hand was swollen the next morning.  She applied ice and 
pressure, but the swollen part didn't even seem to be flesh anymore.  
It felt more like a ceiling.
	
	Makoto went to Ami's mother's house to check on Setsuna.  She 
examined the girl, who, halfway through the conversation, started 
crying, as children her age are apt to do when discussing deadly 
diseases.  Makoto wiped the tears away with her fingers.  



	Later in the day, Minako wanted to have a serious talk with 
Makoto and Usagi wanted to have a serious talk with Rei.  Both were 
scared, both were unsure of themselves when it came their leadership 
skills, and both were unwilling to believe that Haruka and Michiru's 
description of a psychotic, evil villain was entirely accurate.
	Makoto hugged Minako.  Rei hugged Usagi.  Self-confidence 
increased twice.



	Saturn lay stomach first on the family room floor.  The Silence 
Glaive lay besides her.  Rolling over, she pulled the weapon closer to 
her.  Certainly she had wielded it enough times, but she'd never really 
INSPECTED it.
	The blade looked deadly enough.  She tested the edge with a 
gloved hand.  Cloth was easily peeled aside as well as the tender flesh 
of her finger.  She did nothing to stop the blood that now traced down 
the face of the blade.
	How could a few drops represent the amount of blood this weapon 
was capable of spilling?  The blood of humanity...



	All of this happened while Neptune and Uranus watched the place 
they had been summoned to.  They stared, mouths and eyes half open, 
thinking some of the strangest thoughts they were capable of.  And why 
wouldn't they when the world they had always perceived to be reality 
was turned inside out?
	The room they stood in was not a room so much as an open space 
contained.  (At least from what they could see).  Beneath their booted 
feet were many stuffed animals and various soft toys with trees of 
lampposts and branches of traffic signs surrounded them, placing them 
in a forest of sorts.  A belt slithered by Uranus's leg, causing her to 
jump back.  The belt hissed at her before scurrying away into the 
bushes made of woman's undergarments.
	"Show yourself!" Uranus challenged.
	The bald headed man presented himself from behind a waterfall of 
jelly beans.  He walked calmly, confidently, to a comfortable 10 meters 
away from the two senshi.  Bowing respectfully he greeted them, "Good 
afternoon."
	"You know why we are here," Uranus's eyes flashed before she 
adopted a battle posture.
	"I do," he smiled warmly.  "You are here because you are my 
friends."
	Neither senshi reacted to this reason.  They stood for several 
long moments examining each other before Neptune spoke.  "How can you 
say that?  After all the people you have killed?"  The challenge, and 
hurt, in her voice were unmistakable.
	He frowned.  The thought of his friends being upset with him 
caused him to feel distressed.  "I wanted to share my beauty with them, 
but they did not accept my beauty.  So it is their own faults for being 
weak and dying," he reasoned with the help of the voices.
	Neptune gasped in surprise.
	He again felt distressed.  "Don't worry.  I have a gift for you 
as well!  Yes, I will share it with you now," he decided.
	"We don't want your 'gift'," Uranus threw her World Shaking at 
him.  This he easily dodged via teleportation.
	"You are my friends!" He was startled at this sudden development.  
The voices told him not to be, for these creatures could not be 
trusted.  He brushed those thoughts aside, willing to give things 
another chance.
	Quickly, before either one could do anything aggressive against 
him, he teleported again.  Firmly he placed a hand on each of their 
backs.  "I see the bonds between you two.  My friends, now you can be 
as one like you have always wanted," he grinned broadly.
	Neptune whispered harshly, "What have you done?"

	Uranus screamed as she melted.  If it weren't for her 
preoccupation with her own pain, she would have noted that Neptune was 
doing likewise.  She fell into Neptune, her flesh colliding and then 
combining with that of her partner.
	He looked on with smug pride at the tangle of limbs and flesh 
that was his friends.
	Now, they will be happy.

	She, no, they had always considered themselves close.  Closer 
than any two people could ever be: of one mind in two bodies.  There 
was no longer a physical barrier between them, no longer a restriction 
from them truly being, forever more, one person.
	And it was Hell.
	For, no matter their closeness, they were still two people.  Two 
people with distinct egos and personalities.  They were never meant to 
be one totally, but two halves together in the creation of one.
	They wanted nothing more than to die.



	The bald man was laughing because he was angry.  He had studied 
this species, this culture, and he knew how they expressed happiness.  
They were yelling, BUT NOT AT HIM!!  They weren't even yelling at 
anything!  
	He faced Nepnusndaantuneur.  He grabbed her by a foot that was a 
convenient handle.  "INGRATE!!" he screamed.  "How dare you hate me!  
How dare you hate me just because I am alien and different!  How dare 
you hate me just because my presence causes you to die!"
	Usandnepurtunean heard him, but was too busy writhing in agony to 
respond.  He kicked her with his fist.
	"It's your own fault," he said, but he wasn't speaking to them 
anymore, but to the whole planet.  "You're alien to me, but you don't 
see me twisting and changing and dying whenever one of you touches me!  
And if you did, it would make me happy!"
	Tunenepurandanus ignored him, and simply started rolling away in 
search of a ledge or sharp object or something that would offer a 
convenient means of suicide.
	The voices were no solace, either.  Andurtuneusannep's reaction 
to his plan had set off a hot debate, and so far there had been no 
outcome.  No voice seemed to agree with any other, so there was no 
mostly.  He was confused.
	But the voices couldn't affect his mood even if they had been 
paying attention enough to try.  He was angry.  He threw his new friend 
across the room and kicked her until she stopped moving much.
	Then they started changing back.  Uranus and Neptune are supposed 
to be separate organisms, and thus they began to become so.
	He snarled and pounced on them.  Their skin melted and they 
remerged.  He smiled in satisfaction.  They would never be separate 
again.
	But his emotion was not what he thought it would be.  Without the 
voices, his reasoning was poor.  He thought doing this would make them 
and himself feel good, but it did not.  They were hurt and he was hurt.  
He wept out of sadness, sure he was doing the suitable thing.
	The voices continued their debate.





	At the home she shared with her parents, Minako watched the 
national news.  It wasn't an activity that she usually indulged in, but 
Artemis, who was on the couch besides her, had insisted.

	"It is being compared to the Black Plague as hundred of thousands 
of people world-wide fall victim to HMV." (HMV [Human Mutation Virus] 
being the name that was given to the plague).  "Governments are 
scrambling to contain the disease that, as yet, has no cure."  The 
reporter on location at the local university was replaced by a middle 
aged man in a lab coat.
	"Initially this disease was transmitted via touch," he announced 
in a professional tone, though he wasn't telling the viewers anything 
they didn't already know.  "It apparently mutated at some point.  We 
are tracking the changes that occur and are steadily working our way 
towards a cure."

	Minako chewed on her bottom lip as she continued to watch the 
program. Artemis paced back and forth across the top of the couch.
	"Has Ami made any progress?" He asked, somewhat annoyed with the 
coverage it was receiving.
	"No," Minako shook her head.

	"On a related note." The scene switched back to the on location 
reporter. "Protests have been occurring across the city as hospitals 
turn away victims.  In a startling announcement made yesterday, public 
health officials tightened the quarantine so that no inflicted persons 
will be admitted into area hospitals.  This has brought forth a 
backlash of public outrage as the medical community is seemingly 
turning its backs on the people who need help the most."
	A man in his mid-fifties with thinning hair and thick glasses 
stood behind a podium as a crowd of reporters buzzed below him.  "This 
is not a voluntary action.  In the interest of protecting the patients 
we already have admitted, we must restrict the chances for them being 
exposed to this plague."
	The reporter again, who seemed to be caught slightly off guard, 
was glancing at her notes when it was back to her.  "We've heard rumors 
that the hospitals are even turning away there own doctors and nurses 
who have crossed the line by going out to those who seek help on their 
own time.  These professionals, who have a heart that will not let them 
give up to the odds facing us all, are no longer admitted into the 
complex after they have seen an infected patient."
	"This is a sad turn of events," the anchor in the studio moved on 
to other news.  (What little of that there was nowadays).

	"This is boring," Minako sniffed.  "I'm going to Mako-chan's."




	Makoto smiled gently as Minako left her apartment.  She watched 
the window until her "friend" had gone around the corner.
	She eyed her apartment with disgust.  She concentrated, and began 
seeing it as not her apartment, but rather Minako.  It wasn't hard.
	She began destroying everything she saw.  "Liar!", she screamed 
softly, afraid to alert the Outer senshi (who were watching her) from 
discovering what she was doing.  Minako was beaten to a bloody puddle, 
her bones crushed to a fine powder that was floating in the bathtub, 
her brains ground to goo in the garbage disposal.
	Afterwards Makoto studied the carnage and felt a little better.  
How dare that bitch come in here and pretend to love and hate and 
everything else when she didn't love and hate, she hated and loved.  
She hated and loved everything, but the apartment wasn't admitting it.  
But now the apartment was dead, for lack of anyone better.
	She sat down in the corner, terrified.  Quick flashes of rational 
thought made her realize what she was doing and knowing made no sense, 
but...
	Keeping it all hidden in private was getting very difficult.  It 
wouldn't be long, she knew, before the outside world started changing 
for good, and she started having to fight it and maybe kill Minako for 
real.  The end of the world.  So this is what it felt like.  She sobbed 
at the prospect of killing her best friend.
	She took hold of her brain, and knew it was different.  She 
passed that observation off, however, as one of her insane non 
sequiturs.  It wasn't, though.




	

	Rei's hand ballooned into something with a face, a voice, and a 
smart-ass attitude.  Prudently, she called Ami, who told her to 
transform into Sailor Mars.  Rei did so, and was soon softly rubbing 
her new, slender hand.



	


	Ami hadn't slept much in three and a half weeks.  She was 
beginning to go nuts, but she couldn't even tell.
	She was analyzing data, bent over and concentrating, when she 
suddenly heard a noise so strange she thought it was a taste at first.
	A very sweet taste, like cherry Jello.
	It was the sound of the bald man weeping.  He was standing behind 
her, carrying a mass of something large and organic.
	"I'm sorry..." he murmured.  "I'm sorry... I didn't know it would 
hurt them so much..." 
	He looked up at Ami.  "You have a color, just like them," he said 
softly.  "Can't you help them?  Can't you make them better?  I could if 
I would, but the vast majority of me can't.  Please... give them some 
of your color.  Help them, please.  Help them..."
	He set Nusandanurtunenep down gently and disappeared.  He was 
pretty much ashamed.  That was what the final consensus had been.





	Usagi was crying.  She couldn't even bother to think about the 
bald man, or even his disease.  She stood in the doorway, staring at 
Tuneandnepanusur, feeling how cold the room was.
	She stood up and walked over to the writhing mass of flesh.  She 
looked for a head with which to converse, but there was none, not on 
the outside, anyway.  The only way she knew for sure that this used to 
be Uranus and Neptune was that she could see their colors.  Their 
colors were apparent, and had not merged together.
	She sat down and took hold of a hand that was near her, holding 
it gently.  The writhing subsided some.
	Ami entered the room, her eyes containing more red than blue.  
"What's wrong with him is the... it's he's... he's so alien from us, I 
mean, he doesn't have atoms or anything I can even see inside him, he's 
so different that we can't take it.  I mean, our bodies and our minds 
can't take it.  We're... pushed back... uh... corrupted by it.  Him, I 
mean."
	Usagi didn't respond.  
	"But the senshi, I mean, the senshi are alien, but not as alien 
as he is, so we can take it, when we're senshi," Ami continued.  "He 
did something to Uanep, I mean Urnus... I mean Uranus and Neptune that 
changed the way they are, he did it... um... what's the, did it... on 
purpose.  He did it on purpose to them, so it's different, so we 
can't... do anything, because it's different."
	Usagi looked down at the thing that used to be her colleagues as 
its grip on her hand loosened.  "I think they're asleep," she said.
	"Good, cause they... uh..." Ami trailed off as she tried to 
remember exactly what was good about them sleeping.  "They... uh..."
	"Why can't I heal them?" Usagi asked.  "Why can't I heal anyone?"
	"Because your crystal, it only changes rabbits to bunnies, 
y'know?" Ami said.  "Dogs to hounds.  And back again.  That's what its 
called healing.  It can't turn a star into a yardstick, see?  It just 
turns person-monster to person.  These aren't person-monsters, they're 
not person-anythings."
	"When he's gone will all of this go away?" Usagi asked.
	"I don't know!" Ami snapped.  "Sorry," she said softly.  "I... 
uh."
	Suddenly, Nusnepandtunenuran woke up and started screaming.  It 
was the most horrible sound Usagi had ever heard, but she just 
continued holding the hand and being comforting.  Eventually the blob 
of humanity was quiet.
	Usagi's tears were flowing, but she couldn't do anything about 
it.  "They're asleep again," she said.
	"Sleep is good," Ami commented.  "Sleep is... yeah, sleep is 
good, because it's good for them.  It'll help them.  Yeah."  She stared 
off into space for a minute, trying to remember exactly why it would 
help them.  She knew there was a reason.  
	But then she forgot she was trying to remember and looked at 
Usagi earnestly.  "I have to go keep going on the... working, see, 
so... um... yeah, you can handle this, right?"
	Usagi nodded.
	"Okay, well, okay," Ami muttered.  She walked back out the door 
toward her extensive collection of data.





	Saturn eyed the blood of humanity with interest.  It was red and 
shiny, and she could see the reflected square of light from the nearby 
window on its ladybuglike surface.
	She grinned.  Soon, this blood would no longer represent the 
blood of humanity, because humanity's blood would cease to exist, along 
with everything else.  
	It was necessary thing to do, she reasoned, to keep the earth 
from becoming a Place of Evil.  Plus, it was going to be an utterly 
exquisite experience, a unique, beautiful death.
	She wished she felt guilty.  But she didn't wish particularly 
hard.
	She stood up.





	It was difficult to pinpoint the exact moment that the voices 
started talking to Makoto.  They saw her color, found her of interest, 
and began following her around, trying to whisper in her ear but forced 
by the physical realities of this bizarre place to seek refuge in her 
brain.
	It was boring in there, though, simply because there was very 
little material to work with.  Her experiences were near-nonexistent: 
her past brief and her future unknown.  As for the present, well, 
walking around breaking things did not hold the voices' interest for 
very long.
	So they left, leaving behind some beauty as a memento of the time 
they had spent together.  
	When they found the bald man again, they were shocked to find 
their peers engaged in a violent argument.
	The general feeling thus far had been: it was mostly a good thing 
that he did this to his new friends, but their reaction to it had been 
painful and dismaying for all involved, which was mostly a bad thing.  
	There was one thing the bald man had to know, though.  He very 
well may have strayed into evil by accident.  That was probably the 
problem from the beginning.
	That seemed reasonable to most of the voices.  A few seemed to 
have their doubts, but none were loud enough to be heard clearly.




	Minako's back was covered with flowers, but she didn't know it.  
That would have required being able to see her own back, which is 
impossible without two mirrors.
	Minako had many mirrors, but didn't bother to look at her back.  
So it's really her own fault that she didn't know about the flowers.
	She was watching Ami, who was talking to herself and looking at 
science stuff.  
	"Can I help?" Minako asked cheerily.  
	"No," Ami muttered.
	"Want some coffee, or something?" Minako asked cheerily.
	"Yes," Ami muttered.
	Minako left and returned with two steaming cups of tepid coffee. 
"I'll make a new pot for you later," she said.
	"How's it going?" she asked.
	"Fine."
	"Making progress?"
	"Yes."
	"Really?"
	"Yes."
	"What?"
	Ami didn't answer.
	"Ami?"
	"Yes?"
	"What progress are you making?"
	Ami blinked, and looked up.  "I'm not making any progress!" she 
snapped.  "None of this makes any sense!"
	"But..."
	"You're not helping, Minako."
	"But..."
	"You're not helping, Minako."
	"Okay, then.  I'll be right outside if you want more coffee or 
anything."
	Ami muttered an inaudible muttering.
	Minako stopped halfway out the door.  "Are you feeling okay?" she 
asked.
	"Of course," Ami said reassuringly.  "I'm feeling fine."
	"Why don't you go get a few hours of sleep?" Minako suggested.  
"I know how bad I feel when I don't get enough sleep.  Once I didn't 
sleep for TWO WHOLE DAYS and by the end of it, I was all loopy.  In 
front of my house, I saw a pile of snow by the sidewalk, and I thought 
it was Artemis.  I stood there talking to it for about twenty minutes."
	"Minako..."
	"My dad saw me.  That was the reason I was sent to therapy the 
first time!"
	"Minako, I feel fine.  Please go and let me work."
	Minako frowned.  "Okay, but you can't help anyone by going all 
crazy.  We don't even know what's going to happen.  Don't work yourself 
to death."
	"I won't."  Ami forced a forced smile, as Minako left the room.




	Just to put things in perspective, by this point, a sixth of the 
world's population that, a month pervious, had been alive, was now no 
longer so.  Another sixth was affected by the epidemic, but not dead.  
Of these, half would die of it eventually.  
	One lucky fellow, a shut-in hailing from Nuuk, Greenland, 
developed immortality and omnipotence.  He left the planet very 
quickly, remarking just before his departure how beautiful this disease 
really was.





	"On tonight's 'Look at the World':  rioting and looting in the US 
and what lessons Japanese can learn from it."  Minako glared blankly at 
the television.  Artemis held the remote firmly under a forepaw.  They 
had argued about what to watch until he made his choice clear with a 
scratch across her hand.  She refused to leave the room to sulk, so she 
was sitting on the couch bored.
	"In this time of international crisis, Americans continue with 
their materialistic ways.  Despite the good chance that they will not 
live to enjoy their gain, they continue on this path.  We, as Japanese, 
will set an example for the international community with our family 
bonds and standing by each other in this time of crisis," a guest on 
the program nodded his head firmly.  "As many Americans are being 
murdered by their countrymen as by the plague!"

	"Serves them right," Artemis echoed the guest's sentiments.
	"Artemis?!" Minako was aghast.
	"I've never liked Americans," he grumbled.

	The anchor thanked the guest before continuing along to the next 
segment. 
	"Religious cults around the world are gaining in popularity as 
they offer reincarnation, afterlife, or even a continuation of this 
life.  Many firmly believe that the recent epidemic is an omen fore-
telling the end of the world," the anchor was replaced with a room full 
of worshippers in what appeared to be a traditional Christian church.
	"'And when he opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the 
fourth living creature say: "Come!"  And I saw, and look! a pale horse; 
and the one seated upon it had the name Death.  And Ha'des was closely 
following him.  And authority was given them over the fourth part of 
the earth, to kill with a long sword and with food shortage and with 
deadly plague and by the wild beasts of the earth.'  As with the 
previous seals, peace has been taken from this earth to be replaced 
with death, with war, with selfishness, with plague, with famine, with 
the bodies of the unfaithful lining the streets!"  The pastor's booming 
timbre was muted when the reporter's voice-over.
	"Across the country, a religious revolution has been taking 
place.  Here at the Church of the Lamb, members have been attending 
daily services in hopes of saving their souls and asking mercy upon 
mankind."
	The picture cut away from the services to a small shrine with a 
formidable set of step leading up to it.  "Here at the Hikawa Shrine, 
the number of visitors hit record numbers weeks ago and continue to 
increase as the plague takes its toll on the population."
	"We, of course, welcome all," an old man with a bald head said, 
though this original statement had been cut short by the reporter's 
voice-over.
	"As you can see, whatever the force, people are being moved.  
Back to you."
	
	"We could start the Temple of the Moon," Minako suggested 
lightly.
	"Funny," the humor was lost in Artemis' tone.
	"And we could sacrifice cats to the purity that is Serenity," she 
added.
	He swiped her on the cheek, quite conveniently forgetting to 
retract his claws.  "Not funny."
	Minako sniffed.  "I'm going to Mako-chan's."





	Elsewhere in the city, but not too far away, Hotaru was watching 
the same program with an air of anticipation.  She rose out of her 
chair to stand by the windows, watching the world outside.
	"Uranus and Neptune are all but dead," she put a finger to the 
glass, tracing a line down it.  A trail of her blood was left.  
	Once she was the Messiah of Darkness.  This time, a foreign 
Darkness has corrupted the Earth and it is her duty to purify it with 
the finality of Death.  She is the Senshi of Death and Rebirth.  It is 
nearly time for the Earth to KNOW her Power.




	
	Makoto laid curled up in a ball, shivering, sweating profusely, 
and crying in the stairwell of her apartment building.  The pain in her 
head had become unbearable, robbing her of all but the most basic of 
instincts.  
	She lost control of many bodily functions, causing her to sweat 
and shiver at the same time.  Instincts demanded that she do something 
to release the heat, but she was not co-ordinated enough to drag 
herself to the shower, so she instead pulled off much of her clothing.  
The missing clothing was not enough to bring her relief, and now she 
could not draw enough air into her lungs to breathe.  
	She needed some fresh air.  Yes, that would do the trick.  
Somehow she'd nudged the front door open and was curled up on the 
landing.  So many separate  sets of stairs to take.  Which one should 
she try to pull herself down?  The confusion she felt, much like a 
thick fog, would not lift from her mind.
	She could hear voices below her.  She tried to speak, but did not 
have command of her tongue.  No sound would emerge from her mouth when 
she willed it to do so.  This caused her frustrations to grow.  Tears 
sprung to her eyes as she fought to bring air into her lungs.  The 
tears were soothing to cheeks that were on fire.
	Gasping, she reached out a hand for the iron-wrought supports of 
the handrail.  Her instincts continued to drive her on the quest for 
fresh air, though she was physically incapable of getting down the 
stairs to the sidewalk.
	"Mako-chan!" A face appeared before her.  It blurred, then 
focused into only one face that she soon found a name to match to.  
	Mamoru leaned over her, taking in her situation quickly.  He 
picked the trembling sweat-covered Makoto up and carried her back into 
her apartment.  Toeing the door to her bedroom open, he set her out on 
her bed, where it would be easier to treat her.
	"Ma-," she couldn't quite force the rest of it out.  Her 
surroundings were familiar.  She knew she was safe here, but she was 
still terribly frightened.  What was going on?
	"Don't speak," his tone was gentle, but firm.  He stretched her 
out fully on the bed before putting a folded up blanket under her feet.  
She tried to wiggle away, but he held fast.  "I know you're hot, but it 
will pass.  You're in shock and your body is over-reacting."
	She stopped struggling.  Part of what he was saying made sense, 
though she still felt somewhat confused.
	He continued to speak to her in a soothing tone.  Something about 
Usagi calling?  Usagi was worried about her.  But why would that bitch 
give a flying fuck about her?  NO!  That wasn't right.  She whimpered 
audibly.
	Mamoru continued to reassure her.
	Usagi loved her.  Yes, that sounded right.   Why would she ever 
question that?



	
	Minako didn't make it to Mako-chan's because she was distracted 
by a shiny object glittering on the sidewalk.  She picked this object 
up to find that is was a painted fingernail with no owner.  Considering 
herself lucky, she stuck it into her pocket and continued along to 
where ever it was that she'd forgotten she was going.


	The fingernail looked at some lint and grinned.  "Hello," it 
said.
	The lint didn't respond.
	"Here's an interesting fact," the fingernail said.  "Tuxedo Kamen 
ain't no senshi!"
	Then it started to laugh.






	Sleep.
	No sleep.
	Sleep.
	Can't sleep.
	Sleep.
	Must sleep.
	"Ami-chan?" Usagi shook the young woman to break her out of her 
mild daze.
	It didn't work.
	Sleep?
	What'd that word mean?




	

	Give me love and give me a kiss because that's the that's the 
give me a kiss.
	Give me love.
	We always had a always had a hard time loving ourselves but we 
also loved ourselves all the time just not never always when never 
sometimes we did bad things.
	We never loved ourselves, but we always loved ourself, and now we 
now we now it's the same thing.
	Ha!
	Ha ha!
	We're just a blob of blob of two one people human evil good.
	We're crying.  We can't hate and love and love ourselves at the 
same at same the time.
	We love you but we hate us but you're us and we're you but we're 
you and.  We couldn't live without us and.
	
	Our foreheads touch, but that's all.  Then our lips touch and our 
foreheads come apart.  Then various parts connect with various parts 
and the lips stay together.  Then the important parts touch and then 
everything touches... but it stays that way.  It stays that way.  It 
stays that way.

	And then it's over over it's over then.  This is is what two 
people dream about when about when they're one two one.
	I I love I I.




	The place was in the same dimension as our planet, though no 
human would have identified it as such.  It was orange.  And oranger.
	Two objects hovered side by side.  
	"They're not dead," the mirror said, breaking a several-minute-
long silence.
	"I know," the sword replied.  "I hate this.  Why couldn't he just 
have killed them?"
	"He didn't want to, I suppose," the mirror said.  "The asshole 
even thought he was doing good for them.  Ah, it's what they deserved, 
anyway."
	"That's not true," the sword interjected.  "Even if they were 
mostly bad, they still had some goodness inside of them."
	"You just care about yours," the mirror scoffed.
	"Yes, I do care about mine.  And you care about yours, admit it."
	"I do not," the mirror replied haughtily.  "She used me, every 
day, she used me, thinking I was some object, thinking I didn't have 
feelings of my own!  They never should have been ours in the first 
place.  If they were TRULY pure-hearted, they'd have thought about US 
once in a while!"
	The sword was quiet for a second, then it spoke.  "The orb 
disagrees with your definition of 'pure-hearted,'" it said.  "The orb 
says they were good all the way through."
	"The orb's an idiot," the mirror said.  "Just like you."
	The sword did not dignify the childish taunt with a response.  
There was a brief silence.
	"Has Saturn destroyed the world yet?" the sword asked.
	"No, she has to mope and waste time first.  She doesn't really 
want to do it.  She thinks the world has goodness that doesn't deserve 
to be destroyed, and has some sort of hang-up about it."
	"That's not the point," the sword said.  "She's not destroying 
the world because the world needs destroying, she's destroying the 
world to keep it from becoming a place that needs destroying.  She's 
just saving time."
	"She's a fucking, black-hearted idiot, just like all the rest of 
them," the mirror said bitterly.  "Just like yours and mine, just like 
the orb's, just like all of them."
	"You're forgetting one of them," the sword said.  "The others are 
more in the middle, but it'd be difficult to back up an argument saying 
that one is black-hearted."
	"What do I care about hearts anyway?" the mirror asked abruptly.  
The sword could see that no good could come from a continuation of the 
discussion, so the topic was dropped.  
	



	Sailor Moon stood tall and proud in front of a glowing and 
floating crystal.  She stared at it angrily, concentrating, shivering.  
She was on top of Mt. Everest.
	"Purify them," she whispered harshly.  "Purify them all."
	The crystal turned a shade of bright gray and bobbed up and down 
slightly.  She took this to be a "no".
	It was obvious she wasn't trying hard enough.  She hardened her 
eyes and concentrated more.  Her entire body ached, but she kept it up, 
even when her legs suddenly gave way and she sank to her knees in the 
snow.
	"Take it easy, child," a soft voice said from above her.  "You're 
going to give yourself a stroke."
	Sailor Moon blinked and looked above her.  Queen Serenity was not 
hovering above her. 
	"What are you doing up here?" the queen asked.
	"I'm trying to touch the whole world," Sailor Moon answered.
	"You already do that," the queen said, laughing a little bit.  
	"Not enough to help everybody."
	"Of course not," the queen said.  "Why do you think you can help 
everybody?"
	"That's what I do!" Moon near-wailed.  "I purify everybody!  I 
get rid of the evil, that's what I do!"
	"There's no evil here," the queen said, puzzled.  "Nothing but 
good and neutral, neutral and good, just like in the best of times."
	"But everyone's being hurt!" Moon protested.  "That has to be 
evil, and I have to get rid of it!"
	The queen shook her head and looked a little disappointed.  "You 
live in a happy world," she said.  "You don't even really know what 
evil is, do you?"
	Sailor Moon blinked.
	"Get off the mountain before you freeze to death, child," the 
queen said softly.  Then she was gone again.
	Sailor Moon frowned, grabbed the crystal and thrust it into her 
pocket, and returned to Tokyo.




	Mamoru was on the telephone with someone.  A noise behind him 
made him turn, and the sight that confronted him made him drop the 
receiver.
	Makoto stood in the doorway, naked and panting.  Her hair was 
down around her torso, her sweat glistened over her body, and she 
seemed at least eighteen feet tall.  She was the most intimidating 
thing he'd ever seen.
	Makoto Makoto Makoto Makoto Makoto Makoto Makoto Makoto.
	"What the hell is my name?" she rasped.
	He took a step closer.  "Makoto..." he began.
	"Stop saying that word!!" she screeched.  "Stoppit!  I never did 
anything to you!  Why do you keep saying that word?!  What's my goddamn 
NAME?!"
	He had no clue what to do or say, but luckily he didn't have to 
worry about it.  She fell to her knees, weak and shivering.
	He was talking to Usagi, she didn't know, but it was logical, 
right?  He'd call Usagi, who'd been worried about her.  He was kneeling 
over her by this point, thinking she was unconscious because she 
wouldn't respond to anything he did or said, but she was simply too 
caught up in what she was thinking about to give a damn about him.
	As far as I know, I don't have a name.  Right now Usagi, who has 
a name and who loves me, is on her way here.  She loves me because she 
knows me.  She knows me because she loves me.  I can take the love, but 
the knowing is a step too far.  She'll hurt me.  Out of hate or out of 
love, it makes no difference, the pain's the same, and the only way to 
keep myself from feeling it is to stop her before she gets too close.  
I have to either hurt her or let her hurt me.  
	Which is worse?  Oh god, which is worse?
	



	
	The people had rejected him.  He knew it completely, with a few 
minor doubts.  Maybe this was just a worldwide spat, he thought.  Maybe 
they were just surprised by his sudden appearance and outlandish 
customs, and reacted.  He should've expected it.




	A thin line of drool trailed down the lab table Ami's head laid 
on.
	Usagi was careful to let sleeping senshi lie.

	There was a scream, but it was not an audible one.  Rather, it 
was the scream of countless cells colliding as they split One into Two.  
Where One had life, the Two clung to it with a diminishing will.  Only 
laced finger (held in that configuration by choice) connected the Two.




	Saturn sought out her sovereign.  The time has come.




	Usagi ran up the stairs to Makoto's apartment.  She didn't stop 
to knock on the door, she knew that she was expected.  Mamoru was on 
the floor by the doorway to Makoto's bedroom, knelt over the immobile 
girl.
	Mamoru looked to Usagi with eyes that reflected his concern.  She 
joined her mate in kneeling next Makoto.
	"What.  Is.  My.  Name?"  Each word was bitten off with a mixture 
of hurt, anger, and pain.
	Mamoru shook his head to keep Usagi from answering the obvious.
	She frowned.  She then leaned down so that her face was a few 
inches away from her friends.
	"What is your name?"
	"I.  Don't.  Know."
	"Then let's find you a name together," she suggested brightly.
	"I.  Don't.  Trust.  You."
	Usagi nodded understandingly.  "It's alright.  I still love you."
	Makoto's back straightened.  Her features took on a more focused 
look.
	"You.  Love.  Me?   You.  HATE.  Me."
	It was an accusation.
	Usagi thought before pressing her face close enough to Makoto's 
that their breath mingled.  "You're right.  I HATE you, you whore!  
I've never cared for you.  I've used you since the day I met you."
	Makoto laughed, then smiled broadly.
	"I.  Thought.  So."

	Mamoru was dumbstruck at what his lover had just said to her 
friend.  Usagi picked herself off the floor and headed into the 
kitchen.  He followed her.  Taking a drinking glass from the cabinet, 
then filled it with water.  This she set down beside Makoto while 
saying, "I hope it courses through your veins like a vile poison, 
bitch."
	Makoto nodded before sipping weakly out of the glass.
	"Usako!" He pulled her aside.  "Have you gone mad?!"
	"Mako-chan doesn't understand, not like we do.  She's confused as 
to what's good and what's bad."
	"That's quite an intuitive leap," he commented slowly, seeing 
where she'd drawn her conclusions from.
	"I'm not stupid," she defended.  "I just don't act very smart."
	He chuckled hesitantly while scratching the back of his head.
	"Please stay with her.  I need to find the others.  When you 
speak to her, be as insulting as possible.  If she starts to take 
offense, she's doing better," she gave him a quick peck on the cheek 
before leaving.
	He shook his head.  This disease moves in mysterious ways...



	The bald man stood behind Rei, watching her curiously.  She was 
in the deepest trance she could manage, and she probed herself and the 
herselves out there in the world to find some kind of clue.  Something 
that would lead her to the bald man, so they could all fight him and 
not die.  Needless to say, she couldn't hear him when he began 
speaking.
	"I watched the movie Ghostbusters last evening.  I've had 
exposure of 'cinema' before, of course, through second-hand reports and 
the study of others, but it was the first time I ever experienced it 
for myself.
	"Now, I understand that the events I saw never actually took 
place.  I'm no idiot.  But it struck me as strange that time and effort 
would be put into creating something fake for entertainment.  I wish I 
could do it.  I try sometimes, like right now, and it just ends up 
being real.
	"I also understand the basic story line, what there is of it.  
And I believe I comprehend the characters, even the Ernie Hudson one, 
who didn't have much screen time.  His line, 'Ray, when somebody asks 
you if you're a god, you say yes!' made me laugh for just the third or 
fourth time since I got here.  I liked him, and I think I would like 
Ernie Hudson too, if I ever met him.
	"But the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man... he was the clearest element 
of all to me.  Now, I realize he is evil.  That's well established.  He 
tries to destroy New York City out of malice.  He steps on a house of 
worship, a common symbol of spirituality and peace on this planet.  
He's evil.  He deserves destruction, and the audience, as well as the 
characters, are happy he blows up at the end."
	He paused, wondering if she was paying attention.  This was 
important, after all.
	"I need to ask you a question.  In this series of events, in this 
story line we find ourselves in, am I the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man?  
Am I the Bad Guy?  I never intended it.  I never reached out and tried 
to hurt anyone.  But... I think I'm the Marshmallow Man anyway!  How 
did this happen?  Please, tell me, how did this happen?"
	Rei didn't react.
	Frustrated, he went away.  He had another friend to meet.  He had 
to set things right.



	The little girl watched with gleeful awe as a red orb danced in 
the air above her.  It spun and wove its way in patterns that left the 
child giggling with delight at the spectacle.
	She tried to reach the orb with a small hand, but it was always 
just out of reach.  The child began to whimper in frustration.  The 
glowing orb took note of her dismay and settled itself at the end of 
her bed.  She crawled on her stomach up to it.  Her nose was bare 
inches away from where it bathed her comforter in an eerie red light.  
Now that it was so close, she wasn't so sure she wanted to touch it 
anymore.
	The orb sensed this.  It spoke to her in a reassuring tone, 
almost motherly.  "Not yet, little one.  My power is something that is 
coveted from afar, but is not as desirable once attained."
	Her eyes were wide.  The oddity of speaking to an orb did not 
strike her as so.  The weight of the message, however incompressible to 
her at this time, is what struck her.
	She did not giggle as the orb lifted off the mattress to continue 
its antics in the air.  A piece of her innocence was lost.
	As well as a piece of her right foot, but she'd gotten used to 
that in the past few weeks.  Just that disease everyone was talking 
about.





	
	He stood on the roof of a building watching her.  She was in a 
park, sneaking around the playground equipment as though she was 
playing some war game.  To her, the war was real.

	Hotaru gasped in horror as the man with the bald head came from 
around a tree to approach her.  He reached his hand out to her in 
greeting.
	She was caught between staying perfectly still, and raising an 
eyebrow haughtily.  She eventually decided that the former option was 
both more in character and more intimidating.
	"Mole people," he said.
	She blinked, and her face shifted to confusion.  So much for 
perfectly still.  "What?"
	"There are mole people under our feet right now," he said.  
"Working and digging, going about their lives, thousands of kilometers 
down below us.  They have many outstanding artists, leaders, and 
writers.  Their society is more advanced than any on the surface of 
this planet, except possibly that of Sweden.  They never did anything 
to you, and they are uncontaminated by my presence.  Their world is in 
no danger of becoming a 'place of evil.'  You're willing to just 
slaughter them all to protect the surface?"
	She blinked.
	"Just joshing!" he exclaimed.  "Ha ha ha ha!  Surely you can 
forgive your friend for putting one over on you, yes?"
	Then he was not in front of her anymore.  And moreover, he had 
never said a word.
	"Are you okay?" a voice said with genuine concern from somewhere 
behind her.  "You've been staring at nothing for several minutes."
	She whirled around, and he was more than a few meters away.  She 
got a good look at him for the first time.
	"You..?  I KILLED you!  You can't be HERE!"
	He bowed politely.  "Mistress 9."  He smiled.  "The voices are 
still with you, I can hear them echoing through mine."
	"I'll kill you!"  She changed into Saturn.
	"Why?  We're friends!  You tried to bring me here, don't you 
remember?"
	She approached him menacingly, readying her glaive to strike.
	He teleported upto a tree branch.  "Perhaps now isn't the best 
time to talk."  He left.
	She glanced around suspiciously.  She NEEDED to find Serenity.  
The world must be destroyed before he finishes his corruption.



	Mamoru leaned his head against the toilet bowl.  Mako-chan was 
the one that was sick, not him.  He couldn't be sick, not now.  His 
lunch had chosen otherwise and detoured on its way out to come around 
again.  He picked his head up to look into the bowl.  What had once 
been bile and vomit was now swimming about the bowl in the form of gold 
fish.
	"What the..?"  He continued to watch the fish swim.  
	He shook his head before pulling down the handle.  "Die."

	What was going on in his stomach was not a pretty sight.  Not 
that it ever had been, but now it was just revolting.


	"Ami.  Ami!  AMI!!" Usagi continued to try to shake her friend 
awake.  When she'd made it back to Ami's lab, the blue haired woman was 
still drooling on the lab table asleep.
	In the next room were Uranus and Neptune.  They had split apart 
while she was gone.  Neither reacted to her promptings to wake up.  
Their skin was a pasty color and clammy from sweat.  She'd written them 
off as not being helpful anytime soon.
	Ami's eyes flickered open.  She groggily scrubbed the sleep from 
her eyes.  "Wha..?"
	"It's happening, Ami.  The plague is coming full circle.  What do 
we do?"
	"Sleep," she mumbled, laying her head back down on the table.
	"Sleep?  No, Ami!  You can't sleep, not yet!"  She shook Ami's 
shoulders, trying to get her to stay awake.
	"Must sleep," she sighed before falling back asleep.
	Usagi stood helplessly for a few seconds, then noticed a note 
lying nearby on the table.  There, scrawled in the handwriting Ami 
probably used when she was four, was the result of Ami's weeks of 
research.
	"disease living personality strange.  people change, disease 
change. people don't change, disease get bored."
	Usagi blinked, reread it, reread it again, reread it one last 
time, and then started crying from pure frustration.
	



	The senshi have always had the ability to know roughly where 
their comrades where.  Saturn's intuition led her to Ami's lab.  When 
she arrived, she found Serenity sobbing softly at a desk.
	"My Queen," she knelt before her.  "The time has come.  The world 
NEEDS to be destroyed before all the goodness has left it."
	(Inside, she was screaming with hysterical laughter.  The very 
idea of being so... FORMAL about it!  It was ludicrous!  You don't ask 
permission for an orgasm, you just have it!)
	"How can you say that?" She wiped away a tear.  "It's bad now, 
but we know we have a future.  Crystal Tokyo will rise. I KNOW it 
will."
	(Except she didn't, not really.  The complexities of time travel 
had always been too complex for her to grasp completely, but she did 
know that the future she'd seen was not a sure thing.  She also knew 
that whether or not it happened was completely on her own shoulders.)
	"Crystal Tokyo out of this?"  Saturn shook her head at her 
Queen's naivete.
	Usagi shrugged off Saturn's insistent stare.  She closed her eyes 
and thought (or more exactly, remembered).  What had they seen in 
Crystal Tokyo?  She glanced back over at the drooling Ami.  What if 
they could just sleep this away..?
	She blinked.  Couldn't they?  Ami said sleep!  She'll put 
everyone into a deep sleep, not changing!  It couldn't be that easy, 
but the minor details could be worked out later.  If nothing else, 
people could die in their sleep instead of suffering while awake.
	Then the reality of what she was planning sunk in.  She didn't 
have the strength to put everyone to sleep.  What resources did she 
have?  Uranus and Neptune were down.  Ami was out.  Minako was off 
somewhere (who knows where?).  Rei was paranoid about being around 
anyone after her hand started to sass her back.  Mako-chan couldn't add 
2 and 2 if the only choice she had was 4.  And here was Saturn, ready 
to destroy the world.
	If only she could harness Saturn's power...
	Maybe she could...
	"Saturn," she said formally,"I order you to destroy the world."




	"Are you certain?"
	"I will not trade mine for yours," the sword said from its 
position levitation above its host.
	"Why not?  I don't want to spend the next thousand years with 
HER," the mirror grumbled.
	"I don't want to spend the next thousand years listening to you 
complain about yours."
	"Then trade with me!"
	The sword sighed.  "You know we can't do that."
	"Why not?!  Now is the time to do it.  You can see just what a 
CHARMING person mine is, with her vanity and oh, so modestly arrogant 
air."
	The sword ignored the mirror's sarcasm.  "I'm going in," it 
announced before slipping into the body of its host.
	"No, wait!  Dammit!" The mirror sighed at the now absent sword.  
It glared at its host before entering as well.

	"This can't go on," Uranus muttered.
	"Agreed," Neptune said.  And then they both fell asleep again.


 

	Mamoru was once again in the bathroom.  This time, the plumbing 
was working as it was intended to.  Considering what he needed to 
accomplish, he was seated on the seat doing his duty.
	Taking care of Mako-chan wasn't difficult.  She mostly laid 
motionless on her bed and mumbled random words.  He'd decided to make 
lunch for them, but it wasn't sitting well now.
	The water plunked once, then twice, and then something pinched 
his butt.  Mamoru shot off the seat like a rocket.  He turned around to 
see a small crocodile swimming in the bowl amongst snickers bars.
	"DIE!!!" He hit the handle with his toes and watched the items 
swoosh down the bowl.  He sighed, then swore to find Mako-chan a good 
plumber once this was all over.
	
	What was going on in his bowels was not a pretty sight.  Not that 
it ever had been, but now it was just revolting.  He doubled over in 
agony.




	The two of them stood in the middle of the empty street.  Usagi 
didn't know what effect Saturn's attack would have on the surrounding 
structures, but she didn't want to be in one when Saturn unleashed it.
	She'd changed into her princess gown.  This seemed to please 
Saturn, who insisted on referring to her as 'Queen'.  It was rash to do 
this only minutes after thinking of it.  She should think this through 
more.  Mamo-chan would surely have something to say about it.  But more 
then anything else, she wanted this affair to be over.
	With her nodded consent, Saturn began the ritual.
	Usagi watched with fascination as Saturn swung the Silence Glaive 
around with skillful ease.  She gathered her power, drawing all she 
could from herself and the crystal.  Her plan was to refocus Saturn's 
attack; to use it to amplify her own spell and put as much of the world 
into a sleep as she could.
	"DEATH..."
	Ribbons shot out from Saturn to engulf her.
	"REBORN..."
	The ribbons expanded, taking in the area around her.  Her glaive 
was lifted above her head.
	"REVOLUTION!!" 
	The glaive stuck the pavement.  What followed was silence.

	The world itself screamed.  Every bush, every tree, every stone 
let loose with a deafening sound that was at odds with the silence.  
And then, all was quiet once more.


	
	Saturn was on her feet and trembling.  With wide, unblinking 
eyes, she looked first at scenery to her right, then the scenery to her 
left, then at the glaive she was holding.  She couldn't help but notice 
that all three were still there.
	She pointed an unsteady finger in Usagi's direction.  "You..." 
she rasped, stumbling forward, hate and rage in her eyes.  "What the 
hell... did you do?"
	She only made it a few steps before collapsing.
	Usagi had no doubts that she would be feeling the strain for 
weeks afterwards.  She crawled over to her to make sure that Saturn was 
still alive.  It was a miracle to say the least when she found that she 
was.
	Her next thought was to wonder if it worked.  She wasn't strong 
enough to pick herself up to go searching for survivors.  So she sat 
there and stared at a nearby tree.
	Before long, a man walked around from the tree.  He was bald and 
wearing a suit.  He stopped approaching her when he was still several 
feet away.
	"Hello," she greeted.  Puzzled by his sudden appearance and by 
his calm manner.
	"You have no color," he sounded somewhat confused by this stated 
fact. "That was not at all what I expected.  I expected something more 
extravagant, like royal blue, or celadon, or something..."   
	He stood there in quiet thought for several minutes.  "Yes, I 
remember you.  You are with her," he indicated Saturn with a nod of his 
head.  "She hears the voices, as I do.  You are the one who stopped me 
from coming here before."
	Usagi was quite confused by this point.  "Who ARE you?"
	He considered her question.  "I don't have a name, I think, which 
is exceedingly frustrating.  I have always wanted to make this place my 
home.  But," he frowned, "I didn't know it would hurt you.  I never 
wanted to hurt you."
	"You are responsible for the plague?"
	"I think so.  That's what most of me believes."  He laughed.  
"Most of me also did not want to hurt you.  I wanted a home.  A good 
home.  But this is no longer a good place... and I think it's all my 
fault.  Will it ever have itself back?"  There was a hope in his eyes 
that almost didn't dare to be there.  'I'm terrified to be here, in 
this strange man's eyes,' it said to her.  'But I need to let you know 
that I trust you.'
	She realized that he was much like the ant that had taken shelter 
on her lip.  He was simply looking for a welcoming place to call home.  
"With the raising of Crystal Tokyo, things will be restored.  But you 
know that you can't stay here.  The wound can only heal once the knife 
is removed."
	He sighed.  "I know.  I will leave.  I'm sorry for what has 
happened. Please bring the things back."
	She accepted his apology with a nod and a reassuring smile.
	He smiled back, mimicking more than actually feeling it.  "One 
day soon," he said.  "I'm going to look down and see this world shining 
with your non-color, the brightest and least me place of them all."  
The smile went back into his mouth.  "And it will have a name, I 
think," he said sadly.  "Just like you, Queen Serenity."
	That last part didn't come out of his mouth, but she heard it 
anyway.
	He walked away, she assumed to leave the Earth forever.  But a 
part of her felt obligated to leave him with something.
	"You do have a name," she called after him.  "Master Pharaoh 90."
	He paused.  Slowly, hesitantly, he smiled at her.  "Yes.  I 
forgot."
	He laughed, bright and hearty, in a manner eerily similar to 
Santa Claus.  He straightened his tie and nodded to her.  "Thank you," 
he said.  "Thank you for not being angry."  Then he did a backflip, and 
was gone.
	There was a tear running slowly down her left cheek.  He wasn't 
really a bad guy, more like a victim of circumstance.  They all were, 
really.  She felt sad that she couldn't offer him the home that he 
desired.  Crystal Tokyo had turned away its first visitor.


	From four different directions came four different silhouettes, 
running at Usagi, shrieking questions about what had just happened, why 
it had happened, and, if Usagi had had anything to do with it, why she 
hadn't consulted anyone else first.
	Usagi just smiled at them.  That did not deter Rei, Luna, Minako, 
and Artemis.
	"Just relax," a voice said several meters up the street, clearly 
and loudly.  They all turned to see Setsuna, eyes wide open and staring 
at nothing, dressed in clothes that were a bit too large for her.  
	"Enjoy the break," she continued.  "You all are going to have a 
lot of work to do."
	Then she blinked, and suddenly looked very much like the 
frightened child she was.
	


	They went to Ami and woke her up so she could put them to sleep, 
too.  She wasn't a great deal of help.  In her state, holding her 
daughter was too much for her, and coherent thought completely 
impossible.  It was Luna who made the decision that, whatever they did, 
they should all be together to do it.
	Makoto, Mamoru, Michiru, Haruka, and Hotaru weren't waking up.  
It took them three hours to lug all the bodies up to Makoto's 
apartment.  "This is as good a place as any," Minako said.  Then she 
said, "It's getting cold outside."
	"meteorology's goin' to sleep too" Ami murmured.  "we probably 
have to hurry up"
	"What do we do?" Minako asked.
	"go to sleep" Ami answered.  "when people go to sleep tonight 
it's gonna last a long time"
	"We can't just be so passive about this," Rei protested.  "How do 
we know what's going to happen?  How do we know what's going to be 
there if and when we wake up?"
	Usagi smiled at her softly.  "It'll be okay, Rei," she said.
	"You don't know that," Rei said.  "I've had five, FIVE dreams in 
the last two months about terrible futures, and..."
	Usagi hugged her.
	"It'll be okay," she whispered in Rei's ear.  "Please trust me.  
It'll be okay."
	Rei blinked, then slowly hugged Usagi back, hard.  "It had better 
be," she muttered.
	They all lay down on the carpet (Setsuna and Ami got the couch), 
trying to get as comfortable as possible.  Then they closed their eyes 
and slept for a long, long time.
	 



	Master Pharaoh 90.  He would have to do something about that 
name, but there was plenty of time to think of a new one.
	He sat at a personal vantage point, looking out at the colors and 
worlds around him.  Some were dark, some were transparent, and some, he 
noted, weren't even there at all.  
	The whole mess was very confusing.
	Ah well, it didn't matter.  He would figure it out, even if it 
took him forever.  And once he did it, he would find himself a home.
	A determined look upon his face, he set out in the direction of 
something purple. 


-----

Web Pages:
Circles of Time Homepage ~ http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/9897/ct.htm
Carp's Koi Pond          ~ http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Fuji/8272/
Greenbeans' Homepage     ~ http://www.tyrlen.org/gbeans/homepage/

Email:
Jon Carp   ~ jcarp@med.unc.edu
Greenbeans ~ gbeans@tyrlen.org

Thanks to:
SlrSkuld
Matt Redding
Allen Gainsford