In My Blackest Hour: A Prequel to "The Gray Realm"
Author's ramblings:
As mentioned, this is the prologue to my other story, "The Gray Realm." That story was an alternate take on how Sailor Saturn came to join the Senshi—Hotaru fans, take note! Judging by the number of hits the story's gotten, you guys have enjoyed it, which after all is the whole point of writing.
First question in mind is: do you have to have read "The Gray Realm" to get this story? No, but it helps. This story is about how the characters wound up in the situations described in "The Gray Realm." How do their paths eventually cross?
I'm glad you all have been enjoying "The Gray Realm," and now "In My Blackest Hour." And again, thanks for reading.
MetalIsLife
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CHAPTER ONE – WE STILL KILL THE OLD WAY
"Moon Prism Power, MAKE-UP!" Usagi Tsukino yelled with that unique combination of joy and determination that had endeared her to so many. In seconds flat, the indomitable Moon Princess had appeared in the place of the timid schoolgirl in a brilliant flash of colors. She stood confidently on the roof of the building, her distinctive hair flapping in the breeze, her white-gloved hands curled into half-fists. A half-smirk edged up the side of Usagi's face; an expression that said she was powerful, and she knew it.
"In the name of the Moon, you are in big trouble," she taunted the scaly youma with dragon wings that faced her. A biped, the monster had green plated armor, and its wings were tipped with razor-sharp bones for weapons.
The beast narrowed its black eyes, not looking very impressed. With a roar, it raised its bat-like wings and clapped them together before its body, sending a seismic wave of energy towards the Moon Princess, who was unceremoniously interrupted in her speech as she dove to her right to avoid it. No sooner had this happened that she had to dodge again as the youma stabbed downward with one if its wing-blades, embedding itself in the concrete. Dust and crushed rock flew around it in a puff.
The dragon youma stabbed down with its other wing-blade, trying to bracket Usagi in between its deadly wings. Once again she barely dodged it and tried to scramble to her feet. By that time, however, the beast had brought its other wing to bear, striking again and again.
Twisting around on the floor, Usagi frantically tried to stay one step ahead of the monster as it jabbed at her, gouging holes in the concrete left and right. She shrieked as one particularly close call cost her a lock of hair. "Why'd I have to challenge a youma on top of a roof?" she groaned.
Sailor Moon attempted to push herself backwards to put some distance between her and the youma, resulting in a frantically awkward crabwalk as the ground around her started to resemble the surface of her Moon. Calmly stepping forward, the dragon youma continued to lash mercilessly, trying to impale the Moon Princess on one of its bone-blades.
Usagi whipped out her Moon Spiral Heart Rod just in time to knock aside one of the talons as it aimed for her stomach. A deafening scrape resounded as the weapons clashed.
Then the monster roared with glee as its other talon hit home.
Sailor Moon's arm had flown out to the side as she blocked the first attack, leaving her side vulnerable to an undercut from the youma's other bone-blade.
The sharp blade gouged into Sailor Moon's side just below her armpit; she screamed in pain, dropping her scepter and rolling onto her stomach, clutching the wound to stop the flow of blood that was already staining her white uniform.
Blood dripping from the tip of its blade, the youma grinned sadistically in triumph and moved in for the kill.
But it quickly learned what the other youma always would: going after one Sailor Senshi was unwise when there were four more to account for.
"Mercury Bubbles—BLAST!"
"Mars Fire—IGNITE!"
"Jupiter Thunder—CRASH!"
"Venus Crescent V—SMASH!"
The thick ray of pure, multicolored energy from the lethal combination of Sailor attacks struck the dragon demon square in the heart; it roared in agony before disintegrating into a pile of light dust that soon vanished into thin air.
The other four Senshi ran to their wounded leader, who was doubled over on her knees, pressing her hand to her side with a pained grimace.
"Sailor Moon! You're hurt!" Sailor Mercury skidded to a halt and leaned down to look at her wound. "Please, Usagi, let me see," she quietly urged the Moon Princess.
Reluctantly, the blonde removed her blood-stained hand for the Senshi of Water. Hurt flashed through Ami Mizuno's eyes as she looked at the wound. "It's deep," she said worriedly. "It's a good thing I've gotten into the habit of carrying my first aid kit around."
"Well, if you're gonna be a doctor, you gotta be prepared," Sailor Jupiter agreed.
"If only we had gotten the alert message a few seconds sooner…" Sailor Mars muttered as Ami began to clean and dress Sailor Moon's wound. A stiff breeze blew over the roof; they were about ten stories up.
"Whatever; I almost had him," Sailor Moon said before wincing with pain.
"I guess we can scratch one up for the good guys," said Sailor Venus breezily. "Check out the moon. It's kinda nice up here." She was right. The tall buildings of Tokyo twinkled in the night air in a prosperous display of beauty. The dull roar of traffic and the distant sound of sirens completed the big-city picture. A yellow moon hung low in the sky, silently watching over the landscape as it always had for millions of years, buildings or no buildings. If their leader wasn't badly wounded, the Senshi might have had a chance to enjoy it.
Now that her adrenaline was dying down, though, Sailor Moon's eyes filled with tears of pain. "It's like I can still feel that thing cutting through me," she whispered. "Thank you, Ami. You're the best. I swear, you're going to be a great doctor."
The blue-haired girl blushed lightly as she continued to wrap bandages around the area. "I still have a few years of school yet," she said quietly. "Medical school takes a long time to complete, longer than a regular university like the rest of you."
"I'm glad for you, though," said Sailor Venus, removing her stare from the Tokyo skyline. "If anyone's cut out for med school, it's you, Ami." The blonde smiled at her friend.
Mercury looked a little embarrassed at her friends' praise, but enjoyed it nonetheless. She was truly lucky to have companions like them.
"Anyway, it's getting chilly up here; we should go home," the Senshi of Water announced as she finished patching up Usagi. "Does it still hurt, Sailor Moon?"
"Yeah, I'm definitely feeling this one tomorrow," the blonde leader said with another grimace of pain.
As they walked home together, Usagi taking care not to aggravate her injury, Sailor Venus began to muse out loud. "You know, this is almost getting kind of routine. Getting out of school, and then getting woken up at some ungodly hour to go fight a youma somewhere. I mean, what is this, like five nights in a row this has happened?"
"Six," said Ami. "If you count that one that showed up during the day while we were all in school."
"Oh, that was fun—getting out of math for about an hour was great," Usagi joked. "I mean, not that I look forward to monster attack, never! But it was still…I mean…yeah." She frowned, realizing that she didn't like making light of the people who had suffered at the youma claws.
"Don't worry about it, Usagi, everyone here knows what you meant," said Makoto, her brunette ponytail bobbing.
"They do seem to be getting more frequent, though," Ami observed, her eyebrows furrowing.
"What can we say? This job is demanding!" said Minako. A few more seconds passed, during which their footfalls made up the only sounds. "Rei, are you alright? You seem very quiet."
The miko walked along in silence, her head slightly bowed and her lips pursed in concentration. Finally she snapped her head up and looked at her friends.
"For God's sake guys, doesn't it bug you?" she asked irritably. "How we're just being purely reactive at this point? Running around and putting out fires as they appear?"
"Pun intended, Rei?" Minako smirked.
The Senshi of Fire frowned. "Being purely reactive means we're on the defensive all the time. We need to be more proactive. Don't you get what I'm saying? These youma just keep coming out of nowhere, and there are more of them all the time! I mean, where the hell do they all come from?"
"The Neg—" Ami started to answer before Rei interrupted.
"I know they're coming from the Negaverse, Ami; I'm not stupid. But it bothers me. We should be finding a way to strike at the source, stop them before they get here—instead of running around like a bunch of headless chickens. I'm worried we're getting overextended. I mean, there are only five of us, six if you include Tuxedo Kamen. Now I don't know about you guys, but I'm thinking it's a bit of a stretch for six people to hold back a horde of demonic invaders."
"Aren't you being a little cynical, Rei?" Usagi asked gently. "This group of people has saved the world…how many times?"
"I know that; I'm just being realistic," she replied. "I mean, what happens if the youma wise up and just start launching attacks in more than six locations? We'll be screwed."
"Luckily they aren't too bright, are they?" Makoto smirked, although she had to admit that Rei had a point.
"Well, when we defeated Queen Beryl, we thought that was the end of it," said Ami. "It turned out not to be. It's been that way with every major enemy we've fought—if we destroy one, than sooner or later another will rise to take its place. We all know this. This is the business we're in. It's our destiny."
"I just wish the road map to the paradise on the Moon was clearer, that's all," said Rei tiredly. She had spoken a frustration that all of the Senshi had felt to some degree at one point another, although the Fire Senshi was the only one who would admit to it openly.
"Look everyone, I know things have been tougher than normal for us lately," said Usagi. "And it'll probably stay that way for a while. But things have always brightened up for us eventually. Every time it looked as if we were done for, somehow we always got another chance. As long as we just keep our trust and love in one another, we will triumph. I promise."
The Moon Princess' words spread warmth through the group. Usagi Tsukino was deceptively klutzy, but she was capable of saying encouraging, heartwarming things seemingly without even trying. It was inspiring for the Senshi to watch her take on her leadership role so bravely.
The group came to a halt in front of Hikawa Jinja temple to drop Rei off. Her grandpa had left a few lamps burning for her, their orange glow inviting the miko inside to take a much-deserved rest. The temple's simple elegance was comforting. The miko smiled tiredly, looking fondly at her home, about her grandfather asleep on his cot and her crows waiting for her to speak to them when the sun rose.
"I've always tried to get to the bottom of things, about what's going on behind it all," she mused. "I'm sure I'll just stretch out in front of a nice big fire and feel better in the morning. Sorry about the bitterness, guys."
"Don't worry Rei; we know you're not really a firebrand bitch that you pretend to be," said Makoto, smacking her on the back playfully. Rei closed her eyes and smiled slightly. "Good night, everyone," she said before disappearing up the temple steps.
Usagi mused over her Senshi's observations as they continued walking. "To be honest, I'm glad she brought all that up," she thought out loud. "Maybe what we need is just a little more help."
"And how do we get that? Put an ad in the paper?" Minako joked. "Come on, Usagi, who could possibly keep up with the defenders of the universe?"
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The crack of a gunshot filled the summer air. "Boom! Headshot!" a young man cried in satisfaction.
"What's that?" a grizzled older man asked him.
Matt Sneider shrugged. "It's just something we like to say now." He and his uncle Kenneth, a Vietnam veteran, were at an outdoor shooting range just outside of Chicago. It wasn't very crowded today; they had been able to find an empty sand range just for the two of them.
A licensed gun-owner and a proud NRA member, Uncle Ken had been taking Matt shooting ever since the latter was in high school. He had taken well to it, one of the reasons being that it was an excellent stress-reliever.
"You know, in basic they always tell you to aim for the chest, because it's the center of mass and there a lot of vital organs there. Easier to hit, too," Uncle Ken explained as he fired off the last shot of his clip.
"Screw center of mass," said Matt Sneider lightly. "I aim for the head."
Ken Sneider laughed. "Listen to you, talking like you know everything already. I don't care if you just graduated from college; you've still got a long way to go."
Matt shrugged. He knew he didn't look very intimidating. Out of shape? Definitely. Not particularly handsome, but not exactly "brown bag over your head" material either. Yup, that was him. Newly minted Northwestern graduate? Class 2010, baby. Looked more like a comic-book nerd than a business professional? Yes.
Major gun enthusiast? Take a wild guess. Why else would he be here?
"Let's see how we did," Ken carefully placed his Glock on the table, safety on and pointed away from him and his nephew. Safety first.
The two of them trooped over the dirt range to their cardboard-cutout targets, their feet crunching over sand and gravel. The summer sun bore down on them.
Matt examined his Osama bin Laden target. He had fired fifteen 9mm rounds, which was standard for a Glock 19. Three had hit the upper chest area, not exactly where he would have liked but still good.
Three in the neck. Not bad.
One in the mouth, one in each cheekbone. A few complete misses, he was embarrassed to observe.
But where the cardboard figure's eyes had once been, there were now clear-cut holes through which Matt could see the dirt of the range.
Matt's uncle let out a low whistle. "Impressive. I don't see fifteen holes, so you gotta work on that. But still…nice job."
After setting up new targets, they walked back to their dugout to reload and try a different set of pistols. "By the way, I forgot to ask you, how'd that interview with Goldman Sachs go?" Ken asked.
Matt shrugged again. "Pretty well, I guess. I applied to the Tokyo branch."
"Tokyo? I thought for sure you'd want to go to New York."
"It's a new operation; there's a lot of opportunity to advance," Matt said. "I've got to go where the jobs are. Thanks for introducing me to the campus recruiter, by the way."
His uncle nodded. "You're welcome. When I worked at Goldman, it was a different world. Man—Tokyo, Japan! That's a big move, kid."
"Only if I actually get the job," Matt reminded him.
"Spoken like a true critic. So they asked you all the standard interview questions?"
"Yeah, like, 'what does an investment bank do' and 'why do you want to work here', that kind of thing."
"They should have asked you if you'd like to be on the security detail, with the way you've been shooting," Ken said. "You're doing well, I'll give you that. It's a shame that in all likelihood, you won't be able to do stuff like this over there. They've got a completely different set of laws."
"We'll see about that. Japan will have to change its gun laws entirely because of me!"
Uncle Kenneth chuckled. "You're confident. But remember, that can sometimes get you into trouble. Don't let it go to your head."
An audible vibration like an angry wasp buzzing was Matt's cell phone ringing on the table.
"Hello?"
"Yes, hi, may I speak with Matthew Sneider?"
"Speaking."
"Hi there, Mr. Sneider; this is Bob Kretz, recruiter with Goldman Sachs and Co. Do you have a minute to speak?"
Matt's heart froze. This was the call he had been waiting for. He gave his uncle a meaningful look.
"Sure."
"Well, Mr. Sneider—or may I call you Matt?—we've reviewed your resume after your third-round interview with us, and it's impressive. As you know, we here at Goldman only hire the best, and I'm pleased to inform you that you meet our qualifications. We'd love to have you on board, and I hereby extend to you an offer for our entry-level analyst program at Goldman Sachs Tokyo."
Matt's heart raced; blood rushed to his head. Struggling to keep calm in his excitement, he replied, "I'd be honored to accept the position, sir."
When the call was over, Matt pumped his fist in the air and let out a wordless yell of triumph. "I'm gonna be the best damn analyst they've ever SEEN!" he exclaimed. "Five years, Uncle Ken. Give me five years, and I'm gonna be up on the top floor making it rain for the happy stockholders."
Matt's uncle seemed put off by his enthusiasm.
"Congratulations bud; I'm happy for you. But listen…I know you love finance, and that's fine. But remember, a job is still a job, even if yours will probably pay more than most. It still means you'll be working 110-hour weeks and taking orders from someone else. It's no picnic. Make your money and get out."
"Come on man, quit raining on my parade," Matt scoffed. "Can we shoot the .357 Magnum now?"
He felt the comfortable weight of the snub-nose pistol in his hand. Despite its relatively small size, it still kicked like a mule.
"Tokyo, Japan…here I come," said Matt Sneider, as his gunshot boomed through the silent air.