Title: Long Hard Road
Show: Sailor Moon/Spawn
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon, nor do I own Spawn. They are the respective properties of their creators and publishers; I'm just borrowing them for a little while.
Warning: This fic features mature situations, strong language, and violence. Read at your own risk.
Author's Note: Some of the Spawn elements in this fic will seem greatly different than in the comics, because I decided to use the continuity from the Spawn Armageddon video game.
As with all stories, this one has a beginning, and an end.
The beginning was a long time ago, when the Moon Kingdom and its beautiful queen held sway, before it became nothing more than a memory in the minds of those who had destroyed it.
Well, that isn't the full truth. That is only half of it.
The rest of the beginning was five years ago, when a man named Al Simmons – a former assassin for the United States Security Group – was killed by one of his fellow operatives on the order of his employer, Jason Wynn. Simmons was burned alive, and found himself in Hell. It was there he found himself in an audience with Malebolgia, the Lord of the Eighth Ring of Hell. He made a deal so he could see his wife again, but found himself a Hellspawn, and the new general of the armies of Hell. Seeking to free himself, Simmons, now know as Spawn, and the mysterious Mammon, his mentor, seek to foil Malebolgia's plans.
How's that for a beginning?
The end, however, isn't as clear-cut as you'd think. No one can really guess at it, only live through the story, until they arrive at it.
This is a story about earning redemption, but also about a crystal.
A Silver Crystal, to be precise.
---------------
Spawn was at his usual perch, a cross atop an aging cathedral in the slums of New York's Bowery, Rat City, with his cape flowing around him as he brooded to himself. It had only been mere months since he had stopped a plan by the Angels to destroy the Earth and Hell with a satellite weapon powered by the necroplasm that was extracted from captured demons. It was also the last he'd seen of any Redeemer, leading him to believe that that pest was gone, for the moment.
On a side-note to that thought, he remembered his last conversation with the Reaver, one of the elite male Angels, who had gone rogue along with all of his men, and joined Spawn in his undertaking.
"Heaven's in an uproar now, after what you did, Hellspawn."
"Really? That's nothing new...even you want to relieve me of my head."
"True enough, but now there's been some changes in the power structure..."
"Meaning what? I hate it when people just beat around the bush, like I don't have anything better to do but solve riddles and other crap like that."
"The regime that formulated the Armageddon plan has been dismantled, but the members are still about in the Holy Land."
"I'll be sure to remember that..."
"Hellspawn, you try my patience...."
With a dark chuckle, Spawn looked down at the alleys below, and released his hold on the cross, falling through the sky towards the pavement and trash below, his cape seeming to increase in size and the chains around his waist trailing behind him, acting as a windbreak to slow his descent.
With a heavy slam, he landed in front of the church in a crouch, one hand on the ground in front of him, the other clenched in a fist.
"I see you haven't lost any of your flair for the dramatic," a smooth voice, cultured and intelligent, came from the shadows near him. Spawn stood, his cape drawing around him tightly, his chains rattling as they slid beneath it.
"Mammon...how nice to see you again," Spawn's voice was laced with sarcasm, something not lost on the well-dressed gentleman that stepped out of a dark alley. His hair was neatly cut, not a strand out of place, his beard neatly trimmed, and his suit was spotless, as were his shoes, the patent leather that they were. His tie and shirt were impeccable, and his face was lightly lined with experience, as always. And, as always, his eyes were a solid, softly glowing green, standing out in the darkness of the alleyways he would visit his student in.
"I'm sure," he said, a crisp smile on his face. "So sorry to intrude on your nightly...patrol, but I have learned of something I feel must be brought to your attention..."
Spawn shook his head fiercely, turning away and crossing his red leather gauntleted arms over his broad chest. "Oh, no you don't. I know how this is going to go."
"Oh, really? Please, enlighten me," Mammon clasped his hands behind his back, and walked in a small circle around the former Black Ops agent.
"Well, for starters, whenever you show up, so does some kind of freak of nature, monster from Hell, or mechanical freak looking for a piece of me."
"And how often does that happen, when I'm NOT around?" the man asked, blinking slowly.
"..." was all Spawn had to comment, before locking his green eyes on Mammon's. "Fine, you have my attention. This had better be good..."
"Oh, I can assure you that this is no small thing. It seems that something has occurred to the ranks of Heaven and Hell...or at least, the lower ranks...namely the Angels that schemed to bring Armageddon, and the Violator's brothers..."
"And what might I ask is this 'something'?" the Hellspawn asked, his thin patience wearing thinner by the second.
"An object from a long-dead kingdom of magic, that is fully capable of ending the war between Heaven and Hell in favor of whichever side possesses it." Mammon took a moment to let that set in, and then continued. "If either side gets their hands on it, you can fully expect the realization of the Armageddon agenda."
"I see...but you haven't really explained what it is this 'object' is," Spawn dead-panned, his cape unfolding and his chains rattling softly.
"It is know by many names, really. The most common is the Silver Crystal, and its guardian, though capable of protecting herself, isn't ready for something on this scale, you understand." Mammon looked up at the moon above them in the pre-dawn light, and then aside at Spawn again.
"And?"
"Well, it is normally used to purify, and heal..."
"You mean...?" There was a small hopeful tone in the not-quite-alive Simmons' voice.
"What I mean is that there is a chance – a small one, mind you – that this crystal may just be able to solve your dilemma...however, if any of the others gets it first, you can be damned sure all Hell will break loose...again." Mammon replied in a dark, foreboding voice. "I would be very careful if I were you, Spawn."
"Where is this crystal you're babbling about? Even if you're just full of it, a chance to finally beat the crap out of those winged assholes that tried to kill me back then is worth the trip...where are we going, anyway?" Spawn hit the palm of one hand with his other, which was clenched in a fist.
"To Tokyo, Japan. It is there that the rogue forces of Good and Evil shall face each other in this contest...only I intend for us to be the victors..."
-----------------
Half a world away, a woman wearing a purple skirt and jacket with a white blouse was drinking a cup of tea, her long green hair in a ponytail that hung around her shoulders as her deep, contemplating eyes looked out of the window of her home, towards the same moon being watched in the post-sunset sky.
"I can feel it...something is coming here, and it doesn't bode well for the Senshi..." she spoke to herself, still sipping the tea with unearthly calm. "But it is too soon for me to become involved...I must wait, until HE arrives. Then I may act, and then...we shall see how this story ends..."
Show: Sailor Moon/Spawn
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon, nor do I own Spawn. They are the respective properties of their creators and publishers; I'm just borrowing them for a little while.
Warning: This fic features mature situations, strong language, and violence. Read at your own risk.
Author's Note: Some of the Spawn elements in this fic will seem greatly different than in the comics, because I decided to use the continuity from the Spawn Armageddon video game.
As with all stories, this one has a beginning, and an end.
The beginning was a long time ago, when the Moon Kingdom and its beautiful queen held sway, before it became nothing more than a memory in the minds of those who had destroyed it.
Well, that isn't the full truth. That is only half of it.
The rest of the beginning was five years ago, when a man named Al Simmons – a former assassin for the United States Security Group – was killed by one of his fellow operatives on the order of his employer, Jason Wynn. Simmons was burned alive, and found himself in Hell. It was there he found himself in an audience with Malebolgia, the Lord of the Eighth Ring of Hell. He made a deal so he could see his wife again, but found himself a Hellspawn, and the new general of the armies of Hell. Seeking to free himself, Simmons, now know as Spawn, and the mysterious Mammon, his mentor, seek to foil Malebolgia's plans.
How's that for a beginning?
The end, however, isn't as clear-cut as you'd think. No one can really guess at it, only live through the story, until they arrive at it.
This is a story about earning redemption, but also about a crystal.
A Silver Crystal, to be precise.
---------------
Spawn was at his usual perch, a cross atop an aging cathedral in the slums of New York's Bowery, Rat City, with his cape flowing around him as he brooded to himself. It had only been mere months since he had stopped a plan by the Angels to destroy the Earth and Hell with a satellite weapon powered by the necroplasm that was extracted from captured demons. It was also the last he'd seen of any Redeemer, leading him to believe that that pest was gone, for the moment.
On a side-note to that thought, he remembered his last conversation with the Reaver, one of the elite male Angels, who had gone rogue along with all of his men, and joined Spawn in his undertaking.
"Heaven's in an uproar now, after what you did, Hellspawn."
"Really? That's nothing new...even you want to relieve me of my head."
"True enough, but now there's been some changes in the power structure..."
"Meaning what? I hate it when people just beat around the bush, like I don't have anything better to do but solve riddles and other crap like that."
"The regime that formulated the Armageddon plan has been dismantled, but the members are still about in the Holy Land."
"I'll be sure to remember that..."
"Hellspawn, you try my patience...."
With a dark chuckle, Spawn looked down at the alleys below, and released his hold on the cross, falling through the sky towards the pavement and trash below, his cape seeming to increase in size and the chains around his waist trailing behind him, acting as a windbreak to slow his descent.
With a heavy slam, he landed in front of the church in a crouch, one hand on the ground in front of him, the other clenched in a fist.
"I see you haven't lost any of your flair for the dramatic," a smooth voice, cultured and intelligent, came from the shadows near him. Spawn stood, his cape drawing around him tightly, his chains rattling as they slid beneath it.
"Mammon...how nice to see you again," Spawn's voice was laced with sarcasm, something not lost on the well-dressed gentleman that stepped out of a dark alley. His hair was neatly cut, not a strand out of place, his beard neatly trimmed, and his suit was spotless, as were his shoes, the patent leather that they were. His tie and shirt were impeccable, and his face was lightly lined with experience, as always. And, as always, his eyes were a solid, softly glowing green, standing out in the darkness of the alleyways he would visit his student in.
"I'm sure," he said, a crisp smile on his face. "So sorry to intrude on your nightly...patrol, but I have learned of something I feel must be brought to your attention..."
Spawn shook his head fiercely, turning away and crossing his red leather gauntleted arms over his broad chest. "Oh, no you don't. I know how this is going to go."
"Oh, really? Please, enlighten me," Mammon clasped his hands behind his back, and walked in a small circle around the former Black Ops agent.
"Well, for starters, whenever you show up, so does some kind of freak of nature, monster from Hell, or mechanical freak looking for a piece of me."
"And how often does that happen, when I'm NOT around?" the man asked, blinking slowly.
"..." was all Spawn had to comment, before locking his green eyes on Mammon's. "Fine, you have my attention. This had better be good..."
"Oh, I can assure you that this is no small thing. It seems that something has occurred to the ranks of Heaven and Hell...or at least, the lower ranks...namely the Angels that schemed to bring Armageddon, and the Violator's brothers..."
"And what might I ask is this 'something'?" the Hellspawn asked, his thin patience wearing thinner by the second.
"An object from a long-dead kingdom of magic, that is fully capable of ending the war between Heaven and Hell in favor of whichever side possesses it." Mammon took a moment to let that set in, and then continued. "If either side gets their hands on it, you can fully expect the realization of the Armageddon agenda."
"I see...but you haven't really explained what it is this 'object' is," Spawn dead-panned, his cape unfolding and his chains rattling softly.
"It is know by many names, really. The most common is the Silver Crystal, and its guardian, though capable of protecting herself, isn't ready for something on this scale, you understand." Mammon looked up at the moon above them in the pre-dawn light, and then aside at Spawn again.
"And?"
"Well, it is normally used to purify, and heal..."
"You mean...?" There was a small hopeful tone in the not-quite-alive Simmons' voice.
"What I mean is that there is a chance – a small one, mind you – that this crystal may just be able to solve your dilemma...however, if any of the others gets it first, you can be damned sure all Hell will break loose...again." Mammon replied in a dark, foreboding voice. "I would be very careful if I were you, Spawn."
"Where is this crystal you're babbling about? Even if you're just full of it, a chance to finally beat the crap out of those winged assholes that tried to kill me back then is worth the trip...where are we going, anyway?" Spawn hit the palm of one hand with his other, which was clenched in a fist.
"To Tokyo, Japan. It is there that the rogue forces of Good and Evil shall face each other in this contest...only I intend for us to be the victors..."
-----------------
Half a world away, a woman wearing a purple skirt and jacket with a white blouse was drinking a cup of tea, her long green hair in a ponytail that hung around her shoulders as her deep, contemplating eyes looked out of the window of her home, towards the same moon being watched in the post-sunset sky.
"I can feel it...something is coming here, and it doesn't bode well for the Senshi..." she spoke to herself, still sipping the tea with unearthly calm. "But it is too soon for me to become involved...I must wait, until HE arrives. Then I may act, and then...we shall see how this story ends..."