LockDown
By Arysta
Part One: One Hour Challenge Segment
The youma had disappeared. One minute it was right in front of them, the next—gone.
"What *is* this place?" Sailor Moon examined the small room, taking it its many shining surfaces and empty tables. It seemed familiar, though she couldn't place how—or why.
"It's a morgue," Tuxedo Mask announced.
Everything clicked.
"Eeewwwwwww!" Sailor Moon threw herself at Tuxedo Mask, who thankfully caught her.
He sighed and set the girl on her feet, though he really couldn't blame her. The room was giving him the creeps. But they were superheroes, right? They should be able to face an empty… he spotted a not-so-empty table in the corner of the room and amended his thoughts… almost-empty morgue.
"Where's the youma? Let's find it, dust it, and get out of here." Sailor Moon tugged on the short skirt of her sailor suit and braved a glance around the room.
"You stay here. I'll check this out." Tuxedo Mask pulled his cloak around him and headed for the corner tables. Had that one moved?
"Do you see anything?"
He wasn't even near the tables yet. "Keep watch," he barked. "Why don't you check behind you?"
Sailor Moon tilted her head. The only thing behind her was a wall—a wall with a lot of doors on it. She shivered, remembered the crime drama that she had seen once before ever-after avoiding. They were corpse drawers. She tugged on her skirt again—the room was chilly, and she didn't even want to consider why the temperature was kept so low—and swallowed. The faster they found the damn youma, the faster she could head home to a warm bed and… she grimaced… her unfinished math worksheets.
Sometimes it was hell being a teenaged superheroine.
"Where are the Scouts, Sailor Moon," Tuxedo Mask asked. She turned to glance at him just in time to see him toss back a heavy white sheet and reveal a waxy-looking dead body.
"Gross!" She exclaimed, turning her back on the caped hero. He could deal with the bodies. She'd just… deal with the bodies, she thought resolutely. She pulled open one heavy door. The table pushed into the wall was empty. She sighed in relief and moved on.
"The Scouts?" Tuxedo Mask asked again.
"I heard you," she said grumpily. "We decided to split up tonight's patrol. We can cover a lot more ground that way."
"Ah," he said knowingly, "all those kids dressed up for Halloween."
"Exactly. So how did you end up here?" She hitched her breath and pulled open another door. This time there was something in the hole—a white-draped lump. Wrinkling her nose, Sailor Moon poked at the lump enough to assure it wasn't a youma. Spotting the toe-tag, she gratefully let the white sheet fall and slammed the door shut with a muttered 'sorry' to its occupant.
"I was patrolling during last week's pre-Halloween festival in the park. Nearly creamed some University student playing a trick on his girlfriend," Tuxedo Mask said. Sailor Moon noticed that he had completely ignored her question.
Sailor Moon grinned. So it was him that she had spotted! "Been there, done that," she said. "Have you found it yet?"
"It's not on these tables. Hold on, let me try the freezer."
"Freezer?" Even as she asked she thought of why a morgue might need a freezer. "How disgusting!"
"Want to come over here and play back-up?" He asked.
She sighed dramatically, but went willingly. Standing behind Tuxedo Mask while *he* explored was much better than exploring herself, no contest.
"Hold on," he said, and slowly pulled the door handle.
It exploded outward, the youma jumping free and roaring so loudly that Sailor Moon thought she felt her eardrums break free. Tuxedo Mask lunged at it with his stick—and hit.
"Why is it moving so slowly?"
"It was in the freezer, remember?"
Two and two came together in her mind—and Sailor Moon ended up feeling exceptionally stupid.
"Could use some help here," Tuxedo Mask said. "I think this thing is warming up!" He was still holding the youma off, though, pushing against it with all his weight.
"Alright, get out of the way!" Sailor Moon cried as she pulled her tiara from her head. It changed in her hand. As soon as Tuxedo Mask threw himself out of the way, she launched the disc, screaming her attack.
The youma screamed as it was sliced apart—though there wasn't a lot of room for error in the enclosed space—and the disc kept on going. The door slammed shut as the youma's weight (which had been holding it open) disappeared. The lights flickered with the force of the door falling shut.
"You didn't have to yell so loudly," Tuxedo Mask said. He had a gloved finger stuck in his ear.
Sailor Moon felt her cheeks heat, but refused to apologize. "The youma was much louder than me," she pointed out.
They both jumped at the sound that next rang through the room. Sharp, high—like a high-velocity bullet impacting steel.
Tuxedo Mask turned toward the door—it was still closed, and they were still the only ones in the room. The sound rang again, and this time, Tuxedo Mask realized, with a sinking stomach, where it was coming from.
"It's coming from the freezer room," Sailor Moon said in a loud whisper.
The sound came again, faintly, then louder.
"Damn it," Tuxedo Mask said, clenching his fist. "It's your tiara."
"What?"
"Your tiara, in the freezer room. Bouncing around."
"Oh my god!" Sailor Moon clapped a hand over her mouth and turned to the closed-off room. "How do we get it out?"
"We've got bigger things than that to worry about," Tuxedo Mask said. "That room is where they have the…"
Another sharp sound heralded a flicker of the lights and a muted 'boom.' The lights flickered once more, there was another, louder sound from the freezer room that culminated in a harsh thump against the door, and the lights went out.
"The?" Sailor Moon asked, blinking in the darkness. She was afraid she knew what her tiara had hit.
"The electrical box," Tuxedo Mask finished.
"I'll get a new tiara," she said, even as she wondered how she was going to explain this one to Luna. "Let's get out of here!"
Sailor Moon heard a low whirr, coming from far beneath her feet, as the generator came on. Seconds later the emergency lights lit—dark amber bulbs spaced far apart. The light they provided was minimal at best—she could just make out the tall, dark shadow that was Tuxedo Mask among the other dark shadows that marked the presence of tables and walls.
"I guess we should be glad they have emergency lights in here," Tuxedo Mask said, sounding resigned. He brought his hand to his face and massaged his head.
"Yes, yay, woohoo." She stuck her hand into the crook of his elbow—ignoring, for the moment, the warm heat of his body beneath his clothing—and pulled. "We're out of here." She reached the door, blinked and widened her eyes to find the door handle, and pulled it.
Nothing happened.
She tried again, and then again, beginning to feel frantic. She couldn't be stuck in a morgue! She let go of Tuxedo Mask and pulled once more, feeling the awful swelling of tears in her throat as the truth began to sink in.
"No!" She lifted a foot to the doorframe. She was a super-strong superheroine. Maybe she could force the door…
His hands, white gloves looking almost black in the limited light, covered hers gently, peeling her white-knuckled fingers from the door handle slowly and pulling the already-aching hand to his chest.
"It's a security function," he explained. "Lockdown."
"So we're stuck in here?"
"At least until the electricity comes back on—or until someone comes down here to free us."
"Oh my god, they're going to find us here!"
Even though he wore a mask, Sailor Moon distinctly saw the whites of Tuxedo Mask's eyes as he rolled them. "Can't you contact the Scouts? Get them to let you out?"
"Oh yes! Good idea!"
She reached into the small pocket of her skirt and found… nothing. "Uh oh."
"Uh oh?" How could a voice so silky sweet be so menacing, she wondered.
"I um… I think I left it at home."
She checked her other skirt pocket to be sure, and then patted her hips just to check one more time. Nothing. No communicator at all.
Tuxedo Mask's breathing was harsh and ragged. "You're telling me that we're stuck in a dark morgue with no electricity—and you forgot your communicator?"
"Umm… basically," Sailor Moon said.
"That's not good," he said.
"Well, it could be worse. At least we're together." She blushed, and was happy that the lights were so dim that it would be impossible for the masked superhero to see it.
"You're not claustrophobic, are you?" He asked.
She paused, shifted her feet—they were beginning to hurt—and shook her head. "Nope. Why?"
"Well, I didn't think two of us freaking out would be that positive a sign," he said wryly.
"You're claustrophobic?"
"Well… put it this way… the sooner we get out of here, the better."
They stood in silence, only the whirr of the generator below their feet interrupting the emptiness of the night.
"I read once that distraction is the best way to overcome claustrophobia," Sailor Moon said.
"Read where?"
"In a magazine. It was for a…" she bit off the words 'school project' just in time.
"For a?"
"Nevermind," she said. "The point is that we need to find a way to distract you—since we could be here until morning."
"Thank you for reminding me," he said.
Sailor Moon watched Tuxedo Mask begin to move. His hands roamed the tables as the stalked in front of them. His cloak swished back and forth, brushing her legs whenever he turned to change direction at her end of the room. She became aware, as she hadn't been during their latest fights, that Tuxedo Mask was a man she knew nothing about. A man who was older, bigger and stronger than she was. She shivered with a sudden, violent realization that she was alone—trapped—with him. He could do anything he wanted to her, and she wouldn't be able to stop him. Or… she thought of her daydream math-escapism fantasies… she could do something to him. Wasn't this the perfect chance to show Tuxedo Mask that she was more than just a pretty face in a sailor suit? Wasn't this the perfect chance to show him that she was a woman?
"Stop that," she said, taking a deep breath and praying that he couldn't feel how her hands were shaking as she grabbed his cloak and pulled him to a halt. "We need to find you a distraction."
"What kind of a distraction?" He asked. His face was mere inches from hers as he leaned over her. His hands were curled around her wrists in a grip that was just short of inflicting pain.
"What about… this?" She asked, and, taking her courage in her hands with a firm self-reminder that she was Sailor Moon, sailor suited champion of Justice, not some school girl, she pressed her lips to his.
*****
End Part One
*****