Title: La Femme Serena
Author: Aglaia
Date Created: Aug. 9, 2003
Date Modified: May 31, 2004
Disclaimer: I own neither Sailor Moon, nor La
Femme Nikita. Sailor Moon and La Femme Nikita
belong to Naoko, Luc, DiC, TOEI, USA Networks,
Warner Bros., and a bunch of other very rich and
very lucky people. Those characters and scenarios
appear without permission. This standard
disclaimer applies to the rest of the story.
' ' = thoughts
---
Chapter 1: Enter the Bunny
Huddled behind a dumpster in the corner of a
dark alley, a small figure slumped against the wall.
The alley was full of shadows, unbroken by the
moonlight, making the figure almost invisible to
the casual observer. Illuminated for a moment by
the wide arc of a beam of headlights, the shrunken
figure resolved itself into the shape of a young
woman. The woman clasped her clothes around
herself, shivering from the sub-zero temperatures.
Barely visible beneath the grime that came from
living on the streets was a heart-shaped face whose
sweet smile could usually charm some change from
passers-by. A lock of greasy, matted blond hair
peeked out from under several layers of beat-up,
hole-ridden, dirty hats. A closer look might have
revealed a stunning pair of blue eyes whose
intensity was undimmed by the drug use that was so
common in street-life; however, few people in this
day and age were willing to give her a closer look.
Her stomach contracted painfully, reminding
her that it had been a long time since she had
scarfed down that half-eaten sandwich the night
before. During the course of the day, she had
managed to amass several dollars from panhandling,
a small fortune for her. But she knew she should
be saving it for the long winter ahead of her.
There would be days when it would be just too cold
to stay on the streets to beg - days when more than
an hour or two in the inclement weather could lead
to frostbite or even hypothermia. If she were to
survive this winter, she needed to save her money
for blankets. Even better, if she managed to save
enough, she might be able to afford the luxury of
luxuries - a sleeping bag.
The winters were growing steadily worse year
by year, and people were less and less inclined to
generosity. Too often she had watched people walk
past her outstretched hands and pleading words
without even a second glance. There were days when
even her relatively child-like appearance no longer
evoked much sympathy.
With all the things she was likely to need
her money for, she knew she shouldn't spend it on
food. But as her thoughts continued to dwell on the
prospect of eating, she could no longer ignore the
hunger pangs. Her stomach growling, she curled up
in a semi-fetal position. "Shut-up," she grumbled
almost inaudibly. "There's no food," she told
herself for the millionth time but couldn't prevent
herself from imagining a steak dinner with grilled
vegetables, topped off with a piece of warm apple
pie with a crust so flaky it crumbled in your mouth.
She began salivating at the thought of such a feast.
Finally, driven to distraction by her nagging
hunger, she stumbled out of the alleyway she called
home and into the darkened street. She forced her
stiff and weary limbs to function and propelled
herself through the night towards the flickering
neon lights of the 24-hour convenience store. The
dismally tawdry windows plastered with layers of
faded and cheesy advertisements were like a beacon,
calling her in from the cold. Undismayed by the
hostile glares from the cashier, she steadied her
emaciated body with one hand along the wall and
followed her nose to the hotdogs rotating under a
heat-lamp.
"Hey!" yelled the cashier. "Do you have money
or what?"
She mumbled an incoherent response, but her
gaze remained firmly fixed on the juicy hotdogs.
"Buy somethin' or get out! It's that simple!"
Suddenly overcome by her hunger, the girl's
gaunt figure could no longer support her, and she
collapsed in a dead faint.
"Shit!" exclaimed the cashier. "Now I gotta
carry this garbage outside. I shoulda known she
didn't have any cash!"
The cashier was about to step from behind the
counter when a man wearing grungy clothes and a
dark ski-mask ran into the store past the
unconscious body of the girl. Not giving her a
second glance, the obviously inexperienced gunman
shot out the prominently displayed security cameras
in a blaze of loud gunfire and then aimed his
weapon at the store clerk.
"The money from the register into a plastic
bag! NOW!!" His agitated voice was slightly
muffled by the mask pulled over his face.
Almost unfazed by the semi-automatic handgun
trained upon him, the clerk calmly stepped back
behind the register and opened it. Hold-ups were
a regular occurrence in this neighborhood, and the
cashier had already survived two such attempts.
He quietly began filling a plastic bag with the
money, biding his time until he could press the
panic button without being seen.
"Faster! Faster!" yelled the robber.
A car sped by on the street outside,
momentarily distracting the attention of the
gunman. This was the opportunity the cashier was
waiting for; he paused from filling the bag just
long enough to reach the panic button underneath
the counter.
"C'mon, c'mon! Let's go!!"
As the hold-up continued, the gunman began
darting his eyes nervously around the store. It
was at that point that a bell chimed, signaling the
entrance of someone into the store. The sound of
the door opening startled both the cashier and the
robber.
Two uniformed police officers entered,
chatting loudly. They seemed oblivious to the
situation and headed in a leisurely fashion towards
the snacks. The cashier was trying to puzzle out
how the cops had arrived so quickly to his summons,
while the gunman, now sweating profusely, tried to
shield his gun from sight with his body.
One of the police officers noticed the body
of the girl lying prone on the ground, and it
finally began to dawn on him that something was
amiss.
"Hey!" he said, pointing her out to his
partner. He bent down to check for a pulse.
"What's going on here?"
At that point, the robber lost his head.
What had been a simple hold-up had quickly gone
very bad for him. He had been in jail before, and
he was damned if he was going to go back.
The robber turned quickly and began shooting
at the two police officers. They were taken by
surprise and one was hit several times as the other
dove for cover behind the chips display.
"Gotcha, you motherfuckers!" the robber all
but screamed triumphantly. By his way of thinking,
two less cops in the world would make it a better
place. He determinedly continued to spray his
bullets wildly.
The remaining police officer began to return
fire and radioed for backup. The robber knew he
was trapped. Everything was screwed up. But he
wasn't going back to jail. Never again would he
submit to that hell. And he wasn't going to let
this pig cop live. With these thoughts in mind, he
joined the cashier behind the counter and pumped
the clerk's head full of bullets.
Meanwhile, the police officer reached out to
try and drag the unconscious girl to safety.
Leaning too far from his cover, he was struck
multiple times by the next wave of bullets launched
by the gunman from behind the register.
Quickly, before more police could arrive, the
gunman grabbed the half-full bag of cash the clerk
had been filling and ran towards the door. He
paused momentarily when he saw the body of the girl,
miraculously untouched by the violence of the
gunfight. Struck with an idea that would prevent
the police from coming after him, he placed his gun
in her hand and dragged her toward the cash
register before making his getaway into the night.
---
The girl, known as Serena, gradually regained
consciousness. It was dark and musty. She rubbed
her eyes blearily, but came awake suddenly as she
noticed a man in a dark suit standing over her.
She quickly sat up and backed away from him,
finally noticing that she was in a cell of some
sort. He was tall, with a long ponytail and a mop
of unruly black curls which didn't seem to want to
behave. His mussed hair seemed at odds with the
rest of his pressed-to-perfection appearance.
Dressed in an obviously expensive suit - a black
shirt and tie, and shiny black dress shoes - this
man exuded power, but a diamond studded earring in
his left ear suggested a hint of wildness. He had
a handsome, if somewhat roguish, face, and despite
her confusion and fear, the girl found him very
attractive. A guard stood outside the metal bars
that confined her to her cell; he had his back
turned and was oblivious to what was happening
inside.
"Who are you? Where am I?" she asked
nervously.
"You're in prison." Completely ignoring her
first question, he stared intently into her eyes.
Her eyes widened in shock, "What am I doing
here?"
"You don't remember?" the man smiled
sardonically. "I find that difficult to believe."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
The man in the dark suit continued blithely as
if he hadn't heard her remark, "Why don't you try
that one on your lawyer. An insanity plea might
be the only thing that will help you now."
Now he had made her mad. Not only was his
tone insulting, but his cryptic answers were more
frustrating than informative. "What are you
talking about?!"
The fire within her that had helped her to
survive for so long on the streets now sprung up.
Serena didn't anger easily, but when she got mad,
steam blew from her ears. This guy was baiting her
deliberately, taunting her in an almost childish
manner. Who the heck died and crowned him the king
of self-righteous?? She looked at him
challengingly and didn't flinch from his gaze.
The man read the expression in her eyes with
satisfaction and smiled, "See you after the trial."
With that one last enigmatic remark, he left, and
the door to her jail cell clanged shut with a
frightening finality.
---
It was as if that man's skepticism had been a
portent of what was to come next. When she finally
heard the full recounting of what had happened in
the convenience store, she had been shocked. She
was no murderess. But no one seemed to believe her.
After repeating her story over and over again, she
began to lose hope. She became numb, recognizing
the futility of banging her head against a wall.
Throughout the visits from the court-
appointed lawyer and the trial, she had barely
even registered her surroundings. Events passed in
a whirlwind that didn't sink in for her at all.
She sat through the speedy trial and felt outside
of herself, as if everything were happening to
someone else. The sentencing, especially, had a
surreal quality to it, and she had listened to it
without even blinking.
"Serena Arroway, you have been found guilty
of attempted robbery and two counts of first degree
murder. Your unconscionable actions have caused
the deaths of two distinguished police officers.
The total lack of remorse you have displayed in
this courtroom leaves me with no choice but to
conclude that you are a cold-blooded murderer. I
hereby sentence you to death by lethal injection.
May God have mercy on your soul."
The banging of the judge's gavel finally
seemed to wake her up.
"You don't understand! I didn't do
anything!!" she screamed. "I'm innocent! You
have to believe me!"
She had pleaded, but to no avail. As the
bailiffs dragged her out, she saw the man in the
dark suit among the spectators in the courtroom.
When she was being thrust once again into the
darkness of her cell, she remembered the look in
his eyes as they followed her.
---
A group of eleven men and women dressed in
dark power suits sat behind a long table in the
semi-darkness. The man with the diamond-studded
earring walked briskly into the room, stopped
under the spotlight, and saluted the others
crisply.
"Agent Star, have you assessed the new
recruit?" one of the eleven asked.
"Yes, sir. I have reviewed her dossier
and evaluated her in person. I believe she has
great potential," Seiya replied.
"Recommendations?" another of the eleven
demanded.
"I suggest that we move ahead with the
operation and begin training as soon as possible."
"Approved."
---
AN: My fic is based on Luc Besson's "La Femme
Nikita," John Badham's "Point of No Return," and
USA Network's "La Femme Nikita" (the latter two
were based on Luc Besson's screenplay, which was
in turn inspired by Bernard Shaw's "Pygmalion").
I realize the convenience store hold-up and
subsequent court conviction stretches the realm of
believability. The courts took a very hard line
on her because two police officers died, and they
wanted to hold someone responsible. I wanted
Serena to be sentenced to death while still being
an innocent. My deepest apologies for abusing my
creative license and for any errors I might have
made.
For those die-hard Mamoru fans, don't worry!
Mamoru will have a big part to play later in this
fic.
Next chapter: Serena's initiation into the
shadowy organization.
If you've got questions, concerns, or
comments, feel free to e-mail me:
aglaia044yahoo.com. Don't forget to drop me a
review!!
Aglaia