Hey Guys! I'm finally back into fan fiction writing action! Let me know what you guys think of my new stuff! Missed you all!!

FULL Summary:

Bunny Lune has just learned that she is the crime-fighting superhero Sailor Moon, but she's really not too happy about it.

Bunny's not in high school anymore, in fact she's almost out of college. With the burgeoning responsibilities of adulthood already feeling like the weight of the world, Earth's actual fate is the last thing she wants or needs on her cocktail tray. Bunny wants to do the right thing, but the evil that she fights terrifies her, not to mention takes a harsh toll on her body and mind. All the while the unsuspecting "real" world continues to make its demands on her (as if saving it weren't enough) it's not long before Bunny feels herself starting to break under the pressure. Knowing that she absolutely can't fight alone, Bunny follow her feline guardian, Luna, on a quest to find her fellow Sailor Soldiers, other girls her age with powers like her own.

And then there's the smooth and sexy Tuxedo Mask, a mysterious man who seems to come to her aid whenever she's in trouble… and sometimes when she's not. Luna doesn't trust him, and though she's trusted Luna this far, she can't help but feel that the strange talking cat isn't telling her everything there is to know about her new found powers, the evil that they're fighting against, and even Bunny herself…

Claidi Winter

HATACHI

Prologue

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I never really considered myself that interesting of a person.

No I'm sorry that's a lie. I find myself VERY interesting – who doesn't? Show me one human being who isn't completely obsessed with themselves? I'm not trying to be critical, we can't really help it, it's like we're all living one really long, mostly boring book that needs A LOT of editing to get to the good stuff.

I'm sorry, I digressed, I'm a writer and my thinking can be kind of all over the place. You'd think I'd be better focused in talking about my own life since I want to make a living out of cutting OUT all the boring parts that I mentioned - out of just giving you the good stuff. I'm sorry; I'll try to do that. I also tend to apologize a lot, so you're going to have to bear with me there as well.

Ok, the good stuff, actually 'relevant' would be a better word – My name is Bunny Lune, (YOU go to middle school with that name, I dare you) I'm twenty-one, a college senior, and I recently found out that I'm a super hero.

No, not the 'change-maker, donating my eggs to the spawn producing challenged,' kind of hero, or the 'giving my kidney just so some other kid can live' kind of way, (that episode of Grey's Anatomy was totally unrealistic, in my opinion.) No, I am an honest to god, slutty outfit wearing, sparkly Frisbee of death throwing, talking cat sidekick toting kind of super hero.

If you're thinking to yourself, "awesome!" right now, I suggest you go get your tubes tied (or your junk snipped) right now, just to lessen the chance of anyone else being born who is as dumb as you.

Ok sorry, that was kind of rude. But if you had the month *I* had and someone said to you that they thought being a super hero was 'awesome,' I wouldn't hold you accountable for your words or actions in the following moments.

My point is that I *used* to think that I was a pretty interesting person (all writers do.) A month ago I thought life and my problems were tantamount to global warming, but about a month ago I found out how wrong I was.

Global warming doesn't have shit on my life.

I hate to tell you this; not only does global warming not have shit on my life, but if I were making a list of stuff the world should be worrying about, the ice caps probably wouldn't even get an honorable mention.

I know all that stuff about a Frisbee and cats probably made no sense to you; I wish it didn't to me. Don't worry I'll explain everything, but first I'd like to take a moment to vent.

When I was a child I was actually a really sweet. Kind of bratty, kind of selfish, but what kid isn't? All in all I would say I was a genuinely nice, caring girl up until about high school. I was too nice and too caring for my own good. So blah, blah, blah, sad story the heart on my sleeve got broken, my trusting nature taken advantage of, and now... all that stuff is still there I guess, just a lot harder to get at than my sleeve. But what can you do? I'm not a big believer in crying over spilled milk, so I'd picked myself up and moved on.

From then up until now, I really actually kind of liked my life. My biggest worries were finding a job after college, putting the final touches on my thesis, and making enough in tips at my cocktailing job to go out partying that weekend with my friends. In that order.

Ok wait, the way I put that makes it sound like I didn't have a lot going on and being a superhero added some much needed excitement to my life. INCORRECT. What I SHOULD say is that I ALREADY had to worry about finding a job AS A WRITER after college, FINISHING my very LONG thesis on which my graduation from college is depending, and making tips at my very low-end, really seedy bar job, from really nasty, cheep, drunk, leering men. (I really hate that freaking job.) And yes, maybe the fact that my main motivation in making that money is a night of drinking, but that night is (was) the one night a week I had to myself and my friends.

Ok. Thanks for that. I'm sure what you really want to hear about is the superhero crap, but I just wanted to emphasize just how much I already had going on, and how much I had already gone through. The last thing I needed on top of all of this was a freaking mission.

So now I'll tell you all about the magic Frisbees, and the cat and the slutty costume (which is actually the only thing in this whole messed up fairytale that's worked in my favor,) oh yeah, and the evil that I now know exists. The evil that is threatening to destroy this Earth, or rather, everything we love about this Earth. It gains strength and nourishment from the feeling serial killers get when they slit their victims throats, it finds its laughter in the screams of innocent people trapped inside burning buildings, it relishes in the sound of a smothered baby's death rattle. The evil that I, twenty-one year old party girl Bunny Lune, am one of the sole able fighters against.

I'm sorry; the world is probably doomed.

But if you think all that sounds bad, wait until I tell you about Darien Shields – the shit-flavored icing on my already none too appetizing cake. Now HE is what I call evil.