Disclaimer: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon belongs to Takeuchi Naoko, Toei Animation, and quite a few other business interests. This story is a humble fan-written tribute and is not intended to replace, infringe upon, besmirch, or swear at the original. Furthermore, I am not profiting from the distribution of this fan fiction, particularly because no one would want to pay to read it. I, Slytherite, would like to thank Takeuchi Naoko for her generous tolerance of fan fiction, and I would like to apologize for what I did to her poor gun-wielding mad-scientist snail-phobic evil-sorceress-type-person.
Author's Note: This story is set soon after the ending of Episode 109.
Furthermore, because I feel the need to justify Eudial's swearing: she does, in fact, use somewhat stronger language than the other characters, spitting the occasional "Dammit!" as her plans fail.
Warnings: Profanity.
Drops of sweat mingled with dark oil on the Fire Buster's casing. She rubbed them away with a bruised and dirty hand. The gun was still warm.
(But for how much longer?)
Her fingers slid inside the hole, traced the rough edges where the metal had split and bowed. It bled like a live thing; Eudial's palm was streaked with black.
"Dammit."
The night air was suffocating, unbearably warm. Eudial tasted gasoline with every ragged breath. As she watched, a droplet of something unidentified and foul trickled from the pipes above, splattering across the Fire Buster's barrel; clouds of metallic steam rose to choke her.
"Dammit," she snarled again, forcing her gaze away from the breach—and rising, storming over to her worktable, snatching a glistening sheet of metal at random. It buckled under her hands.
"Everything I touch—"
The aluminum sheet clattered against the wall, and a hundred teetering shelves of broken things rocked, swaying as she glared through waves of rising heat, or perhaps through tears sparkling in her eyes—
"Turns to goddamn garbage—"
Her hand came down on the Fire Buster with a sound like a girder snapping. Eudial sank into her chair, folding in on herself, and sobbed.
She would have made Mimete proud with her display. That, more than anything, pulled her upright, burned the tears away from her eyes, left her hard and hot and furious.
"So it's broken," she said through her teeth. "I can fix it. I can. I built it, didn't I? Without help?" Eudial breathed deeply. There was no sense raging. The plans were still on one of the shelves. She would find them. She would do better. "Am I just so stupid that I can't do the same damn thing twice?"
The black pit in the gun's side was all the answer she needed.
"Okay."
Somewhere in the lab, a machine roared.
"I miscalculated slightly."
She stared at the bruises spreading up her pale arms. That would be interesting to explain to the professor.
"More than slightly. Fine. I admit it."
The silhouettes of twisted metal around her were strangely unforgiving.
(Good. She didn't need forgiveness. There was nothing to forgive. Everyone made tactical errors.)
"There are three Talismans on this Godforsaken planet," muttered Eudial as her nails scraped across her palm and the machine's roar redoubled itself in her ears. "Three Talismans. Six billion humans. Even the best-optimized program can't find them on the first try. It's a numbers game."
Her bones ached; her blood rushed through broken veins. So she'd sunk to self-delusion now.
"And the Daimon—"
Eudial gasped for air, remembering too late that it hurt to laugh.
"No one could have anticipated—"
The papers on the work table jumped as she brought down her hand.
"This was not my fault."
(Bullshit.)
"And I can do better," she muttered, flicking diagrams aside, searching with her fingers while her gaze remained locked on the gun. "I have the plans. I know where I went wrong."
Eudial snatched up the Fire Buster's schematics and pressed them reflexively to her chest. She stared across the table, unseeing, her voice almost lost in the pounding of her blood.
"I know who you are."
She dropped the plans. Her sweaty palms left damp marks on the welding gun.
"Oh, yes. I can do better."
Sparks like garnets arced through the dark room.
"I always have, after all."
A puddle of green metal was growing under the Fire Buster's body, spitting emerald drops.
It was amazing where dedication and honest work could get you, really.
"I won that round." Eudial's fingers tightened, and the trigger snapped against the body of the gun. "I have them."
(Kaolinite said the same thing before she went off to die, didn't she?)
The heat rippled over Eudial's face, and jets of fire fluttered from her hands.
"Yeah," she whispered. "And I'm not Kaolinite."
Eudial closed her eyes. The welding torch was humming softly.
"I'm not a failure. Goddammit, I am not."
For a moment, Mimete's smirking face seemed to rise against the glow behind her eyelids.
"They will burn."