(this is an old story that I dug up and tried to fix)

Nine Goddesses and an Angel

I don't mean to say that it doesn't matter, the truth is very much the opposite, but a lady must take responsibility for their actions and I regret the actions of the last month. On a Ranger's honor, I hold everything in this leather-bound journal to be truth and entrust my story to those who will hold it in heart, like the Planeptune Oracle I leave this to.

A Ranger under the employ of Lastation is in my opinion, one of the best peacekeepers in our world. We're faster than a snake bite on the draw and would turn any big city detective red with envy from our investigative skills. It doesn't matter if we're deep in the city of factories and firms that makes up our capital or the mines and farms of the country, a Ranger will find the culprit. When Lady Black Heart assigned me personally to her quarrel with an outlaw witch, I took it as the highest of honors. Throughout my years, my extraordinary eye had won me more than a few nicknames after my gun had been holstered and smoke cleared. My story starts in the grimy underbelly of the capital.

The grey grit that stuck to the walls, or every surface for that matter was the worst defining characteristic of this hellhole. It lay just as the wind blew under the shadow of the Refinery district. My dust scarf had become difficult to breathe through and I thanked the goddesses that I had reached my destination.

The bar had a makeshift air filter taped into the window made of a fan and some cotton rags, a 2 door entry did the rest. A rickety lightup sign advertised whatever cheap swill alcohol that they had for sale. For the supposed hub of villainy that others had made it out to be, I was not impressed.

The bar was too empty for an attempt to blend in but the interior was much more developed than the grimy exterior. The bar was a great flat of dark hardwood, stained and polished by decades of booze and hands. A pianist in a dated red dress left a thin trail of greyish-blue smoke from her cigarette as she waltzed back to her meal at the bar. The bartender was an aged brunette with a temperament to match the short barrel shotgun under the counter. The nearly lawless regions were a bunch of bizarre place, but someone like myself with a .44 in their coat could at least get a drink, some information and hang around long enough to figure out what was going on. I had traded my usual herder/drifter outfit for a thin wool overcoat and my leather hip holster for a more concealable shoulder holster. Even though I had just washed my long, chocolate brown hair, it took no time for the grime of this underworld to make me feel uncomfortable. I put a strand back behind my ear before I placed my palms on the bar, picking my seat.

Even though I had been sitting, my boots' clicking noise on the stiff wooden and stone floor still echoed in the back of my mind from the moments just before. My hand slipped to my belt, out of pure habit to right above where one of my two revolvers would usually sit. With a quick tap and word I got a shallow glass of whiskey, resting my elbow on the bar as I scanned the place for a second time. If it weren't for the razor slyly under my belt I would have already cocked my pistol.

The flapping of the kitchen doors to the left of the bar are the sound I will forever remember as the moment I saw him. The owner of this fine establishment and the man who I knew to have been the last to see the witch I was hunting. The bounty and reputation for killing a witch was extreme, but only an exceptional few even would attempt and those few often died and were increasingly rare these days. An owner would be too well versed in the rumors and intrigue of crime to not recognize my well known golden irises and slender gunslinger figure. My mother had said that my eyes were green when I was but a babe but had changed as I matured. I decided to make my retreat after leaving a thick silver coin with my empty glass. If the brim of my hat had not been tipped forwards the witch surely would have discovered me.

The witch had heavy makeup and a mature body and voice with a strangely tinted skin. Whatever the case was, I had to linger. I slid into a booth when no one had been facing me and made sure to put myself away from the two suspects before ordering a simple meal and another drink. My ear captured their conversation.

"Ah, so you again Ms Arfoire?"

"Oh you know me too well sir!"

"The usual?"

"Of course, if you've got some time."

The man pours two dishes of sake and sets the bottle down between them.

After a long draught and a shiver, the witch sets the dish down to refill her alcohol.

"Arfoire, you wouldn't be too busy to..."

Arfoire's slightly rosy cheeks close part of the gap to the owner as she asks him something quietly.

I can feel the chemistry between them, the man is planning a date with the woman. My eyes narrow, and I can feel the feet standing behind my seat. It is moments like these I wish that I had kept my normal holster, my hand flashes to a gun that isn't there out of pure instinct. Rather than a foe, a low class bounty hunter stands behind me, with an intrigued look.

"So what's "The Hawk" doing in some dump like this?"

My hand repositioned to the flip open razor before I spoke. The hunter cuts me off.

"I've heard the stories about those thin eyes you have. Don't mind me stealing your target. Lil' Miss Hawk is gonna get beat to it this time."

The comment about my less than well endowed chest doesn't interfere with my thought process at all compared to the possibility of my quarry running to ground. I went at a quick pace towards the kitchen flapping doors, reaching under my coat for the trusty six-shooter that has seen and won so many battles. As the bounty hunter draws, I reach as well, not to stop her but to ensure that my prey does not escape in a direction I cannot follow or to end this now. My other hand reaches to the knapsack for my long barrel .45 long, the only other gun I have. The shout of the pianist acknowledging my now present leather holster on my hip signals the others of the room into action. The bounty hunter's pistol nearly fires before the witch stops the attempted assassination.

The entire front of the building blows out, I was only alive from the protection of the corner I had stood behind to properly equip myself. The witch, Arfoire has protected herself and the man from the blast she created. The man is not 5 meters away when we locked eyes.

My eyes narrow, pupils slipping to the edges of my gold irises.

My right arm tensions and fingers slip into a loose grip as the left arm comes in front of my chest only a hand's length from my belt, hand open.

My feet slide just a touch farther apart than my shoulders.

The familiar heft of the revolver followed my right hand as the left hand reaches for the hammer to cock.

To ensure he goes down, and the witch to his side, I decided to add a blink of delay to the draw, a mistake but it nearly ended this ordeal without the pain that involvement became.

"FIRE ENFILADE-!"

I was cut off of my spellcast by a shockwave from the witch's staff.

As I lay in a pile of brick dust from my and the shockwave's impact with the wall, I watch the two lovers flee.

My head rings as I give chase, one can only run so fast in the smog and soot ridden air of this district. The witch drags the man out the gate leading towards the Lowee border and my usual patrol area.

I had secured a horse, well shod and fierce. I rode well into the night, through the great badlands road that lead to the next town. There had been a time when the only comeuppance a person had out in these regions was the gun they stole off their fellow man. The people left had fought like hell to build the ranches, bars, inns and farms that now populated the great vastness and kept people fed in the capital and around these parts.

There was a great battle on this border long ago. Lastation fought for their place in this world with a ferocity that would make a prize bull proud. Lowee and Planeptune had attacked some Lastation soldiers in the valley, and the resulting battle of a few dozen Lastationites versus thousands of enemy soldiers was a victory not seen since Tari's sweep of the world, granting Lastation their sovereignty in nearly one battle though not a single Lastation soldier present lived through that battle. The valley had since been named "The Valley of the Fusiliers", after the riflemen that had held the line so long ago.

The trails were becoming more familiar as I ventured into one of my beloved towns.

It was just sunrise as you saw a strange sight. A young lady, in a black sailor outfit with twin tail styled hair holding a great rifle with a whole troop of deputies. It appeared that outlaws had shacked up in the bank, but had never anticipated who had arrived. The girl flashed with the signature sound and transformation of a CPU. The outlaws fell, slowly but surely to the Goddess' rifle. She showed a smug, victorious expression as she flashed back into her sailor girl outfit.

The revolver on my hip tapped out a rhythm in its aged and tough holster as I approached the unique sight, as my spurs did the same. Standing nearly a head taller than the girl did not help ease the tension that such an aura of power emits.

"Oi you're late!" the small girl chimes.

"Huh?" I had made no arrangements with this girl at this point.

The girl does not face you yet while she continues, someone that would make such a cocky gesture is out of place in these rough lands. As the girl spins, she quickly noticed my silver Ranger pin and the worn long iron in my holster. Her eyes and expression change from a formal blind to a fangirl-ish grin.

The girl approaches after she sends her troop off, gripping my hand with superhuman strength while she investigated what feels like every corner of my body with her eyes in a childish enthusiasm.

"My big sister appoints you guys, Rangers are like the coolest!"

This was not the power of a full fledged CPU, what terror must a full Goddess contain remained a mystery until later.

The girl drug me to the store, offered some basic supplies and found herself a glass bottle of soda; all while talking my ear off. Granted the conversation is very one sided, it's quite nice to see such energy and enthusiasm from a young lady. We stopped on the back porch of a general store, facing out to the rising sun.

"So what kinda gun you have there miss?"

It takes a moment to snap out of my empty trance. It was odd to be in a conversation for so long.

"Oh, well. Just a standard issue .44 Ranger revolver-"

"And?" She says pointing at the .45 in the holster.

"Miss CPU, you're quite hasty, what's your name?"

"Uni! Candidate CPU of Lastation!"

"Well you should know to be a bit more patient, us country folk tend to talk a bit slower than ya'll."

The glimmer in her eye told me to continue about my trusted long barrel revolver.

"Well, 6 shots, 11.43mm or .45 depending on how you like your measure, 6.75 inch barrel with a single action trigger."

Her hand was hovering over my gun. Her motion was blocked perfectly by reflex with a split second between life and death for her. Even as a CPU, she could still fall to something as simple as a bullet or sword.

"Miss Uni. Do Not Ever. Do That."

Uni looks confused.

"Huh?"

It takes her a second to realize that my whole body shifted into a drawing stance and lets out a squeal.

"Can you show me how to do that cowboy draw Ms. Ranger?"

Uni missed the entire point of my reaction in her excitement, the fact that I had hopped so quickly to the draw on one of my beloved Goddesses terrified me.

"Don't touch a Ranger's gun without permission, we're trained to protect our guns, justice and honor more than our lives."

Uni pays no mind and clears her throat, having set up a sawhorse with her empty soda bottle on top. While l felt obliged to teach the both excited and trained markswoman on the draw, she seemed to lack the calm that one would need, or at least I had thought.

I came to learn, that Uni loves nothing more than guns except her big sister.

Her absolute focus was on my teaching at that moment.

It takes only moments to correct her stance, and the shots soon fly.

CRACK!

Miss.

CRACK!

Miss.

CRACK!

The bottle turned to green sand as soon as the gun sounded.

After only three draws and shots, Uni hit the bottle from 15 paces or so. I have never before or since seen someone so focused, so perfectly malleable or with an eye as sharp as mine.

As she holstered my borrowed pistol, her demeanor returned, letting out a happy squeal as she peels the belt off to offer it back.

I got away from Uni after helping her purchase a similar holster and gun from the gunsmith and leather workers on main street. Burning a few hours let me wait for the people of the town to emerge, hopefully dragging the prey out under a false sense of concealment. The seedy bar on the opposite side of town was my first checkpoint. Resuming a search at the mid of the day should let me at least run along the quarry's path while they go about picking up supplies for a run to the farthest corners of the world.

The boards creak as I stepped through the swinging doors, observing little other than a usual barfly trying to meet the floorboards and a lonely bartender cleaning up. The row of cheap and or contraband merchants are doing their usual daily business. The midday crowd is sizeable, enough to send my eyes flickering among the marketgoers. Following various couples covered in more concealing gowns fails to yield any result.

I ran into Uni again, she had a message that she was quite eager to give.

"The moment we see Arfoire, we gotta call my big sis and her friends!"

The girl surely doesn't mean-

"Neptune, Vert, Gear, Blanc, Rei, Plut, and Big Sis are ready at any moment to help us take her down!"

Uni saw my shock and continued.

"ALL the CPUs will be here to take that hag down! Don't you worry!"

I had no clue that I had been sent on a suicide mission up to this point.

Uni looked exceptionally happy despite my concern.

"Plus I get to help you out Ranger-san!"

Now that I knew how deep in trouble I was, the help was appreciated.

As you stood on watch, you saw a couple deep in a kiss on a rooftop. You could not read their lips at this distance but saw that they were whispering little nothings to each other. The woman was pale, but… there was a purplish tinge? Her hair was also halfway between white and purple. At a glance it could have easily been mistaken for Lady Purple Heart of Planeptune, but you know that is not possible. The woman locks eyes just for a moment and then escapes the rooftop with the man.

I couldn't help but to give chase, the man and woman split at an intersection. The woman's clothes looked to be- well transforming is only the word for it. They were both of the witch and a regal design you had never seen before. Uni had already sent word, it was up to me to trace the fiends and hopefully apprehend them before things had to get destructive.

Panting, bullets and gear rattling as I charged down the streets, slipping past and through the crowds like a hummingbird, I refuse to let the man escape, for those who chase two rabbits, get none.

I hear the gravel slip as the man stops. He is cornered. He is also unarmed.

I cannot kill an unarmed man.

You can see the plea in his eye to live, but hear none. His heart is with that witch, whatever is going on with her.

"Miss, I know you to be a Ranger, one of honor."

You put the scarf on your neck down revealing your face: one with a covered face is harder to trust.

"Will you hear me out miss?"

"Go on." I said as my hands shifted and feet took stance.

"The witch- she isn't a villain- well any more."

"All I have is your word versus my Lady's, who will I trust?"

"I want to be with that woman, she, well she loves me very much. She told me herself that her heart is changing. Her whole body is as well, back to when she was a true Goddess."

My right hand massages the worn wooden and steel handle of the .45.

"Are you going to help me save my love's second chance or let the Goddesses unwittingly strike her down?"

I hear the scratching of gravel on the ground behind me, too heavy to be Uni.

The stern voice is beautiful, yet mature. I recognize the voice as Arfoire.

"Hand off your gun; Ranger. I don't want to fight."

I turned to keep both in my peripheral while backing, they move to each other, falling into the other's arms. Arfoire is surprisingly- loving, she seems to care more about the safety of her man than her own. Before I could comment or make an action, I was following their flight to the frontiers.

The quickest path is up the Valley of Fusiliers and into the no-man's land of the northern expanses or remote forests near the ocean's shore.

I could see the firefly like light of the CPUs, it was deafening to my mind. There were no survivors of the Lastation Riflemen in the Valley of Fusiliers.

Without Arfoire's full CPU powers, she cannot fly and the couple is too slow on foot for the flying CPUs. The flashes of Blue, Purple, Pink, White, Green begin their attack, the mountainside to the front explodes, sending the earth shaking like a tree in a windstorm.

I was close enough to hear.

Arfoire summons her staff and stops. At 30 paces, the CPUs touch down at my sides. All but Uni.

As their boots tick the ground, you hear Arfoire say:

"If this doesn't work, this is my last fight. If they take me, don't die, live for me please."

They kiss and stand.

Arfoire pleads with all her heart, but the CPUs have fought her for too long to simply have a change of heart. I saw the grey flicker of Uni streak across the sky.

Arfoire is powerful, but the entire suite of CPUs are far too much for her.

I could not bear to watch and see if it was the lance of Leanbox, the rapier of Lastation, the longblades of Planeptune, the hammer of Lowee or the magic of long dead Tari strike Arfoire down. Arfoire had crippled many of the CPUs to such a degree that they took a moment to watch the man.

He picked Arfoire's limp and nearly lifeless body from the shattered earth around her resting spot into his arms. He sobbed, cursing the heavens and the Goddesses for his luck. Arfoire urged him to run with her last breath before fading finally. Arfoire's staff lie by her formerly pure uniform, now marred by burns and cuts.

Arfoire had told him to run.

He said for all to hear:

"Forgive me, for I cannot live without my lady."

Your honor says that he is safe as long as he does not touch that staff.

The dust begins to clear as the wind started to whip my scarf.

He bends and picks the staff up, and you could see in his eyes that he knew he couldn't win.

A magician is a skilled weaver of energy and enchantments, this man was neither. In his hands, the staff was as good as an empty gun.

Uni touches down. As soon as she calls out to her sister and friends, my heart felt that it was too late.

Her feet were already positioned, her hands already curled and arms already tensed and set up.

The thunder and lightning strike as I saw the flash, Uni finishes what her kin started here.

A crimson liquid rose blossomed from his chest as he fell to his knees over his beloved.

Eight great Goddesses that day, took another home, and that Goddess brought her own angel with.

Sissy End - for those of you that can't be settled with a sad end.

Iffy helps Histoire close the book, to an upset Uni, and a distraught trio of Compa, Rom and Ram.

"Hisu, that's no way to put cute girls to sleep with a story!" complains Compa through the tears that are attempting to ball up in the corners of her eyes.

Iffy sets the book back into the shelf as Histy explains:

"I got that from a Histoire of another dimension, she says that her particular dimension had an especially strange set of CPUs in that group."

"SAYING IT'S TRUE DOESN'T HELP!" chimes in an utterly pissed Uni.

Iffy interjects:

"I dunno, I thought that Ranger character was pretty cool."

"You're strange even in other dimensions IF." says Histoire with a giggle.

The End.