INTENSITY (Part 8) by Sievert Dinar
Disclaimer - Sailormoon is owned by a lot of people, most of whom
are not me, so don't get all worked up about my using the characters
in ways they weren't meant. I'm just a common or garden fanfic
writer without a hope in this dark and cruel world. Maybe.
TWENTYTHREE YEARS, SIX MONTHS AGO. THE MINISTRY OF FORESIGHT,
DIRECTOR'S OFFICE.
Tolsien Kreschovsky flicked through the birth records of the
young woman, trying to identify exactly what it was that so
disturbed him about her. There seemed to be nothing, from the date
of her birth, to her early childhood and beyond, that could confirm
a source for this unease. One thing was certain, however.... As
one of Crystal Tokyo's premier Soothsayers, he had never been wrong
in his perception of.... threats.... to the established order. And
despite the fact that this woman was now a member of the now-vast
army of Senshi, she positively oozed the aura of threat about her.
Tolsien sat back in his harsh wooden chair, taking off his
glasses from his beaky nose and rubbing his tired eyes. At first he
had only heard whispers, from high above in the hierachy, about this
woman... Someone they feared as the 'Antithesis'. At first, he
wasn't sure just what 'Antithesis' actually meant, in this context,
but he was certain that the palpable fear that seemed to drive
Serenity, of all people, to seek his wisdom in this matter, could
not be vaguely construed as good.
Whispers had long surrounded the reputation of Saturn, as the
Antithesis. But Saturn had never stood up in defiance of Serenity,
not at any stage, as long as the Kingdom remained intact. If that
were to be otherwise, well... nobody really seemed all that keen to
follow that path to its ultimate conclusion. Pluto remained
resolute in her assertion that Saturn was NOT the Antithesis, and
that people were misinterpreting the entire concept, as it was. But
still, nobody could fully explain just what the concept entailed to
Tolsien, and it drove him near spare in his efforts to prise what
little information he could from the obsessively secret members of
the hierachy.
When he sensed the ominous nature of the young woman, some
eleven months ago, he automatically presumed that this was what they
meant... A form of anti-Serenity, born with a charismatic nature
that could rival and threaten the position of the Queen. But even
that explanation seemed a tad simplistic. If the hierachy WERE
frightened, it was because of someone who could complement the
Queen, on an equal and opposite footing, coming to the same
conclusions about the destiny of humanity through a different path.
One of suffering, pain and degradation.... Of a total lack of self
confidence and self esteem. Of mutilation and madness.
Yet the young woman had only endured a little of these aspects
within her upbringing. The loss of her parents, her wayward
emigration to Crystal Tokyo and eventual containment within the
ranks of the Senshi. There was nothing in her life that could truly
be described as 'grand scale'. He sighed and closed the record
book, standing and replacing it in the shelving that sat behind him,
amidst several volumes of Dessere's 'History of Destiny' series.
There, he pondered, studying the maroon-coloured series of books,
his hand resting on the first volume. Auguste Dessere, philosopher
and staunch advocate of determinism, had lived a short life within
the early stages of Serenity's reign. Within the last three years
of his life, he had written the 'History of Destiny' series, using
the ascension of Serenity as a starting framework.
The series was controversial, to say the least, and had been
one Tolsien, himself, had been unable to finish. Indeed, he'd
thrown the third volume against his bedroom wall in disgust after
reading through the chapters pertaining to the spirit and identity
of the person Serenity had been before her ascension... Tsukino
Usagi. He had argued that Serenity's spirit had, in fact, consumed
that of the Tsukino girl as a means of gaining sufficient power to
become what she now was. At least, that was how Tolsien had read it
at the time, and was less than impressed. So he felt a slight sense
of smugness upon learning of Dessere's suicide, not at all surprised
that someone so inherently miserable should depart from this world
with a flourish so dramatic.
He let his hand drop away from the books, turning and
chuckling to himself. Suicide. A pathetic way to die. He felt no
sympathy for anyone who chose it. Weak minded and selfish. Like
his wife of thirty years, after the accident that claimed the life
of their only child. How could the woman lower herself in such a
manner?
With a deliberate slowness, he stepped around his desk and
stared out of the window. For a very long time.
TWENTY YEARS, EIGHT MONTHS AGO. HARATANE GARDENS, DURING THE
NIGHT-TIME RIOTS OF THE CULT OF THE DEATH PHANTOM...
Kristen was lost, stumbling down the stairway into the low-set
gardens from the District 29 Mainway. The crowd had been dispersed,
and she and her Senshi Designate were ordered by the Squad Captains
to capture as many as was possible. This, of course, meant staying
with your partner, in case you were cornered by a group of the Death
Phantom cultists. In theory, of course. In practice, Kimiko went
one way and she went another, and neither realised they were no
longer together until they felt that shiver up their spine that told
them things were not quite right.
Since then, Kristen had been stumbling around the darkness,
cursing the kinds of dark nastiness that she was going to subject
Kimiko to when and if she found her, through clenched teeth.
Although such thoughts had abandoned her as she lay, face forward on
the cold, wet grass of the gardens, wondering why her stars never
ever mentioned anything even vaguely close to what would actually
happen to her. Had she been forewarned, she thought to herself, bed
would have been a good place to stay.
She picked herself up and brushed the front of her Senshi
uniform down, pinching her nose at the damp and the grass stains
that remained there. Still on her knees, she took in her
surroundings, and was less than enthused about staying. A cold mist
was wafting through the dimly-lit trees, and she could imagine any
nature of bogeymen hiding amongst them.
Standing, she turned to start up the steps, and froze. There
were running footsteps, squelching across the sodden grass of the
gardens. Running towards her. She turned her head just in time to
see something that glistened in the light making for her throat.
Instinctually, she dropped and put out a foot to trip up her
attacker, which she did rather successfully.
The figure of her attacker, wearing the black robes of the
Death Phantom Cult, staggered towards the stairway, spinning around
and letting out a cry as they lost hold of their glinting weapon.
They then fell back. Atop the weapon. And Kristen watched with
horrified fascination as it neatly skewered its way through the
middle of the unfortunate cultist. The figure came to a rest
against the stairs, their back arched by the handle of the weapon.
They quivered for a few seconds more, then went still.
Kristen stood, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.
Nervously, she stepped up to the side of the figure, trying not to
look at the blade of what was obviously an elaborate kodachi,
dripping with its grisly deposit. Instead, she concentrated upon
the figure's face, hidden within the hood of the robe. Kneeling
down, she placed her left hand against the top of the hood, pulling
it back. The face was that of a young girl, perhaps no more than
thirteen or fourteen years old. Her face was frozen in mid-
expression, in a kind of stunned shock. Kristen had seen the faces
of the dead before, but she had never seen one so totally evocative
as this one. Nor so young.
And so she sat there, beside the body of the young girl,
trying to decide what she would do next. All the way 'til sunrise.
For some odd reason, she found she couldn't move from that
spot. It seemed important that she stay with the girl until someone
else arrived. Until someone came to take her away, and relieve her
of the burden. And they did, eventually, and they gave her a
sedative to sleep it off over the course of the day. When she came
to, in the bed she had earlier wished she had never emerged from,
there was a note of apology from Kimiko sitting on the bedside
table.
She tore it up.
Then taped it back together.
The End of Part Eight
=^.^= niya
Sievert Anathea Dienar sievertd@start.com.au
Disclaimer - Sailormoon is owned by a lot of people, most of whom
are not me, so don't get all worked up about my using the characters
in ways they weren't meant. I'm just a common or garden fanfic
writer without a hope in this dark and cruel world. Maybe.
TWENTYTHREE YEARS, SIX MONTHS AGO. THE MINISTRY OF FORESIGHT,
DIRECTOR'S OFFICE.
Tolsien Kreschovsky flicked through the birth records of the
young woman, trying to identify exactly what it was that so
disturbed him about her. There seemed to be nothing, from the date
of her birth, to her early childhood and beyond, that could confirm
a source for this unease. One thing was certain, however.... As
one of Crystal Tokyo's premier Soothsayers, he had never been wrong
in his perception of.... threats.... to the established order. And
despite the fact that this woman was now a member of the now-vast
army of Senshi, she positively oozed the aura of threat about her.
Tolsien sat back in his harsh wooden chair, taking off his
glasses from his beaky nose and rubbing his tired eyes. At first he
had only heard whispers, from high above in the hierachy, about this
woman... Someone they feared as the 'Antithesis'. At first, he
wasn't sure just what 'Antithesis' actually meant, in this context,
but he was certain that the palpable fear that seemed to drive
Serenity, of all people, to seek his wisdom in this matter, could
not be vaguely construed as good.
Whispers had long surrounded the reputation of Saturn, as the
Antithesis. But Saturn had never stood up in defiance of Serenity,
not at any stage, as long as the Kingdom remained intact. If that
were to be otherwise, well... nobody really seemed all that keen to
follow that path to its ultimate conclusion. Pluto remained
resolute in her assertion that Saturn was NOT the Antithesis, and
that people were misinterpreting the entire concept, as it was. But
still, nobody could fully explain just what the concept entailed to
Tolsien, and it drove him near spare in his efforts to prise what
little information he could from the obsessively secret members of
the hierachy.
When he sensed the ominous nature of the young woman, some
eleven months ago, he automatically presumed that this was what they
meant... A form of anti-Serenity, born with a charismatic nature
that could rival and threaten the position of the Queen. But even
that explanation seemed a tad simplistic. If the hierachy WERE
frightened, it was because of someone who could complement the
Queen, on an equal and opposite footing, coming to the same
conclusions about the destiny of humanity through a different path.
One of suffering, pain and degradation.... Of a total lack of self
confidence and self esteem. Of mutilation and madness.
Yet the young woman had only endured a little of these aspects
within her upbringing. The loss of her parents, her wayward
emigration to Crystal Tokyo and eventual containment within the
ranks of the Senshi. There was nothing in her life that could truly
be described as 'grand scale'. He sighed and closed the record
book, standing and replacing it in the shelving that sat behind him,
amidst several volumes of Dessere's 'History of Destiny' series.
There, he pondered, studying the maroon-coloured series of books,
his hand resting on the first volume. Auguste Dessere, philosopher
and staunch advocate of determinism, had lived a short life within
the early stages of Serenity's reign. Within the last three years
of his life, he had written the 'History of Destiny' series, using
the ascension of Serenity as a starting framework.
The series was controversial, to say the least, and had been
one Tolsien, himself, had been unable to finish. Indeed, he'd
thrown the third volume against his bedroom wall in disgust after
reading through the chapters pertaining to the spirit and identity
of the person Serenity had been before her ascension... Tsukino
Usagi. He had argued that Serenity's spirit had, in fact, consumed
that of the Tsukino girl as a means of gaining sufficient power to
become what she now was. At least, that was how Tolsien had read it
at the time, and was less than impressed. So he felt a slight sense
of smugness upon learning of Dessere's suicide, not at all surprised
that someone so inherently miserable should depart from this world
with a flourish so dramatic.
He let his hand drop away from the books, turning and
chuckling to himself. Suicide. A pathetic way to die. He felt no
sympathy for anyone who chose it. Weak minded and selfish. Like
his wife of thirty years, after the accident that claimed the life
of their only child. How could the woman lower herself in such a
manner?
With a deliberate slowness, he stepped around his desk and
stared out of the window. For a very long time.
TWENTY YEARS, EIGHT MONTHS AGO. HARATANE GARDENS, DURING THE
NIGHT-TIME RIOTS OF THE CULT OF THE DEATH PHANTOM...
Kristen was lost, stumbling down the stairway into the low-set
gardens from the District 29 Mainway. The crowd had been dispersed,
and she and her Senshi Designate were ordered by the Squad Captains
to capture as many as was possible. This, of course, meant staying
with your partner, in case you were cornered by a group of the Death
Phantom cultists. In theory, of course. In practice, Kimiko went
one way and she went another, and neither realised they were no
longer together until they felt that shiver up their spine that told
them things were not quite right.
Since then, Kristen had been stumbling around the darkness,
cursing the kinds of dark nastiness that she was going to subject
Kimiko to when and if she found her, through clenched teeth.
Although such thoughts had abandoned her as she lay, face forward on
the cold, wet grass of the gardens, wondering why her stars never
ever mentioned anything even vaguely close to what would actually
happen to her. Had she been forewarned, she thought to herself, bed
would have been a good place to stay.
She picked herself up and brushed the front of her Senshi
uniform down, pinching her nose at the damp and the grass stains
that remained there. Still on her knees, she took in her
surroundings, and was less than enthused about staying. A cold mist
was wafting through the dimly-lit trees, and she could imagine any
nature of bogeymen hiding amongst them.
Standing, she turned to start up the steps, and froze. There
were running footsteps, squelching across the sodden grass of the
gardens. Running towards her. She turned her head just in time to
see something that glistened in the light making for her throat.
Instinctually, she dropped and put out a foot to trip up her
attacker, which she did rather successfully.
The figure of her attacker, wearing the black robes of the
Death Phantom Cult, staggered towards the stairway, spinning around
and letting out a cry as they lost hold of their glinting weapon.
They then fell back. Atop the weapon. And Kristen watched with
horrified fascination as it neatly skewered its way through the
middle of the unfortunate cultist. The figure came to a rest
against the stairs, their back arched by the handle of the weapon.
They quivered for a few seconds more, then went still.
Kristen stood, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.
Nervously, she stepped up to the side of the figure, trying not to
look at the blade of what was obviously an elaborate kodachi,
dripping with its grisly deposit. Instead, she concentrated upon
the figure's face, hidden within the hood of the robe. Kneeling
down, she placed her left hand against the top of the hood, pulling
it back. The face was that of a young girl, perhaps no more than
thirteen or fourteen years old. Her face was frozen in mid-
expression, in a kind of stunned shock. Kristen had seen the faces
of the dead before, but she had never seen one so totally evocative
as this one. Nor so young.
And so she sat there, beside the body of the young girl,
trying to decide what she would do next. All the way 'til sunrise.
For some odd reason, she found she couldn't move from that
spot. It seemed important that she stay with the girl until someone
else arrived. Until someone came to take her away, and relieve her
of the burden. And they did, eventually, and they gave her a
sedative to sleep it off over the course of the day. When she came
to, in the bed she had earlier wished she had never emerged from,
there was a note of apology from Kimiko sitting on the bedside
table.
She tore it up.
Then taped it back together.
The End of Part Eight
=^.^= niya
Sievert Anathea Dienar sievertd@start.com.au
