********
Foreword
********
As if my fic hasn't been offbeat enough,
this time I go way off the
deep end. Please forgive me - this chapter fell
victim to my slightly
insane poetic/symbolic style of writing (complete
with parallelism and
lyrical passages). That being said, the following
writing may be a bit
difficult to understand, but from here on out, I
promise to keep the poet
in me bottled up.
A little **IMPORTANT** background
information:
First, this
chapter takes place ten years before chapter one. If you
read the previous
installment, you might remember Minako alluding to
something about
"traveling the world" for ten years, leaving the Senshi for
a
decade, "living outside [Crystal Tokyo]," or stuff to that
effect.
Basically, this chapter (and subsequent ones) will detail her
emotional
progress during her journeys across nations, sort of like a
prelude.
Second, please
understand the Minako I'm trying to portray: a
battle-worn, guilt-ridden,
hate-filled, near-schizophrenic burnout looking
for solace. Remember,
since this chapter is year one of a ten year journey,
Minako's wounds
(like the war with the Black Moon Family and the "Purging")
are
still very fresh and painful - she hasn't had much time to think about
them.
Also, I'd like to thank everyone for their
kind emails!!! Your feedback
has provided me with a huge source of
inspiration! And, as always, a big
thanks to Bethany and Lita Juno, my
editors! While this chapter hasn't come
under their scrutiny (delayed
writing on my part), I still appreciate their
support, countless ideas,
and overall greatness.
Disclaimer: Everything associated with Sailor
Moon is in no way, shape, or
form owned by me. I don't intend to make any
money off of this; that's up
to the larger than life corporations out
there. All that jazz about Sailor
Moon in tons of disclaimers out there
apply.
email: doniswong@hotmail.com
Rated: R (mild
swearing and violence)
"Clean"
Chapter
2
A fanfic
by
Don
London, England. One of the most
beautiful, historically rich, and
architecturally grandiose places in the
world. Heart of "Cool Britain."
Leader of nations. Giant among
giants.
It was once said that
the sun never set on the British empire...
Once.
History
can be flattering, yet twice as brutal: London can attest to
that. In a
time long past, the city radiated like the brilliant sun,
illuminating,
eclipsing, and blinding all. Enemies trembled from their
homelands,
foreigners gasped at the sights, and natives reveled in the
fear,
attention, and respect. Now... Now this once great city stands - no,
kneels!
- in shame, refusing to lift its head up high. Once awe-inspiring
works of
architecture crumble and rot. Once indescribable paintings fade
away. Once
high and mighty kings, queens, and prime ministers resignedly
slide into
pages of a history text.
Once
proud people huddle together, wasting away in each other's misery.
That was how I left London and that is how
I return - dreary,
depressing, dead. This is the world. Not prosperous,
not blissful, not
utopian, not anything like Crystal Tokyo.
This is the world.
Beggars rounding every corner, limbless
children crying for their dead
parents, thieves of the lowest pedigree
looking for their next mark,
murderers roaming the streets for their next
kill - this is the world,
sullen and evil.
These people have no hope, no way of climbing out of this hell
hole.
Their brightest minds have migrated, migrated to a "safer"
place. Their
leaders have abandoned them to the city-stalking wolves.
Their souls have
been soiled by the corrupters who thrive on their blood,
sweat, and tears.
They are dead
the minute they are born.
Is
this fair? Is this sad future the one I fought for? Is this what I
want?
Is this what Serenity wants?
Maybe Serenity, but not Usagi... not the girl I once knew. No,
never
her.
As I carefully
trudge down the trash-layered, cobblestone street, dirty
children cling to
my black coat. They beg - wail - for food, money, and
shelter. Their
little hands dive into my pockets, searching for a money
clip, wallet,
change purse, anything. I disappoint them.
One by one, they realize I have nothing on me, so they
begrudgingly
filter back into their makeshift homes of cardboard and tin.
The adults
take over now. Even if I don't have any money, my clothes will
either fetch
a decent price or provide ample warmth. They might even sell
my body to the
butcher for meat.
Three men - one armed with a knife - rise from their perches and
saunter
behind me. I see the glint in their eyes, the feral, bestial, rabid
glint
of the devil. Humans were never meant to look like that, but
countless
generations of poverty, death, disease, and anarchy have turned
man into
beast. To those three men, this is normal. They have been taught -
they
are expected by society - to kill others for survival. This is not
even
survival to the fittest, rather survival to anyone who can survive.
This is their way of life. This is all
they know.
My heart aches, I
want to help them, but I can't... Not like this...
Not like the way I
helped Crystal Tokyo...
Through
the noise, I hear their steps. The sploshing of their boots,
the dull
thuds on the filth ridden cobblestone. Just as I am about to reel
around
and catch the first mugger with a right hook, a voice from behind
them
calls out.
"STOP!"
The
bellow echoes in the dank, alley-like street. Everyone becomes
silent,
everyone stops moving. I turn and see the knife-wielding man slowly
tucking
his weapon away. They move aside, parting like the Red Sea. A
figure
clothed in pure white stands at the end of the street and slowly
approaches
me.
I sense it. No one moves
save for breathing. He is not imposing at all,
yet the people seem to put
him in high regard. His gait is arrogant,
condescending. His eyes are
focused straight at me, attempting to pierce
through my body and examine my
soul. He is like a petty aristocrat drunk on
his newfound power and
newfound friends. He reeks of classless ignorance.
Finally, after an eternity of sauntering,
we stand face to face.
Actually, I am a bit taller, so he stands on his
tiptoes in order to look
threatening. The side of his lips curl downwards,
but he quivers: it looks
like he's crying when he's frowning. I resist the
urge to laugh and smile.
"Would you like to talk to me, sir?"
"A... Are... You F... From Crystal
Tokyo?" The kid was about twenty
years old, but his voice was high
like a boy's before puberty. He was
unsure of himself, like a deer caught
in a pair of headlights.
Strange, why would anyone ask that here? "Perhaps," I reply,
"What
makes you think so?"
"Y... Your clothes, they're clean. Your sk... skin,
there's not a speck
of dirt on you..." The more he speaks, the more
confidence he gains. People
begin to crowd us, murmuring amongst
themselves.
What do these
people want? I gauge the situation and find it very
dangerous. One wrong
move and I can be poked full of holes and stripped by
a roving band of
robbers. Better answer neutrally. "I've been there."
"You have?" he asks
incredulously. A collective gasp escapes from the
onlookers. "Pl...
Please ma'am. F... Follow me..."
The crowd parts, forming a human path down one side of the road.
Without
batting an eye, the boy pivots around and struts off like he
accomplished
something important. He expects me to follow. I don't.
I shove some people aside and walk the
other way, the way I was going.
No use in following an upstart like that.
He's probably some crazy cult nut
out for an easy score. Odd, people around him seem to take offense
to my
action - they shout to the boy that I am not following him.
While their attention is diverted, I slip
into a dark alley, easily
blending in with the shadows. His pounding
footsteps and gasping breath
pass me by. From some distance away, he
shouts, "She's disappeared!!!" and
back he sprints. Surprised
muttering spews out from every crevice of the
street; the formerly quiet
avenue bustles with activity. Someone shouts
something about an angel,
then, the entire block breaks out into a chant.
Quiet at first, but it
soon swells into a Buddhist-like meditation.
I briskly walk out the other side of the alley and continue on
my way.
I don't want to know what that was all about.
**************
"Why do I come back here?"
My only answer comes from the roaring fire
staring at me from its lair
in the fireplace. Besides the occasional spit
of sparks, the apartment is
silent, forbidding. The place is decorated
much like an old 18th century
home: leather chairs, oak bookshelves,
bronze statuettes, velvet drapes.
Truly a remarkable spectacle in a place
as morbid as this.
Reclining into the soft cushions, I close my
weary eyes and dream,
dream of a time not long ago... not long enough. I
have a nightmare about
heaven, about its angels, and above all, about its
saints. They torment me,
haunt me, and lull me back into their fold, so
deceptively yet lovingly at
the same time. I want to return, but something
in me - something
indescribable - holds me back.
Their seductive voices grow to that of
wretched shrieks as I fall into
a fitful slumber...
------
Dream-------
"Venus,
we've got do something and NOW!"
I buried myself into my arms and heaved a sigh. "Yes Rei,
something,
but what?!"
We sat at the table - our normal, crystallized ten seat conference
table
- pondering our options. They numbered but a few. Ami rose to her
feet and
began rattling off numbers.
"At this rate, we will suffer-"
"Haruka," I said, nudging my
second in command, "Is there any way to
win this one?" As usual,
I relied on the opinions of trained soldiers
rather than that of statistical
gurus.
The woman shook her
head. "Too many of our troops are turning traitor,"
she
whispered back, careful not to interrupt our resident genius, "If we
knew
where their loyalties were, I'd tell you."
"- and further, our northern fronts are-"
"Shimatta," I frustratingly hissed, "Why is
everyone doing this?! I
can't even trust my own generals!"
"The Black Moon Family probably has
some kind of brainwashing device."
I wanted to believe that, and for a moment, I did. However,
deep down
inside, a little voices was chattering away, droning, "You
know why! You
know why!" like a childish kindergartner. Brainwashing
device... it sounded
so far fetched, yet so logical. Indeed, we, the
Sailor Senshi, NEVER did
anything wrong, did we? We treated all our
citizens well. We stayed out of
the business of other nations. We
maintained political ties with the
stronger countries.
How, then, were we losing the war to an
upstart band of societal
outcasts and misfits?!
"- so we must be able to-"
Serenity sat to my left, her face
plastered with worry. I knew a person
like that could do no wrong, and
even if she did, she'd make it right. A
heart that pure and a mind so wise
simply rejected wrong like a... a...
"Minako!" Ami suddenly shouted, stopping her speech, "Are
you
listening?!"
"I heard, I heard..."
"What did I say?!"
"Christ, is THAT important right now?!" I exploded on her,
"Thousands
of people are dying out there and we're sitting here on
our butts listening
to collateral damage speeches! I don't need to know
how many more of us
died! I can see that when I walk out this door! Shut
the hell up and start
cranking out solutions, NOT problems!"
That was the first time I lost my cool
like that. My flawed mind failed
and went berserk.
Silence followed... then Rei said,
"I have an answer."
Sea breeze whipping by, I strained my eyes
to the furthest borders of
our city. Riots... I was looking for riots.
Ironically, I didn't have to
look far; I didn't even need to strain my
eyes.
Disgruntled troops were
already pounding on the palace doors, held back
only by a thin line of
quickly dropping loyalists.
"Minna..." said Rei, taking a deep breath, "Are we
ready?"
Wordlessly, we
formed a circle around Usagi who had her eyes closed,
undoubtedly drawing
from her enormous reserves of power. Pounding grew
louder as we
concentrated, pouring our strength into Her Majesty.
I knew we were doing
right. We had to be right: Usagi was with us.
The thin line of loyalists gave way and the doors were battered
down:
the enemy had reached us with our own troops. Still, we continued
on,
pressing further, living and breathing on faith alone.
Rei took over for Usagi, warping the
awesome energy before us into a
predetermined pattern. From what I
remembered of her explanation, she was
creating a large-scale version of
an exorcistic ritual, one traditionally
used by Shinto priests to banish
demons from humans. With our combined
power, she was positively sure that
she could "undo" the Black Moon
Family's hypnosis on our people.
Not only that, but they'd be immune to any
further attempts to alter their
mi-
Thundering footsteps
charged through the halls below the palace's roof,
where we were.
I forced my mouth open. "Hurry up,
Rei! They'll be here any second!!!"
Immediately I regretted those words.
With the wave of her hands, Rei dispersed
her work into the hearts of
our inhabitants. A sharp pain plunged into my
heart, my eyes were sealed
shut to dull the sensation. Screams rocketed
from the floors below us...
bloodcurdling screams. Bellows of agony filled
the streets as people's
souls were purged... Purged... Yes, that was a
good word to describe this.
We
dropped to our feet, nearly fainting with exhaustion.
Everything was silent. Everyone was
silent. Everywhere was silence...
Everyone and everything, save the voice I called my conscience was
thrown
into an eternal pit of quietus. All was silent...
... but my heart roared like a rabid lion,
encasing my mind, numbing my
body.
We did wrong and thought it right.
--------End
Dream-------
I wake from
my sleep, sweat - cold sweat - drenching my clothes. My
world is crimson,
turned that way by the blood of an entire civilization.
Alone I murdered
and massacred more in one day than I did in one millenium.
Men, women,
children, and fetuses indiscriminately fell before my blade of
ignorance,
crushed by my shield of pride.
I blink, trying to rid the hazy film of red, but it returns as soon
as
my vision clears. I tear at my eyes, unwilling to accept my
blinding
ailment, thinking that whatever god put this curse on me would
see my guilt
and release me.
Something is running down my forehead... Blood? Yes, blood, my own
-
blood produced by my hands, by my sharp fingernails, by my fitful sleep,
by
THEM.
Hastily, I cover
up the cut and wipe my eyes.
Good, I can see again... but do I want to? I could be blind to
world,
live in one of my making. Why do I come here? Why do I stay in this
sorry
place? Why do I see?!
Oh, the joys of blindness! To live and never to taste the bitterness
of
life! To feel a pile of refuse but think it a mountain of gold! I would
be
happy blind, blind to everyone but myself. I could attend to me and
me
alone because she is the only one I can help. Me, myself, and I.
Happily releasing the pressure from the
wound, I once again dance in
the world of blood induced blindness. No god
cast this burden on me: I
discovered salvation! Never have I felt so free
or chainless as I do now,
impaired by my own bodily fluids. I have escaped
- ran from the nightmares,
fled from the world, and shut from the
light.
Such is my pleasure, to
run. We all run from demons, but where else is
there to go when you are
your demon? There is only one escape: in the
stomach of the monster. Be
consumed, let it take you whole and you shall
find peace... peace...
... peace at long last... after a thou...
thousand... years...
**************
Footsteps on ice cold floors echoed
throughout the castle as the boy
made his way to the throne room.
Trepidation usually seized him when he
walked down these halls, but
today... today was different. He had something
to give, something to
report, something extraordinary to share; the
Mistress would be
proud.
He passed stoic guards
armed with ancient swords and clothed in even
older armor. Boyhood
fantasies overtook his mind; stories his mother used
to tell him
resurfaced. Chivalrous knights, heroic rebels, daring bandits -
he was
amazed that he was actually living out these age old tales. To put
on the
historic breastplates, to wield the legendary swords - it was purely
enchanting...
enchanting.
As dreams of
beautiful princesses and indescribable maidens seeped into
the boy's
fantasies, a line of haggard commoners passed him by, bringing
him back to
reality. This was no time to dream: his find must be reported
at
once.
Resolve renewed, he
stalked toward his destination, stopped only by two
of his peers standing
watch at the doors.
"Norman," one of them drawled with a speech impediment,
"W- Wh- Wha
brings you here?"
The boy smiled. "I found someone from Crystal
Tokyo."
With no further
ado, they admitted him inside for an audience with
their leader.
Upon hearing the doors close, Norman's
determination and pride left
him; his knees slackened and his throat
became dry. No one else was in the
throne room... save the Mistress.
The boy remembered her as an old woman who
spoke with a harsh whisper,
nothing more. No one really knew how old she
was; people only knew she was
elderly because they saw her crumpled hands.
A large hood constantly
blocked her face - there was even a rumor going
around that she was the
ugliest thing on earth. However, no one could
contest the fact that she was
rich, knowledgeable, and dangerously
powerful.
Her official cover
story was simple: she was a former advisor of Queen
Serenity, sent outside
of Crystal Tokyo to help struggling peoples.
Everyone worshipped her
because those who did were guaranteed great riches
and free passes to the
mythical Crystal Tokyo. In a land of cutthroats,
beggars, and hopeless
peons, her proposition found much favor, evolving
from a humanitarian
mission to a nation-wide cult. What began as an
exclusive club became a
religion, a way of life. Crystal Tokyo was heaven.
The present place was
hell. God was Serenity. The saints were the Senshi.
The angels were its
inhabitants. She was their savior, their Mistress.
Simple as that.
The Mistress ruled with an iron fist,
demanding supreme loyalty from
all her underlings. There were no
challengers to her power: all who
complained never resurfaced. Normally,
there would have been plenty of
rebellions and coups - enough to end her
reign - but the meager life she
provided was a vast improvement over the
population's current condition.
Everyone was content.
"Yesssss?" hissed the small
figure seated atop the throne.
The tone of voice sliced through the boy and put his nerves on
edge.
Without thinking, he dropped to his knees. "Mi... Mistress, I...
I..."
"Ssssspeak boy.
Do not be afffraid..."
If
he didn't know better, Norman swore that the woman was enunciating
certain
syllables to make herself sound more forbidding. "I was on pa...
patrol
today and f- found s... some... someone from Crystal Tokyo."
"Hmmmm? Isssss that ssssso? Where
issss thisss persssson?"
"She disappeared into thin air!" the boy said
enthusiastically. Passion
of a religious vision overtook him as he leapt
to his feet. "And by
Serenity was she beautiful! Her walk, her
posture, her confidence, her
appearance - she was an angel, Mistress, an
angel! I'd soon as-"
The
Mistress waved her hand to cut off the rambling boy. "What did
thisss
angel look like?"
"She had long blonde hair that shined like gold! Her eyes were
sky
blue, as clear as the countryside heavens! Her mouth
was..."
"Come
closssssser, boy, sssssso I may sssssee you."
Norman swallowed hard and lost all his
passion. Cautiously, he took
baby steps until he reached the steps in
front of the throne.
"Clossssssser."
He took one step up and stopped.
"Continue, boy! I have no intentttiiiion of waiting the
whole
dayyyy..."
After an eternity of climbing, he was in arm's reach of the
Mistress.
Turning her palms up,
the woman concentrated and produced a small
floating globe of red energy.
The boy, transfixed by the anomalous sight,
stood dumbly still.
"Touch it, boy."
No more prompting was needed. On contact,
the sphere twisted and
contorted, forming the outline of a human. Slowly,
it molded itself into
the likeliness of Norman's latest discovery, into
the likeliness of his
angel.
The Mistress gave a small laugh, but it quickly grew into a sick,
roaring
sound. The boy fell backwards, stumbling down the stairs in
absolute terror;
before he knew it, the doors were opened and he was
outside.
Her voice suddenly boomed from all
directions, alerting the inhabitants
of the castle like an alarm.
"Find the one from Cryssstal Tokyo," she
ordered, "and
bring her to me..."
**************
The boy tiredly entered his quarters,
exhausted from his eventful day.
His room was large, a full twelve by
twelve feet. It was pure heaven,
complete with a three by five bed and a
privileged luxury called "indoor
plumbing." Many would kill for
these quarters: indeed the boy had. The name
of previous owner eluded his
memory, but the past was inconsequential -
only the present was important.
The past held buried skeletons, and even
the youngest of minds knew never
to disturb a grave.
Settling down
at his desk, the boy withdrew a text - his only text -
from the locked
drawer. It was a leather bound book brimming with browned
pages of soiled
paper: neither author nor title was on the cover. He never
needed a author
or title: he was the author and the title was "My Novel."
This
was his life, his proof that he existed.
When the sun grew faint and the moon reared its vengeful head,
Norman
would write about the day, write about happier times. Him being a
Follower
of Serenity brought him great respect, a feeling he cherished. It
kept him
warm in the harshest of storms, be they from the wrath of
Serenity or from
the wrath of men. He loved to feel wanted, important; he
was a cut above
the rest and he loved to flaunt that fact.
That was another reason he loved to write.
He was important. From his
birth, the boy always could see his distinction
from the norm. He had both
parents - an uncommon occurrence at best. He
had money - a true rarity
indeed. Now, he was part of a respected, though
widely feared, religion.
Yes, he was better than everyone else. Every one
of his days was special
and noteworthy, not sad and pathetic like the rest
of society's. He was
doing posterity a favor by dutifully recording his
life, recording it so
they can bask in all its glory.
Tonight, the boy had plenty to write. He
wrote about the Mistress,
about Serenity, about his angel... his angel...
oh, his beautiful angel
with hair of gold and stature of delight. He could
see her now floating
through the moonlit sky like a pale ghost, gracing
the city with her
presence. For all his life, others taught him about
these perfect creatures
created by Serenity. They were elegant, beautiful,
forgiving, omniscient,
and... and... perfect.
"You are all angelssss..." the
Mistress once said. Her words became
their credo and the basis for their
beliefs. The boy, and all the other
Followers of Serenity, were angels...
only, they were fallen and misguided.
"Come with me," she said, "and I will sssshow you the
light..."
He hadn't seen
the light, but at the moment, the darkness was feeling
pretty damned
good.
Closing his novel, the
boy rested his tired eyes before glancing at the
clock. My, my... five
hours into the night already. Proudly, Norman gazed
at his addition to his
literary masterpiece: a whole half page of writing.
He was
improving.
To think, he -
probably the most educated one in the castle - was
improving. Impossible,
and therefore, quite noteworthy. He etched another
three words before
retiring.
"I do
good."
**************
I flutter my hazy eyes, or try at least; I find that they are
bound by
lead weights. For a second, I want to scream in terror, but the
past few
hours come back to me. Yes, I remember now - the blood and the
escape, my
damnation and my salvation.
Blindly, I stumble into the bathroom and splash myself with
some cold
water from the sink. The dried, caked blood melts away,
revealing a
haggard, rabid, and twisted me.
I hate mornings.
I also hate it when I get have those
dreams... those god-awful
dreams...
After plunging my head into the river of running ice water, I
grab a
towel and wipe my drenched face dry. Good. No more blood.
Checking the gash on my forehead, I notice
a scab already; it sure
healed quick. By tomorrow, my drunken, poetic
frenzy for escape will be
erased and forgotten. That's even better.
Memories are bad; forgetfulness
is good. Ten centuries of harsh living has
taught me that invaluable
lesson. The past is always better than the
present, so bury the years gone
by and face the moment at hand - you'll
feel better even if you aren't.
Exiting the bathroom, I relocate my perch on the armchair, the one
in
front of the dying fire. Heat given off by the bright embers dries my
hair
as I gaze out into the open street below. A courtyard is there -
gated and
guarded of course - brimming with modern day high society. I
watch men and
women daintily court each other while young boys play some
sort of ball
game. Their demeanor is a parody of nineteenth century
English nobility,
what with all the incessant bowing and horribly thick
(not to mention
diverse) accents.
I give a tiny laugh at these pitiful people. Their acting is
extremely
amusing, especially when they try to assume sophisticated
attitudes.
Whether in speech or in gestures, these individuals - these
richest of the
poor - mock themselves, outwardly embarrassing themselves
while inwardly
beaming with pride. How pathetic...
... and strangely heart-wrenching.
I watch a mother - a vain, make-up filled,
nearly painted woman - grab
her child from the grassy area and savagely
admonish him. So loud is her
voice that even I, four stories above the
ground, can hear her words.
Something about being proper if I'm not
mistaken, about being a well
groomed boy and not a nobody like the
"trash outside these walls." Of
course, expletives of the
foulest kind were casually peppered in, stuff a
sailor would think twice
before saying was freely used to scold the boy.
Funny, yet discomforting. Like watching a guy who thought he
was
Superman try to fly... and then watching him fall forty stories to
his
gruesome death. Dangerously amusing.
Suddenly, tears fall from my eyes. Subtle at first, but they
grow into
streams, sliding down my cheek like droplets of freshly fallen
rain. I sit
there, suddenly wondering whether or not I was the cause of
all this. THIS
- this as in the terrible acting, the pathetic conditions
of people's
lives, the Black Moon Family attacking, the murderous glint in
everyone's
eyes, the child being scolded by the mother. This, as in
everything wrong
with the world today.
I fondly think back to days of old, days of youthful vigor and
teenaged
worries. Was there ever anything like this in those times? Before
we, the
Senshi, came along, was anything amiss to such an extent as THIS?
Did man
ever lose themselves? Did our lives ever threaten to degrade to
this low
level? No... Things went downhill when we showed up. Because of
our lofty
ideals - foolish dreams of love and peace - we carelessly
destroyed
everything; only a tiny bit we saved, and even then, we only
saved that bit
because we wanted to feel superior over something.
It makes me sick now that I think about
it. Without me - and indeed
without "them" - none of this great
suffering would be in existence. Man
would continue on as always,
improving their lifestyle with each passing
generation. Humanity was never
meant to walk into heaven in one step;
Crystal Tokyo was never meant to
happen overnight like it did. A "perfect
society" in an imperfect
world can only lead to trouble.
Why didn't I see that centuries ago?!
Those NOT in "heaven" would grow bitter - like the
Black Moon Family -
and lash out. Those in "heaven" would grow
tired and unhappy because of
human nature! We all need change and we all
need excitement; when that
dangerous, unpredictable edge to life is lost,
we inherently become
discontent. Nature is that way - a balance of order
and chaos. Man cannot
stray from nature...
... unless man himself is changed, or in this case,
"Purged."
Damn...
Damn it all! Rei and her ideas! Stupid, arrogant Rei the
charlatan! If she
were here - oh if only she were here - she'd feel the
pain I feel right
now. I'd show her my wrath, make her see through my eyes
what suffering
she has caused. I'd make her find the happiness she killed
in Crystal
Tokyo. I'd make her repent for every soul she made me kill, for
every
moment I felt the deep, stabbing wounds of guilt burning as if on
fire.
I'd... I'd...
I'd better get
some fresh air.
Before I know
it, I am outside the door locking, bolting, and securing
the entrance to
my lavish condo. I bet all the "rich abodes" in this
complex
combined don't add up to value of my home. And to think, this is
all old,
unused furniture I moved here three, maybe even four hundred years
ago.
Talk about foresight.
With the
bright shine of the sun, my rage simmers and dies to a mere
agitation.
Remarkable what a bit of warmth can do to a body.
"Excusez-moi madame, but aye never
seen you around 'efore."
In front of me is a man wearing an old
English velvet and high white
stockings. Hell, he even had the white wig
going, although it was a little
frayed around the edges. I couldn't help
but chuckle at the man's coarse
Irish/English/French accent... not to
mention his failed attempt at
combining the three styles of speech.
"Pardonnez-moi," he drawled in
all seriousness, "but uhhh... what tiz
zo funny?"
Great, now he was throwing in a Spanish
accent!!!
"Could ya shut
yer yakkin' and tell ma what's so funny, ya damned
whore?!"
Ignoring the man, I exit their guarded
community and saunter into the
"better" parts of London. There
are still homeless people, orphans, and
shady individuals, but they are
hurriedly killed or shooed by the armed
patrol milling through the area,
protecting their "rich masters" from harm.
Bodies are quickly
disposed of, where I don't know. I don't want to know.
A guard casually walks by and tips his hat
to me; behind him, he drags
the corpse of a young boy. The postmortem gaze
burrows deep into my soul
and carves a hole in my guilt-riddled heart. I
turn my head away, unwilling
and unable to look any further.
He would be about Small Lady's
age...
I increase my speed,
trying to escape from the sight. No matter how
much death I see and
produce, a child's body always destroys my emotional
defenses. At least I
know I still have a conscience unlike some "other"
people I
know...
*THUD!*
Damn my klutziness! I thought I got past
it egos ago!!! I look at the
person I knocked to the ground and offer my
hand.
"I'm so sorry.
Wasn't watching where I was going and I guess I just
crashed into
you."
The man has a
dumbfounded look on his face, like one of recognition.
"YOU!!!" he screams, though not
out of terror.
Me? What about
me? "Yes? Look, just get up pal. Your nice white cloak
is getting...
getting..."
It's that kid
from yesterday, that crazy cult nut from the streets. I
almost didn't
recognize him in the light.
"My angel!" He crawls through the muck on the ground and
latches onto
my leg. "I'm not worthy of your glorious presence!
Please, let me-"
I better
stop his ranting before someone sees me and thinks I'm in
cohorts with
this freakshow. "Get off of me this instant! I'm going to give
you three
seconds before I seriously hurt you!"
Reluctantly, he backs away and remains seated. Good.
Resisting the urge to kick him in the face
(given that he did catch me
in a pissy mood), I go back in the direction
of my condo, confident that
the armed guards would be reason enough for
him to stay away. Rather the
opposite, however: the guards respectfully
tip their hats to him as he
races in my direction.
Without further prompting, I run. I don't
want to know what he's all
about, and frankly, I don't care either.
Huffing and puffing, he relentlessly
pursues. "D... Don't run!!! I...
Our... Our Mistress wa... wants to
*breathe* see *hack* *cough* you!!!"
Their "Mistress" wants to see me? That's too weird
for my liking.
Effortlessly, I summon a little bit of my Senshi powers and
leap onto the
roof of an eight story building. He won't - and can't -
follow up here.
As I turn
around to face him, I see that he hasn't come alone: perhaps
fifteen other
people wearing similar white cloaks are standing there gazing
at me, their
jaws dropped down like released hinges. Not wasting a second,
I bound onto
the rooftops of other building, escaping from their
worshipping eyes. They
follow.
Actually, the group I
previously saw doesn't follow, rather, more of
their kind pours in from
the streets. Their pounding of feet... it sounds
like a soldier's death
march. Their screaming and yelling... almost battle
cries. I feel
surrounded, captured, imprisoned like an animal. Scenes flash
before my
bloodshot eyes, scenes of a war not long ago - not long enough. I
remember
death and dying, quietus and quivers, bodies and... lots and lots
of
bodies...
They wear the color
of white, the "official" color of Crystal Tokyo's
troops. They
swarm around the bases of the buildings I leap to. Ten... no,
twenty!
No... too many to count. Wherever I go, more of them appear!
Desperately, I fumble for my communicator;
it's not there. IT'S NOT
THERE!!! They raise their hands, preparing to do
in me no doubt, preparing
to drag my ice cold corpse off to that vile
Wiseman as a prize, as war
booty. Feverishly, I scream their names, hoping
that one of them would be
around.
"AMI!!!"
"HARUKA!!!"
"ANYBODY?!"
No... they couldn't be gone too, it's just not possible. Where did
they
go?! I could have sworn I saw Ami in the back, cautiously striding
along,
being my rear guard. But, what of Haruka? She went off first as a
scout.
Damn this thick terrain! Couldn't the battle have taken place
somewhere
open?! Where is everybody?! Oh God, where are MY troops?!
Suddenly, I'm surrounded by darkness lit
only by the torches of white
below. Those people down there... they killed
them... They got Ami... They
got Haruka...
To hell with them! They're not going to get me too!!!
I
raise my hand up to the sky and feel the powers of Sailor Venus wash
over
me. This is war... why wasn't I transformed already? No matter. There
is a
time for answers and time for action.
This was most assuredly a time for action.
Jumping into the maddened fray below, I
cut down the murderous
warriors. Not one of them will survive my wrath,
not after what they did.
They have already breached the frontier, and I'll
will not let them get
past me, past me to Crystal Tokyo... past me to my
queen.
Rays of golden light
streak out from my hands, raining death onto the
massive crowds. They turn
to flee, wailing like the dead men they are.
There's a large packet of
them huddled in a corner; I use my chain to snare
them before drilling
holes into their heads.
I
continue my crusade, crushing all these... these... innocents?!
My eyes revert to their normal color as my
body loses its battle-high.
All around me, the ignored scene fizzles into
view; I'm not in heavy
foliage, rather, I'm in the city. For a second, I
glance at the
environment, thoroughly and utterly confused at my location.
Then, my sense
of reality kicks in.
The war... the war with the Black Moon Family... it's over.
This isn't
Tokyo. This is London. The war has been over for a full five
months, this
is not the war.
Well then, what is this?!
I step in something sticky, namely blood. Hesitantly, I gaze all
around
me and observe the streets - streets filled to the brim with
corpses. I
count... too many. White cloaks splashed with blood taint my
eyes and burn
my soul the more I realize what just happened. I went
berserk, insane! I...
I...
Something shifts behind me. Instinctively, I charge a beam of
deadly
energy and prepare to fire at the target. Before I do the
unexplainable,
however, I regain control of my composure and dissipate the
blast.
Besides, it's only the boy, the freaky cult nut that started this
whole
thing.
"P...
Pl... Please," he stutters while on his knees, "D... Don't
kill...
kill me..." His voice tapers off into a pathetic whisper.
With left ear torn off and right arm bent
precariously, he is living
proof of my sins. He reminds the world of what
happened here today, of what
happened to countless innocents. I lose
myself and cry, tears pouring from
all facets of my mind. He is scared:
too scared to say a word. I am... I
am... a demon of the worst kind.
Quickly, I escape, leaving the gruesome
massacre behind. Using all my
skills ever learned, I run, futilely burying
the ugly, shameful past.
What's done is done; it can't be changed. Best
leave skeletons of days gone
where they lay.
Even the youngest of minds know never to
disturb a grave.
*************
I find myself back in my condo. Am I crying? I'm so numb, I
have to
check by feeling for tears. Sure enough, there's a river on my
face. So
scared... so alone... so.... so hateful...
Incessant shivering dulls any other
sensation in my body; no matter how
many logs of wood I put into the fire,
I remain at an ice cold chill.
Remnants of the war fade out of sight, out
of mind. I knew my battle scars
were deep, but never did I suspect this
deep. Today, I killed so many
people because of my uncontrollable pain.
What of tomorrow? Will I lose
myself again? Will I be plunged back into a
forgotten field of murder? Will
I ever find solace? Will my heart
heal?
Look at me. What am I? Am
I just a soldier? A mini-skirt grunt adept at
the art of death? Yes,
that's all I am - an instrument of the reaper, a
sower of sorrow. I was
created to fight, to win. I was reincarnated to
fight, to protect. I want
to die because I can't bring myself to do those
horrible things anymore: I
am a spent weapon, useless and burdensome.
Perhaps it's best I leave this place, leave all my memories
behind.
Start over maybe - go somewhere in the world where I'm not see or
heard.
I've always wondered what would become of me had I not become
this...
monster. Now it's time to find out... before I hurt anyone
else.
I consider taking
something with me - a memoir, like a plate or article
of clothing or
picture or book, something. No, I don't need anything; I
don't want
anything. If I'm going to forget the past, I'll have to start
with the
present. Destroy "now," and "later," "then" won't
be there
anymore. What a novel concept.
Nonchalantly, I pick up a picture - you know, one of those old
pieces
of glossy paper that a camera produced. It's of me and Usagi
winking at
Luna and Artemis. If I recall correctly, Rei took this photo
while hiding
behind a tree. It's was a cold winter day and I was wearing a
matching
purple-
NO! NO!
NO! I'm here to forget, not remember! Damn my eyes! Damn this
picture!!!
Thrusting the flammable antiquity into the
roaring conflagration, I let
the flame lick my object of hate, burning it
to a crisp. Before it's
entirely consumed, I throw the fireball onto my
favorite armchair... my
favorite, cloth and wood armchair. Within seconds,
smoke fills the air,
making it unbearable.
Somehow, it seems awfully invigorating to me.
I leave, never to see this room, this sad
reminder of my life, again.
*************
As the sun slowly set behind the concrete
horizon, the boy stumbled out
of an alley and into the abandoned streets.
He was tired, spent from his
day of constant running, running from his angel
of death. Hesitantly, he
gazed up and down the lifeless road, afraid that
a sudden shower of golden
light would end his life, his
oh-so-important-and-significant life.
Where was he? No time to answer that now; the thick smell of decay
still
hung ominously in air. He wasn't far enough from the killing field.
Along the trash-filled, smelly streets he
walked alone and unattended.
His open wounds had long since coagulated,
but the moment of utter fear, of
complete helplessness, had not been
erased. For all his life, he was taught
about his importance; mere hours
ago, he saw how pathetic his life was.
Begging, imagine him BEGGING! And
for his life too...
... how
embarrassing.
To think, his
existence could have ended with a flash of energy. It
wouldn't have taken
more than a second - indeed, it didn't take the rest of
his fellow
believers THAT long to die. What made him different? Nothing.
What made
him better? Nothing. When death came knocking, everyone became an
equal in
her colorless eyes. Everyone had the same chance at dying... but
being
left alive, to wallow in the shame of defeat, beggary, and
humiliation,
was far worse than crossing into the afterlife.
"Sssssso boy, you have failed..."
The boy whipped about, astonished by the
Mistress' sudden appearance.
"N... no... Not exactly..."
"Excccuuussseeesssss!!!" the
frail woman screamed, suddenly becoming
sturdier, "You didn't bring
her back to me!!!"
"But she- I really..."
"Sssstop your liesss!!! I don't... tolerate... your kin-"
For the second time in a short frame of
time, another unexpected soul
stepped into the street. Another soul
inhabiting the body of a blonde
woman.
***********
The boy... again. No good ever seems to
stem out of that nutcase. But
then again, I shouldn't be so harsh;
afterall, didn't I just butcher his
friends? The least I could do is
apologize to the kid despite his
arrogance, cowardice, and stupidity.
Yeah, sort of like a consolation prize
that says, "I'm sorry I killed
everyone you know. Here, have a cookie."
Wait a minute, who's that he's standing in front of? Whoever it
is, he
or she is scaring the shit out of him. I move closer, close enough
to sense
the unmistakable, foul, and evil aura surrounding the cloaked
figure. Don't
think I didn't miss the thing about "bringing her back
to me" either!
Whatever it
is, the boy doesn't stand a chance. I'd better interrupt
this conversation
they're having. Maybe I can train myself to do some
good... for
once.
"Hey," I say,
catching both parties by surprise, "Are you looking for
me?"
Understandably, the boy gets thrown into
hysterics; upon hearing my
voice, he goes bolting into an alley, much more
afraid of me than the
person he was facing. As for the thing with a neon
sign hanging on it's
forehead flashing, "I'm evil!!!"? He stays
perfectly still... or should I
say she?
Deducing from the previous events transpired, I say, "The
Mistress, I
presume?"
Ignoring my question, the woman gives me the once-over, appraising
me,
sizing me up. I do the same.
Typical bad guy, or in this case, bad girl. Dark, hooded robe,
crumpled
up hands, snake-like voice, slightly hunchbacked - how much more
cliche
could she get? The only remaining question is-
"Yessss, I am the
Mistress..."
Question
answered. No, wait, there's more. "What do you and all your
cronies
want with me?"
Her eyes
suddenly light up, prompting me to fall back into a defensive
position.
What am I suppose to do here? What am I going to do? Transform
and kill
her? Maybe, but...
She laughs
at my startled reaction, "You are one of them," she states
as a
matter of fact, "Venus to be exact."
"And what of it?! Who are YOU?!" Oh boy, I'm starting
to get this bad
feeling, a feeling that says she's part of the remnants of
the Black Moon
Family. Call it woman's intuition or plain obviousness;
besides, she
dresses like the Wiseman... go figure.
"Me?" she asks, "Why Venus,
I am the demon who haunts your dreams, the
tainted child no one wants to
remember. To my pawns, they know me as the
Mistress. To you, I am but a
mere flee, a thorn in your side."
I spit through my grinding teeth, "If you're a flee, then be gone
with
you!"
"Be
gone? Yes, I will be gone... after I exact revenge for my fallen
comrades."
Her voice noticeably quickens to a point of near frenzy. "I will
spill
your blood for all their sakes! We may have been defeated, but our
cause
will always live on! One day, when your precious queen lies on her
bed,
we'll strike like thieves in the night, finishing what we started! The
seeds
of your fall have bee-"
She's talking too much... which translates into a perfect time for
me
to strike! With awesome speed and strength, I charge into her,
effectively
bowling her over and stopping her rant. Given that I am in
much better
physical shape than she is, I manage to recover and pin her to
the ground
before she can so much as blink.
"Now we're in a better position to
talk," I remark while pulling down
her hood.
A skinny old woman with white hair greets
me, and if her eyes hadn't
been glowing, I'd mistake her for another
elderly person. She looks...
too... too... human. "*cough* Too
old," she croaks like she was dying,
"waited *hack* too
long..." Despite her realization, despite her situation,
despite her
pain, she musters enough energy to violently lash out at me.
Luckily, I predict her move and easily
dodge her wild, desperate
strike. "Damn it! You Black Moon types
don't know when to quit, do you?!"
Now I remember why I hated these cretins; they all thought they
were so
righteous, so definitively right. I hate people like that, people
who think
they're God. Maybe that's why it was so easy to kill them back
in the day -
they thought they were better than me.
"Listen," I bark, silencing her,
"I don't know what hole you crawled
out of or what you did to become
this 'Mistress,' but believe you me, I'm
not in a very perky mood. If you
so much as sneeze the wrong way, I'll put
an end to you and your cult
faster than a bullet! Got it?!"
"Your kind is all the same," she hoarsely whispers, "You
think you're
God... You Senshi think you have all the
answers..."
"Don't
associate me with them."
"What, Venus? Why not? Don't you want to trod upon the souls of
the
crushed like myself? Don't you want to rule the world alongside
your
queen?"
"She's NOT my queen."
"Yes she is... I see it in your eyes right now, that righteous
gleam
sweeping through your soul, just like her. Be as virtuous as you
want, but
we all know you brought this sad world into being."
By reflex, I give a heartfelt "You're
wrong" before I can catch my
tongue.
"Lie, nothing but a lie. If you truly believe that, then
you are as
blind as the bat you are. Ultimate power corrupts even the most
innocent of
souls, much less the ignorant ones."
Unconsciously, I loosen my grip on her as
she hammers home these images
I have been plagued by for the past few
months. My hate begins to turn
inward, refocusing onto myself. For a
second, her words resonate in my mind
and ring true like sets of
facts.
"You begin to see,
don't you?" Her voice noticeably softens as her
struggling
diminishes. "Do with me what you will *cough* for I am old and
cowardly.
Thirty years ago, before our first attacks were even launched, I
was sent
here to garner support for our forces." A wistful look crosses her
exhausted
face, "I was with Black Moon Family since the very beginning,
supplying
them anything I could scrounge up. But I feared defeat. I
withdrew from
the costly campaign and contented myself with ruling this
land." She
gives a harsh laugh, "To think, I even used your city as a
foundation
for my twisted cult. I turned into you..."
"What do you mean?"
"I became what I fought... A dictator, a righteous bigot,
a drunken
fool! I did things because I could, and afterwards, I justified
them by
thinking I was right."
"Is that why you fought us? Is that all the war was about?
A moral
disagreement?"
Her glowing eyes dim, and behind the pale, angry stare, I see a hint
of
pity surging forth. "Oh, you poor soul, brainwashed to the harsh
reality
that is life. You may have lived for a thousand years, but your
naivete
remains. No, we didn't start the war because of a moral dilemma
with your
queen. No, we didn't even start the war for world domination.
Though in the
end that's what our reasons became, we started the war out
of survival."
"Survival?!"
She smiles at my surprise. "Is that so hard to believe? You with
your
perfect city and utopian ways - did it ever occur to you that your
paradise
was a society built on gluttony? In world where even food is
becoming
scarcer by the day, why is it be so hard to believe that a band
of outcasts
would rise up and fight for more? If your family starved while
your
neighbor feasted, wouldn't you want his lion's share too?"
I shake my head, unwilling to accept the
truth spilling from her dying
mouth. She's the enemy and not one to be
trusted... but an enemy of who? An
enemy of me? Of Serenity? Of society?
Or has she always been on the side of
good?
"You think I'm lying,
Venus."
"No," I
correct, "I'm think you're partially right. You said yourself
that
your crusade turned into something more than survival-"
"Of course it did! How could we not
envy your power? We are all human,
complete with the same needs and
aspirations as you. In the process of
fighting, we saw our friends fall
and demanded more for compensation. One
thing lead to another, and well,
you know how war is..."
"Yeah... all too well...'
We sit in a comfortable silence, a newfound respect for each other
looming
in the stale, decay-ridden air. Remember that aforementioned anger
in the
woman's eyes? It finally flakes away, yielding to a peaceful gaze of
oblivion,
like a person facing death. As for me, instead of pinning her
shoulders to
the ground, I find myself cradling her elderly body in my
arms, much like
what a mother would do to a child.
Her weakened voice breaks my thoughts. "You didn't know, did
you?"
"About
what?"
"About our
hardships, about why we fought."
"No... I had no idea. We
always thought you were pure demons, existing
only to destroy our beloved
city."
Tears float down
her cheeks, "In the later years, that was true..."
I still have one final question to ask.
"Why?"
"I told
you. It's because we were pushed to the fringes of soci-"
"No, why did you suddenly decide to
tell me all these things? Moments
ago, we were ready to tear each other's
heads off."
Grinning, she
replies, "That's because I don't stand a chance against a
young hooligan
like you."
After a short
stint of comic relief, her face grows grave again. "I
wanted to see
the truth behind the myths," she says dejectedly, "A side of
me
wanted to be validated; it wanted to see Sailor Venus in all her haughty
glory.
I wanted to know just how much I hated you... but instead, I find
out how
much we're alike. We were both plagued by one-sided stories and
sick
morals. Arrogantly, we both fought each other tooth and nail because
we
thought ourselves right. But most importantly-"
"We're human."
"Yes, and destined to err." She closes her eyes and sighs.
"My time is
almost up... I can feel it now. My body - in its old age
- is not what it
used to be. I'm afraid our little scuffle has broken more
than a few
necessary bodily items..."
"I'm sorry..."
Waving her hand in dismal, she gratefully grabs my arm and
says, "No,
don't be sorry, for you have brought me peace and closure.
After a long,
vengeful, hateful, and inhumane life, I have finally learned
about
happiness, maybe even a little about love. You may not see your
importance
today... maybe not even tomorrow... but... but... you let me
talk... you
let me see your contagious innocence..."
Me? Innocent?
"I needed to put down my rage... if
only for a second... thank you..."
"But I didn't-"
"Sssshhhhh... r... reme... remember... you are not...
not... not
measured b... by what you want... it's by what you do... an...
and you've
done me... a world of good..."
The Mistress lies still in my arms, her
formerly forbidding form
reduced to a peaceful, blissful corpse. I
consider leaving her body in the
street to rot, but then again, she was
human, enemy or not. A fellow human
being deserves more respect than that;
the least I could do was bury her,
leave her with some dignity.
Dignity she, and everyone else in this
land, deserved.
**************
The funeral was scarcely attended - a few loyal followers and a
handful
of insincere snobs made up the mourning. I was among them,
preparing myself
to deliver the customary eulogy.
Why wasn't there a larger crowd? The
Mistress' cult was huge, snaking
itself into all aspects of London life; I
expected a bigger turn out, if
not to see her praised, then at least to
see her dead. Perhaps everyone was
already scrambling to grab as much
power as possible - I heard that she was
extremely feared and wealthy. In
a land of cutthroats, beggars, and
hopeless peons, I wouldn't expect
anything less. No, actually, the absence
of a swarm seemed logical given
that man had lost the capacity to care, to
love, to give respect.
Walking to the front of the room, I
cleared my throat to get everyone's
attention; snoring answered my call to
alertness.
Maybe I was wrong in
doing this. Since when was it ever my place to
give a eulogy - never mind
that, organize an entire burial - for a person I
didn't even know? All my
words would be meaningless in my heart. This stunt
of mine was created to
loosen a burden on my conscience; I did this for
purely selfish reasons.
The last thing I needed was another kill on my
expansive list of mortal
sins.
But that didn't make my
actions any less wrong.
They
only made me feel better even when I really wasn't.
I tapped the podium, rousing the dozing
participants. They took a few
moments to realize where they were.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," I
nervously began, "You may not know who I am,
but I-"
**click**
Looking up, I saw the door in the back of the room open,
admitting a
pair of people in white cloaks. Somberly and wordlessly, they
took seats in
furthest corner of the rear. Then, another two came in, and
another two,
and another and another and another and another until the
room was stuffed.
Still others kept coming, first lining up outside the
door, then finally
spilling outside into the streets. Windows were opened
to allow the late
comers to see and hear everything inside. Besides the
Mistress' so-called
Followers of Serenity, "rich" folk littered
the area, equally respectful of
the silence reining supreme. They all
trained their eyes on me.
I
felt naked under their expectant gaze. They regarded me as some sort
of
spiritual guru - a harbinger of epiphanies - and waited for their dosage
of
enlightenment like puppies begging for food.
I didn't have the heart to disappoint them. I couldn't back
down, but I
couldn't go forward either. I was caught between a rock and
another rock;
one of them had to give.
"Ahem, so is everyone here?"
Escape was not an option from here on
out.
I considered many
openings, trying to see which would fit the occasion.
None of them seemed
appropriate for the public I stood in front of. Should
I tell them about
myself or should I just go on? Maybe a little joke to
lighten up the mood
or a grave story to set the stage-
Finally, I gave up.
"I'm here today, standing before you delivering this speech for a
woman
I hardly know, because I'm selfish. I am nothing but a coward, an
abandoned
slave, and a walking plague."
Suddenly, someone from the back shouted,
"But you're from Crystal
Tokyo!!!"
Nods accompanied the shout; I only
sighed.
"Forget that
dreadful place! Do you want to know the truth?! Do all of
you sitting here
want to know how you've been deceived for thirty years?!
Do you want to
hear about your idea of 'heaven'?! Well, I'll tell you
everything,
everything to ruin and crush the pitiful dream you call a life!
Thirty years ago, this woman - the one you
and I only know as the
Mistress - came to this place to harness your blind
support for the Black
Moon Family, the ones fighting against Crystal
Tokyo! But like me, she was
a coward, a person who feared death and
defeat. Instead of opting to rule
the world, she amused herself by
consuming your minds, amassing your
fortunes, and devouring your country!
She needed your complete loyalty, so
she elevated Serenity and her
damnable court to the status of gods,
creating a religion out of their
twisted paradise. The Mistress played a
terrible game with your hearts;
she knew it was human nature to believe in
hope - you had none, so she
provided it to you. Because you tasted hope,
you wanted more, and soon
afterwards, she had you going back to her to hear
about 'heaven' and
Serenity and her saints and her angels. It made you feel
good; it made you
live for tomorrow. It made you find a purpose even when
there was
none!
Your way of life is
nothing but a sham! A corrupt hand of roulette that
got too far out of
hand! A figment of a villain's imagination! You devoted
yourselves to her
because she said what you wanted to hear. You believe in
the infallibility
of Crystal Tokyo because you have nothing else to believe
in. God is not
tangible, neither is heaven; whatever that cannot be touched
is fake.
Serenity is seen walking in her elegant dresses; Crystal Tokyo is
on the
front of every postcard. They are both tangible, and therefore,
believable.
I tell you now to stop your stubborn,
foolish, and ignorant way of
life. Serenity is not a god, not even a
saint. She is human like the rest
of you, flesh and blood. There was a
time when I used to think of her as
you do, a time not long ago, but one
day I gazed into her deep blue eyes
and found the soul of a helpless
child, a sentient being as capable of
hating, wronging, and dying as
you.
She is human, chained and
controlled by her absolute power.
She is not benevolent nor self-sacrificing, and neither are her
Senshi.
I should know, for I am one of them. Stained on my hands is the
blood of an
entire people, an entire civilization. I destroyed their souls
to create a
better society for myself. Every night, each of my victims'
screams come
into my dreams, making me feel their pain and suffering.
Every night, I am
drowned by the blood of future generations.
You see, Crystal Tokyo is not heaven -
it's hell. The Sailor Senshi are
not saints - we're mindless tools.
Serenity is not God - she's human at
best.
So, release your fanciful ideals; forget your white cloaks and
roguish
cult. Return to the streets, to the houses, to the city - where
you belong.
Remember this woman, the Mistress, not by her convoluted past
nor by her
deceitful nature, but by her message of hope. Find your own
salvation
because another's heaven could be your hell. Believe in yourself
and your
hope, for they are the cause of and solution to all of life's
problems."
Quiet. Mighty
silence.
I stepped down from
the podium and strode to the door, intent on making
my exit while everyone
was stunned.
However, before I
could get out, a person stopped me, namely the boy.
Tears soaking his eyes, he cried,
"How do we hope for more when we have
nothing?!"
"You're human," I reply,
"Learn from your mistakes and grow from your
triumphs. Remember to
accept your past, clean your present, and hope for
your future. When there
is life, there is hope."
That day I walked out of London, my conscience not as heavy as when
I
first arrived. Hope filled my heart, hope for a better tomorrow not
only
for me, but also for them. I already see a better today.
Upon leaving, I left them with the Latin
phrase, "Carpe diem."
"Seize the day."
*****
Notes
*****
Strange? Mystified? Baffled? Mail me your
opinions about this
experimental, brooding, and extremely heady kind of
writing. I accept all
comments, be they hateful cussing or words of
praise. Chapter 3 (which will
hopefully be more... more... sane) will be
delayed a bit due to time
constraints. School is going to start back up
for me and I am not going to
have the time to write so much anymore.
Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I
enjoyed writing it!!!
-Don.
