by CrimsonNoble
A/N: No wonder you people were confused. Blast it. Curse you FF.N!
Curse you! Anyway, chapter 16 got raped when I uploaded it the first
time. So go back and check if you didn't see a start location/time
when you read. Apologies.
School's out. Yay, I think.
Disclaimer: I make no claims toward ownership of Harry Potter. I do,
however, claim ownership of Ange. 'Cause they're mine.
WARNING: This is rated R for a reason. Should you choose to ignore
said reason, read at your own risk. Masochism, sadism, sensuality,
graphic violence, and harsh language. Possible male/male
relationships, and definite female/female. Quite probable threesome
relationship between any of the above. Ye hast been warned. Should
any of the above be objectionable to you, there is a back button on
your browser, a convienient hyperlink back to the main Harry Potter
section of the site, and a simple right-click will reveal an option
for "back", if your computer works like mine. Can't help mac users
there.
Spoilers: OotP, GoF, PoA, CoS, SS.
Chapter 17:
Weapons Free Round One, ????. January 18, 2330.
Luna trembled quietly within her cell. Raye's explaination for the
isolation, while thorough, was far from comforting. It had (she
thought) something to do with sneaking extra armaments into the fight.
She had objected that she wouldn't do that. Raye had mumbled something
about that needing to be fixed in response, though it was clear she
hadn't intended the statement to be heard.
Which, of course, meant that Luna had paid very close attention. Any
knowledge that Raye didn't give her willingly was knowledge worth
having. The blue haired woman herself had told her as much, though she
hadn't said anything about how to aquire the information. And she had
not limited the "anything someone doesn't tell you is worth knowing"
directive to herself.
As a result of this Luna had learned more in the days after that than
she had once thought possible. For example, Raye had, almost painfully
obviously (so much so that Luna suspected the woman had wanted her to
notice) never told her to not attempt to harm anyone. She inferred,
quite correctly, from this that Raye really didn't care if she
inflicted grevious bodily harm on anyone. She had also noted that
on the curriculum of human transfiguration, never once had it been
called illegal. She had pursued this into a law book, from which she
had come away with the vague idea that some group of people had
systematically crushed anyone who supported banning it. There was no
recorded reason for this, which had been what had caught her interest,
and shortly after she had aquired a list of the people who had opposed
such measures.
The list should have been shocking, but wasn't. Or maybe it should not
have been shocking, but was. It was simply not something she thought
about. Bluntly, it had mainly been people (male and female) who were,
at least she supposed, big names in the buisness of pornography.
She had told Raye this, to fill a lull in the conversation. The woman
had laughed hard enough that Luna had begun to wonder if she should
assist in some way, before the amused inverted eyes had fallen on her,
and the seizure had stopped. 'You really didn't know?' the eyes had
asked. 'Well, good to know you took my advice to heart.'
"Remember kids," she whispered at random as the door beyond the bars
opened, "it's across the street, not down." Even as she said it, she
traced a finger across the weapons housed against her wrists.
Then the bars slid aside, and she stalked out confidently into the
arena.
Her first thought was that someone had taken the Roman Coliseum, and
messed with not only the size, but the proportions as well.
Her next thought ran along the lines of, 'oh, bugger it. That's my
enemy?'
The woman looked like she had been a professional body builder for her
entire life, or at least three quarters of it. It was difficult to
place her age, though she couldn't have been older than forty five,
but was certainly no longer a teenager. She had muscles to the point
where Luna was almost certain that she would not have to flex to throw
most of the people she knew, bar Raye, around the arena. And then
there was the acne. It started from just below the line of her
eyebrows, and descended from there into the high collar of her shirt.
The shirt, though it was long sleeved and the color of rose wine
managed to both cover her entirely, and leave almost nothing to the
imagination.
It was a mental picture Luna could have done without. Yet it got worse.
The woman's shorts, if the could actually be called such, it would be
more accurate to call them a thong, though it was clearly either
something the woman did not do often, or something done entirely to
induce vomiting in other people. She had, to be blunt, done absolutely
nothing with her pubic hair, a great deal of the flaming red strands
protruded from beneath the cloth. And apparently, her acne didn't stop
where it vanished under her collar, for it continued down her
impressive legs to vanish into her high socks, which were rolled up
football style. And then there were her shoes. Or rather, her ice
skates. The idea of her wearing ice skates in the middle of the sand
of the recreated Coliseum was absurd.
When Luna finally managed to drag her eyes away, fascinated by the
horrific nature of the woman's attire, she saw that a pair of silver-
grey eyes stared out of the almond-shaped sockets, and her lips, the
only place on her face free of pimples, were drawn tight.
Oh goddess, she prayed, please...
She didn't have an exact goal in mind for her prayer, she just needed
to express her stark terror to someone else, or think she was.
The 'gong' rang, and the woman drew the massive double-bladed battle
axe from her back.
Oh. Damn.
The too-large-to-be-real weapon crashed down against the sand, slicing
deeply into the pit. Luna blinked, twice.
"Hi?" She asked hesitantly.
"Hi." Affirmed the woman. "Now you die."
Luna dropped her head, supressing a sigh of something approaching
futile acceptance. Could she not possibly have a semi-original
opponent?
Evidently, no was the answer. Silently she cursed the imaginationless
god who had created the woman.
Some unidentifiable piano music echoed through the area, and Luna's
head snapped around to face the speakers. Piano music?
So it wasn't until she heard the laugh that she noticed the acne
ridden lady moving. The axe curved through the air, slicing off a
small portion of Luna's collar as she flung herself backwards.
Her feet still hadn't landed when one of the ice skates slashed across
her thigh, opening a wide furrow in her flesh.
She hit the sand, and slipped as it ground aside beneath her feet,
clad only in pale blue socks. She gazed for a long moment at the
bleeding wound before turning back to the axe-wielding psychopath.
And rolled away as it came down, lashing out to slice across the back
of the woman's leg, shredding her achilles tendon.
It wasn't until the woman tried to turn, which wasn't more than two
seconds, that she collapsed. Despite her new, and certainly more
interesting, position, she manage to fling (for Luna could think of no
better description) another slash with the oversized weapon.
Luna contorted wildly in an attempt to dodge, and as a result, instead
of taking her arm off, the axe merely tore through her shoulder, quite
severing the deltoid muscle.
Luna rolled away, coming up onto one knee, her left arm hanging, not
quite limply, but it wasn't mobile either.
She stood, tilting her head curiously as she looked at the woman on
the ploughed, crimson stained sand.
The axe swung again, and she stepped closer, so that instead of
loosing a foot, the shaft impacted her leg. A strange crack later, she
was on her side, her leg bending in a place legs had not been made to
bend.
"Die," the acne ridden woman whispered.
Luna's hand struck a stiffened finger blow to the woman's throat, the
blade beneath her arm lunged, and buried itself deep in the woman's
neck as Luna's hand collapsed to drive it further in.
There was no gurgle as she died. She didn't even look surprised. Her
red and white face merely registered triumph and victory.
Luna shoved herself away as soon as she was able to, staring with wide
eyes at the woman. She curled herself into a ball as best she could,
and stared in horrific facination at the now-corpse.
She'd... killed...?
Her eyes stung with tears, not of sorrow, but of surprise.
She'd... killed...?
Her back trembled with fear. How could she be able to...?
She'd... killed...?
Weapons Free, Round One-The Moon, ????. January 19, 0002.
-------
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. January 19, 0325.
Raye sighed, and seated herself next to the child. It hadn't occured
to her that Luna was a virgin, had never killed anyone. It had been
such a long time since she had popped her own cherry. Her life for so
long had consisted of nothing else that she never thought that there
were people who didn't. It just wasn't something that existed in her
mind.
She cautiously placed her arm around the suddenly small girl, and in a
motion completely forigen to her, drew the child against herself. Luna
obeyed, unable to do otherwise, seeking warmth and comfort from the
pale woman.
While her injuries had been fixed, she had paid no attention to the
proceedings. It was something Raye would berate her for. Later. Now,
she needed to cultivate the child. Make the death permissible. Make it
all better.
"Luna..." She began awkwardly. This was not what she was. She was a
destroyer, she had slaughtered so many people, she was an Ange. She
was not someone that anyone would go to for comfort.
She tried again. "Luna... do you understand what those people are? The
ones who fight there?"
Luna shivered slightly, pressing herself harder against the woman,
trying to find warmth. She could not find it. It just... wasn't there.
She shook her head slightly, so very slightly that it could have
passed for another shudder.
"They are all... monsters." The words were not coming easily to Raye's
tongue, she had no experience with this. She did not resent being
called a monster, she was what went bump in the night. If someone cut
her, many believed that she would not bleed.
They weren't so wrong.
"They prey on the weak and the innocent." She'd given up trying to
comfort Luna conciously, and was by now merely describing herself.
"They kill for pleasure. They do not feel sorry for what they have
done, they... they are... They are each a far worse than Voldemort."
She paused, then sighed. "They are spiders, they prey on the rest of
the world, the butterflies."
Luna said nothing.
Raye felt like striking the child, but she needed someone like herself.
She couldn't give up Luna. "You saved uncounted numbers of people,
Luna."
Something soft hissed from between the child's lips. "Kill the spiders
to save the butterflies...?"
The child's face turned to look up at the inverted eyes.
Raye saw something in the face. She couldn't tell what it was, only
that it was something she desperately wanted, needed, could not
survive without...
Entranced, she leaned down slowly to press her lips against the girl's.
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. January 19, 0413.
Heaven Queen Carry Me, Away from All Pain...
Demon's Soul of Baer--By being what Raye is. An Ange.
ReginaLucifer--Pretty much.
Relle--Hurt? This is Raye. There is no pain, just pleasure for her.
Freak that she is.
legacyZero--Even after I stated Raye is not an OC back at what, chap
six?
sess9--Is a lot of very.
Killing the Spiders to save the Butterflies comes from Knives of
Trigun.