Full Summary:

Rory was hoping the universe would cut them some slack after Seattle's previous crisis left them with a whole lot of powers and a lot less confusion about where they came from. But the appearance of gangbangers in the city calls into question everything Rory knows about being a soldier. Where does the jurisdiction of a Sailor Soldier end? Can she really stand by as the beautiful palette of the city she loves is dinged by violence and fear? Or will getting involved do more harm than good?

Meanwhile, two conspirators operate a sinister machine whose purpose is realized as the lights in the city go out. Can the Sailor Soldiers defend the treasure they've been entrusted to protect?

And who are these mysterious strangers?

Man, high school shouldn't have to be this complicated.

The sequel to "And We Shall Purify."


Previously, in the final moments of "And We Shall Purify"...

"From opposite ends of the city, two moving vans pulled into the Seattle area. In the eastern van, a young woman navigated her way through the new streets, her companion half-asleep in the passenger seat. "We're almost there," she hushed as the girl stirred, emerging from the cocoon of her blanket against the car door. She took a deep breath—it had been a long time since she had felt this hopeful.

The news reports in this area were almost too convenient to be true, but she was willing to take the gamble.

She peered over into the other seat as they came to a light. "I really think this could be it. What do you think?""


From opposite ends of the city, two moving vans pulled into the Seattle area. The second just happened to be temporally distanced from the first by three hours.

The western van chugged along the backroads of the city, traversing the neighborhoods where the streetlights only half worked and the residents knew better than to be out after dark. The driver kept his focus on the road, too used to this shit to be distracted by the metallic clunk of their merchandise in the back of the van.

"Harlo's gonna' kill us." The rookie in the seat beside him lounged back in his seat. He was trying to be cool, but Vincent could see his gaze flicking nervously along the street, as if the man was going pull up out of the shadows right then and gank them both for catching the 6:00 PM rush out of Spokane. Held them up for hours.

"Harlo's not going to do shit," Vincent narrowed his eyes, fingers flicking over the wheel as he turned them down into the part of town they were meant to have been in, if they hadn't been held up. "The man needs runners, and he ain't gonna get his hands dirty. He can hold tight."

The rookie, Tray or something, twisted the leather of the door handle, the material squeaking noisily. "Whatever you say, man. I ain't about this shit."

A grin tugged at his lips. This man looked like he was going to wet himself. "You chickening out? Don't let Harlo know you ain't in it. You'll make yourself a liability."

"I don't know, man." The man's knee bounced, shaking the van. "The stash was one thing, but this isn't what I signed up for. This shit is serious."

Vincent shook his head. "Then I guess you better get serious."

It was well into the dark when they pulled up to the building, climbing out and slamming the van doors behind them. The sky burned orange up above, but the sun was almost gone. They needed to go ahead and get this shit inside before anyone started wondering what two guys with prison tats were hanging out at an abandoned lot.

Vincent glanced around before jamming the key in the lock. Tray stuck tight behind him with a duffle bag, and as soon as he could see the metal glinting inside the guy began stuffing the bag full. They had to figure out a better way to do this shit. This looked sketchy as fuck.

Tray rounded suddenly, yelping "Hey," as something jostled a stray trash can behind them.

The man's itchy trigger finger was reaching for his belt before Vincent could stop him. "Watch it," he barked as a sharp bang racketed out—


From under her covers, the moonlight fighting its way into her bedroom, Rory jolted awake.


Episode 1: Two Plains, Temporally Distanced by an Approximate Time

Rory blinked into the darkness, heart pounding. The atmosphere had the kind of liminal weirdness of an empty airport or a hospital, like being between two places. For a minute, she wasn't sure if she was actually awake or not.

She stayed cocooned on her side until she knew the adrenaline making her body shake was real. She stared around the room, trying to figure out what had woken her. She felt the tell-tale shift of the covers near her ankles, and she sat up as Celene padded up the comforter.

The cat's soft "voice" broke the silence of the bedroom. "What on earth was that?"

Rory's phone buzzed. She reached over, grabbing it where it's box of light burst upward from the nightstand. Nerves keyed-up, she unlocked it, reading the message. It was from Narma.

did you hear that shit just now too?

I guess

something woke me up

Not really awake

freaking gunshots

The two words blared up from the screen at her, before her stomach sunk like a stone. She groaned, throwing her arm over her face as she fell back into her pillows. She'd thought it had gotten too quiet, not counting the chaos the pithos had set the city under.

Celene wrinkled her little whiskers, standing too close to her head. "What is it?"

Her door creaked. Celene shot under the covers at at least mach 2, particles of fur peppering the air as Rory's mama filled up the doorway.

"You okay, baby?" Even in full shadow, she could still make out the wrinkle of concern on her mother's face.

She answered the way she had grown used to over many years, the response tailored to A. let her mother know she was used to the sound, and didn't need to be worried over, and B. that settling them in the only neighborhood they could do for hadn't ruined their lives, turning her into a stone cold hoodlum because gunshots could maybe sometimes be construed as a norm for her. "Jus' loud." She rubbed her eye for good measure. "You gonna be able to sleep?"

Mama's shoulders deflated. "Don't you worry about me. You just try to get some rest."

It wasn't a real question, because they both knew she was going to be up all night fretting over where her brother was at, even thought he was away at community college and not in the area.

They said "I love you" and Mama closed the door again. Celene emerged from her cave in the covers, demanding to know what was happening.

Rory glanced back to her phone. She peered over the last message Narma had sent over as she blearily explained the concept of an earth human gang.

Those lunatics had better not be starting

up this shit again I swear can this city

get chill for like 5 freaking minutes

Shooooooosh

Go back to sleep you aint gonna do anything by raging at them

You don't know that and you can't stop me

lu goodnight

Rory sighed, knowing the following months were going to be tainted by the anxiety of police sirens and unfriendly faces. Guess her stargazing was going to have to take a raincheck for a little while.

This was going to be a long summer break.

Her gaze lingered on the golden chest, sitting innocuously on the trunk at the end of her bed. The Cosmos Treasure Box. How strange it felt, having this artifact of her new life (and, perhaps, her old, OLD life?) around, knowing that life, big L life, was about to rear its ugly head.

X


The Storybook Café knew to expect them, whether in the dark morning or crammed in with the afterschool rush. Their gatherings in the temple of café had become almost cultish in the last weeks leading up to summer break, their jittery energy outlasting even the drudgery of the school day. They were not quite used to the peace, but glad for the healing.

Mallory had appointed herself the designated drink supplier of their group, as she bafflingly still had access to the card of her House and therefore an oft-stretched allowance.

"It's cheaper than renting the Needle," the girl had shrugged.

But she refused to stand in line, so that task was passed off to Narma. A response to her feeling like the weakest link in these little meetings? No, not at all. But after that day, she had volunteered to do it for every meeting.

Namely, because the barista was very, very cute. Dark, curly hair and soulful eyes, yes please.

She leaned casually on the counter, trying to look nonchalant as Manuel turned back from wiping down the espresso machine.

"Got your order right here," he grinned. He passed her the tray of four cups: a matcha-mint iced latte, a lavender lemonade, a chai, and a venti double shot. "Saw you guys come in a little while ago."

She gestured to the line behind her. "You're a popular guy, it seems. I'm flattered. Such special attention." She fluttered her lashes dramatically, but in reality she was flattered. How was she supposed to interpret this? Was this kindness for their patronage, or because she'd really, really been trying to get this guy's attention for like two weeks now?

She'd left her number on a dollar in the tip jar once, but forgot to write her name. Stupid!

He laughed. "Only the best, of course, for my most loyal customers." He gave a little bow.

She giggled. She sounded like an idiot. "Well, thank you then, good sir." She passed over the card and tried not to stare too obviously into his puppy-dog eyes.

His eyes glanced to their table in the corner. "What is it you guys are always talking about over there, anyway? Seems like there's…" They stared, the day's argument continuing to volley wildly in the corner, Rory attempting to talk Mallory down from her suggestion of patrol in the city, "…a pretty heated debate going on."

Watching those two was like seeing an unstoppable force meeting an unmovable object.

Except they were both dorks. "Eh. You know. Just summer plans."

He nodded his chin shortly. "I see. Must be some plans." He glanced away. "Hopefully, you won't be too busy. I was…actually hoping we might be able to go out some time." He raised his brows.

As he casually passed back the debit card, she felt the texture of a piece of paper slipped in beside it. Holy shit, finally! "Well, I may be able to work you into my busy schedule." She tucked the card back into her pocket. "I'll have to get back to you once I've checked with my secretary."

"Just give me a call when you're available," he winked. "I'm sure we can work something out."

She returned to the table with a new sense of accomplishment, the argument still going strong. She passed out the drinks, the wayward paper crinkling in her pocket.

Mallory jammed a finger into the table top. "This strategy is going to be vital if we are going to continue our vigilantism in the city. We can't just sit on our thumbs and wait until something gets big enough to end up on the news. There's no point in training if the end result is us being a completely ineffectual force."

Narma smiled into her straw, settling back into her seat. "Maybe we should get a bat signal."

True to form, Mallory took the suggestion with the utmost sincerity. "I doubt we could find somewhere we could see it at all times."

Rory's eyebrows scrunched up together. It still felt odd to see her so serious; hard to believe this was the same girl who spent their last week of middle school parkouring onto the roof so she and Narma could eat together away from the loudness of other people. "Girl, all I'm saying is it is going to look suspicious if the little four of us keep showing up on the same routes."

That seemed like such a small world now. Rory's priorities had certainly shifted; she'd really taken charge during the whole pithos calamity. Hard to believe it had only been a couple weeks. Narma dashed her pencil over the center of her sketchpad, red shade forming the edge of a suit. She'd…kind of gotten into the habit of designing around her current muse? What could she say; Manuel had model-like features. Not her usual thing, but there was a collection of around twenty different outfits in her book now that said otherwise.

There was a rustling as someone took the seat at Narma's side. "Sorry I'm late," Carmen said breathlessly. She brushed her bangs from her forehead. "Had to deliver some packages downtown for my dad."

Narma pushed down the tender pang at her friend's harried expression; keep it nice and platonic. Talking with the girl had gotten more comfortable, but girl's presence was still a recipe for mixed feelings.

Narma eyed the multiple bags she'd been toting, which looked heavy all on their own. "Tell him to get a butler. He can afford it." She pulled over the lavender lemonade from the center of the table, passing it to Carmen.

"Thanks." Carmen took a sip from the dripping cup. "He needs an assistant. He just doesn't have time to look for one. Hey, did you get the application in?"

Narma brightened. She'd actually forgotten she'd got that shit done, riding off the high of scoring the cute barista's number. "Yeah, I did. They are going to be looking over applications by the last week of school. I've just got to wait around at this point."

Seattle was host to one of the most watched fashion institutes currently on the rise. She'd been both thrilled and frantic when she'd found out they were hosting summer internships for students only one week from the deadline, and she'd been scouring her sketch books for her best work since. She'd finally sent off the application a couple days ago.

"That's great," Carmen smiled.

"Yeah," Rory added, who had 100% been subjected to Narma's frantic texts as she typed up her cover letter in a frenzy at two in the morning. "She's got this. She's been on the fashion thing for years. They'd be stupid not to bring her in."

"Meh." Narma had never known how to respond to compliments, but she relished in the warmth glowing in her chest.

Mallory sat up in hair chair as Carmen pulled out several books from her bag. "Ah, doing some research. That could be beneficial to the current situation. Good work, operative."

Carmen thumped the cover of the book open. She sighed. "It's just calculus, sorry."

"Oh." Mallory nodded. "Of course." She coughed, and Narma struggled not to laugh at her. However Narma might have felt, that girl was not subtle at all. "So are you down for the patrol plan, or what?"

Carmen didn't meet her eyes. "Um."

Mallory threw her arms up. "Oh, come on, people!"

Rory slurped loudly from her cup. "Girl, we just got done with the crazy. Can't we just chill for a minute?"

"We've been 'chilling' for three weeks," Mallory huffed, leaning dangerously back onto only two chair legs. "I'm just not at all convinced that someone isn't going to show up to yoink this ancient artifact in about two seconds."

That's right—the Cosmos Treasure Box thing. Celene hadn't been able to tell them much, but enough for Narma to gather that the thing might be a hot commodity for frisky aliens.

Rory placed a hand on the other girl's shoulder, steading the chair legs back on the ground with a clack. "Hey, you don't have to be in super-spy mode anymore, remember? All this prep is rad as heck, but you don't have to stress about this thing every second. It seems like everything is fitting to stay calm right now, anyways."

Narma's hand jolted a thick line across the paper as the lights went out overhead. "Shit!"

There was a yelp of surprise somewhere in the room. Everyone looked up—which, why? Not like they were going to see anything, it was a power outage—but the lights remained unlit. It wasn't that dark, though, sundown just encroaching on the horizon. Chatter gauged up in the room.

Mallory stared across at them flatly.

"…it could be nothing," Rory said slowly.

"Sorry guys," a girl called from the register. "Not sure what happened. We're going to check the fuses now. Hang tight."

Carmen frowned. Rising from her seat, she moved towards the door, leaning to peer out.

Narma got up to follow, curious.

"I don't think you're going to have any luck with that," Carmen called back into the room, her clear voice distinct in the hubbub. She turned to the register. "Looks like it's the whole block."

Narma frowned. She looked herself—sure enough, figures meandered along the street looking lost, peering puzzled at the blank traffic lights and unlit store fronts. In the distance, even as the falling sun made them more visible, the high-rises were all dark inside. She couldn't see a single light on anywhere.

"Nah," Mallory called from behind. Turning, Narma saw the girl consulting her phone. "It's the whole city. News team just posted an update about it. Apparently, they just got like a million texts."

"You subscribe to the Channel 5's news feed?" Narma raised her pierced brow.

"Of course." Mallory cut her phone off.

The ruckus cut out at the lights flickered back on. "Oh," Carmen lowered her hand from the door. "I guess that was it, then."

Rory's frown did not waiver, though. She shot Narma a look from her place at the table. Narma nodded back, finishing her drink. She couldn't help but wonder what had happened.

As they filed out of the Café, Rory was already ready with marching orders. It seemed Mallory was going to get her wish after all. "As you guys head home, keep an eye out. If you see anything weird, send out the signal. As much as I want to think this was just the electric company goofing it, we can't be too careful."

"Sir, yes sir," Mallory saluted sardonically, before turning and heading back towards the House.

"And let me know when you get home," Rory called after her, Carmen agreed too before they all went their separate ways. Of course, in Narma and Rory's case, the way was the same.

"I am really not about this weird shit again," Narma sighed.

"Yeah." Rory's miniature backpack was held in her arms, instead of her back. Narma wondered if she was conscious of it. She seemed distracted. "Hey. So that noise this morning."

Narma took a breath. "I know I only caught the tail end of it last time, right before the last bust. I'm sorry; I know if this thing blows up its going to be worse for you." Even outside of whatever caused that noise, if folks began patrolling the neighborhood they were always going to look at Rory and think worse of her than Narma. Sad fucking fact. It pissed her off so bad. Rory wouldn't hurt a fly, wouldn't get involved in that shit ever, even if technically she was now able to rip a space monster to pieces. Which, wild, by the way.

"It's just the world," Rory sighed. "You would think being space aliens would mean we're exempt from this kind of BS."

She snorted. "Unfortunately girl, I think people would find a way to be fucking racists even in space." She paused. "Space-racists."

"Spacists," Rory threw in, grinning.

The street lights flickered. Narma stopped, a familiar sensation coiling inside of her. She peered back to Rory to find her staring back with the same expression. Slowly, reluctantly, she asked. "…does your stomach hurt?"

At a nearby location, a woman in a lab coat pulled the lever back into the upright position. The transfer complete, she stepped back, eyes peering over the scan of the city. The map of the power grid shuddered like a settling wave. "I believe that's done it. Everything seems to be prepared."

The Professor crossed her arms, gaze moving to the flickering video feed on the main screen. "You're sure this is going to work."

The Benefactor, her currently constant and critical mentor, glanced down her nose at her, pushing up her glasses. "I would have to be, wouldn't I? I've tested the technology myself. This should be basic for you. Or is the incentive not enough?" The particular loathing burning in her gaze set all the professor's hackles up, its depth and familiarity.

But now was not the time. She had worked too hard on this, ever since the Benefactor's first contact. It was time to enact their magnum opus. She gritted her teeth. "You know it is."

Fingers skimming over the number pad on the Machine's interface, she flipped the lever in the opposite direction. Taking a breath, she slowly and purposefully pressed down on the 1.

The flickering amped up, the flashes of light on the still not-fully-sundown avenue becoming a strobe. Narma's already cramping stomach dropped as something seemed to flicker in the distance.

"What is that?" Rory squinted, the shape impossible to make out from where they were standing.

"We can follow the lights." Narma took off. No time to waste. This little techno light party wasn't nothing after all, it seemed.

"I'll head on. Don't move in without me." Rory flung the bag around her shoulders.

Like she would. She watched Rory use a nearby alleyway as easily as a stairwell and shoot off, free-running the roof tops.

She was not as fit, no debate, but she kept going. There were screams from ahead. She almost let out an exclamation of grief as she saw the origin point of the light show. Go figure. Aurora Bridge.

Cars were backed up spectacularly, doors hanging open and abandoned. She stopped short as she identified the cause, mouth dropping open. What the hell is that!?

She wasn't sure how to even describe it. It was almost like a living lightning bolt, but with arms and legs, almost bug-like. A void of dark interior with a bright white aura along the edges and streaming from its eyes. It was bright, and sharp-looking. It was huge. It hung gripping the rafters of the bridge, screeching. The sound was horrible—it remained Narma of the time she'd traveled south to visit family, and a cicada had gotten stuck in the jam of her relative's door.

She gaped, only shook out of it when a hand gripped the back of her shirt and pulled her into the alley. She turned to see Rory, looking as horrified as she felt. "What is that?"

Rory said, "I don't know!"

"It's huge!"

"I know!"

"We've got to fight that?" Narma knew it wasn't really a question.

"I…" Rory faltered. "I guess?" She dropped the backpack, pulling out what Narma already know would be inside—the beta scepter. She reached into her own pocket, feeling the same.

But, wait—that wasn't right anymore, was it? They knew their planet's names now. Should they call that instead? She raised the scepter, and prepared to activate it, but inside her head, something was still suggesting something different. A memory.

Always better to just go with it, she had found. She cried out, "Egeria Star Power, make-up!"

The same tingling sensation overtook her as always, vision obscured by prismatic light. But in her hand, she could almost feel the scepter shifting. The light dimmed. She looked to Beta—Boreas, she guessed—and noticed something else. "You look different!"

Her uniform had changed, just slightly. There were more stripes along her collar and skirt (ranking? The military did that, right?) the flared armor on her shoulders seeming more severe. Looking down, she noticed the same changes in her own uniform.

"You too," Sailor Boreas shot back. "Maybe because we used the names?"

"Who knows," Narma replied. "Now let's do see what we're dealing with."

They moved towards the bridge, scepters at the ready. Narma had never fought anything this big before, and she wasn't feeling good about this thing seeming to have some kind of electric theme. Not a great combo with water powers.

"What is it doing?" Boreas squinted at the thing.

Matter of fact, what was it doing? The bridge was cleared now of any fleeing civilians. So why was it up there?

"Good damn question. Hey, spindly legs! Yeah, I'm talking to you!"

The creature didn't seem to care about the taunting. It did, however, turn its attention to them. It screeched. "Eeeeeeeeekkkk!"

"Oh, shit," Narma—no, wait, she was Egeria right now, might as well be consistent—turned to see Sailor Boreas staring not at the creature, but the road as they advanced. She followed her line of sight and froze.

She'd been wrong about the civilians. Although the cars were thrown open, there were still plenty of people on the road, face down or crumpled. No blood, though. The street was fully of seemingly uninjured but unconscious people. How was that? Did this thing manage to somehow knock all these people out without actually hurting them? How considerate.

A thought left her cold: maybe they'd been electrocuted. Maybe these people were dead.

No time to find out. The creature began to advance.

It crawled along the bridge side before sweeping out a limb. The thin, needle-like bolt of an arm swept out at them, Egeria leaping back to get out of the way. She could only hope Boreas had done the same. The path of the arm cut cleanly through a line of empty cars, car alarms screaming into the open air. The sun was disappearing in the distance, the creature's energy blinking wildly.

"So it's made of lightsabers," Boreas panted out. "I didn't sign up for that."

Egeria laughed. "You signed up?"

Nope, this thing didn't have a sense of humor. It pulled the arm back and struck out with a leg. The lightning bolt point crashed into the asphalt before them. They dove away,

She heard Sailor Boreas cast out her base attack; that thing was reliable to a t. "Dire Stellar Gust!"

The creature hissed against the onslaught, but didn't seem to be overly effected. Narma's heart pounded. What if this thing turned out to just be more than they could handle?

She winced. While there was no blood on the concrete now, Spindly Legs did not seem to care where his strikes landed. That kick out had been way to close to a civilian splayed on the ground below. If it hit anything like the, where it had slashed through the cars…

Weird, though. If this thing had any sort of lightning powers, why wasn't it using them? It seemed to be relying on physical attacks. Sailor Egeria moved forward.

"No dice," Rory cum Sailor Boreas called out.

"My turn, then." Egeria swung out her arms. How to do this? There was plenty of water below… maybe she could knock it off. "How do you like this, guy? Typhoon Strikedown!"

She'd never tried to use the attack horizontally before. It didn't really work: the water blasted from between the cars, but the entity just contorted unnaturally out of the way. She hissed; that put her out for the next few minutes, too. Dammit.

The creature's mannerisms had shifted. While before she might have called the thing mildly irritated by their presence; now it seemed almost too intent. It screeched, but still, none of its lightning-like body moved to zap them. Why?

Apparently, Sailor Boreas had noticed something before she did, because she suddenly heard her gasp, "Quick, get off the pavement!"

Too late. No sooner had she registered the order than lightning descended on the bridge, But she wasn't electrocuted, as she had anticipated. Instead, the waves of energy dragged over her, and a heaviness flooded through her, rushing to replace it. Her knees were weak; she crashed to the pavement. Why—why couldn't she— "Danm," she slurred. "Sorrrry. Can't-t move."

There was a sort of ringing in the air, but she could make out Boreas replying after screaming out another gust. "It's not expelling energy, it's absorbing it! It's using the metal in the roadway as a conductor. Crap."

That explained the absence of that static being weaponized. It didn't want to expend its payload, maybe. Narma tried to lift herself up, but merely crashed back to the roadway. Looked like whatever upgrade she'd unlocked was going to be useless to her anyway.

Still, she had to do something. Sailor Boreas—screw it, Rory—was now fighting something twice her size with an attack that didn't work on it.

Regret, now, for not following their own rules. They should have called for backup.

Rory was doing her best to stay off the ground, but it wasn't doing her much good. Everything around them was metal, metal, metal. The girl yelped, leaping from cartop to cartop trying to avoid the drain. "Dire Stellar—agh!"

Narma yelped as the creature's leg caught Rory in the middle. She watched her friend spit up blood as she collided with the railing opposite—and flipped over. No!

But no, still there. She could see the golden yellow of the girl's glove still clinging to the edge as she screamed from below. "Help!"

She could still barely move. What could she do? She watched Spindly Legs crawl down from the scaffolding, moving for the other side where Rory was hanging, vulnerable.

How determined was this thing to hold on to what it had collected? This could be a really bad idea. She grit her teeth, fighting to raise her arm. Once more, recharged, she called on her attack—this time, straight down. "Typhoon Strikedown!"

The geyser crashed down over the creature. Narma shuddered as stray sparks flickered through her nerves, but the rampant rain obeyed her, confining itself to a controlled ring around the creature.

It shrieked. It almost seemed to short-circuit, its own electricity dancing over its body. If you can't handle the pain, don't dish it out, creep. Finally, it spasmed, crawling frantically over the wall to the underside of the bridge.

The lights stopped flickering. With relief, Narma began to feel the drain on her limbs loosen, like someone had turned down the gravity. She dragged herself over, gravel biting into her legs, to grasp Rory's hand. "Got you. Can you pull yourself up?"

"Y-yeah," Rory hissed. "Got the leverage now." Once topside, she leaned onto her knees, looking shaken. Surprisingly, the area in the middle of her uniform where she had gotten hit didn't seem to be torn, but she could see the stretch in the fabric where the impact had landed.

"Did I kill it?" Narma asked, eyes frantically scanning the bridge's edges. The possibility seemed too good to be true. "Did it fall in the water?"

Sailor Boreas shook her head. Leaning back over, her gaze reflected the empty depths of the water below. "No," she said. "No. It just vanished."

They looked at each other. Narma managed to pull herself up, bracing on an abandoned car. "We need to text the others. Let them know what's going on."

"When need to call the hospital," Rory said, clutching her middle.

Narma's stomach dropped. "It got you that bad?"

"No," Rory said. "But look around. Notice anything?"

She didn't until Rory said it. The bridge's silence felt like a liminal space, like a parking lot at midnight, an area of passage from one plain to another, unusually still.

All around them, no one else was moving to get up.

"What is this?" Narma heard herself say, feeling detached from her body.

Rory's gaze over Aurora Bridge seemed to go on for miles. Absently, she shook her head. "I don't know."


The owner of the eastern van found a temporary stop in at a red-roof. It was a dismal place; Gwen was pretty sure there were bed bugs in at least one of the room's two, and so she had offered to take the couch. Her body ached all over, which was fairly unusual for her. She usually took better care of it than this.

She stretched over her head, turning to gaze across to the room's other occupant. "Alright, that's the call, starshine. Time to go to bed."

The other girl flopped onto her side compliantly, peering back through a fluffy cloud of hair. "You're not going to sleep," she accused mildly, expression flat. "You don't sleep."

That was a bit of an exaggeration, but not untrue in and of itself. Gwen probably wouldn't sleep, but there were other things she would be handling in the meantime. "You got me there. You'll just have to sleep extra hard for me."

Gwen watched her close her eyes and turn onto her back. "I'll send you an aura of restfulness."

Gwen nodded. "I appreciate that."

Her attention flicked back to her laptop, where two young faces stared back at her from the national news network. She closed the page, settling down on the couch to continue her research,

First thing in the morning, she needed to change their hair.


A/N: Alright guys! Season Two begins. :) I am planning to update about every three days or so, so keep an eye out!

Please leave a comment if you can; I would love to hear your thoughts. Hope you enjoy!