CHAPTER THREE – TOO MUCH, TOO YOUNG, TOO FAST
If the youma decided they wanted to launch their ultimate assault on humanity at this exact moment, they would have succeeded in about five minutes.
How, you ask?
The defenders of the universe were all so drunk they couldn't tell which way was up.
"Hit me! Hit me…you stupid baka!" a red-faced Mina impatiently banged her empty shot glass on Makoto's kitchen table.
"God, stop being so loud, Mina…geez," Makoto slurred, awkwardly pouring her another "shot" that slopped around the glass. The Senshi of Love eagerly took it, tilting her head back theatrically, her long blonde hair flying as she downed the shot.
It was a scene of drunken revelry in Makoto's apartment, where she conveniently lived alone. Music blared from the radio. The girls tended to let themselves go pretty hard, but not too often, as university studies and fighting youma had to take priority. "You know what they say," Makoto observed grandly, throwing her arms out at the scene before her. "Work hard, play hard! Woo!"
First one bottle, then two bottles of Rei's homemade sake had disappeared between the five of them, Tuxedo Kamen being conspicuously absent for a trip to Singapore. Originally they had planned to go clubbing after pre-gaming at Makoto's, but it soon became apparent from everyone's state that they weren't going anywhere. A third, half-full bottle stood invitingly in the middle of the table, with five twenty-year-olds in varying states of inebriation staring at it.
"You know Mina…you oughta t-take it easy," Usagi hiccupped. "That's like…what, three-four in the past five minutes?" She tried counting them off on her fingers, decided she couldn't do it anymore, and gave up. The Moon Princess in human form slouched back in her chair.
"The table's all blurry from here…" Minako peered down.
"You're looking through the bottom of your glash," Ami slurred. "'Sh-like a magnifier."
The other Senshi couldn't believe how much the model student had changed with a few shots of Rei's sake. Sure, it had taken some convincing in the beginning, but the Senshi of Water was pulling her drinking weight so far—surprisingly enough.
"This shit's really strong tonight," Rei said, looking at the large bottle she had brought over. Her usually perfect raven hair had gotten messy and tangled; a pink flush spread around her cheeks. "Maybe I made it too alcoholic by accident. Oh well." She put the bottle back on the table right-side up and succeeded on the third try.
"My head's spinning…shhhhit, this is bad." Minako gripped the sides of her head with her hands and rested her elbows on the table. George Burns once said, "It only takes one drink to get me drunk. Trouble is, I can't remember if it's the fourteenth or fifteenth." The Senshi of Love had reached that limit. She was done.
"Well, that's one of us down, and this bottle's still half full," Rei mused, her eyes shining devilishly at the leftover sake. "What do you say, Usagi? Want to try to go shot for shot?"
Usagi's blue eyes blinked rapidly as she considered. It very obviously wasn't a good idea.
Rei glanced at Mina, whose head had fallen even lower onto her outspread forearms. "Sheesh Mina, it's a good thing you don't fight as well as you drink; otherwise we'd have to find a new Senshi of Love," she cracked.
Makoto glared. She knew they usually spoke their minds a lot more bluntly when they were drunk, but she didn't like what she heard. She let the sake do the talking.
"You…you know what, Rei? I'm friggin'…tired o'your shit," the tall brunette rumbled. "Why you always hafta be such a…"
"A what?" a roused Rei stood up quickly, wobbling dangerously before regaining her balance. The miko glared at her friend. "A what, exactly? I'll torch you."
"In the name of the Moon…SHUT THE HELL UP!" Usagi yelled. "Just…just sit down. I mean, life isn't that bad, is it?" The blonde hiccupped once again. Oblivious, she started to twirl awkwardly around the room; how she kept her balance will never be known.
In her happy dance, Usagi started rattling off exactly why she thought their lives were so perfect. "We've got…a kingdom on the Moon in the future," she practically sang/hiccupped. "Awesome powers…I've got the world's greatest boyfriend…and we all get to kick monsters' asses and look hot while doing it. What's…what's not to love about that?"
Usagi finally careened to a stop, steadying herself against the table with a smile that said, "Who, me? I'm okay."
"Shesh you, Ushagi," Ami mumbled, her eyes closed. One tiny pale hand was buried in her blue hair, elbow on the table. "Eashy for you to shay."
Everyone stared at her; even in their drunken stupor, they could see the mood had quickly gotten serious. Ami rubbed her hand back and forth through her short blue hair as she mused.
"You're the Moon Prinshesh…you're important…and the resht of us…s'like we're pawns in a chesh board," the genius sighed.
"Ami…" Usagi said. "I think…you've had a little too much…to drink."
"You guys are all…better…than me," Ami continued. "You're all prettier than I am…and my attacks are…fucking ushlesh. All I can do is just…sit there with my computer and…spray fog everywhere. I'm just the smart one…nothing more."
Her friends stared at her in silence. As the saying went, there wasn't a thing said while drunk that hadn't been thought while sober. They had never seen their friend so despondent. Even Rei had dropped into respectful silence at this point.
All except for Mina, of course. She practically threw her upper body across the table and latched onto Ami's forearm.
"Ami, don't s-say things like that," the blonde said about as seriously as she could given her state of mind. "We love you so much. You're so important to us. Look, I know—I'm the love doctor—"
Mina had stretched too far to stay upright. She tumbled out of her chair to the floor in the most ungraceful way possible, her seat following her in a clatter. Laughs broke out all around; even Ami joined in.
The mood now considerably lightened, Mina's friends hurried to help her up.
"I wish Artemis was here," the blonde said offhand. "He'd be so mad at me right now…he's off doing some cat thing…"
"You know, I think it's time we called it a night," Rei said somberly, making a good call for once to nods of agreement.
"I gotta go to the bathroom," said Mina, who hurried off.
Usagi stepped over to Ami, who was still sitting and looking more comfortable. Filled with compassion, the blonde tenderly laid both hands on the side of the genius' face, tilting her head up.
"You are a Sailor Senshi, a guardian of love and justice," the Moon Princess said soothingly, her eyes sparkling. "No matter what. We're all in this together. If I lost you or anyone else, I'd be devastated. Remember, Ami…never forget, that you are loved."
Usagi leaned over and gently kissed her Senshi's forehead. "And I'll be honest, I'm surprised you think the rest of us are better looking than you. I think you're pretty damn cute." Ami couldn't help but smile.
"Guys, where's Mina?" Rei asked worriedly, bringing them all crashing back to reality.
"Bathroom, I thought?" Ami said.
"She's not there…"
"What? How the…how'd she leave without any of us seeing?" Makoto asked.
"I don't know…because she's…Sailor V?" Usagi offered unhelpfully. "Besides, I'm sure she'll be fine. How much trouble could a drunken Senshi get into?" Three glares answered her question.
"Ami, get your computer out. We all wear those trackers for a reason. We've got to find her."
#######################################################
Mina "walked" (rather, stumbled) down the dark streets of Tokyo back home. She was still feeling incredibly dizzy and wasn't sure why she had left the apartment in the first place—she hadn't exactly been thinking.
"But what the hell? I'm Sailor V, bitch," she muttered.
As she continued "walking" in her drunken stupor, Mina came to the realization that at the rate she was walking, it would take way too long to get home. To correct this, she immediately decided to fling herself into a run so she could move faster.
Which didn't end well.
For the second time tonight, the Senshi of Love fell to the ground. At least there was someone to help her up.
Only it seemed as if he was handling her rather roughly…
"Wait a—hic—second—" she started to cry for help, but Mina found herself being dragged toward a dark blue van parked on the side of the road. She reached for her transformation pen.
"Get it—get the pen, you idiot!" one of the kidnappers hissed. Mina found her hand closing on air.
Three or four…people? Youma?...shoved her into the van's back compartment. She felt something close over her mouth; she struggled to breath; couldn't. Felt something pulled over her head…suddenly she felt very sleepy. And being that she had had quite a lot to drink, it seemed only natural that she should sleep it off so she would feel better in the morning…
"What do they call that stuff again, boss?" an underling asked as they proceeded to tie up the captured Senshi.
"Ether," said the driver simply. "Quick. Efficient. Just as we are supposed to operate."
"These human forms are getting uncomfortable. Can we de-transform now?" At his nod, the four kidnappers seemed to melt, their skin falling away to reveal their gray demonoid faces. They stretched their leathery gray hands and shook out manes of long, disheveled black hair. Their pointed faces were permanent expressions of cruelty as they eyed their prey.
"Lucretius," one of them said to their driver, "What are the next steps, now that our…lovely little friend is in our custody?" The speaker revoltingly licked his lips.
"You will do with her whatever, and whenever, I tell you," was the curt response.
The driver, who was clearly running the operation, wore a terrifying black and white kabuki mask that covered his face. Menacing black curves struck around the eyes, curving around the cheekbones. The expression on the mask was one of pure rage, the face set in a permanent howl of anger, designed to inspire mankind's oldest emotion: fear.
He was dressed in heavy black robes, with a greasy rope tied around the waist. On the dashboard was his round-brimmed brown hat that looked like something Freddy Krueger might wear. The brim tapered to a point towards the front, letting the hat cover his face if Lucretius so wanted.
"Search her," Lucretius commanded deeply. "There should be a tracker on her body somewhere. When you find it, destroy it…and be very thorough," he finished with relish. They continued to drive into the night.
#########################################################
The Empty Glass was like a tiny pocket of loud, smoky, Americanism in one of Tokyo's business districts. At any hour of the day, dozens of Westerners, both local office workers and tourists alike, could be found drinking. Especially if you were a deal team at Goldman Sachs who had just completed the grunt work on your first piece of business for the firm—which meant it was time to let go and party hard.
"That was one hell of a project, guys! Work hard, play hard!" associate Jim Greenberg joyfully ordered another round of tequila shots.
Matt Sneider grimaced. He had never been fond of the stuff. He had never been fond of drinking, period—even in college. When the first two rounds had been ordered courtesy of his immediate boss, as promised, Sneider had taken them just to be polite. But it was clear there was a long night ahead of him.
When the shots arrived for the group, Jim announced, "Sneider—you propose a toast this time. What are we drinking to now?"
Sneider thought briefly. They had already had two toasts, one for "living the dream" and the other for "doing God's work." He wanted to say something proud, but not too obnoxious.
"Here's to…a year of kicking ass and taking names," he said confidently, raising his shot glass. Cheers of agreement went all around as the tequila disappeared. "Good man," Jim Greenberg commended, biting into a lime wedge.
Sneider smirked as he felt the tequila's warmth spread through his stomach. "I know," he said smugly. The alcohol was clearly starting to affect his head a little bit.
"I have to say though, when we had to redesign the entire presentation with the new numbers and re-do all the spreadsheets, that was pretty clutch on your part," the associate continued. "Am I right, guys? It took you only, what, half an hour to do all that?"
Matt shrugged enthusiastically, more from the alcohol than anything else. "What can I say, guys? Today the planet, tomorrow the universe!"
Matt Sneider was proud to work in finance, but when he had a few drinks it became much more extreme; if anyone had heard him talking like that in real life, he would probably get his ass kicked. But not when he was sitting around a table with seven other members of the same bank who were just as proud, if not more, to be where they were.
However, few people ever discussed how close one got with one's co-workers on this job. Since they spent the lion's share of their lives in the office, close bonds developed rather quickly. In fact, Matt thought that in some ways it was a lot like college. Only they were making a bit more money now than they had then.
As Jim motioned for another round of shots (Jagermeister this time), Matt shook his head quickly. His forehead felt dense, and his stomach was wondering exactly what the hell he was putting into it. He wished he was on the shooting range with his uncle; he already missed his favorite hobby.
Jim clapped him on the shoulder. "What's the matter man? Need help holding your liquor? We aren't even on four shots yet!" The other analysts laughed.
The liquor continued to flow. Luckily for a lightweight like Matt Sneider, the time in between ordering shots increased, giving him a little time to recover before peer pressure forced another ounce down his throat.
They don't call alcohol "the social lubricant" for nothing. About an hour later, everyone around the table mysteriously seemed a lot more willing to share some…interesting thoughts.
"I'm telling you man, I have no idea how it happened," Jim said loudly. "I just woke up on the floor of my office in the suit I was wearing the day before, my head resting on a pile of printer paper, hurts like a bitch—NO IDEA HOW I GOT THERE. Talk about being bitch-slapped by reality!"
"And the VP didn't care?" another analyst, Alex, asked in disbelief.
"Ha, that's the best part!" Jim said. "My VP comes in, wearing a giant pair of sunglasses, holding his head, carrying like 3 containers of orange juice—"
"He got shitfaced the night before too?" Alex laughed crazily.
"Exactly! We just kinda looked at each other and said, 'Long night?' Nothing happened! Lucked out big time," Jim finished.
"Best cure for a hangover," an analyst said importantly. "Ready? Gatorade, huge greasy breakfast, college football, long nap. Repeat. That's it."
"I don't know how likely it is we're gonna get college football in Japan, dude," Matt pointed out.
"Who cares about college football? We all know what the best thing is…Japanese high school girls," a very drunk analyst point out. "They're everywhere! It's like…and those skirts…whoa…does this make me a bad person?"
"Being that they're underage—yes, that does make you a bad person, sicko," Matt snapped.
"Sneider, easy now," Jim intervened. "He's just drunk off his ass; he doesn't know what he's saying. He's probably just upset because he doesn't know how tell his girlfriend back home he only likes Asian girls now," he joked. A round of laughter followed.
"I'd be pretty upset too, if I was a fuckin' pedophile," a red-faced Matt Sneider grunted angrily. He fumed quietly for a few minutes, staring at his glass. Some people just really disgusted him.
"I'll tellya what'll make me upset," said another member of the group. "Busting my ass back home in another industry for half the pay." Groans and shudders filled every person in the group; it was time for another shot...
#########################################################
"Shit, is it closing time already?" asked Jim incredulously. "Damn, we've been here like forever! Come on guys, let's let them close up…"
Matt took a taxi home to his apartment, his head spinning from the copious amounts of liquor. He could barely walk straight. He stumbled into his kitchen and slowly drank a large glass of water. When he had chugged it, he held his head. The red glare of his clock read: 4:13 am. He shut his eyes, knowing that he would be ready to go on a rampage when morning came.
"Geez, for God's sake, who parties till 4am on a weekday?" an irritated voice that definitely didn't belong to Matt Sneider announced.
The analyst glanced around in his stupor, turning every which way to find the voice. His eyes finally settled on a white cat with a crescent moon on its forehead sitting on his couch. Even though he was almost completely out of his mind at this point, Matt Sneider knew that this animal hadn't been here when he had left for work earlier today.
"Look, are you still too out of it to even think right now, or should I just come back later?" the cat spoke.
Matt Sneider stared in astonishment, reeling back in shock. "What the fuck?" he cried out, bumping loudly into his kitchen table.
"Not so loud; you'll wake the neighbors," the cat instructed. The two of them looked at one another for a long time. Finally Sneider shook his head in disbelief and started to get ready for bed. "This isn't happening," he muttered. "Apparently, when you mix copious amounts of liquor and Japanese food…coupled with sleeping about nine hours over the past three nights…and chug a glass of Tokyo water…you get LSD."
Artemis hung his head. This wasn't going to be easy.