Eclipse of the Moon 2: Purification Day
Chapter 6
All rights belong to Naoko, who is not me, and some Hollywood studio, who is also not me.
My email is at this point so screwed up I have no idea who has or has not recieved this. C&C requested.
http://members.bellatlantic.net/~vze2qdyg/
Spiffy new site.
-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --
-- File: eotm26.txt
Breathing deeply, Chiba Mamoru closed the door behind
him and leaned against it. With a mental sigh, he
gratefully thanked what powers govern such things that it
was over. Of course, he knew, there were no other choices.
Usagi, Rei, or Ami certainly couldn't give their problem a
place to stay. What would they say to their parents?
"Hi Mom, this is my friend Cyanide, never mind he's
ten years older than me and hallucinating wildly, who's
currently homeless and needs a place to come down. No,
don't mind the guns and explosives, it's okay," he mouthed
aloud, reiterating the recently concluded conversation. Of
course the girls didn't realize exactly what the gunman's
problem was, he added silently, and there was no way he was
going to tell them. That was someone else's affair to deal
with. Someone else who was currently on Mamoru's bed. He
also doubted, in spite of their protests, that they'd feel
comfortable under the same roof as the fallen fighter. "And
both Makoto and Minako looked like they would feel far too
comfortable with it."
"What was that, dear?" Usagi's voice came in from the
kitchen, out of his line of sight.
"Just thinking about what's going on," he responded.
Mamoru took the time to smooth his oxford shirt. It had
been rumpled and folded when he had carried Cyanide down
from the roof. In the struggles, as he had been apparently
mistaken for a six headed monster, he'd also come to
possession of a black eye and multiple bruises. Those were
fading though, the magic regeneration of his alter ego
pervaded his body and by tomorrow he doubted any marks
would remain. Still, he took a few deep breaths and
strengthened his self control.
His solid leather soled shoes tapped lightly on the
kitchen tile as he walked up behind his girlfriend. She
looked up, setting the box of chocolate crackers aside for
a moment. Mamoru still had most of his suit on, pants that
had been perfectly pressed, black patent leather belt, and
a crisp, lightly starched white shirt. The jacket and vest
had been discarded when they had arrived. While you could
still see the knife edge creases, ironed just the day
before, the ensuing activities had left him looking
disheveled. Usagi was immensely turned on.
"So, what did you do today?" she asked as she slid
over and wrapped and arm around him. He did not react
immediately. The tension in his muscles was easily felt by
the short blonde who held him. Usagi could feel them under
his skin, moving as he did, bunching and softening. She
pressed herself farther against him, letting his heartbeat
pound in her ears. It sounded wonderful.
"I spoke with Mr. Ikiwara." Mr. Ikiwara was Mamoru's
advisor at the university where he was finishing his
teaching degree. "It went well. I'm going to have to take
those four more hours of math, I told you I thought I could
avoid that, but I should still be done by spring. I told
him I was going to start looking for a job as a substitute
to get a little practice and experience on the other side
of the classroom, and he said he might be able to find
something for me." He gave Usagi a quick hug before lightly
extracting himself from her grip. His hands began throwing
a meal together, working quickly with the experience of one
of the few bachelors who could cook.
"That's great!" gushed Usagi. She was so proud she
felt sure she would burst.
"Thanks. I'm pretty happy. It was a very long day, I
also had a couple of tests in math and that 'Computers in
the Classroom' one. I can't wait to eat this and go to
sleep."
Usagi, seeing Mamoru had paused while waiting for a
heating element to warm up, reattached herself to him. For
his part, he just wrapped his arms above hers, leaning
backwards into her. They stood like that for a while,
moving as little as possible while Mamoru continued to
cook.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Anything, Meatball Head." Usagi drove her forehead
into his back in retaliation of his using that nickname,
but her curiosity forced her to continue to ask anyway.
"What's wrong with Cyanide? I know you recognized
something when we showed up; I could read it in your eyes."
Mamoru was silent as he removed the rice, vegetables,
and fish from their respective dishes and served two
plates. One he handed to his girlfriend, forcing her to
relinquish her grip on his back, and the other he carried
to the dinning room himself. Once there, utensils were
already laid out, he sat and began to eat, deep in thought.
"Well!?" the blonde demanded.
"I recognized the condition from someone I used to
know in school. A good friend of mine was in a similar
state frequently. We lost contact shortly after the
situation developed. Our lives went in separate
directions."
"That's no good. You should always keep your friends."
Mamoru opted not to respond. A hundred possibilities
warred within his head and were discarded.
"Where is he now?"
"Who?"
"Your friend?"
Mamoru was silent for a long moment. All his instincts
were screaming for him to lie, but he couldn't do that, not
to her. "He died not long ago."
"Oh, that's horrible," Usagi drew back and pondered
her food in silence. "Was it connected to whatever problem
he and Cyanide shared?"
"Something similar."
When he didn't go any further than that and focused
his mind on his food, Usagi let it slide for the time
being. She did ask one more thing, "Any chance of that
happening to Cyanide?"
Again Mamoru was silent. He finished his meal,
collected his and Usagi's empty plates, and carried them to
the kitchen. She rose and followed him to the kitchen,
pressing for an answer when he had finished cleaning up. "I
don't know. That depends on him and what he decides. It can
be cured, but we can't do anything about it."
"Oh."
***
The sun came through the open window and roused Mamoru
much more enjoyably then his alarm ever did. It was
Thursday, and since he didn't need to be anywhere till two
in the afternoon, he usually relished in the light. Not
today though, he had matters to take care of. He sat up on
his sleeper sofa and rubbed his eyes.
"Hey. There's some food in the kitchen, I ordered
delivery."
"Thank you." Mamoru rose, dressed, and returned in
about five minutes. There was a full bento on the counter,
warm and waiting. He helped himself to it, noting a similar
one empty in the trash. He ate in silence as his guest
availed himself of the shower.
After he was finished, he waited by the door. A quick
glance into his room showed an effort had been made to
remake the bed, but it was shoddily done and would need to
be corrected. When Cyanide did emerge from the shower,
still dressed entirely in black, Mamoru made eye contact
and indicated an open chair. It wasn't a question.
"Look, about last night, I-"
"Were out of your mind on drugs, nearly got Usagi, her
friends, and yourself killed, kicked me twice in the face,
and almost trashed my room before coming down? Yes, as a
matter of fact you were and did. Don't worry about
apologizing, I know you either don't remember it, or your
memories are much different from mine."
"Ey! I not going to take this kind of shit-"
"No, you're probably not. You're going to continue all
those things you're on and prove once again you're the most
important person in the world."
"Fuck you."
"Oh, brilliant rebuttal. Shall I go to the kitchen and
look around? I might be able to find some glue for you to
sniff. Or perhaps you'd just like to pound your face on the
door a few times? Sure it'll hurt, but you might get dizzy.
Isn't that a high? Or better yet, hold your breath till you
pass out. I hear oxygen deprivation can be quite
intoxicating."
"I didn't do any fucking 'cid last nigh, okay!? I
haven't done that shit in years. It was a damn flashback; I
can't control them."
Mamoru was silent again, his face expressionless. For
several long moments, they regarded each other thus.
"I believe you," he said finally.
"Oh, yay. My heart leaps for joy."
"It doesn't have to be this way. The past doesn't have
to keep coming back to haunt you."
"Does with 'cid," was the answer after long moments of
sullen silence.
"Cyanide, there's always a way if you look."
"Well, guess what. I'm not you, and I hardly think I
qualify as a champion of justice. Keep your fucking pity."
He rose and stalked towards the door deliberately. Mamoru
got to it first and held it shut.
"Listen. You need to choose. You know the paths. You
know the costs."
"Would you just shut up and let me go? It ain't my
bitch."
"Oh, well that makes it all better. You haven't done
LSD in years. And you're right, we can't blame you for a
flashback. It's not under your control. The next time, when
someone dies because you're too messed up to do anything,
or perhaps you'll be so wasted someone gets hurt or killed
trying to save you, we'll all know that it wasn't your
fault. Absolutely wonderful."
"Fuck you, all right? Just fuck you. I don't have to
take this shit."
"You run away. Great way of solving your problems."
"Goddammit!" Cyanide reached out, grabbed Mamoru by
the shirt, and slammed him into a wall. Mamoru wrapped his
own hands around those holding him, and they had a
momentary contest of strength. Mamoru won, and Cyanide was
pushed back. Not finished yet, he forced the darkly clad
man to make eye contact.
"Listen to me. I will not let my love or any of her
friends die because of you. I will not let you ruin her
life. I will not let you hurt her. You must make the
choice."
Cyanide glared at him. His angry eyes met Mamoru's
resolute ones, and they were locked in a battle of wills.
Finally, Cyanide turned and walked out the door, giving
the reversed victory sign as he went. Mamoru watched as the
door slammed and shook his head.
"Asshole," Cyanide muttered outside as he walked down
the steps. It was an exterior staircase, set into the wall
to protect against the elements but not walled off. He went
down the stairs quickly, too furious to stand patiently in
the elevator.
"He's right, you know."
"Eat shit, Pyrite. Or shall you and I have it out
right here and now? You know as well as I we both want
too."
"Oh, no. I'm a good guy now, remember? I'm protecting
the heroines of love and justice."
"What do you want?"
"To talk, actually. Just talk." Pyrite flipt down from
the ceiling where he had been sitting and landed. His
pants, cut in an extremely loose Arabian style, hung from
his leather belt and were bunched in his boots. He had his
usual blue silk vest on, open in front showing the ripped
definition of his muscles. He faced Cyanide and smiled.
"I'm curious. Back on Nemesis, you hated the Senshi just as
much as I did. What changed you to their loyal guard dog?"
"My business. Go away." Cyanide continued to make his
way down the stairs. His trench coat billowed about him,
moving in the wind of his agitated speed.
"You actually think you can change, can't you?"
There was no response.
"You actually think that just because you want to be a
good guy now, you are? I didn't believe it 'til now. I
don't know whether that's hysterically funny or
pathetically sad. Both, I guess."
"Go to hell."
Pyrite laughed, a hollow and mocking laugh. He
continued to float, reclining in the air, a little behind
Cyanide as they kept moving. "Shall we continue this later?
You look a little stressed out right now, and I bet you're
just dying for your next hit. I could come back when you're
high."
If they hadn't have at that moment finished the stairs
and gone onto a populated street, Cyanide probably would
have tried to shoot him. As it was, he ground his teeth
together and clenched his fist. Next to him, Pyrite landed
on his feet and effortlessly matched strides.
"Cyanide, one time assassin and hired thug on Nemesis,
Crystal Tokyo exile, and generally, how would you put it,
worthless pile of shit, is now the brave and converted hero
for good and evil. I swear I've now seen everything. Shall
we go to church and confess our sins? That could take you a
few days."
"Pyrite, I'm about to ignore all these people around
us and kill you. Shut the fuck up."
"Would that be in keeping with our new personae?
Cyanide, repentant warrior for good, doesn't seem to me
like the type who'd stoop to violence just because someone
said a few things he didn't want to hear. Especially when
they're all true."
Cyanide's backhand was casually avoided, and Pyrite
hopped back a few feet. His face took on a shocked cast,
mouth opening in mocking fear. His eyes were wide, and he
cringed as if scared. Then he laughed again.
"Ooooh." he covered his lips with his fingers. "The
Senshi's lapdog tries to bite. I'm scared already."
"All right! Fine! Let's cut the bullshit, Pyrite, and
face facts. I know just as well as you that all this
redemption shit the Senshi seem to like so much is just
that, shit, for guys like you and me. We don't have a
chance and probably wouldn't take it if it was offered. I
know it; you know it. I don't even fucking care any more.
So I'm not going to be saved and become a good person. So
it's not even a fucking issue. So fuck you, and fuck Tuxy,
and fuck all the rest of it. Go to hell. If I see you
again, I'll kill you. Consider it my latest contract." He
stormed into a nearby alley, seething and muttering. Once
off the street, his clothing made him surprisingly hard to
see for it being almost noon, and he disappeared to
Pyrite's eyes.
Pyrite laughed once more and walked away. "I love
being me," were the last words he said as he stepped
through reality and was gone.
***
With a smile and wave, Makoto bid farewell to Mr.
Mitoru. He smiled faintly in return and waved back. As he
pulled away, the tall brunette watched until he was out of
sight, still smiling as she held Katsuhiro in one arm.
Katsuhiro, intent on eating any of the long, brown hair he
could get to his mouth, completely ignored his father's
departure. Baby and baby sitter waited for a minute before
they went back inside, baby sitter trying to remove the
slobbering five-month-old from her tresses.
"So, what do you want to do today, huh?" Makoto asked
the small ball of sticky infant happiness. Katsuhiro was a
great kid, in her opinion. He almost never cried, never
tried to sneak away, and was just so incredibly cute. She
felt that his insatiable desire to put everything within
arms reach in his mouth, no matter the origins, could be
over looked. And he was just so darn cute!
Katsuhiro, hearing himself addressed, looked up,
smiled so widely it looked like his face would fall in
half, and drooled. On tiny pink corner of tongue rested on
his lip, not quite able to find its way back inside the
mouth. His impish little eyes peered around, never stopping
on anything in particular.
Giggling in spite of herself, Makoto reached down and
began to tickle her innocent charge. Instantly the victim
reverted quivering and burbling, laughing as he let saliva
splatter around the carpet. Thus they passed several hours.
It had been early evening last night when Makoto,
tired and hungry, had returned to her house. She was not
really looking forward to cooking, much as she loved it,
and vague thoughts of reheated meals danced through her
head. As she had climbed the steps, shoulders slouched with
the weight of her day, Mr. Mitoru had approached her.
The Mitoru's lived about half a block away, and Makoto
never could quite seem to remember when or where she met
them. She'd known them for over a year, though, and when he
had apologetically asked if she could watch his son for the
day tomorrow, of course the answer had been yes. While
Makoto would have been willing to do it just as a favor,
Mr. Mitoru had insisted on paying her. Thus, with a little
extra money and a wonderful day ahead of her, Makoto had a
much easier time of that evening. It would be a wonderful
Sunday.
Now, as she watched over the young one, she smiled.
Katsuhiro had found the wonders that were spoons, and was
busily attempting to insert the spoon, sideways, into his
nose. It was a messy business, but it did allow Makoto time
to just sit back and relax. As she allowed herself to drift
into a day dream of her future family, the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Makoto! Hi!" Usagi's perky voice came through.
"Listen, Rei, Ami, and I were just about to go shopping.
Minako's at the doctor. You wanna come?"
"Oh, I'd like to, but I'm watching Katsuhiro."
"Katsi? Oh wait! Isn't that Ryan's little brother,
Aaaaammmii?" She heard the singsong question through the
phone and laughed. "Can we stop by and see him?" The level
of ecstatic hopefulness in Usagi's voice was well nigh
unbelievable. Makoto laughed to herself as another Usagi
scheme no doubt started.
"Sure. When?"
"'Bout an hour?"
"All right. I'll see if I can whip something up in the
meantime." Makoto frowned slightly, contemplating what in
her kitchen could be made easily while still watching her
charge.
"Yay! We'll be over then! Bye."
"Bye." The phone clicked. "Well, let me see. I guess I
could make those octopus balls." A distant subdued
shattering noise echoed through the house. Two seconds
later, the sounds of someone tumbling down the stairs
reached her ears. "Hello, Cyanide. Get lost looking for the
door?" she asked without looking away from her cabinet.
"Thrice blasted, worthless piece of-"
"I agree completely. Why exactly are you breaking into
my house?"
"You know there's an intruder in here?"
"Oh really?"
"I saw him from the street. Crawling through the
living room. I lost track of him coming in."
"He should be in the crib to your left."
Cyanide turned and looked. Katsuhiro, sitting in the
middle of the yellow and blue crib, ignored him. Silence
passed.
"It's disgusting."
"You would say that," she replied. "And please put
that away. I promise you that if he tries anything, I'll
protect you." Two fingers pushed the Glock away from the
infant. She smiled, patted him on his suspicious little
head, and turned back to the kitchen. Katsuhiro quietly
burbled on.
"Uh, about the window then-"
"There's another one in an upstairs closet. Don't
worry." She winked at him and smiled.
"Oh. Right." He looked back with suspicion. This
caused Makoto to start openly laughing.
With dazzling speed, Makoto began her labor. She
whistled as she worked and as food slowly became
recognizable in pans, the man in black sat across from her.
Neither suggested he help.
Several trays of light eatables were made and
refrigerated in short order. Cyanide mentioned something
about going out and seeing what was to be found where, but
Makoto asked he stay instead. She insisted that it was time
they sat down and planned out their course. Accepting, he
sat on the back deck and smoked.
"Oooh. That's the muffin timer. Cyanide, take the
baby," Makoto grumped worriedly. It was almost time for her
friends to arrive, and everything was just about ready.
Needing both her hands and attention, she passed the
smiling bundle of joy to the startled man and rushed off to
the kitchen. Cyanide looked down at the baby. The baby
drooled. They regarded each other for a moment of dead
seriousness.
The baby began screaming immediately afterwards. Deep,
agonized bellows of torment burst free of the small child's
lips, rending the air. Tears poured down the distorted red
face, mixing with the spittum around the mouth and gave the
skin a garish, waxed visage. Cyanide reacted as any battle
trained veteran would.
"Shit! What? An I pinching the little bugger
somewhere?" Cyanide lifted the screaming bundle away from
himself and examined both it and his chest. As he held the
child by the armpits, he snorted with disgust at his soiled
shirt.
"What's wrong?" Makoto instantly came back around the
corner and took in the scene. Cyanide's nonplussed grimace
and the screaming baby were plenty. "Go in the other room
and play with him. He's got some toys." Makoto waved
dismissively and returned to food preparation. Still
holding the child as far from himself as possible, Cyanide
went.
Makoto listened as she pulled muffins from the stove.
She heard the man pleading for the baby to be silent,
several toys bounce off someone's head, and more muted
obscenity.
"Don't swear at the baby!"
"Fuck."
"Hey!"
"Dammmaargh! Fine. All right, here. Play with this."
Makoto placed the pan on the counter. Vaguely she
heard several thuds and what was probably profane
mumblings, but no more crying. She glanced around the
corner. Katsuhiro was slobbering on something she could not
see, while his watcher tried to rub baby spit out of his
shirt with a tissue. She giggled and went back.
Just finished removing the muffins from the pan, she
was frosting them when the doorbell rang. Shucking her
gloves, she darted over and opened it.
The sun poured down its radiance on two brunettes and
a blonde, setting their hair to glowing. Usagi was dressed
in a red blouse and skirt combo with fitting shoes. Rei was
wearing a similar ensemble, and they matched. Ami, adorned
in blue and white, stood out by contrast in what would have
otherwise been a subdued outfit. They smiled at Makoto and
greetings were exchanged.
"Come on in. Katsuhiro's in the other room with
Cyanide. They're not getting along very well, but he's
quieted down now."
"No I'm not. You shouldn't open the door without
checking it. Could be someone trying to kill you."
"It's not. Cyanide, where's the baby?" Makoto allowed
a hint of long suffering to enter her voice.
"Oh, he's in the other room. He finally shut up, so I
didn't want to disturb him."
Sighing deeply and thinking dark thoughts about men
who couldn't handle children, the tall girl went back into
the house. Cyanide turned and motioned for the others to
come in.
Makoto listened for the sounds of baby babble and
found her charge behind a sofa. Katsuhiro looked up,
smiled, and waved a Colt Forty Five. He then went back to
sucking on the barrel.
Makoto's piercing scream was almost deafening.
"What were you thinking!?" Once she had regained
coherence and removed the pistol from the small one's
grasp, she accosted he who had given the weapon to the
child. Fortunately, Ami had the presence of mind to shut
the door before Makoto started waving the gun around.
"He liked it more than the Berreta." He plucked it
from her hand.
"You do not let small children play with guns!" Rei
was shocked.
"Hey, I took the bullets out first."
One long and very thorough verbal chastisement later,
most everyone was sitting in the living room. Makoto and
Rei shared a couch, while Usagi and Ami each had their own
chairs. The table between them held what tender morsels
Makoto had finished but Usagi hadn't, and Katsuhiro was in
Usagi's arms. He was as quiet as he always was she held
him. Cyanide was in the kitchen.
"How long are you watching Katsuhiro, Makoto?" Ami
asked. She had crossed her legs and sat in front of a large
bay window. Two titanic cloud formations collided behind
her, and the small square of them peacefully rolling over
each other that shown through the panes was laced with
rainbows.
"Only about another hour. When they get home Mr.
Mitoru is going to call," Makoto answered. The small child
had braced his chin between her knees with his chest on her
lap. He appeared to be either trying to swim off her legs,
or simply flutter kicking her for fun. Struggling to
prevent him from rolling while deflecting those wild kicks
that approached her face, she manipulated the baby without
looking down.
"Don't worry, Ami. I'm sure we can think of some
excuse to get Ryan to come down here and pick up his
brother." Usagi was stuffing her face with clockwork
precision. Every bite got exactly one point three chews
while the next was inserted, and she swallowed just in time
for her hands to deposit more into her bottomless pit of a
mouth.
"Look, I hate to break up perfectly good girl talk,
but would you mind discussing any of the things that're
trying to kill us for a moment? You know? We've got three
of them." A very grumpy voice came through from another
room.
"Actually, Ryan'll probably come pick up Katsi anyway.
Mr. Mitoru did say something about that when he left this
morning," Makoto answered the blonde. "I don't know for
sure though."
Someone said something involving the word "shit" many
times.
"And if you're going to smoke, there is a sliding door
behind you." Makoto lifted her voice and directed it over
her shoulder. "Try not to make my house smell too bad."
"Why I put up with this-" The rest was not
intelligible.
The phone rang then, and it was Minako. She had needed
a series of medical forms for school and having acquired
them, she wanted to know where everyone was. After learning
that, she said she herself would be over directly.
After her arrival, the five girls began their
plotting. They were alone with the infant, who they trusted
not to pass along secrets, as their darkly clad pain in the
posterior had "gone looking for someone who needs killing."
"Our main problem is, of course, that the two more
dangerous adversaries are both effectively immune to our
primary sorceretic abilities," Ami mused while nibbling the
corner of a low fat cookie. Chick food. "Now, while its
certainly possible that would could eliminate the first
with simple blunt trauma on a large enough scale, the
second seems to be lacking that vulnerability."
"Huh?" Usagi replied.
"We could drop an elevator on the one again but no
ideas about the second," Rei translated.
"In short," Ami smiled, abashed. "Of course, we do
have a few cards to play. While neither of the machines
seems impaired by our disguise magic, I can track them as
well provided I can get close enough." She produced and
powered up her computer. "I have roughly a half mile range
on the first one, and twice that on the second." She began
running her scanning program and observed the readout. For
a moment she frowned, wheels within her head turning almost
audibly. Then she turned very white.
"What is it?" Minako asked. Trepidation was in her
voice.
"It's the big one. It's currently less than a block
away, right outside Ryan's house."
The room was empty in seconds. They took the baby.
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