Disclaimer: 

    Sailormoon is owned by Naoko Takeuchi. All licenses 
belong to the proper people. This is used without 
permission. 

    This disclaimer also applies to several intellectual 
properties referred to in the text. Please be guided 
accordingly. 

    This file can be freely distributed so long as it 
appears in its complete form and proper credit given. No 
part may be reproduced for monetary gain without 
permission from the author.
 
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Catablanca

A prelude to the Dream Quest of Luna and Artemis

A Tale in the Dances Set to the Music of Time sequence

by Elsa Bibat

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

There Is No Time Here:

    Of all the gin joints, in all the countries in all the 
world, she had to walk into mine.

    Well, technically, it wasn't a gin joint and it wasn't 
mine and she hadn't walked in yet, but hey, why ruin 
the atmosphere?

    The Inn of a Thousand Sleeping Cats looked a lot
different now than it was a few ...um...one...two...hell,
a lot of millenia ago. Not that it mattered, for as my 
dream guide liked to say, There Is No Time Here.

    Yes, he said it that way, with the capitals intact in 
speech. Kinda like, Things Man Was Not Meant To 
Know or Go Forth At Your Own Peril or What Are 
You Doing In Bed With My Daughter?
    
    But I digress.
    
    The inn was looking very different from the last time
I dropped by. For one thing, it had dropped the comfy
Silver Millenium atmosphere and now looked like 
something out of those old Humphrey Bogart movies 
that Minako's father liked watching. You know...wine, 
women, piano players and for some strange reason 
everything was in black and white.  

    It seems something started to rot in Denmark while
I was away. Either that or some of the paradigm harmonics
of the Dream were getting screwy again. By Serenity's
thin and very skimpy white gown, what the hell was going 
on?!

    I mean I finally get to do some decent catnappery
and I wake up looking like a cross between Rick from
Casablanca and Errol Flynn. Not that I'm complaining. I'm
pretty dashing with the white coat and everything, plus
the fact that the waitresses give me those flirtatious
smiles when I pat their bottom, just like the one this
particular serving maiden is giving me as she offers me
a drink. 

    Which reminds me. 

    I look around for my favorite black cat, just in 
case. I really don't want to start being pummelled for 
the simple fact that I'm a good-looking guy that women 
like.  

    Good, the coast is still clear and playfully run my 
hand over the waitress' fingers as she gives me the  
glass. I think she's blushing. I give her a roguish smile
and take a sip as she walks away with a spring in her 
step.

    I shake my head as I survey the clientele.

    Definitely Casablanca. Ayup, from shining shoes to
the hairdo. Though there are glaring errors. Sword and 
daggers are where guns should be, the food and fare are 
distinctly Ultharian and the fact that there was an 
occasional seepage of color in the monochrome. Especially
from the cats. Calico seemed to be the only color available
other than black or white. No one recognizes me since, unlike
Luna, I believe in subtlety and hid my crescent mark with a
simple Weaving.

    Anyway, I was having a good time when the black 
hats stepped in. Literally. 

    You know that scene in old movies where the bad 
guys enter and everyone seems to clear out? 

    That's what was happening.

    Nine guys in black coats and black hats and with the 
aura of cannon fodder came in and everybody, except 
for me, walked out surreptitiously. Well, except for the 
cats, but hey, this is Ulthar for Serenity's sake so that's 
normal. One nervous waitress stayed behind to deliver 
my drink and got out of there when I waved her away. 
But before she left, she whispered something to me.

    "Please don't wreck the place, milord."

    Crap. So people did recognize me. That probably 
explained the welcoming committee.

    At this point of the narrative, I'd have to humbly
say that I have a reputation around these parts. I mean,
what sort of self-respecting denizen of the Dream does
not know of my adventures and escapades?

    Me, the White Shadow that faced down the Nightmare 
of Hkas-nakoth, that bearded the Laughing Mask of 
Truth under the shadow of the Mount Harnath, chosen 
by the Great Mother, servant of the Argent Flame. 
 
    I mean, who doesn't know me?  

    As the black hats pulled out their weapons, I got my 
answer.

    So I sighed and did what Clint Eastwood liked to say.

    I drew. 

    Claw neatly decapitated one of the idiots while Fang
sank into another's chest. I leaped over an axe stroke that
thudded noisily into the wooden flooring, landing on the 
haft and hitting the wielder in the face with a flying
crescent kick.

    That's when it got complicated.

    When you're in the Dream and you're in a fight, body
muscles aren't the only things you flex. Flexing your mind
is another important part of it. 

    And my mind is as sharp as my blade.    
 
    So as I floated in midair, I sssslllloooowwwweeeedddd 
the Dream down. Everyone, except for me, started moving 
with the geological speed of molasses.

    Using the remaining impetus from my kick, I 
flipped in midair. Yeah, I know it violates all the 
rules of physics and gravity. But when you're flexing 
your mind, you _are_ the law of gravity.

    My hand caught the axehandle and, continuing 
my midair whirl, drew it out of its position of repose. 
I landed perfectly balanced on the counter. 

    Cats always land on their feet dont'cha know?

    The remaining black hats, staying true to the 
asserting paradigm, rushed me like all true movie 
cannon fodder are supposed to do.

    A kick in the face knocked back one of the 
goons, while I danced over a bevy of blades and 
other very sharp implements of doom. The axe 
hacked into a head, which fountained black blood 
in a way that was not supposed to be seen in a 
PG-13 movie nor in a 1940s period film. 

    Leaving the borrowed weapon in its fleshy 
sheath, I somersaulted over the murderous throng. 
Landing with a roll, I drew Fang out of the chest 
it had punctured and went into an old Silver 
Millenium sword and dagger stance for close-in 
fighting, Fang in a lower prime and Claw in high 
quinte.

    "I don't think you're going to win this one, 
boys." Dashing smile and wink for emphasis. By 
the Three, I love my job.

    Then the world suddenly threw me to the side 
like a cheap piece of toilet paper after use.

    Thankfully, I felt the crushing pain in my ribs 
shortly after feeling the shock of being smashed 
into three pretty sturdy wooden tables and a 
rather solid wall or I'd have passed out. As it was 
I was pretty much immobilized as I looked through
a momentarily swirling view of the eight universes. 

    What I saw was a large mechanical creature 
which brought the thought into my head of how 
in the name of Endymion's metal crotchpiece did 
they manage to sneak _that_ in? The answer to 
that question came in a rather shapely package if 
I should say so myself. 

    The tight bodice, short skirt, pseudo-S&M 
boots and dark tones in her choice for makeup 
and clothing obviously made her a bad guy. Now, 
if she was wearing white and pastel colors she'd 
be a good guy. An obvious beginner in the Dream, 
but good enough to assert Reality it seems.

    "I had thought that the Vhite Shadow vould be 
a lot more... vormidable." See. The accent gives it 
all away. Paradigms in the Dream assert themselves 
if you weren't a native or an experienced traveller. 
So she's going to be thankfully gloating for awhile 
which gives me a bit of breathing space.

    Feeling around my chest, I made sure I hadn't 
broken any of the really important parts of my 
body. Grinding bones made me grit my teeth as I 
slowly stood up. Thankfully, I had held on to Fang 
and Claw when I was given the brief introduction to 
heavier-than-air flight, but they were limp in my hands. 
An elbow was quite obviously broken and my 
shoulder seemed out of joint. I smiled. 

    Cliche time. 
 
    "So the great varrior arises! Vant some more?"

    "I'd like to tango, babe, but your dancecard's 
kinda full."

    "Vat?" Only in the Dream can you see such 
comical looks of surprise.

    "Look behind you." Summoning the few 
dredges of skill I have in the art of the Weaving, 
I Wove the next part of the great story that is the 
Dream. Usually it would be difficult but I was 
using a cliche and it was inevitable anyway. I just 
hurried it along before I got hurt anymore than I 
had been.

    Then she was there, at the inn's door, an 
apparition in black, crescent moon mark on her 
forehead visible through the raven hair. And she 
was definitely not pleased.

    "The Black Herald! Tik-tok, kill her!"

    Luna had that look on her face that she usually 
had when forced to deal with the small vermin of 
the castle back in the Silver Millenium. The lumbering
mechanical monstrosity moved with incredible 
swiftness yet still too slow as my favorite black 
cat drew Sense from its sheath and put down the 
seven foot tall metallic monster with a twelve-inch 
blade and Unweaving the iron giant with a few
choice moves. It was like watching a work of art, if 
you were a connosieur of that sort of thing.

    To say that the black hats were shocked was an 
understatement.

    "My advice, lady, is to run. Now. Before she gets 
really pissed and Unmakes you."

    "Ve vill be back! Just you vait!" Dream folded 
and bent. Then the pseudo-dominatrix and her goons 
were gone with a puff of smoke. Totally amateurish.

    Luna arched an eyebrow as she looked from the 
remaining wafts of smoke to me. I stood up a bit 
straighter and winced as I felt a few broken parts 
objected at my actions.

    "Now you're going to say that this isn't your fault." 
Her deadpan delivery made me smile.

    "actually, it wasn't. now, ow, my ribs hurt-" My 
strength gave out and so did my legs. 

    Luna was suddenly at my side, helping me lie back 
down on the floor. "Stupid macho pride."

    "hey, gotta be me." The droll look on her face told 
me what she thought about that.

    Luna sniffed and asserted Reality around ourselves 
and fixed the damage. The fact that all the pain of 
healing an injury that was supposed to be healed over 
a gradual period of time made me yowl.

    "Hush, Artemis! You should pay more attention to 
your surroundings rather than grandstanding."

    "That's why I have you, my sidekick, for."
   
    "'Sidekick', indeed!" Another sniff and she helped 
me stand up. A bit of crick here and there, plus a few 
sore spots bruises, but healing in the Dream can only 
go so far. At least my dreamself had absorbed all that 
damage and not my real body. Minako would have a 
fit if I managed to cough up blood on her sheets.

    "There is obviously something wrong around here. 
That 'Tik-tok' was the second one that I had 
encountered. Though the sluts and henchmen were 
not included with that one."   

    I smiled. "I smell an adventure coming."

    Luna was obviously keeping her 'disdainful sniff' 
quota whenever she was in her dreamself, as she 
held up her nose and rolled her eyes and did what 
she was known for here. 

    "You know you better be careful with that noise. 
Pepper might get into it."

    She had that look in her eye that usually meant a 
good solid whacking for me, but she was obviously 
holding back for the sake of my recent injuries. I 
smiled and sheathed Fang and Claw as I continued.

    "Anyway, it seems Pluto reminded us about this for 
more than the simple reason of being nice."

    "I noticed." Luna's deadpan delivery was on target
once again as we looked around at the mess we
made. Several cats of normal standing stared back 
at us, legends in the flesh.

    "You'll be paying for this one, my dear."

    "And why is that?" 

    "I spent my money on good ale. Since you don't 
drink ale and disdain most vices, you obviously have 
a few pieces of four in some pocket somewhere."

    Luna's long-suffering look at me made me smile
as I gestured for one of the braver waitresses over 
to us.

    An adventure in the offing. Dark and mysterious 
enemies. Assasination attempts. Most likely, there'd
be a dastardly plot afoot. Probably even an Evil
Overlord with Plans for World Domination(or at 
least Conquest and Oppression).

    I breathed in a good long breath and sighed happily.

    It was good to be back.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Notes: 

Yes, I know totally horrible trilingual pun for a title,
but hey, it's a lot more upbeat than my last one.

If the flavor seems a bit different from Luna's Dreamlands
piece...well, this is Artemis we're talking about. ^_^ 

Anyway, see you around.
 
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Artemis and his 'sidekick', Luna will return to the Dance in...

The Dreamquest of Luna and Artemis 

*************************************************

            DANCES SET TO THE MUSIC OF TIME
                       An Epic History of Humanity
                          From The Age of Silver
                           To The Age of Crystal
                                 And Beyond

         http://rakhal.com/florestica/elsa-bibat/index.html

                 Other fanfiction by the same author:
          http://rakhal.com/florestica/elsa-bibat/index.html

                  Kindly archived by Larry F and
                   The Lost Library of Florestica:
                    http://rakhal.com/florestica/
*************************************************







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