Fatal Fury Fan Fiction / Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Sailor Rifts ❯ Chapter 6: Temptation Bears a Rarely Steady Hand ( Chapter 6 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Sailor Moon/Rifts Crossover (Revised Edition) By Simon Woodington

Chapter 6: Temptation Bears a Rarely Steady Hand

The Coalition did not support the legal bearings of marriage, since it
required formal knowledge, which they were not willing to allow the
public. Nevertheless, even the uneducated masses honored various
marital systems. Often was included a dowry, though, unlike recent
centuries, it need not always be offered from the woman's side of the
bond. Makoto's offering of an exchange of gifts - rather than having a
formal wedding, in the light of limited time, funds, and guests -
suited Han just fine.

Makoto decided that a pair of matching rings, which they purchased
from Conroy, would have to compensate for a legally binding signature.
The rings, both of ruby in the form of pre-Rifts doves, and silver,
elaborately formed as vines to encircle the appropriate finger, were
as much magical as they were beautiful.

Conroy informed his unduly wary friend that it had been Laray's most
recent venture as a Techno-Wizard, and promised that the rings would
help them in times of greatest need. When asked, he explained that the
rings would act as tracers, allowing the two to be instantly aware of
the others' locale at any given time, as well as allowing greater
range when using telepathic communication.

Han shrugged in response, thinking little of the latter.

The proceedings took place in Conroy's shop. He professed that he was
a practitioner of the ways of the once well known Christian Clergyman.
Hanlan seemed more concerned with Makoto's happiness than any other
factor, and offered little in the way of verbal obstacle in her
expressed interest, despite his lack thereof. Never quite the
religious man, but damned if he was not certain there was a creator
keeping him alive and sane through the turbulent reality that was
Rifts Earth, and expressing his gratitude for his meeting and love for
Makoto Kino in the manner of prayer, something he had never attempted
before. As she had regarding many other factors of her life, Makoto
attempted to settle her heart with the knowledge that things could
definitely be worse. Through everything, she had fallen deeply in
love, and was about to be married.

Wonders never ceased.

The wedding was not expensive, nor did it have any extended list of
invited friends. On the other hand, Makoto had not expected to be
married at all after becoming a Cyber-Knight.

"Do you, Hanlan Ireson, take this woman, Makoto Kino, to be your
wedded wife, through richer or poorer, sickness and health so long as
you both shall live?"

For the first time in his life, he actually began to consider his
actions. Everything he knew spoke against this. It was as he had
explained to her. He was sure they would come to hate each other after
too long.

:What would Mom think?; he thought as an uncertain moment drifted
between the gathered three. :What would Mom say? 'She's a nice girl
Hanlan.' Is that it? What are we about? I don't know, but she loves
me. Not because she's weak... but, ah heck, I guess I'll never know if
I don't do it:

Finally, the words came forth with the warranted hesitance.

"Yes, I do."

"Do you, Makoto Kino, take this man, Hanlan Ireson, to be your wedded
husband, through richer or poorer, sickness and health so long as you
both shall live?"

Makoto scarcely believed she was doing this. A hundred thoughts
fluttered like a furied murder of crows through her mind.

:What would the others think? Am I making a mistake?: Each time, a
glance at Han negated that fear. :Mama, forgive me:

"Yes," she affirmed.

"And since there will be no contest by any third party... I now
pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

"I was waitin' for that bit," Hanlan smirked as he took Makoto into
his arms and laid his lips upon hers with all the passion befitting.
What seemed an eternity passed before their lips parted. Again, Makoto
seemed half consumed by her passions. Hanlan gazed steadily into her
eyes, sure that he had made no mistake. Makoto turned quickly to
Conroy.

"We need," her eyes barely met his. "Well... you know."

Conroy nodded soberly.

"Certainly. I would not trust any inn, however. I have prepared a room
for you upstairs. If you do not wish to pursue your friends until
tomorrow, I quite understand."

A faint blush warmed her face.

:We might need tomorrow, too; Hanlan thought.

"Han!" Makoto blurted, her blush only deepening.

Han looked immediately confused.

"Huh? Babe, I didn't say anything."

"Um..." she wondered how much warmer her face could be.

:You must have thought it; she replied experimentally, keeping her
tongue still.

:Uh, I guess I musta: He took her hand with a smile, hefted her easily
into his thick arms and carried her upstairs. A sinful grin evoked
itself upon his face. :This could be interesting!:

Makoto found herself both shocked and excited by the implications. As
they exited stage left, Conroy turned to his shop, and decided it
would be best to leave it closed for the next twenty-four hours.

It was going to be a long night.

---

There was no question about it, it had been a long night. On that
note, it was not quite over yet. Like everything else in Makoto's
world, her emotions were a stirred mess, rather like a four thousand
dollar painting composed by a madman. Every thought consumed her, and
pulled her back to a single pair of questions:

Was their arrival on this future Earth an accident?

What would the senshi do if they should act as a team once again?

The first of the two was the most difficult to answer, for she had so
little knowledge to fit into it's puzzle. Conroy, and this "Shi-Con
Corporation" presented a large chance of discovering the executioner
of the Bishojo Sailor Senshi. Despite the unadulterated opportunity,
trust was a large - uncertain - commodity. Conroy could be lying
through his not-so pearly whites. While it was unlikely, it was indeed
possible, especially when considering the resources and demands of
such a considerable company.

Though every feeling she could glean from him indicated honesty, and a
plainness of attitude.

Makoto found herself unable to face the sliver of a chance that the
senshi would ever become a team again. Pitched with other darker,
unsettled emotions, tears seem in ready supply. As she mingled with
the midnight call of the calm outside, warding those forlorn wellings
was neither something she was able to do, nor cared to. She had shed
tears in Hanlan's presence before; his harsh nature did not seem to
halt that. After having had made love to him again, and not in a
premarital fashion, she felt that it was difficult to share such
feelings again. Why? He was supposed to be happy, wasn't he? Fielding
her sadness might only draw him down as well. She did not want to do
that.

The air was cool on the naked skin of her arms and legs. It was
mid-spring, so the night was cool enough for a midnight stroll, and
ideal for this chance for contemplation of her life. The shorts and
tunic of tan cotton felt comfortable, and eased her mind to some small
degree. A deep breath revealed a distinct sweetness she had not noted
earlier. She could only relate the fragrance to the forest around
them. In her day, in the point of history which contained her birth,
such an odor was missed. It was as calming to her as the clothes she
wore.

Despite her efforts, in action and garment, to drop the weights set
upon her shoulders, she still felt as though she bore their impressive
girth. Reflection brought the nagging feeling that her act of marriage
had been one of desperation and survival, as much as one of love. She
raised her hand and regarded the ring she continued to wear. The
crimson dove had a radiance, a presence, and she felt it against her
mind. After a moment of study, and unconscious probing, she realized
that the presence was Hanlan's elemental mind.

Makoto smiled selflessly; he had expended much effort and energy
trying to indicate the honesty of his feelings for her through his
passions. While he excelled in that area, as he had proven, his
inability to express himself through words bothered her. She felt an
undeniable need to simply talk to him. As much as the idea came with
ill ease, she hardly wanted to conceal her misconstrued feelings and
compunctions from him.

As Hanlan had said, was it not that kind of thing which tore young
lovers apart? Not taking time to learn about each other, stumbling
headlong into a relationship in which communication was an unimportant
factor? But they weren't young, she certainly no longer a teenager,
just lost, and uncertain.

Funny he should know so much about relationships. "Excuse me, Ma'am,"
quoth a year-grated baritone of mislaid sounding.

Reflexively, she snapped around to face the intrusion. A male figure
of aged appearance sheltered in a robe reaching to ground length stood
before her.

"Yes, what do you want?" Her words were ill considered, and held some
amount of venom within them; she had no wish to be disturbed.

"I'm sorry to bother you, my dear, honestly. I know something of your
troubles; I have only recently shed the skin of a long ailed
marriage."

Instantly his words inspired mistrust. With a fragment of her mind,
she reached forth to verify him, and beseech any lie which might
motivate his tongue. Upon finding none, she waited, hands set upon
hips, for him to speak his purpose.

"I seek only to quell what viral concerns taint your thoughts. Fear me
not, I mean you no harm."

She removed her hands from her hips, and crossed them - along with her
arms - over her breasts.

"Who are you? Should it concern you?"

"It does not, to be frank. Nothing does anymore. My single motivation
here is to share with you a few words that may have saved me many
pains now well faded."

"Are you a blind man? A beggar? If you want a spare coin, I have a
few." Her eyes narrowed, gazing upon the somewhat distorted figure.

"Hear me well, child. The mind will conceive lies which the heart will
follow, for the truth can scar."

:Child?: Her mind whirled. Anger flowed easily to the surface. The
ring of steel uttered gently as three blades slipped easily forth from
the back of her hand.

"What do you want, old man?! Talk straight or just leave me the hell
alone!"

"Aye. I will seek to enlighten you no further."

In a blur of emotional agony, she grasped the man by the collar of his
robe and dragged him from his feet.

"Who are you! What do you want?!" she demanded in harsh, violence
overtoned words.

"People are ignorant and childish Makoto; they will believe what is
heard because it is gentler than the truth!"

With that, the robe sagged, and fell empty in her grip. With a snarl
on her lip, she cast aside the robe and dropped to her knees, eyes
closed, hot tears streaming. In an instant, the stranger had made her
face everything. The truth. They could never be together again! The
senshi had been scattered to the four winds, and none save a Goddess
could recover the brilliant shards. Hanlan was all she had! The only
one she had.

What was hope? A starving babe, scrying with it's failing voice for
love, for life, for comfort...

Warmth against Makoto's flesh caused her to forget her pain, and
recall the fury which had surfaced so sharply. As she rose, the cool
smell and maroon tinted evening had been replaced by a bedroom
catering an expensive layout and contents. Her tears felt vaguely
warmed as she wiped them away with the back of her hand. The bed,
chair, and table all offered a late eighteenth century hand
constructed appearance. The remainder of the room's pieces, curtains,
carpets, a shag rug, and Victorian paintings, complimented the decor
with accent colours of scarlet, and a soft sapphire. The stiff brush
of stale air across her neck caused her to turn, eyes asking for an
opponent.

"Welcome, makoto kino. You like? Not that it matters, really..."

Before she could think to follow the source of the voice, a biting
frigidness wrapped itself about her neck.

"Ki-ha!" Makoto cried with a blurred backhand strike of fist and fury.

The woman chuckled. A charcoal-skinned, silver haired woman of some
five feet in height adorned in a knee-length dress of cool grey took
Makoto's hand and drew her forward. The shock of her cool kiss was
shortly enveloped by Makoto's seething rage at the perverted advance.
Makoto grabbed the woman by the great lengths of thin hair and pulled
with such force as to snap her head free from the shoulders.

"How dare you!" she growled venomously.

The woman laughed.

"You're responding very well to this, my sweet."

Aghast, and horrified, she tore the creature lose and threw her to the
ground. The Darakan female responded by replying an expression of
wanton lust.

"Ah! The passionate warrior... a reliable source of..." she paused
long enough to select the appropriate word. "Entertainment. Perfect."

Makoto said nothing, offering only an offensive stance for want of
combat. The woman slowly rose to her feet.

"I have little time at the moment to play with you, however, so here
it is: You are now my slave. My name is unimportant. You may call me
Mistress, Lady, or Love. Enjoy the agency I allow you in this choice,
for it is all you will ever be granted again." She paused, the reason
for which Makoto was uncertain, but she obeyed the instinct belaying
retaliatory action - for the moment. With a dead smile, the
emotionally severed creature spoke, issuing decrees it seemed she was
certain would be followed.

"My expectation is that you fight - for me - as a gladiator. That is,
of course, when I'm not 'working' with you." A sly, dark and slightly
sundry expression lighted upon her face. "I'll leave you now to adjust
to this. I'd highly recommend that you forget any former life or love
you might have acquired. I expect now that you only respond to me, and
no other."

A seed of hatred was planted within Makoto's very soul that moment, to
wind - eventually - itself to her heart. The woman approached her,
expecting her to step aside. When Makoto failed to concede, she noted:

"Of course, you're not trained yet. Fair enough. Move."

"The hell I will you coal-skinned bitch," were Makoto's well fueled
words. "Release me. You don't know who you're trifling with."

"Oh don't I?" A strictly bemused expression darkened her face. "I know
who you were. The incomparable - within your power frame, and
uncageable - until now - Sailor Senshi; Jupiter, and the Cyber-Knight;
Sliver, defender of the good, the righteous, and the weak. Now, merely
makoto, my pleasure slave and gladiator."

"Shi-Con will look for me! Hanlan will look for me! You can't hide me
from them!" Makoto replied desperately.

"Of course not. You vastly overestimate your importance and situation.
You act as if you have command of your situation. A quaint assumtion,
my sweet warrior," qouth she, with the regard one offers a newborn
babe. "Push. fight me. I invite you to do so."

With a grim grin, Makoto drew her right fist back in a dramatic
gesture, eyes jammed shut, and brought that projectile forth with
strength enough to crush an ordinary human, and cried out in agony as
it cracked - slightly - the suddenly stone structure of Marlanda's
head. Grasping her broken and bloodied hand, three blades twisted at
it's end, she crouched forward and bit her lip with distracting force.

"You see? Be warned, you will truly regret your next attempt to
retaliate." She stomped, stone-footed steps, towards the door, and
said before exiting:

"As for the pain, you will learn to enjoy that soon enough."