Fatal Fury Fan Fiction / Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Sailor Rifts ❯ Chapter 16: Third Hand ( Chapter 16 )

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

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

Chapter 16: Third Hand

:Oh hell!; he thought, scrambling away as the shimmering sliver of
light slammed through the hood and into the engine of his beaten '87
Civic.

:Oh damn; was hers, diving down and scooping the gangly fellow in her
arms by his shoulders, and drawing him into the night darkened air.

'Holy...'

Shortly thereafter there was a hiss and a sudden burst of heat and
light from the frame of the vehicle which lifted with the force of the
blast. A concussion wave hurled the pair to the ground like
wind-tossed butterflies. The young man groaned, and rolled over, eyes
wide.

'My car!'

'You're welcome,' she sighed with a huff, pulling herself up on the
indented side rail as she flexed her great grey wings tiredly. He
gazed at her, the very fact of her existence still banging its head
against the door of his consciousness. Part of his stunned look
stemmed from the destruction of his well favored car.

'Geez, uh, yeah,' replied he. 'Thanks.'

'Okay!' she bellowed, favoring her right leg slightly as she stepped
forward. 'Come and... huh?'

Her bright green eyes darted about the devoid scene, the wreckage
burning rather happily against the sidewalk edged tree endowed park.
Opposite this was an undeveloped sand dune of weed smattered land.

He swore. 'It's gone.'

'No, look,' she pointed, finger aimed at the lively flaming husk of
metal. Upon it was strewn the blackening, broken corpse of the
excessively limbed aggressor.

'Gross,' he grimaced. She shrugged nonchalantly.

'I'm not complaining. That,' she cursed with harsh intensity, 'thing
has been trying to... uh, bugger me for weeks. Thanks. You good?'

'Oh, great, not counting my fried junker.'

'I'm sorry,' she started plaintively. 'Uhm...'

'Naw, it was goin' on me anyway,' he offered, gazing at her steadily.
'Just an excuse to pick up another one.'

As her eyes rose, settling upon him, his flicked away.

'Oh.'

'Hey - it is "Sailor Ether" - right?'

She nodded, biting her faintly painted, thin lip.

'You okay? The way it grabbed...'

'No,' she interrupted him, turning away, arms folded protectively
about her torso. 'I'm fine.'

Silence, during which she gave him a sidelong glance with visible
recently buried pain.

'You, uh, have a nice life, okay?'

'Yeah, sure,' he muttered, watching her lithe figure disappear into
the distance. :She's got problems:

His dark high top shoes carried him along at a glum, sullen pace
until, Phatefully enough, company of the familiar sort purred to a
halt aside him.

'Hey Roger! Need a lift?'

He peered into the yellow Austin Mini, then nodded.

'Hey Mr. Goodwill,' Roger grinned, tugging the thin door open, and
clapping it shut behind him as he hunched into the passenger side of
the little car.

'I see you're missing the Civic? Going for a late walk?'

'Yeah, right, at two o'clock in the morning? Fat chance wise guy,' he
replied with a visitation of ire. 'How about we go get a drink? I'm
going to tell you something that's going to blow your mind.'

'You saw a girl flitting by in the night sky.'

'More than that. Come on already! Let's go!' he snapped impatiently.

'What crawled up your ass and died?' he retorted, the engine buzzing
loudly, accelerating with several jerking shifts of gear. The dark
haired young man stared out of the window angrily, saying nothing.
Within minutes they were scooting along an apartment littered urban
back road.

'Bobby Sox?'

'If it's quiet,' Roger muttered tersely.

'What? You're muttering.'

The dark clothed young man cursed.

'Fine, let's go,' he snarled faintly.

'What happened?' the short haired young man scrutinized him for a
moment, before casting his eyes to the road as they rounded a corner.

'I saw Sailor Ether,' he admitted, his face relaxing slightly, tension
yet abundant in his being. 'She frickin' saved my life, Troy.'

He pulled the British mini-miracle into a space for which it was much
too small, and turned it off, hands tapping the steering wheel as he
considered this. It was too outlandish, even for Roger, to be a lie.
Not that he was inclined to such falsities. Roger had been carefully
keeping him informed regarding the situation of the Bishojo Sailor
Senshi. Their previous disappearance, and the replacement who, first
thought to be Sailor V, had proclaimed herself to be "Sailor Ether",
the defender of Tokyo. Further, she had proven herself by protecting
civilians from the ascending rate of demon attacks since the vacancy
of the Sailor Senshi.

The door popped open with a metallic click, and before closing it
again, he gestured for Roger to lock his as well. They hopped over
several protrusions of displaced curb, and blatantly ignored the sign
of the small 60's Diner. Troy stilted into the building as Roger held
open the thick, glass panel door, and sauntered on in after him.
Taking their usual cherry red corner seat and casting glances at the
classic prints of unshakable cool of James Dean, then Elvis the man of
dangerous gyrations, and Marilyn Monroe in all of her sundry beauty,
they tensely grasped their brightly colored menus.

'Hungry?' Roger asked softly.

'Yes, I just got off work.'

'Oh,' he half-murmured as he folded and set down his menu. As Troy
laid his atop the first, a girl who might have otherwise shined for
the years of tarnish upon her attractiveness approached with pad in
hand and pretty smile upon face.

'So do you know what you want?' she chimed, pen in hand jotting at the
pre-fabricated order form.

'Sure,' Roger responded congenially with a smile. 'Fries and a
Sprite.'

'You know drinks are only bottomless with a dinner, okay?'

He nodded, after which she faced Troy, who's fingers rapped the grey
speckled table top distractedly.

'Yoo-hoo,' she prodded, bringing his wandering eyes to her face.

'Sorry. I'll have a chicken burger.'

'Salad or fries? Something to drink maybe?' she queried, eyes
orienting upon him with a furrow of doubt.

'Salad, and a Sprite, too,' he added morosely.

'Ranch, Italian, or Thousand Island?'

'Ranch.'

'I'll be back in a minute with your drinks,' she indicated as she
turned away.

'Oh good, I like drinks. Handy things when your thirsty, I've found,'
Roger commented with a smirk.

'Yeah,' she agreed with a giggle, disappearing around the corner into
the kitchen.

'So when did this happen?' Troy requested after a time.

'Maybe ten minutes before you picked me up.'

Silence.

'Okay, I'll tell you from the beginning.'

An affirmative nod, if not somewhat ire driven.

'You remember I told you about how this winged girl has been fighting
off demons locally.'

'Not local bums? I've had a couple really get in my face lately.'

'Isn't that the way you like it?' he grinned with the vocal jab.

'Just because you don't get any action doesn't mean you have to get
jealous,' he replied snappingly, his face echoing facial adornment and
voice in tone. Roger laughed.

'Anyway, like I said, I saw her tonight. She was fighting off this
clown, you know, like the ones on stilts in the circus?'

He nodded briefly.

'It was just a bit down 210th from the school. She was doing pretty
well too...'

'You stopped and watched?' Troy blurted, unbelieving.

'Yes. I drove up against the curb near the old school, and just kinda
sat there for a while...' his voice tapered off as a red plastic
basket of wedge-style fries appeared before him. Two clear plastic
cups followed, guided by a long fingered hand. A straw in each cup
hung dangerously over the edge, suspended by the brisk carbonation of
the drink within.

'Thanks,' Roger smiled simply. Hers was accompanied by a spoken
indication that Troy's dinner would arrive shortly. Her black jeaned,
white bloused figure signaled the continuation of explanation as she
departed. Roger grabbed a fry and bit down, finding it to be
reasonably crunchy, yet soft under the skin.

'Drove up? Where's your car then?' Troy asked, eyebrows knitting as he
squeezed some ketchup onto a portion of the fries, after which point
he grasped one between a pair of fingers.

'I'll get to that. Anyway, I don't know how, but it canceled one of
her attacks. Nothing else after that seemed to work.' His eyes
narrowed in consideration as he forgot his food for a moment. 'It
grabbed in her a hold... uh, I mean... took...'

'I know what you mean.'

'Yeah. Anyway, it held her... in a very sexual way, like...' as it had
before, the stark unpleasantness reformed in his gut, and he
swallowed. His eyes fell upon his late snack, and he grabbed another.

Troy said nothing, just gazed at him.

'Like it was going to rape her or something...' he shut his eyes,
pulling his oval, thin rimmed glasses from his face and rubbing his
eyes. 'Or something? It almost was... until I came around the corner
and floored it. I guess it's just that Knight in Shining Armor complex
I've always had.'

Wide eyed, he set those brown and white orbs upon his friend of many
years. Roger found himself chuckling faintly.

'I never made it though. It saw me and dropped her. It all happened so
fast...' the young man paused as the waitress neared them, and set
down Troy's pleasant smelling dinner. The recipient swallowed and
attacked it.

'Go on.'

The short haired young man sighed.

'Well, I jumped out, for starters, and the Civic just sailed towards
it. You know how the pedal catches, right?'

Troy nodded sympathetically.

'Well you know, it's not hard to fix... you just kick it to the
left... but I didn't. The stupid thing saved our asses. So, uh, I
jumped out, and it kept going. By the time I rolled to a stop, I saw
it, and then she picked me up, and tried to get us both out of range
before it blew.'

'Looks like you survived,' commented a throaty, dry female voice.
Their eyes reached up and locked upon the amazing figure of the young
woman smiling at them, her dark purple hair styled in a somewhat
familiar paired pigtail manner which twigged a hint in Roger's
attentive mind. One which he failed to notice on a conscious level due
to her very presense.

'Yeah,' he nearly stammered. 'Uh, do I know you? Or do you...?'

She shook her head mildly with a smile.

'No, I just overheard you talking about Sailor Ether,' she replied,
flicking her hand through her hair affectatiously. 'Was she okay?'

Mutely, and dumbly, they both nodded.

'Good,' she sighed. 'It's getting too scary to walk alone at night. I
don't know what Tokyo would do without her.'

'I didn't get your name...?'

'Hai,' she bowed her head slightly. 'Jisura. And yours?'

'He's Troy, and I'm Roger,' he smiled, bowing his head deeply. 'Nice
to meet you. Really.'

'I'm sure it is. Good night Roger and Troy,' she smirked, bowing
slightly at the waist as she turned away and exited the diner.

Roger faced his companion of many years for a moment with a look of
pure distaste upon his face.

'"I'm sure it is?" Gorgeous girl, but her nose is so high she must be
breathing ozone,' he remarked, his eyes and head turning to watch her
cross the empty street unaccompanied.

'Her eyes weren't brown, were they?' Troy asked.

'No. But I swear they should be, 'cause I think you're right,' Roger
agreed. 'Bloody full of it.'

As their conversation dwelt upon the strangeness of her interaction,
and then trailed on to other matters, the well formed young woman
strode confidently along a solitary highway, ignoring the occasional
hoot and holler over the boldness of her mode of dress, and the body
it concealed.

She stepped swiftly, her wide hips swaying minimally towards and
through several obstacles, only one of which attempted to pose any
threat.

'Hey sexy,' muttered a staggering thickly built male, eying her
'assets' with alcohol inspired confidence. His similarly statured pal
swung his arm in an arc, hand open as such as to receive a grasp of
female flesh. Contact was never made, as the arm was snapped back with
ten times the force it had been propelled forward.

The scream of the muscular man echoed in the empty parking lot aside
them as he crouched forward in searing agony, his arm twisted and
hanging loosely at his side, snapped in several places. The curse of
the first followed, his eyes locked on the woman who had fallen in a
martial stance of obvious self defense, a cruel snarl upon her lovely
visage.

The first turned and ran for his life, tripping and stumbling as he
did, while the other followed, staggering and wheezing as he ran.
Muttering angrily to herself as she continued at a comfortable pace,
she eventually came to the edge of a collection of high rise
buildings. Without a glance at her black short skirted hips, she
clenched her right hand, from which a black sphere of light snapped.
The grip of her hand loosened, suggesting that she was clenching
something in her purple nailed hand.

As her grip loosened further, allowing the crystal freedom from its
hold, the hand assumed a paleness, then a formative transparency,
which increased to the point that by the time the crystal penetrated
the grassy earth, her form no longer occupied its given space.