Fatal Fury Fan Fiction / Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Sailor Rifts ❯ Chapter 18: Contract Upon Courier ( Chapter 18 )

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

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

Chapter 18: Contract Upon Courier

Between them was nary even room to breathe. Not in months had she
looked upon a respectably suited man. Naturally, this fellow lacked in
respect what he obtained in fear, and simple-minded followers. She,
opposite him, was the picture of leather jacketed cool as she read the
animalistic desire in his squarish face.

"Nice aren't they. Try it," she dared him. "Grab me. I'll kill you,
and walk out of here smiling."

His mouth opened, hands vaguely indicating the well armed, formally
suited thugs stationed carefully throughout the spacious room.

"Smiling," she reiterated. He bowed his endangered head with respect.

"Ease up fellas," his icy-cool tones decreed. He stepped around her,
placing his arm around her tense shoulders, and patting her
comfortably.

"You too. I ain't gonna hurt you, blondie. I'll admit," he uttered
with an affected, and vaguely inaccurate Italian accent as he led them
towards a small oak table. "The thought had occurred, but... I like
your nerve."

He pulled out a recently restored chair and proffered it to her.

"Let's eat."

:Eat?; she balked, giving no indication of her astonishment and wonder
at who actually had the "nerve". Yet, rather than offend him, she
accepted.

"So, you come to Val lookin' for work, eh?" he curtly questioned with
a slightly worn expression. This young man had seen much violence for
his age. "You know I gainfully employ over three hundred men... thanks
Teresa," he half smiled at the maid costumed girl who served them
delicious smelling plates of grated cheese sprinkled spaghetti.

"Jus' so you know blondie - you mind if I call you blondie? - I never
assaulted even pretty girls like you," he professed. "But you knew
that, eh?"

"What I said..."

"No empty threat," he drawled. "But let us not dwell on these
pleasantries. You have not tried the wine. Does it bother you? Does
two hundred years of age not sit well with you? Tony..."

She blinked, slipping her hand around the slight crystal, and easing
it to her lips. A sip indicated to her the truth of his words, and as
she did, he nodded, seeming pleased.

"You need not fear me. Tony would only have given you something more
to your liking. Ah, well, let us discuss why you are here. Uh," he
paused, glancing reluctantly up from his dinner. "Why are you here -
exactly?"

"I'm a Freelancer," she began. "Looking for work. You've got it. I
want some."

"Ah, yes, the Blessed Virgin has been kind to me," he smiled
hintingly. "But there is no dancing around the subject with you, eh
blondie? You're going to do well here. You will make plenty of credits
working for me."

It was the only way. How they had learned of her virginity hardly
mattered. What did was that they knew, and that there was interest in
it. Of course. She was only free working courier who remained so
unchanged from the point of birth. She had learned rather quickly that
it took often a tad more than verbal denial to defend it.

She would not succumb, she felt angrily. The portal had taken
everything, her friends, her home, her guardian Artemis... The
merciless tapestry would not claim her maidenhood! Yet, nor was it,
strangely, difficult to enforce. In resorting to the physical as she
had first transformed into Sailor Venus, the point that her skin could
reflect bullets, and that her strength was sufficient to kill
barehanded came as a striking comfort.

Allying herself with Valance Carosa was part of her effort to protect
her physical innocence. It was well known that while there had been
many deaths dolled out by his gang, the leader had no tolerance for
the abuse of women. Blame his mother, the great Maria Carosa, the
notorious gangleader, who survived her own beating and rape, and
husband's assassination by undergoing partial conversation into a very
feminine cyborg.

Valance promised a very special and unique task for the gifted young
woman, by which a rival gang would tumble to pieces, which he could
collect with relatively little trouble. In response to the question of
loyalty, he had explained:

"You and I got no relationship, blondie. There are no hard feelings to
sour us, and turn you against me. Besides, I've been watching you.
You've never turned your back on a job, or an employer."

:Would you rather have called me "stupidly loyal"?; she thought with
bitter sarcasm.

He knew very well what he had admitted. That, like the others, his
organization too, was unstable. Then came the dwelling upon the nature
of the assignment. Assassination. A matter she approached with much
understandable hesitance, but then, in the light of her current life,
many other arguments came into play.

She was alone in a largely selfish world, full of selfish individuals.
If she did not fend for herself, no one else would. She had no
friends, and no support to rely upon. It was do, or die. Thus far, she
had managed well enough, her beauty giving her leeway and access to
work, and much needed sympathy, even if it was feigned.

Ultimately, there were two choices for work: Use her beauty, trading
her morals for respectable sums of credits by undesirable means, or
take the "tough girl" route. This meant fighting, and proving her
toughness in a male dominated business. She sometimes wondered what
the alternate to her current path might have been like, but knew she
would not have allowed herself to suffer the degradation. Indeed, her
strength had empowered her, enabling her to select her own path.
Maimed men cannot argue. When it came down to it, this was the only
way.

Anthony Lincenti had to die.

Getting in was no hassle. Posing as a prostitute and letting the
drunken, staggering quad of ape-like men drool and paw her as they
escorted her into the empty kitchen bypassed that obstacle. It was
shaking them loose afterward that was the complicated part. By the
time they had arrived, her tank top had been removed, and three of
them had gotten a feel of her smallish bra-clad breasts.

"Hey," grunted the shortest member as he pushed up her skirt as she
sat upon a cutting board. "Wassis?"

"End of the line," she hissed, palming the vibro dagger and plunging
it into his neck as it hummed brightly to life.

"Whoa!" was the second's last shocked word as she kicked her long,
shapely legs into his face before slamming the humming energy blade up
to the hilt in his black jacketed torso.

"Oh," the third swore, as his hand diving under his coat, grasping at
the small concealed energy pistol within. His stocky corpse dropped
like so many bags of course sand, motionless, and apparently no worse
for wear.

The forth raised his hands, shaking his head fearfully.

"I ain't armed. I ain't armed!" he nearly stammered, tones of abundant
fear unhidden in his voice. "Don't kill me!"

She paused over his pitifully cowering, hunched over body.

"If you run very far, very fast, and never come back."

Before she had time to blink, he was up and scrambling away,
apparently quite thankful for his existence. Alone, finally, she had
something else to consider. She need clothes.

Sailor Venus.

No. How could she dare assassinate someone in that uniform? To
dishonour the Senshi... her face twisted in discomfort and anger.
However, under no circumstance was she going in half-dressed. Okay, so
the logic was fuzzy.

Minutes of searching procured a white ankle length chief's uniform,
which she found to be a little more than two sizes too large. Oh well.
Move on. The halls of the newly constructed cafe seemed oddly empty,
and hushed. It was not long before she realized precisely why.

"I'm tired of takin' the bullets for Anthony Lincenti," bellowed an
anger charged voice. "I lost my arm cause'a you!"

"Blame me," a second, slightly raspy voice replied. "Blame yourself,
because you disrespect me, and when you disrespect me, you disrespect
my house."

"Disrespect?! I took more bullets, killed more guys than any mug here!
You talk to me about disrespect...! I'm gonna kill you Anthony!"

The voices gradually became clearer, and more pronounced as she neared
the source through a backstage passageway, which in turn gave her
direct access to the lounge. She crept around the dancing poles used
by numberless female entertainers as she peeked through a hole in the
thick red curtain, catching a view of the lonely vocal combatants.

"You whine so loudly I barely understand you, Vincent. Leave now, and
no dishonour will come upon your household."

"What household?" he shrieked. "My family is dead! Goodbye Mr.
Lincenti!!"

She squinted and grimaced, grim-faced at the yellow flash of light,
which very simply ended Anthony's already short life.

"You!"

She jolted, her hands jerking the curtain visibly as his sleek-looking
energy weapon met her direction.

"Come out of there!"

Her hand slid to her inner thigh while the other parted the long
hanging coat, where she palmed another energy dagger, the unactivated
hilt of which fit snugly in her hand. A flick of the highly sensitive
switch would bring it to deadly life.

"I said...!"

"Okay okay!" she replied, stepping out onto the edge of the stage
beyond the swaying curtains. His eyes traced her lines, and gauged her
appearance.

"A cook?"

"No."

You know what they say about good intentions, right?

"Cute, whatever you are. You here to kill me?"

She shook her short haired head.

"I was supposed to kill Anthony."

Half truth.

"Too bad. Looks like you lose out."

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I could take the credit."

Don't ask why.

"You'd do that? Save me plenty of trouble, blamin' you. But not out of
the kindness of your sweet little heart, though."

"Not on your life. Which, I might mention, is in jeopardy."

"I am well aware of my social standing, girl."

Her eyebrows arched, her mouth twisting in faint anger.

"Not really," she replied boldly, flicking on the slim dagger, the
hilt of which issued forth a stiletto-style energy blade. "Go ahead.
Shoot me. I can take it."

:She can't be wearing armor under that; he thought. :She's got a real
lean figure... no bulk for built-in armor, either. She must be...:

"Hey, you're that D-Bee, ain't ya? Anim, or whatever. You got some
rep."

"You know what, creep? I'm going to give you a choice."

His mouth curled at the insult, as if he actually gave a damn about
her thoughts regarding him. His hand worked for a moment on the handle
of the gun.

"What, you gonna say die fast or die slow?"

Anim frowned, cursing herself. She was taking too long. He should be
dead already. Any longer and she might lose her nerve! As if in
response to his unease, she bent her wrist back into the first part of a flicking motion that could easily end her opponent's life.

"Not anymore," she hissed, flinging the blade with inhuman accuracy at
him. His hand clenched as the knife sunk into his jacket, a white bolt
hitting her shoulder.

One hand clenching the burn upon her left shoulder, she exited the
life-starved scene, head hanging with a disconcerting stark
indifference holding her slender being.

---

"I like you. You're good. You know how many men I've lost because of
that childish coward?"

She shook her head numbly.

"Too many. I won't make the mistake of opening my arms to you, my
family is not safe for you. Though I will always welcome you to my
house, Anim."

Her eyes reached up and held his half-smiling face. Probably about as
much as the stern looking mask would allow. Her nod was slight, but
words sincere as she spoke.

"Thank you, Mr. Carosa."

"Valance, even Val," he offered, drawing a conical wineglass to his
thick lips.

"Would do you me a favor?"

"You need only ask," he replied kindly.

"There is a contract on my virginity," she stated, hoping she was
concealing her deep, anger sparking fear. "I would appreciate it if
you would cancel the source of it."

"Done. Tony. Take some men and locate the contractors, and explain to
them that we do not like very much the trespass upon the sanctity of
the friend of our family, eh?"

The heavily muscled fellow nodded, pointing at a handful of men to
accompany him. Neither admitted to the truth: One of Valance's men had
issued the contract, one with whom he was very intimate. Yet, it
solved the problem of the betrayal, even while creating a large
emotional rift within his "house."

"Sit, blondie, and eat. We have much yet to do in this little city."