Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Series ❯ Casual time Off ( Chapter 9 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

No I don't own Sailor Moon, Naoko does.
I still own...
"The Assailant"
"The Creature"
"The Entity"
By the way, these guys ARE NOT ROLE MODELS!!!

"Speech"
(Thought)
[Sound]

Their thoughts:
I sit alone, and wait for the master or his wife, to raise me at a moment when violence enters his house.

Chapter 9
Casual Time Off

Late Morning...
After last night, Usagi was too confused to think straight. It was no excuse either, she was so rattled from last night she didn't even call any of her friends. She might as well have been stranded on an deserted island. After the police left last night, the family just wandered around and looked at the few chips and dents in the walls caused by the assailant. Her father was excused from work that day to collect himself and to comfort his family.
It was explaned by the police detective that they were hit with rock-salt and wasn't fatal in any way what-so-ever. All the same it did leave deep brusing on everyone. It hurt in one way or another no matter how they moved. Doing the simplest things induced shots of painful memories of last night. The morning news on TV that morning wasn't even done reporting about yesterdays downtown explosians, and now they were reporting about the viloent attack of a small family. The incedent that happened downtown was already being called one of the worst local attacks since the release of sarin nerve-gas canisters in a subway train on March 20'th 1995, that killed 12 and affected five-thousand others, and the bus accident earlier this year that killed 17 people, and affecting a total of over one-thousand.

But...
else where...

The unmasked assaliant was solomly walking down a backstreet. With his head slighlty down, his eyes were half close and fixed ahead at everything that remotly moved. His walk and stance projected a convincing illusion, and it didn't attract attention.
He was tall, just above six feet tall but after that he looked so ordinary. Short one-inch cropped hair, some facial hair though mostly around the sideburns. Still dressed heavy from last night, but at closer inspection they were very common clothes. Dark blue jeans, white t-shirt, the same jacket, and a pair of brown wook boots which showed obvious signs they've been worn for at lest for more than a few years.
He turned, and walked into a small store. Some dinky song was playing over the speakers as he trolled down an isle with a hand basket. He walked first to the back and grabbed two loaves of bread, then walked down another isle and grabbed several random cans of cake frosting. Over to the far fridgerated isle he stuffed, to the rim, the hand basket with energy drinks. He made his way to a beaded curtin to the liquor storage and grabbed two, 1-liter, bottles of Wild Turkey Straight Rye. At the front counter the small girl at the cash regester was already more than perplexed as the man set the basket and bottles down and reached for a one pound plastic jar of cashews. He payed, left the store, and continued walking just short of a quater of a mile to a small apartment complex. It was a two story building with a total of twelve rooms, and a group bath. The man peered his head around a wall and saw the young, and attractive landlady sweeping the front steps. A moment later she turned and went to a nearby work-shed, then the man made a quiet run behind her, and slipped throught the front door without so much as a sound. Quite odd for someone so large to do so, so easily.
Without talking off his boot he made his way upstairs, and to the first door on the right. [Thump] He kicked the bottom of the door, and it was opened by another man.

"What took you so long?" This second man was a few inches shorter, and had his dark brown, shabby hair down to his ears. He didn't look that much more different after that. He had an accent.

"Landlord was outside, and I didn't want to be seen by her." He kicked off his shoes into the corner and set the bags on a small counter.
"Let me rephrase that. I didn't want to talk to her."

"Why not? She likes you. I'd tap her. She might even be a screamer. I'd call that as some bonus points."

"You want your lunch?" He said holding the liquor bottle.

"Deal." The other man grabbed the bottle, and sat down on a chair in front of the TV. The assaliant took off his jacket and reveled a serious level of an firepower on himself. A 1911 .45 pistol in his rightside waistband, a .45 MAC-10 machine-pistol on his left side at an angle for a crossdraw, a system of simple leather straps held the sawed-off, autoloading shotgun stright down under his right shoulder, and a black pouch straped to his lower back containing twelve magizines for the smg. Setting his jacket down, which rested with a clatter, reveled his suspenders with a pouch on one side, and a pistol magizine on the other. He walked to the closet and opened the door, and knealed down at the four by two foot long black storage box. One by one he removed each item and placed them in, along with a few other weapons that were already inside. He went back into the small kitchen, which looked even smaller because he was so big, and stored the bought items in the fridge. He looked in the freezer and saw a few packs of fish, and one pack of ground beef. This also ment while he was out, his roommate ate the other three pounds of chuck he was saving for himself.
He grabbed a loaf of bread, two cans of frosting, the liquor bottle, and sat down aginst the corner of the wall. Their wasn't much to the room. A twenty inch television with a PS2, a small media tower filled with random catagories of movies, but the top row was filled with every old and new Resident Evil game and Ghost Recon 2.
"So have fun out there?"

"Nope... Anything good on TV?"

"Nope, not unless you count the news about you this morning."

"Bullshit, that's not news. I was there, that's called reality."

"Well it's news to everybody else."

"Well screw everybody else. Frosty Roll?"

"Yep." The assaliant handed a loaf of bread with a large glob of lemon frosting. The second man took a long swig of the rye then ate the frosty roll. The assaliant was also drinking from his own bottle and digging into the cashews.
"Hey dig this."

"Hmm?

"Eariler, a cop was on tv and said that, they had sig-nif-i-cant ev-i-dance aginst the criminal involved in an attack aginst a suburban family this morning." He said with a open mouth smile.

"Name one."

"Several spent bullets, an estimated weight of ninty kilograms, and a estimated height of at lest two meters." He said with a grin.

"What the hell is killogram?"

"Uhh, well if you weighed a hundred pounds, you weigh about fourty-five kilograms."

"Well they're wrong, simple as that." The TV turned on by itself, and switched to several random chanels, and then several others.

"Come-on just pick one. It's all the same crap anyway." The TV stoppped on an anime with a frilly dressed girl holding a wand. Neither of the two could've cared less about it.
"Oh please change it." The TV switched a few stations and rested on a talkshow, showing a woman being wraped in duct-tape.

"Yeah... same crap."

"Ghost Recon?"

"Yeah."

Hospital... again
Minako was in the waiting room waiting for news about Ami. Ami's mother was hystrical when she came rushing in yesterday , and today was not much different. She seemed to be yelling orders at every doctor she came in contact with, when she had the chance. It had been hours since she heard any news about Ami, and even more hours since she had any decient sleep. The last thing she heard was the doctors removed the claw from out of her, but that seem so long ago. She wanted to know more, and she wanted to know for sure when Ami was going to be okay.

Usagi was laying down on the couch in her house with her family. After last night, her mind went spinning in confusion, even though the officer told them they'd be fine. How the man just walked in and shot everybody, but no one died. She was extreamly greatfull that no one died, but it still made no sence to her. For over half a year, they stayed silent, they planned, and had introduced a way of fighting and combat they were very unfamiler with. All she could think of was her two good friends in the hospital, because of that monster. She would've like to have Mamoru by her side holding her, but her father wouldn't let him stay, reguardless. Her little brother Shingo was still in a distressed state. His shoulder and back was badly brused from being shot in the back, and he haden't moved from his bed last night. Her mother Ikuko, was still in bed in pain, and every little movement cause a different kind of pain. Her mother coulden't even sit up without crying from an amount of pain she could feel. Her father Kenji had fallen in a depression. Even though his stomach swelled with an ferice agony, in his mind he could only see himself as a weak helpless little boy, like his son. But it was his duty to protect his family and he failed. Nothing he could do, could have stopped the man with the gun, that attack his family. It felt like his heart melted into a street gutter, and down a water drain.

Haruka, Michiru, and Setsuna were in their apartment, and they had just heard about what happened at the Tsukino house from the morning news. It was surreal to them.

"How can this be happening?" Michiru asked aloud.

"How about, why is this happening?" Setsuna added. Haruka said nothing. She sat in front of the tv sortta useless in her own mind.

(We still don't know what they're here for, we don't even have a rough guess for the limits of their strength or power, we don't know what they are, or where they came from.) Haruka thought to herself.
(Ever since the first day, the bus. When that monster came and not only destroyed the bus and the people inside, but our peace as well, the spirt that nearly destroyed Rei's temple, and even the explosians yesterday. Everything we and all the people that have worked so hard for, our peace.) She
turned her head slightly away from the tv.
(Even right now, they're planning something. The next time they could probly go so far as to kill all of us.)

At the assaliants aprtment...
The guy with the shabby hair had just slammed a thick phonebook into the side of the assaliants face so hard it kocked him down to the floor and on his side.
"HA, I win."

"Ugh, you prick. Six outta ten." And they resumed playing their videogame.

Later that afternoon.
It was reasonably peaceful, all things considered anyway. Almost every family in japan had at lest heard about whats been happening because of the yakuza gangsters causing mass panic and mayhem. However this was the only explanation the athorities could give publicly. It didn't help much but it, at lest, classified them other than just two maniacs.
But in a familer part of town, in Ami's apartment it was quiet. Quiet as midnight, quiet as a tomb, and as quiet as corpse. Nothing was touched since a few days ago, but in the corner of the room, Ami sat there on a chair. She had this sad, lost look on her face, like she's been walking forever but with on where to go. She looked one way and the other. Her fingertip kindda dragged aginst the surfice of the carpet. She looked up as she could hear footsteps outside her door, but the footsteps continued on further down the hall. She lowered her head again.

_________________________________________________________________

This chapter was alot shorter than I had actually planned, but their's always next time... be nice and review the chapter.
Thank-you to everybody who's read my work. Your time in reading is greatly appreciated.

The 3/20/1995 sarin gas attack is a real incedent. If you don't beleive me, look it up!
Wild Turkey is owed by Master Distiller-Jimmy Russell. You either like this stuff, or it will F*#% YOU UP!
1911 pistols are made by several factories, but we'll just give credit to the man, John M. Browning
MAC-10... owned by Military Armament Company. (I think)
PLEASE DON'T DRINK AND SHOOT OR DRIVE!!!
Playstation 2 owned by... Sony. (I think)
Biohazard/Resident Evil owned by Capcom, and creator Shinji Mikami.
Ghost Recon is owned by Ubi-Soft and created by Tom Clancy.