Fatal Fury Fan Fiction / Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Sailor Rifts ❯ Chapter 4: The Folly of Great Power and High Morals ( Chapter 4 )

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

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

Chapter 4: The Folly of Great Power and High Morals

Unable to ignore the obvious need to avoid the blade threatening her,
the brown haired warrior ducked. The iridescent broadsword in her
hands came down to disarm her opponent.

"Now," she started, "are you willing to leave, or must I repeat my
demonstration here with the both of you?" A convincing snarl hung on
her lip.

The three exchanged yellow pupil glances, and decided that this
village was not worth the effort.

"N-no," the tallest stammered, "we'll go."

She said nothing, making a gesture with her transparent blade. The
gesture told them to leave, and that if they were to ever return, she
would kill them. They scrambled away, giving no hint of rebellion in
their retreat. She let the psi-sword disappear into the nothingness
from which it had come.

A small group of cheering towns-people approached the tall woman, as
she merely regarded them, apparently indifferent.

"Savior!" one of them said, the self-evident elder of the small
village.

"This once," she noted evenly, almost in reflection. "There will be
others."

"Feh," the old man quipped, "what does it matter with the likes of
your kind about? I prefer you knights to the technocrats of the
Coalition and the D-bees any day."

She seemed to study him for a moment, and his confidence froze in
mid-motion. He tried to dislodge the wedge by asking a question of the
valiant stranger.

"Have you a name there?"

She remained silent for a moment, but said, as if adding to an
unspoken thought; "I am known as Sliver."

He paled.

"The Sliver, in our humble town! Why are you not off fighting the
Coalition now? This town means nothing," he muttered, "not a'one'll
miss us."

She regarded him with sudden warmth that set him at ease.

"I go were I am needed. To defend the good people from evil is my
life." Her gaze hardened again. "There is always another waiting.
Always."

"Well, you've done enough for one day, my dear," the old man slapped
her shoulder heartily, and in good humor. "Come. We've not much here,
but the food is fresh, and hot. You shall have some rest after that.
You look as though your search has only begun."

Her gaze, having drifted into the crowd of people who watched the
conversation, seeming too scared to move any closer to the legend at
hand, snapped back to him. It was steady, probing, curious. She began
to wonder how much he really knew.

The old fellow merely smiled.

---

The hut he accompanied her to was small, and looked well kept. The
crowd that had gathered about them earlier seemed to disperse, leaving
them alone by the time they reached their destination. Dinner, it
seemed, had already been prepared. It consisted of steaming spice
soup, cheese, bread, and a variant of barley beer.

"So what part of your search brings you to Quebec?" the old man asked,
cutting a few pieces of cheese with a small knife.

Sliver watched him carefully, as she had since he dropped what she
suspected to be a hint about her origin.

He shrugged.

"We are all searching. Where that search brings us depends on where we
care to go. How willing we are to follow it." He sipped a bit of his
soup. She shook her head, unable to accept that generalization.

"Tell me what you know of the young D-Bee women rumored to have
escaped from Atlantis."

His face set dubiously.

"I haven't heard much," he said, putting his spoon down. "Why would
you care anyway?"

She leaned forward and snarled, "Just answer the question."

He startled, and nodded eagerly, clearly intimidated.

"W-well, it's like I said. This place is pretty quiet. All I heard is
about th' girls, and that the Coalition wants them. We're so far from
the coast... it takes months for us to hear anything from so
distant..."

Neither of them were eating; both were far too tense.

She measured him again with her eyes, attempting to perceive any
knowledge he might be hiding. As some moments passed, she decided to
risk a psychic probe. Reaching forth with her mind, she felt some
measure of apprehension within him. He did not react.

"You're nervous about something, what is it?"

He merely gazed at her. At first she thought it was his fear holding
his eyes on her, then she realized that he was looking above her.

She dropped to the floor and rolled away. As she did, she heard the
easy smashing of wood. Getting to her feet and turning around, she
noticed the splintered chair she had been sitting in. The voice behind
the black skull motif helmet cursed and approached her. She snarled
and leapt at him, catching him by the throat and knocking him to the
floor. She clenched her fist, and three slim blades extended outward
from the back of her hand.

"You won't kill me," the baritone said, still defiant. "You're just a
cyber-nut."

"Maybe so," she agreed. "But you're just a squishy."

She then pulled back, and decked him, leaving an impressive dent in
his helmet. In one motion, she turned and stood up from the
unconscious form, and froze. The old man gazed at her, straining
against the neck hold of the second grunt, watching the energy pistol
held to his head.

"Sliver I..." he coughed as the grunt tightened his grip.

"You'll co-operate, or the old man dies," he threatened.

"Not a chance, creep," she glared at the grunt, speaking in angry
undertones. "Supreme Thunder!"

A white bolt struck the man, knocking him over and causing him to
release his grip on the older man's throat.

With a violent cough, the elder called out; "Sliver, run!"

She did that, before she had time to second guess herself. As it
turned out, as she bolted out of the door, the Coalition had expected
the possibility of her running. She was deafened by the sound of a
sonic boom as a vicious explosion vaporized the front door and most of
the adjoining wall, and also threw her aside. Scrambling to her feet
with a dull ringing in her ears, she had barely enough time to notice
what had fired at her before it took another shot. She recognized the
laser resistant glint of the power armor immediately.

Just as the thought surfaced in her mind, Sliver was caught by the
second Power Armour's attempt at subduing its target. She screamed,
thrown backward by the force of the rail gun blast. Her chance for
action arose. Allowing herself a moment to drop into place psychic
pain barriers, she determined her course of action. Not a difficult
choice:

Get the heck away from that Glitter Boy!

Swift to her feet, she turned, and sought nearest exit, if one
existed. A curse rose to her lips. No such luck, the Coalition had
anticipated that tact, apparently. She turned again, and ran at the
ten foot tall glittering Power Armour. The man inside the armor gave
with a gasp as the half-ton of armor fell over with the impact of this
comparatively small humanoid woman.

"Halt!" A voice demanded coldly. "Or there will be more corpses like
this one around here."

The charred remnants of the old man landed at her feet, smoking, and
smelling of freshly warmed death. She said nothing, replying as much
cold hatred her face would allow.

"Bloody bitch," a voice cursed from within the glitter armour. "Here,
have some back!"

She felt a dull thud as something knocked her the cool earth. Then she
remembered nothing.

---

She awoke with a groan. Silence greeted her as she glanced about the
white walled room. There were no windows, which did not surprise her.
What did, however, was the apparent lack of any door.

Getting up, she felt a wash of pain move down from the back of her
head to her neck. Strangely enough, they had not bothered to bind her.
On that mental note, she realized that she was not clothed! The only
article of clothing she seemed to be wearing was a metal collar, and a
loincloth.

Horrified, she sat down with her knees drawn to her chest.

"Getting comfortable, are we?" came a voice in clearly mocking tones.

She said nothing, looking around for the source.

"Good. You're going to be here for some time."

"Where am I?" she demanded.

"Supposing I told you, what would you do with that information? No, I
don't think so. You'll know what we want you to know, and answer the
questions we ask of you."

"Bloody hell I will!" she retorted angrily.

"No? Well, you might not agree immediately, but given time, and a
little persuasion, I'm sure you'll become all too agreeable."

"Not a chance, buster!" she stood, anger pushing aside her modesty as
she got to her feet. "I'll die before I..."

"Perhaps later." A scruntizing pause. "My my, you are a pretty thing,
aren't you? I really had no idea..."

Clenching her fists, the six vibro blades failed to extend. She looked
at the back of her hands. Steel plates had been affixed to her hands
via small slips of synthetic material wrapped around the palms.

"The cat gets de-clawed," the voice laughed. "Little good they would
do you anyway. You're ours now."

She bowed her head and started to mutter something under her breath.

"Magic? We took that as well," the voice continued. "Along with your
psychic powers."

"Everything?" she asked, a slight smile spreading on her face.

"Good to hear you're starting to see things our way."

"You might say that," she said as she walked towards one of the walls.
She raised as fist and put it through the wall in one violent motion.

The voice cursed its error.

Makoto began pulling out sections of the wall. It seemed as though the
wall had been built next to a... sewer? She was underground! She
punched the black piping. It gave a little, and also hurt a bit. She
clenched her fists together, and hit it again. The pipe gave
completely and her hands sank in. She reached into the hole and began
widening it. Just as the opening started to become large enough for
her to fit into, she heard a hiss. Turning, she saw a square section
of the wall opposite her open.

"Holy shi..." a voice gasped.

"Halt!" augmented tones demanded.

Makoto cursed. She had just enough time to duck the first blast as it
struck the opening she had been prying at. Glancing at it as she
scrambled to her feet, she noticed that the rest of her work had been
finished for her. She jumped into the opening, and fled.

The inside of the sewers turned out to be just as bright as the
outside of the piping. It was damp, cold, and she was shivering. Her
awareness of that brought her to think ahead.

:Where will I go? I can't go above ground like this!:

Emotions welled inside her as her feet carried her onwards.

"Hey you!" A deep voice called. "Stop!"

A backward glance told her that she was no longer alone. They had
caught up to her. At the speed they were running, she had time to -
maybe - find a place to hide, but no more than that.

Lights flashed ahead of her.

"Halt, you!"

She stopped, eyes darting, furious.

"Hey!" a rustic voice said quietly. So quietly that it failed to
register at first. "Hey babe!"

Makoto's eyes snapped to the source. To her right she could see a very
masculine face not trying to not stare at her from a space between
where two of the sewer pipes had formerly joined.

"Geez, it's gettin' kinda cozy here. Come on!"

She hesitated for a moment, and realized that there just was no time.
The fellow offered his hand. She took it, and slipped into the
crevasse with him. They ran for what felt like some distance. Finally
the man started to slow.

"We're probably safe now. They can't follow us." Makoto was silent. He
gazed at her and shook his head. "Yer way too pretty to be a D-Bee,"
he remarked.

"I'm not a D-Bee," she protested.

"Wait," he eyed her. "You are a D-Bee. You're that lady Cyber-Knight,
right?"

"Glad you noticed," she replied sarcastically, arms folded over her
breasts.

He did not seem to notice her tone.

"Damn fine piece a'..." he grinned, gazing at her body boldly. "Uh,
you want some clothes maybe?"

She glared at him. He shrugged. He took off the leather coat he was
wearing and offered it to her. She refused it, shivering.

"Gettin' cold, eh? Come on, I'm not gonna hurt you, 'cause they ain'
gonna let up so easy," he said, nonchalant. "An I'll be damned if I'm
just gonna let you float here and get vaped. Got me?."

"Yeah," she replied with a faint measure of gratitude.

Makoto took the coat and wrapped it about her shoulders. He had a
point. As they continued on, she noticed a dramatic change in the
climate. From cool and muggy to warm and stale.

"Where are we?" Makoto asked.

"Jus' under a power plant," he stated seriously. "How 'bout I take ya
somewhere you can get that collar and bracers off?"

"I can't go topside like this!"

He gave her a look that told her he would not mind forgetting that,
but had not.

"Here." He stopped and gestured towards a small closet. She stepped
towards it, and opened the door. Inside were several sets of pants,
shirts, blouses, and other accessories of varying types. Oddly, she
noted that a fair portion, at least half of these, were selections of
reasonable taste - in the feminine sense of the term.

"I set this up a long time ago, just 'cause you never know."

She started towards them, but hesitated.

"Do you mind?" she asked.

"Wha'?" A stern glance made him concede. He turned around. "Okay.
Sorry."

She blinked, and was silently thankful for his intervention, despite
his somewhat harsh attitude.

"Set this up? Why?" she muttered thoughtfully. "What do you do?"

"Bodyguard," he offered curtly, his tones indicating his restlessness.
"Look, we gotta get goin, okay? They'll catch up pretty frickin'
fast."

She frowned, and slipped on a shirt.

"Hey, I'm getting dressed as fast as I bloody well can, okay?"

"Sure. You mind if I ask what you were doin' down here, anyway?"

"Actually, yes."

"Huh," he grunted. "Right. Fine."

"Okay, you can turn around now."

He did, and froze, gazing appreciatively over her. He whistled
appreciatively, though Makoto hardly found herself enjoying the
attention for its baseness. She sighed heavily, eyebrows knitted,
glare dangerously sharp.

"You want the jacket back?" she uttered tensely.

"Naw, you can keep it. Uh, you can call me Hanlan, eh... um, Han." He
reached into the closet and pulled out another leather jacket while
she slipped his old one over her shoulders. "What's yours?"

"Makoto."

"Huh, interestin' name. Suits ya."

She squinted a curious eye at the comment, a little reproachful, but
decided to let the matter drop. As it fell, they, in turn, shared a
brief fascination.

As he put on the jacket, she realized that there was something she
found vaguely... attractive about him. He was quite heavily muscled.
He seemed like the sort of fellow who spoke with his fists rather than
words. His brown shoulder length hair looked like it could use a good
combing, and washing. Nonetheless, it appropriately framed his roughly
chiseled face. Even that looked stocky, edgy, and tough. He had deep
blue eyes, which held her attention for a greater span of time than
she preferred to admit. Despite this, Makoto thought they were almost
inappropriate for such a bruiser. Lack luster, lack culture. Summarily
a physical attraction, she felt. Nothing more.

Though, he did remind her somewhat of her ex-boyfriend...

:If I had a little time I could teach him to... I dunno, to wipe the
drool off his face when he looks at me too long, he just might be
worth this hell trip:

In her nudity, at first glance, she had seemed to him like a
pretty-girl. Further unabashed study indicated that she had more
muscle definition than any pageant beauty was likely to have. She
looked to have seen a lot of adventure and enjoyed it. Despite her
musculature, she did not lack a figure. As a matter of fact, she had
enough of one to rival a lot of the fragile beauty queens he had known
in the past. Even though he really failed to comprehend her nature, he
found himself quite drawn to her. It actually helped that she was
clothed. Particularly in the style she had chosen. She had selected a
blue shirt, black pants, shades, and black biker gloves, which he saw
hanging out of one pocket. He decided his jacket looked very nice on
her as well. She had a throaty, husky voice, and a tough, hard edged
demeanour which he found quite relaxing. All the women he had known
had run at the first sign of trouble. She looked like the type of girl
who would not only face the trouble, but look for more. But then,
trouble was just another factor in his life. He enjoyed it.

The moment he realized he was attracted to her, he distracted from it
by turning to the task at hand.

"Uh, why don't we get you do that doc."

"Doc? Who said anything about a doctor?" she asked, suddenly on her
toes.

"You deaf? I did. Look babe, if you want those bracers off... I can't
do it, so... it's your call."

"First you start by telling me where hell I am."

He gazed at her for a steady moment.

"What, you aren't from around here? Does New Quebec ring any bells?"

She half-frowned, eyes narrowing.

"Quebec? You mean Canada? I thought it was all mountains and snow
peaks!"

"What?" he blinked, looking puzzled. "Where'd you come from, anyways?
C'mon, let's go."

She nodded slightly, following his lead, a matter of second hand
nature.

"I don't know where I was, really. I was only down there for a few
months, and no one told me."

"Uh, okay. Don' matter to me."

"Han, how about we get something straight, okay?"

He stopped and faced the girl who he knew was about to draw the lines
of interaction between them. His face was somewhat hard, but he said
nothing.

"Next time you stare at me like a side of beef, you'll regret it.
Clear?"

"A threat?" he drawled. "Oh damn, I think I'm shakin'."

She growled angrily at that.

"Hey, hey... Most chicks don' mind if I stare, you got me? Way I
figure it, it's a compliment! If ya do mind, you jus' tell me. Okay?"

Makoto's sour expression did not lessen. In fact, she threw him an
angrily rancid look.

"Bullshit," she bit off. "Don't patronize me!"

His sigh was weighted, and his eyes jumped uncomfortably between her
face and the stone floor. No one had ever had the nerve to call his
ego on the level, aside from his deceased mother. Not really sure why,
exactly, he felt the need to apologize to her. She was so pretty, and
man, tough as nails!

"Ah geez Makoto," he started slowly. "I'm sorry. Okay? I mean it."

She considered this for a moment, and watched his slightly slumped
shoulders and uneasy face. Like most of the boys she had known, he was
falling into place. Though usually they gave her immediate respect.

"I can do respect, if you can just ease up and maybe trust me. 'Cause
I tell ya, we ain't gettin' topside if you jus' wanna argue."

She nodded slowly, and uncrossed her arms.

"All right, but if you cross that line buster, I will make you wear
it!"

"Huh, if you say so," he replied, disbelieving, then turned around and
started walking.

"You don't think I can?"

He shrugged

"Whatever. Not like I care."

But she did, she realized. Oddly enough, in spite of his treatment, it
did matter to her. Bitter confusion arose that this point, but it
relaxed swiftly. His attraction to her was obvious, and altogether not
at all surprising. They passed quickly back into the sewers, up
through a tunnel and into a back alley, right into Coalition suburbia.
They were directly within the walls of the CS State, guarded from the
dangers of the Rifts, and smitten by the threat of capture by their
guardians.

"Are you sure it's safe?"

He looked back at her.

"You tell me. You're the Psi-Freak."

"Psi-Freak?!" she snapped back. "Just because I can... uh... cripes."

"What?"

"Look over my shoulder," she said. "Someone nearby... not sure where -
is upset. Actually, it's more like disappointed. There's a lot of
related anger there, too."

"We're almost there..." Han's unshaven face tensed in consideration.
"Damnit, I'm not taking any chances with you."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the nearest alleyway.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she snarled, easily freeing his
arm from his powerful grip. "If they want a fight, they can just come
and get it!"

"We're going to take the back door," he said, ignoring her statement.

"What? Just you..."

"Look, I don't give a damn who trained you," Han said plainly, not
looking at her. "You're a woman. And you don't fight. So don't give me
no sass, cause ain' no one fucks with Han the Man."

Still, glancing over her shoulder, Makoto could see no one behind her.

"Okay," she flared, pausing to summon a glowing broadsword of pure
psychic energy. "Bring it on 'Han the Man'."

"Holy hell," he swore, staring dumbly at the impressive weapon. With
that, she could quickly reduce him to pieces. "Jesus...! I gotta watch
my damn mouth!"

She stopped, her face losing its resonant anger. Abruptly, the sharp
report of a shotgun sent her flying - a shapely rag doll - into the
red brick wall nearby with a solid whump!

"Psionics don't mean shit," said a voice, accompanied by the click of
a rifle.

With a feral snarl and low bellow, Han leapt at the man before him in
a tier of rage. There was a gunshot and a dull thwack! and Han got to
his feet, his barrel-like chest heaving with effort and emotion.

"Bastard," he cursed, then whirled about to check on the folded form
of Makoto. She was breathing, and moving, he noticed as he grabbed his
opponent's weapon. No blood, though.

"Armor," he muttered, gazing about him. He wasn't alone, and knew it.

"He greased Alex!" a voice exclaimed. Three dark figures appeared
seemingly from nowhere. They did not appear to be armed. Han hefted
the shortened double-barrelled weapon in his hands.

:One man with a gun against three. Yep; Han thought, :that makes it
about even:

He level the gun and shot the nearest of the three, who fell to the
ground, motionless. Just as he turned to aim for the next, hands
reached out and wrenched the gun easily from his grip. A fist hit him,
hard, and he tasted blood. He staggered backwards, landing on his
butt.

Makoto cursed as she approached Han's assailant. Han was not sure if
she even moved when she attacked the two figures. No, her hands and
arms did blur as she struck them. They came back twice, and Makoto
delivered, quite clearly enjoying physical combat.

She was a natural. Scratch that. She was supernatural. She could kick
his ass! Finally, they lay on the ground, unmoving. Han managed to get
to his feet by the end of the fight, cursing is inability to defeat
the three attackers.

"How's that for a girl?" she stated, stepping up to him, hands on
hips. "Jackass... you'd be dead if I... uh..."

Han said nothing, he just looked at her. His eyes fell to her, and
locked. Before he knew what happened, she was in his arms, and their
lips pressed. A moment flickered, and dropped. She stepped back,
flustered. The attraction was mutual, she blinked, abashed and ahgast.
Her face soured slightly as she spoke.

"Just what the hell was..."

"Let's just go, ok?" Han said.

Dazed, and feeling psychologically mussed, she nodded. She needed time
to figure him out.

---

"Where'd you say you was from again?" A slightly overweight man asked
as he carefully lasered the vibro-restraints.

"Tokyo," she said, watching his cigar stained fingers carefully.

He snickered. "Don't ya worry none, I ain't hurt a'one yet."

"Yet," she observed tiredly.

"Tokyo? Can't say much about th' place, 'cept they got some nice tek,"
he paused to expel a cloud of smoke through his mouth. "And nice
women."

Makoto sighed internally, and coughed aloud.

"Nothin' pers'nal. Yer nice lookin' too."

:What a shack; she thought. Bits and pieces of what Laray called "tek"
lay strewn everywhere, in no particular order.

:How can he live like this?: Then it occurred to her. :He really
doesn't have any alternative: Her mind wandered to a place she missed.
:I want to go back home. I want...:

She bowed her head slightly, hoping to hide her tears. Suddenly Han
was there, asking Laray if he was done. The balding man nodded deftly.

"If y' don' mind, I'm gonna keep yer collar. I guess y' don' want it?"

She merely shook her head.

"Okay. I gotta check sum s'pplies 'n the back room..."

"Just go," Han said. Without further supposition, he did.

"Why're you crying, babe? Was it something they... uh... did?"

She smiled faintly, then broke into bitter tears again. She felt
eighteen again, and did not like it.

:Why am I crying now? Why in front of Han?:

Somehow it came to her: Kindred soul.

The bruiser took Makoto in his arms, and was quiet for a while.