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 favoured car.
'Geez, uh, yeah,' replied he. 'Thanks.'
'Okay!' she bellowed, favouring 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, '… well nevermind. 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 studied 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 Bishoujo 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 60s 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 snapped, 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 signalled the continuation of explanation as she departed. Roger grabbed a fry and bit down, finding it to be reasonably c
runchy, 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 cancelled 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…' he shut his eyes, pulling his oval, thin rimmed glasses from his face and rubbing his eyes. 'It almost was… until I came around the corner and floored it. I guess it's just that Knight in Shining Armour 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 presence.
'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 flirtatiously. '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, eyeing 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 defence, 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.
Chapter 19
Gruff Noble