[A low funereal dirge on Uilleann pipes plays softly, building in volume] -The screen fades in from black to blood-red. The silhouette of a female figure with long hair crosses the stage from the left. As her hair flows behind her, filling the screen, the image dissolves into a series of pastel drawings. [Three loud bass beats interrupt the pipes, which then resume, accompanied by a frantic electronic breakbeat.] - Youta and Yoshi playing Go. There is a pitcher of lemonade sitting nearby. - Che Ferrio, looks enviously into a store window at a freshly-baked pie. - Hikaru, wearing a sundress and straw hat, feeds an apple to a horse. - Alex, in jeans and a ripped t-shirt, working on a motorcycle. - Cleo bending over to smell an orchid, butterflies spread all around her. - Yomiko hanging in mid-air above the pool, after making the perfect roll from the high dive. [The drums fade out altogether, and a soft tin whistle line starts up] - The Chosen Warriors file in, one by one, taking their place in a group shot, freezing in place after assuming a ready stance. - The logo fades into view, superimposed over the image of the Warriors. -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- THE CHOSEN WARRIORS A joyous little Pre-Apocalyptic romp Created by Hiroshi Musashi Hosted by Indie Madnesse Chapter 8: Doom, Death, and Destruction (but not necessarily in that order) by Ravi Duvvuri -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- Lazarus Kayin sipped impassively from his glass. He watched in contented amusement as the angel before him flailed and struggled, her mouth contorting in silent screaming. "It's been a while since this office has been graced with such an... entertaining floor show," he said, chuckling richly. He rubbed his chin, lost momentarily in musing. "In fact, I can't say that it ever has." He stood and walked around his desk, coming to a stop next to the cage. With a frown, he picked at a bit of flaking paint from one of the bars on the open door. "Plate? I must have a talk with whomever approved this purchase..." He turned to face the still-moving angel. Vina glared at him with anger in her eyes, rushing at him, stopping abruptly as her newly gained Soul insisted that she go no further. Vina went still, physically and emotionally spent, collapsing to the floor. She silently wept, her chest heaving from her previous efforts. "What's the matter, Dear? Are you... quite all right?" Vina stood suddenly, a saccharine smile light upon her lips. Grinning brightly, she floridly gestured reaching over to her pocket. Gesturing hand-over-hand, she began to mime pulling out an endless string of handkerchiefs. President Kayin frowned slightly. She was taking this rather well, he thought. Perhaps the Soul of Marcel Marceau had taken hold quicker than anticipated. Vina snapped up suddenly, raising an index finger, as though coming to a realization. Stepping high, she hopped her way over to Lazarus, who was cautiously watching her. Shrugging her shoulders, she mutely giggled goofily and reached behind her back. "What the hell?" Lazarus asked, unsure what to make of the recent turn of events. Vina pulled her hand out from behind her back, holding it to her side. She raised her other hand in front of her mouth, which was contorted into a surprised "O". She looked at her hand, then at Lazarus, then back at her hand. Turning back to Lazarus, she flashed a spiteful grin before slamming the imaginary pie into his face. Lazarus screamed in pain as Vina's palm connected with his nose, breaking it. He stumbled backward, his head smacking soundly against the bars of the door to the cage before he fell back into it. Vina giggled emphatically and slammed the door shut. Lazarus grabbed for the bars, pulling himself up. He pressed his hand to his forehead, his fingers meeting a sticky warm wetness. Bringing them back in front on him, he stared in mute disbelief at his own blood. Slightly woozy, he fell backwards, the air knocked out of his lungs as his back hit the bars on the other side of the cage. "So now what?" he managed to stutter, his voice unsteady. Vina merely pulled up his chair from behind the desk and rolled it in front of the cage. She sat herself down in it and leaned forwards, smiling. "What are you going to do with me?" he asked. She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth lifting into a cruel smile. "What do you want from me?!" he screamed, his voice ragged. She leaned back in her chair, eternally silent. - = - "I think the Boss has lost it." "What do you mean?" "He bonded with the new Soul. The Comedian." "What do we do now?" "We check the manual." "What do you mean?" "He wrote up a section of what to do in case he went mad." "What do we do now?" "You'll see." "What do you mean?" "Shut the fuck up." - = - The angel sighed and took off his? her? ... her glasses. Placing them down on the podium in front of her, she rubbed the bridge of her nose, and then glared. "So. What do you have to say in defense of this... 'life' you led?" He blinked. "Excuse me?" The angel sighed again, shaking her head. She picked up her glasses and held them above the tip of her nose, studying the parchment before him. "You are Musashi Yoshi, are you not?" Yoshi frowned. This wasn't supposed to be happening. "Yes, I am. But if this is what I think it is, I shouldn't be here." The angel set her glasses down again. As if by habit, she replied in a bored tone of voice. "And what exactly do you mean by that?" "If this is Heaven, then I must be dead. But I am a Chosen Warrior. If I'm dead... then my soul should stay on Earth." "Are all humans this arrogant, or are you an exception?" the Angel asked, again sounding as if she'd been through this time and time again. "You, like every other human who has ever died, must stand Judgment. Kings, beggars..." She paused to glare at him. "Even 'Warriors' must be tried. What have you done to make your life worthy of our consideration?" "I stand by what I said before. I should not be here," he answered evenly. "Yoshi," the angel said, frowning. "It is time, I think, for you to go home." He blinked as the clouds beneath his feet dissolved. "Yoshi," the angel repeated. He felt himself drop, buffeted by the winds and currents as he began his swift return trip to home. "Yoshi..." He looked down. He sighed, surprised to find that he wasn't as afraid of death as he thought he would be. "Yoshi..." He smiled. "Yoshi?" a worried voice said. "Are you okay?" He blinked, once, twice, then opened his eyes, squinting at the solitary bright light above him. A silhouetted figure hovered over him, long hair hanging down around her face. As his eyes readjusted themselves, he realized the face was that of Cleo. "Where are we?" he asked, experimentally moving his arms and legs, only to be met by the loud complaining of his aching body. "We're in some bunker," Cleo answered. "Fighting broke out, and... and... We ran. You hit your head." She looked behind her. "I dragged you in here. I still don't know what's going on." "Why am I wearing women's clothes?" he asked, wincing as he struggled to move his arms. The shoulders of the sailor fuku eventually ripped, and he shrugged freely, scowling all the while. "And why are you wearing mine?" "I... I don't know," Cleo said. "All I know is that you're Yoshi. And that you saved me." She sniffled, letting her hands sit in her lap. Yoshi sat up, drawing his knees to his chest before stretching them out again. Slowly, he bent his neck from side to side, grimacing as his neck popped loudly. "I just wish that I could rememb-URK" he started before Cleo bent forward and silenced him, pressing her lips hungrily to his. "C-Cleo?" he stammered, shocked by the unexpected action. She hushed him, scooting forward and straddling his legs. She looked him in the eyes and kissed him again. Yoshi lost himself to the moment, forgetting about the fighting, the future, and Destiny, if only for the now. - = - "Give us our leader!" Sailor Gamma shouted. "Give us our clothes!" Alex shouted back. "Give us our leader!" Sailor Gamma shouted. "Give us our clothes!" Alex shouted back. "Give us our leader!" Sailor Gamma shouted. "Give us our clothes!" Alex shouted back. "We're going to be here a while, aren't we?" Sailor Beta asked. "I guess so. Want a peanut?" Charles offered. FIN (chapter 8) Author's Note: [Or, In Which Ravi Hacks Up A Lung] I had to skip before, and I almost did this time as well. This was very difficult for me, because this isn't my sort of story. I don't know what my kind of story is, but this really isn't it, I guess. Add in additional difficulties, like the fact that EVERYTHING is happening now, and I'm feeling ill, and well... there you go. I hope this wasn't too much of a mess for John and Chaobino... I'd like to thank John Evans, whose Sunburst Project stimulus provided a spark to start from. I'd also like to thank Woofer and Ardweden for prereading, and Ardweden 'n' her pals at TMF for the title, which I gleefully stole. ^_^ Later. -ravi