The Dark Savant

Prelude: Lone Warrior - Pawn of Destiny
_____________________________________________________________________

Written by Khyron (Backstabber@thevortex.com)
____________________________________________________________________

Sailor Pluto stood stoically, her face was not unlike the beautiful
faces the Vikings carved into the front of their ships for luck. She
had an exotic, untouched beauty that was as cold as her post. Her
hair was long, dark green. It glimmered and swayed in the pale purple
light, shimmering knowingly; almost as if it were alive. Her body was
that of a tall, voluptuous nineteen-year-old; shapely, lithe as a
dancer's. Her skin was the color of honeycombs, and not a blemish
could be found on her delicate form. Her face wasn't beautiful in the
classical sense, it was romantic beauty. Her lips were full, pouting,
dark red. Her nose was elegant, and seemed to fit her face. Her brow
was well-defined, and went well with her strong jaw-line. Pluto's
cheek bones were high, framed by the jade-coloured hair. Her eyes
were outlined by thin, refined, jade eyebrows. While the eyes
themselves were hard, garnet-red, menacing. She could have passed
as a teenager, but her eyes knew too much, held too much hatred, dull
with pain that intensified over the eons of ageless duties. Her eyes
were hardened, devoid of light, love, compassion. All of the petty
human emotions mortals take for granted. She looked cold, cruel,
unhappy. Looking upon her, you could see that this was a soul that
had never loved, never been loved, never laughed, and never cried.
She was too well composed for that. Pluto was a dark presence indeed.

Her attire was that of a Senshi; black, white, and red. She held a
large staff - which resembled a very large key - that had almost
become an extension of herself. On top of the key was a large garnet
orb, glittering with the same dark, all-knowing fire as her eyes.
Sailor Pluto just stood there, perfectly still - not flinching, not
moving - almost as if she were dead.

Sailor Pluto's life is - was and always will be - an never-ending
cycle, a circle of bitterness. Her sole purpose to fulfill her
destiny - a destiny she can never escape, and is not sure she'd want
to. Pluto gives - gave and will give - up everything; love, hurt,
hope, happiness, joy, and salvation. Her world holds nothing for her,
yet she can't leave. She has to stay. She knows nothing but her duty.
And she'll go on giving, fulfilling what it is she chose to finish.
Trying to satisfy the world with her endless giving - that is
unappreciated, unrewarded, and unrecognized. She'll remain faceless,
unknown, unloved, unaccepted by the world. Pluto should - *must* - be
alone. Destiny dictates her every move. She gave up her entire
being, her soul, her heart, her life, her love. She stands naked,
cold, bending to the will of the world; looking for a ray of hope,
the tiniest chance of salvation. Standing stoic, while her insides
crumble under the want of compassion, the longing of companionship,
the undeniable yearning that drowns her. But she cannot, will not do
anything. Because of her duty.  She is afraid, alone. But she made it
that way. Sailor Pluto chose her fate a long time ago.

When the Moon was young, and Pluto already old, she had decided to
guard the Gate of Time. It had been a fatal mistake, and her destiny
had caused her to live, die, and be reborn into this madness. She had
once dreamed of being something else - someone else, far away from
these chains of destiny. But, she had forgotten what that was eons
ago. Since her duties began, she made the same mistakes, performed
the same tasks, died at the same times, everything is the same. All,
in the end, remains the same, the same, the same... 

She hopes, each time, that one day it will end. That the madness will
stop. The dullness, the pain, the screaming of the silence will be
over. But she awakens again to find herself here, in this void, to
complete her mission, to do what must be done. To finish the cycle.
To complete the circle.

It was the same with this reawakening. She awoke to the grim
knowledge that she must continue to slave, to work, to sacrifice. Her
destiny is all she has left. The life she once had - whatever it may
have been - has long since returned to the dust. She lives and dies
for this insanity. 

Nothing ever changes. There are no happy endings because nothing ever
ends. Who knows that better than Pluto? The Guardian of Time. The
Senshi of Fate. She has seen everything, yet she still refuses to
acknowledge the truth. Refuses to learn. She will not stop. Nothing
will keep her from her duty. She wishes for her dull aching to stop.
For the stillness to be broken. For the voices that scream in her
head to be silenced. A finish. A stop. A conclusion. An end. But
there are no endings.

There is only fate.

That is the way it is.

There's no escaping fate. No out running time. 

Sailor Pluto let the faintest of sighs escape her lips. No more rest,
she had duties to attend to.

Her black boots, made out of a strange material, foreign to her home
planet, Pluto, made no noise against the dark purple floor. The
corridor pulsated with energy, as if it knew who Pluto was, and
reveled in her presence. Pluto shuddered instinctively from the
awesome power that the entity emanated from the gates ahead. The
portal of time was restless - not a good sign. It meant someone was
tampering with the flow of time. Pluto frowned. 

She derived no pleasure from her work. The blood of hundreds, maybe
even thousands stained her hands. Pluto had slaughtered every fool
that tried to enter the Gate of Time, or tried to change the flow of
things, or just went around screwing things up. She killed them,
without remorse, without feeling. She was relentless. Pluto had
killed her emotions a long time ago - she found they got in the way.
Since she had sumbmitted her whole being to the position she chose,
she had little choice. After all, the abandonment of her post would
be an unforgivable sin.

As Guardian of Time, the Senshi of Pluto, and the Keeper of the Flow
of  Events, she had to make more sacrifices than any other member of
the Moon Kingdom's court. Not only did she have to die for her post,
she had to live for it. She saw how in the future, the other Senshi
would marry, have families, children, love, and happiness. They could
be both Senshi and women. Whereas Sailor Pluto could not. She was
Senshi, born and bred. Even when she had the chance to turn down the
post, she found it impossible. The position drew her to it, moth to
flame. She was powerless, as she was now. Powerless against the will
of fate, the dictation of destiny. Sailor Pluto stopped directly in
front of the actual River of Time. The light - that strange purple
glow, that eerie, cold illumination - became impossibly bright, and
Pluto squinted her eyes. The light wasn't like the warm light of the
sun, it was crisp, mysterious, beautiful, knowledgeable. Much like
Sailor Pluto herself. After the flash of light, the shine died
out and faded to black. Sailor Pluto opened her eyes, and held her
breath. She reached out her arm, holding the Time Key, and stepped
into the darkness.

Within the River of Time, the air was crisp, thin, and cold. The
whole River was dusky, shimmering with the Stars of Fate. Every
direction you could look there was purple, blue, green, silver, and
red stars. Each star represented a life. As one died out, another was
born. The never-ending process of life. Sailor Pluto rose up from
what appeared to be the floor. Her lips were blue from the cold, but
she didn't shiver. She was used to the cold. After eons of living in
it, she should be used to it by now.

The tunnel was light, was life, was time. It was knowledge. Sailor
Pluto stood, basking in it's presence, holding on to the Time Key.
The Garnet Orb glowed brightly, reacting to the presence of time.
Pluto could have asked any question she wanted to know the answer to
and she would receive the correct answer. The truth. The tunnel was
the universe; everything was the tunnel, the tunnel was everything. 

After a moment - although no real, physical time passed; no time
passed while in the River - there was a flash of light and suddenly
millions of scenes played out in front of her. By the time she
focused on one, it was replaced by another. Scenes of Endymion and
Selenity, the Senshi, the destruction of the Moon Kingdom, the souls
of her comrades flying to Earth in bubbles, scenes of Crystal Tokyo,
the Birth of Selenity's daughter. Faster and faster, the changed,
flickered. As one became clear, it melted back down into a blur. The
dull tumult grew louder, and louder, rising in sound; soon the roar
was deafening. Pluto covered her ears, trying to block out the
billions of voices crying out, screaming in pain. She dropped to her
knees, trying to make them stop screaming. Then there was only black.

There was darkness. No light. The blackness was absolute. Then it
appeared; a faint image of a shadow - tall, menacing, purely evil -
flickered before her. It was tall, muscular, malevolent. Where there
should have been eyes, there were two sunken in holes, black voids.
Then, as Pluto peered closer into its face, mesmerized, a flickering
of silver began to burn in those holes. Flaring up, blazing, burning,
searing the River. Then, Pluto was once again plunged into darkness.

"I grant you the knowledge." A child's voice, light and airy, spoke
to Sailor Pluto. But there was something wrong with the child's
voice. It lacked the innocence, the purity a child's voice should
have. It seemed to know - to be aware of everything; the movement of
the stars, the flow of time, the ways of fate, the sight of death,
the blood of others. Pain. The darkness began to fade slowly, being
replaced by the stream of stars. Pluto rose, taking up her Time Key;
her eyes were a mixture of anger, sadness, and the ever present
emptiness - the hardened look of years of nothingness, the
all-consuming bitterness the eons at her post had wrought.

She whispered quietly, "What must I do?"

"Pluto, you know I cannot disclose your future to you. It is
forbidden. Go now, and stop the evil that threatens us," The child's
voice was replaced with that of an old woman. "Save us." The voice
changed to that of a young woman. The voices of the Three Fates. The
sisters of Time. Pluto nodded.

Pluto kneeled courteously, and whispered her pledge. "I will not
fail." She had never failed her word - never broken her vow.

A dark red cyclone swallowed Sailor Pluto, and sunk into the floor.
Pluto felt weightless for a moment as the universe turned slowly
around her, planets, stars, galaxies, comets, all dancing in unison.
Then, abruptly, she was once again standing - in the pitch black. The
Garnet Orb on her staff provided the minimal light Pluto needed in
order to see. After the endless reincarnations, Pluto's senses had
become highly sensitive, even more so than the other Senshi who had
yet to taste of death. But they would as would the world. As would
she. Pluto. She let her eyelids flutter shut as she reminded herself
of all her years, the bitter memories she could nothing about. The
endless aching, the dull pain. Sighing again, the lone Senshi
re-emerged in the Passage of Time; the distance between the Gates of
Time and the River itself. Pluto almost smiled - almost. At least she
could be rid of this uniform, this post, this place for a time. But
she caught herself in time.

In swift, graceful strides she exited the corridor and made her way
to the 'Hall of Mirrors'. The room's walls were adorned with
full-length, body mirrors that each represented a different era of
time. She could travel to any time she wanted to. But, of course, she
had no free time to travel about at her will. 

Each mirror was exquisitely crafted, covered in rare metals and
jewels never before seen by the mortals of earth. Deep reds, blues,
blacks, purples, and greens shrouded each mirror, making them look
like some maiden harems. A  slight draft from an unknown source blew
them about slightly - as it teased with Pluto's hair, caressing her
bare legs, her arms, her face. This was home. 

There was one door - the one she came through - and a pillar of light
in the center. This pillar was known as the Genesis Point. It was the
one portal that even she, Senshi and Guardian of Time, was forbidden
to use. One of the unbreakable rules that she was often forced to
break. Never move time. Never leave the Gate of Time. Never stop
time. Never enter the Genesis Point. She had been forced to break the
first three - and had paid dearly for it each time. But she was not
about the break the fourth. The Genesis Point would take her to the
End of Time itself; the End of Time was the point in time with the
least resistant coordinates. There was no explanation of this arcane
place; all Pluto knew was that it existed. It was very real, whatever
it was. Her Father, Chronos, told her this: 'Pluto, my child, of the
rules, the last one is most important. Yet, I foresee a time when
someone will be forced to break it. My daughter if the balance of
Time is endangered, and the River will be destroyed, or if the very
flow of Time threatens to collapse on itself, you must enter the
Genesis Point. At the End of Time, there is an awesome power. Only a
person who gives himself of his own free will to this bloodthirsty
portal can unleash that power to save time itself. My daughter, if
that time should come, and that power be needed..You must make the
ultimate sacrifice.' She shuddered at this recollection. She prayed
that she need not use the portal.

With her right hand, she held up her staff, the Time Key and with her
right she touched the Garnet Orb. The mirrors seemed to come to life
at this simple gesture.

The mirrors quivered; their reflective surfaces danced like water,
moving, waiting for Pluto to make her choice. Her gaze, grim,
hardened, unwavering, moved from mirror to mirror, searching for the
doorway that would lead her to the condemnable fool that was
jeopardizing the existence of Time itself. Finally her stare settled
on the mirror directly opposite the door she stood in front of. Her
lips turned up in a slight smile - so slight that one would have to
get right in her face to see it at all. She walked around the Genesis
Point, slowly; her Time Key clicking softly against the dark black
floor. She raised her free hand up as she stood in front of the
mirror and whispered, "This is Sailor Pluto, codename Chronos."

Queen Serenity of the past's shadow hovered a few feet behind her.
"Yes, Pluto?" She whispered. The Senshi turned around and bowed
slightly.

"I am requesting that someone take over my duties for an undetermined 
amount of time, Your Majesty." She requested icily. It sounded more
like a demand than a request, but that was Pluto's nature. 

"What for Pluto?" The Queen noted the fact that the Garnet Orb
flickered strangely and that whispers could be heard from the Passage
of Time - a place that not even permitted Queen Serenity, with all
her powers and the Ginzuishou, to enter its frozen depths.

"Someone is threatening the balance - the very existence of Time
itself. I have to.." Pluto answered reluctantly, not willing to
disclose the details of this assignment, but unable to hide her fear
of dying again. After all, a mission as dangerous as this might
entail the breaking of one of the rules - perhaps even the fourth.

"I know. Don't torture yourself, Pluto. Who would you have me send
over?"  "Since the River and Gate are unbalanced right now, and my
leave will throw things even more off kilter, I request that two
people be entrusted with this position. Someone that you have no
doubt in and know is not a spy. With the rallying forces of Beryl
becoming more and more of a problem, and the uprisings that are
becoming more frequent in our armadas, I strongly suggest that you
appoint two of our most trusted warriors." Pluto's eyes narrowed; she
hated to drag friends into this, but....

"Who?"

"Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune. If things grow too chaotic, the
Inner Senshi, the Ginzuishou, the combined forces of the Moon Kingdom
and Earth, and Sailor Saturn should be able to handle everything
until my return. You know as well as I the gravity of this
situation." Pluto stated darkly. 

"Very well. I'll have them summoned."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Serenity disappeared, leaving Pluto to
contemplate her leave and just how much of a threat this really was.

A few moments later, two silhouettes took shape in front of the
Keeper of Time. One was tall, lean, and powerful, while the other was
elegant, beautiful, graceful. They materialized into two Senshi in
fukus not unlike Sailor Pluto's. The taller wore dark blue and gold,
accompanied by a rather nasty looking blade, while the other wore
dark green and aqua. She held what appeared to be a mirror.

"Haruka. Michiru." Sailor Pluto smiled gravely at her comrades.

The former - Haruka - looked like a man at first, but upon closer
inspection was clearly a woman. She smiled, almost cruelly, and
nodded. She was almost as tall as Pluto, but more muscular. Haruka's
hair was dust blond, and her eyes a bright green. She had her arm
draped around the second - Michiru  - one's shoulders, protectively,
lovingly. She had a warrior's way about her. Clearly a highly
respected - and probably envied - soldier. Michiru was a head shorter
than her partner and was very feminine. She had shoulder-length, dark
sea-green hair and big blue eyes. She smiled elegantly and tightened
her arm around Haruka's waist. She looked happy to see Pluto. Her
very posture bespoke elegance and love. It was obvious the duo was
very close - closer than any other relationship in the galaxy.

"Setsuna, I am so glad to see you," Michiru's voice was warm,
soothing. But Pluto - Setsuna - frowned. There wasn't time for
pleasantries.

"Things that bad, eh?" Haruka's voice was not feminine, and one
couldn't tell without looking that she wasn't a man. "I suspected as
much." Her gaze darkened as her partner looked up to her, worried.
"Don't worry, Love." Both their faces turned back to Pluto.

"I'm sorry to drag you into my duties, but I wouldn't unless this was
the gravest of situations." Pluto spoke, urgency evident in her
voice.

"That's okay. Neptune and I have been dying for some quiet time
alone, ne, Michiru?" Uranus' eyes shone playfully. Michiru blushed -
the red now present in her skin contrasted nicely with her hair and
fuku.

"You're so wicked, Haruka!" Michiru laughed. The two lovers embraced
as a grim Setsuna watched, uninterested. The two lovers broke off the
kiss prematurely to wish Setsuna a good leave.

"I'll be going now. Don't forget the rules. Protect the Gate at all
costs." She gestured to the door behind them. Beyond that door was
the Gate, beyond that the Passage, and beyond that the River itself.

"Farewell, Setsuna." Michiru whispered. Tears welled in them, but she
blinked them back. She was strong, she had to be. Pluto waved
good-bye and turned her back to the younger - yet no less capable -
Senshi.

"Don't do anything stupid, Pluto. You'd better come back to us!"
Haruka shouted as the Senshi of Time stepped through the portal. The
mirrors returned to glass, as the friends/partners/lovers just stood
there.

"Haruka, do you think she'll be all right?" Michiru asked, concern
shining brightly in her blue eyes.

"Of course, Setsuna's not stupid. She's been around long enough to
know how to keep herself from getting killed." Haruka squeezed her
partner's shoulder, reassuringly. "Now, back to that kiss.." She
tickled Michiru's sides as she pulled the smaller woman into her
arms. She smiled as their lips touched lightly, then closer, and
closer.

They embraced, and kissed for a good few minutes, as Haruka hefted up
the elegant Michiru. The younger girl laughed softly. "What are you
doing,Haruka?" She asked playfully.

"What do you think, Michiru?" She kissed Michiru's head and winked.

"You're so wicked!" Michiru teased. The lighting faded on the two
lovers.

****To be continued****
____________________________________________________________________


Okay, I know that there was only 3 rules Pluto couldn't break, but I
had to include the Genesis Point. The End of Time was inspired by
Square's Chronotrigger. The River and Passage of Time I made up to
add a little bit more substance to Setsuna's job, and I wrote it to
where she's been around a whole lot longer than Serenity and the
other Senshi. My opinions play a major role in this. Expect Haruka
and Michiru to show up in other parts, and maybe even Sailor Saturn.
But there will be no Endymion, Inner Senshi, or Selenity in this fic.
And I took the road that Setsuna is not in love with Endymion. 

Anything still confusing you?

Email me at:

Backstabber@thevortex.com

Thanks!

~Khyron


Thanks again!

Khyron


The Dark Savant

Part I: The Manipulator and the Subservient 
_____________________________________________________________________

Written by Khyron (Backstabber@thevortex.com)
_____________________________________________________________________

Pain. Death. Screams. Hate. Filth. The very plague that ate away at
thebeauty of life thrived here. Its ruler smiled. All was going well.
The trap had been set, the bait - simple and effective - hanging
here, and his minions poised and ready for the kill. The ruler was
surprised at how easily the Three Fates had manipulated. Project a
few false images into their Sensors, and the pieces fall right into
place. Soon, he would have his revenge and her.

The ruler, known to his subjects and enemies as the Dark Savant, was
lounging on his dark navy throne, silent. He was stretched out, his
long legs draped over one of the arms of his crystal throne; his left
hand holding up his head on the other arm, while his right twiddled
with his scepter and bauble. The throne shimmered; it was cut and
crafted to catch, refract, and reflect the pale blue lights that
burned here. The refracted beams twirled gracefully along the bright
blue walls around him, and on the luxuriant dark crimson carpet that
went from the double doors directly in front of this chair, all the
way to the throne itself. The Dark Savant looked somewhat dreamily at
his surroundings. He once possessed a real name, but it had been
forgotten - or discarded - through the ages for this title. He found
it suited his needs. 

He listened to the screams; they came from the bowels of his
fortress. His dungeons were overflowing with foolish souls that dared
to cross him - he, master of manipulation, of the very fabric of time
itself! Another animal shriek of pain ululated from the depths below.
He chuckled to himself softly. Someone was in greater pain and
discomfort than he. Soon his forbidden thoughts of revenge and at
last possessing what he desired most were shattered by the haunting
whisper of wind that found its way into his chambers. His eyes
narrowed.

The Dark Savant was a fearsome presence to be witnessed. He had no
face, only two red orbs that danced like fire - they were his eyes.
Smiling was a thought, a desire and not an action. Only he knew when
he smiled - not that it mattered to anyone else. They cowered in his
presence - enemies, and allies alike - trembling in the sheer awe of
his glory. His attire was done in bright blue - a complete suit of
pants, a shirt, gloves, knee-high boots, and long ghostly cape. His
crown was a ring of silver stars, the stars of knowledge, pain, fear,
death, and hate. On his right hand, on his index finger he wore a
simple band of silver, with some sandscript etched into it. In his
left hand, he held a scepter of silver. The top was adorned with a
blue orb that reeked of magic. He was evil, in its purest form. He
radiated the dark energy that most mortals can't even begin to
fathom. There was a madness, an insanity that shone through in
everything he did. His motives were unknown, except to him. His
methods never questioned. His word was law; he was supreme.

His throne room was done in dark blue stone, and black pillars of
some cryptic metal held the ceiling in place. Blue flames leaped and
danced atop silver candles, illuminating the dark room. It was a
rectangle and two large banquet tables lined the walls, below the
strange silvery candles. Foods of every shape, size, and texture was
piled onto the strange metal banquets. Chalices of blue, silver, and
black stood - some half-way filled, some empty, some overflowing with
rich velvety wines. The strange liquids formed three dimensional
faces that rose from the goblets, whispering. Some were beautiful,
some twisted and ugly, while still others had barely any shape at
all. Another example of his madness. 

He had begun this tradition long ago; the Dark Savant learned this
Black Art from the God of Darkness himself. With a simple gesture, he
could kill a man, drain his blood into one of his many chalices, and
encase his spirit within this liquid prison. After the weaving of
another spell, the blood would take on the appearance of wine, hiding
its true purpose - the eternal imprisonment of his children. They
gained immortality, while he was able to call on their souls for
power and assistance. 

The Dark Savant began to laugh; his voice echoed within the chambers
walls, shaking the liquids within their chalices.

"Senshi..." The faces within the chalices murmured softly.

"Yes, my children. She is coming." The Dark Savant rose; his cape
flowing out behind him, his eyes growing brighter. 

"Pluto..."

"Setsuna..."

"Senshi..."

Everything was within his grasp. The world was in his hands. He began
to walk, slowly - his very movements causing the faces in the
chalices to grow in size. The Dark Savant approached the double doors
of arcane metal. With a wave of his right hand, the doors burst open
as though a gale of wind had struck them. 

The hall was darker, more harsh, than the throne area. It was cold, 
metallic, lifeless. The walls were dark grey metal, with red lights
running parallel on the top and bottom - creating the illusion of
something alive, within the place devoid of it. The same script that
decorated his ring was present on the walls - most likely warnings.
With a toss of his cape, he sped down the hall to the right.

The fortress was a maze of twists and turns, but somehow the Savant
knew how to navigate them. After what seemed like an eternity of left
turns, right turns, hidden corridors, and illusionary walls, the
Savant ended his long trek at a dead end. Or so it seemed.

"The light of Bane has lead me, the darkness of my soul has sustained
me, and still I thirst for more," He spoke again, his voice a deep
base that echoed through the corridor. Blue light exploded from his
staff, devastating everyone who was near him.

Slowly, the wall dissolved, disappearing into nothingness. What was
behind it, caused the Dark Savant to laugh, evilly.

"Ha! Azonia! Looks like you were unprepared for my arrival again!"
The Dark Savant mocked.

"You're late!" The figure he addressed stepped from the shadows. She
was a woman of about twenty-seven, 6'1", and very thin. She had short
stone-grey hair, bright purple eyes, and very pale white skin. Her
eyes were framed by thick eyebrows of the same stone-grey. The eyes
themselves glowed with that insane look of hatred in her eyes - like
a blood-frenzied wolf. Her hair was close cropped, and made her ears
seem more prominent then they actually were. Azonia's frame was lean,
and tall - and she could have passed for a man easily. Her breasts
were almost non-existent, and she was wider, of broader chest than
most women. She wore a dark crimson cape over dark green scale mail.
Her boots went up to her knees, and were the same colour as her hair.

"My, my. Don't be so impetuous, my dear." The Dark Savant chided.

"I'm not impetuous, that was merely an observation." Her voice was
soft, yet it had an undertone of malice. 

"Are my lieutenants ready? Have they assembled?" He inquired. She
glared at him.

"No, M'Lord."

"I'm sorry, my dear. I forgot about how...sensitive you could be."
His red orbs gazed her from top to bottom. She wasn't drop-dead
beautiful, but pleasing to look at. He referred to her sensitivity,
hoping to keep her loyal to him. Of all his subjects, she was the
most defiant - and arguably the most powerful. 

Seventeen years ago, he had found Azonia cringing in a pool of her
own blood. She wasn't crying, even though the wound had been near
fatal. In fact, she derived some sadistic pleasure from it. He took
her in, raised her, and trained her in the Black Arts. She had an
immense amount of raw magical potential, and was feisty. Just what he
wanted in an apprentice. But over the years of training and being in
close confinements together, she had half-fallen in love with his
insanity - those love was hardly the word she'd use. They had forged
a special bond, but he often angered her when he was blind to her
past.

She had been raped, beaten, and abused as a child; as a result of
much abuse and abandonment, the Dark Savant had to chose his words
carefully.  He didn't want to insult his apprentice, nor disrupt the
delicate bond he had made between them. 

Her gaze became a little less hard at his apology. She had fallen in
love with death as a girl, been a slave to pain, and now she was a
servant of her master. All of this started when her mother murdered
her father and brother in front of her. She could vividly recall
their screams - how they begged her mother to stop, how they yelled
for her to run. She could still smell the blood, the gruesome rotting
aroma that lured her to the corpses. She could hear it, the sickening
*plop* of the ax as it cleaved her brother's skull. The crunch of the
bones as her mother smashed a sledgehammer into her father's back.
Azonia felt the blood and gore splash against her face, caressing her
face. Seducing her into the insanity she called a life. She felt the
blood trickle to her lips, pass between them - cold and yet some-
how alive - and slide down her throat. The salty/sweet/bitter
sensations that engulfed her tastebuds. That day - that dark, evil,
glorious day!

The day when the line between pleasure and pain was blurred. The day
she was initiated into the world of sins of the flesh. The day the
innocence died. The day that she could never forget. The day her
mother turned on her and stabbed her. The day she met her first
lover. After that day, things got worse. She was raped, by men and
women. Spat upon, used up. The days when she didn't know the day from
the night. The time when life was a brutal massacre, and rain fell
red from the blood-soaked sky. Azonia had only known pain. Life was a
constant torture, and she found when she closed her eyes, she
couldn't tell pleasure from pain. 

Life was hell.

And Azonia wanted to keep it that way.

"So, when will that *man* come?" Azonia spoke the word man the way
some would say corpse, or cow dung. 

"Hush now, my dear. He's essential to our plan."

"I still don't see why I couldn't handle that Senshi myself!"

"My dear, listen," The Dark Savant took her bare hand, and cupped it
into his own. "I want you here, to execute an even more detailed part
of the mission. Besides, Kol Del Tac is the best sorcerer alive -
save you and I." He walked over to the left hand wall, and she ran
her fingers lovingly over the cool metal surface. The middle section
of the wall panel slid up, revealing a window.

Outside it was storming - a truly evil day. His city below, Radoria,
was the center of his already vast empire. The bustling metropolis
had monorails, huge skyscrapers, unusually shaped buildings, his own
businesses - run by corrupt businessmen and lawyers, of course - the
police - also polluted; it was run by the local thugs - and a special
task force dedicated to stamping out the small resistance. Then he
pointed to the tallest building - it was stained crimson, and they
could make out the outlines of corpses whose heads were on metal
spikes along the wall. The Dark Savant operated everything there. The
food, the water, the police, the housing, the criminals. Everything.
He had his other Lieutenants - Juza, Bane, Saros and Cletus - run
things for him. Just so he could set his trap. 

"Ahh, DEWERCS. The center of your dark rule. It truly is a
heartwarming sight. Is it not, M'Lord?" The young associate cooed in
his ear. How like Azonia. One minute she's angry and bitter, the next
flirtatious and aggressive. She - a head shorter than her master -
leaned against the Dark Savant's chest and sighed.

"It truly is, Savant. It truly is." Both Azonia and the Dark Savant
turned around to see who had spoken to him so casually - with no
respect. Azonia made a face as soon as she recognized the stranger.

"As still as ugly and twisted as ever, Azonia." The owner of the
crisp, baritone voice stepped forward. He was about the same height
as Azonia, but much more muscular. He had long medium blue hair, that
reached the small of his back. He wore it in a ponytail, except for
his bangs that framed his face. His skin was a strange pale
brown/beige, that offset his hair. His face was broad, and
well-proportioned. His cheekbones were very wide, his jaw was
unusually predominant, but his nose was somewhat small. His ears
were pointed - much like the mystical elves' - and large. His eyes
were dark black, devoid of love, pity, life - much like the empty
eyes of a shark. He was clad in dark black robes, and on his hands
were onyx and gold rings - one on each finger.

"The disgust is all mine, I assure you." She snarled, the animalistic
rage returning to her purple orbs.

"Stop it you two!" The Dark Savant stepped in between them and held
out his scepter, letting blue and silver energy crackle from within
it. "We have work to do." He left the room without another word.

Azonia frowned, "Come on!" They obeyed, wordlessly.

The Dark Savant watched as they followed. Yes, all the pieces were
falling into place.

*

'Why does Azonia get to help the Savant? I am far superior to her and
that lying, dog, Kol Del Tac!' The man of average build at the
computer console seethed with anger.

He was of average height and build; nothing really spectacular to
look at. Until you saw his face. Instead of a face of flesh, and hair
- he had only a skull. The white bone had been worn over the years,
but it remained intact. This man - creature, servant - was called
Saros. He wore dark blue pants, a dark blue shirt, black leather
boots, and a black cape with a hood. He also donned black gloves over
his hands. Where eyes should have been were two sunken in holes,
black as midnight. Within this darkness burned silver fire.
It entranced his victims, the silver dancing. Was the fire real? Or
was it simply an illusion? Was it hot like real fire? Or was it cold,
cool, soothing, like the soft silver it depicted? No one knew for
sure, not even Saros himself. Not that he cared. What he wanted was
to kill! His obsession with death was far different from Azonia's. He
was created for a single purpose - to destroy. A spider is born
knowing how to weave a web, a fly knows how to fly; the spider lives
off the fly without thinking.  Without remorse. Without pity. Without
compassion. In Saros' eyes he was to feed off the weak. The fools who
dillusioned themselves with morals, with love! He was the spider that
was destined to fed off the flies - humans.

He had been created for the Dark Savant and hadn't existed until that
time. Saros had deep respect for his master - the one he had to
protect and serve. His eyes flamed with anger. That stupid harlot,
Azonia, had taken his place by the Savant's side. And for that he
would have his revenge. He would prove to the Dark Savant that he was
his devoted, and best, servant.  "Saros! SAROS!" The Giant Woman - as
she had been nicknamed - called from the sliding doors directly to
Saros' back. "Shift change, man. You can take your break." Saros
typed in his last command and signed out. "It's all yours, Juza." The
Skull Man left the small cubicle - which was almost too small for
Juza - leaving the Giant Woman alone. 

She was almost nine-feet-tall, and built like a mountain. She had an
unruly mane of fire red hair, and dark brown eyes. She had two,
bull-like horns growing from her temples. They were pitch black, as
they twisted up toward the sky. She wore a bright orange tunic, and
orange shorts, along with a red belt. He had a large axe on her back,
which was crafted of a bronze- coloured metal. She had one ruby stud
in her left ear, and one topaz stud in the other.

Juza was unlike any other minion the Dark Savant had recruited. While
Saros had been a pet creation of sorts, Azonia was an
apprentice/lover, Kol Del Tac was an old ally that seemed to crop up
into his works again and again, Cletus was his spy, and Bane was his
torturer, Juza had been taken on in a very unusual way. She had
stayed in one of the Savant's inns, and when the manager tried to
have her kicked out - the reason for his discomfort was her
intimidation of the other guests - she killed him, all the guests,
and everyone who worked in that inn. Word of this reached the Savant
and so he sent Cletus and Bane to retrieve her. Unfortunately, she
was in no mood to be kidnapped or killed; she fought them off, and
carried the back to the Savant, warning him that Juza the Red was not
one to be messed with. He learned of her position as a mercenary,
free-lance terrorist, and expert body guarding skills, and hired her. 

She smiled and leaned against the wall, casually. The Dark Savant
found her more competent than most of his minions when coming to do
assignments. Her works was not like that of her cohorts - namely,
things got messy with them. She preferred quick, clean execution
style murders. But, he found out she had a serious flaw that was most
displeasing. Of all his minions, she held no allegiance to him. Yes,
she had her contract, and she did fear him. But he was never quite
sure when she would leave - after all, these shady, mercenary-types
were never very trust-worthy. The Dark Savant knew that better than
anyone else. But what bothered him was her lack of servitude,
her lack of subordination. Azonia could be defiant, and disobey him,
but generally only to test his bond to her. Saros was born only to
serve him. Cletus treated him with the fear and respect that a son
would treat a father. Bane's father had been a traitor to the Savant,
but he wasn't able to steal away the mother or his son. Because of
his father's betrayal, Bane was constantly trying to perform acts of
undying devotion. Kol Del Tac was his friend - as close a friend as
one can make when you're evil. But what reason did Juza have for
staying, none! That is what troubled him.

But that didn't keep him from having her on his team. After all, at
least she was a professional - however unorthodox her methods seemed
to the especially cruel and vindictive.

Silently, she sat down next to the fifth console on the wall - in a
chair designed for the Giant Woman. Her hands moved clumsily over the
keys, trying their best to find the correct buttons so she could
enter the correct key-stroke.

"Blast! Why does Cletus have to design these freakin' things so
SMALL?!?!" She cursed as her massive fist slammed against the wall -
leaving a dent the size of a soccer ball. Regaining her laid back
attitude, she smiled as the computer spoke its metallic welcome.

"Welcome Lieutenant Juza. Please wait while the system loads up your
program."

"That's better," She laughed as the sound of Cletus' voice could be
heard echoing down the hall. She looked into the reflection of the
doors behind her - watching the cursing man storm through them, while
stringing together the longest line of filthy words Juza had every
heard spoken in one sentence. He looked up from the floors, to meet
her reflections gaze and glared. "Why hello Cletus. I didn't realize
you were here!"

"Shut up, Giant!"

"Bane got credit for that piece of work, didn't he?" Her smile didn't
vanish, and she felt Cletus' gaze grow angrier.

"That he did, Giant," Cletus was a fairly short man compared to the
other Lieutenants. He stood at 5'8" at best - although he was
probably shorter - and was wiry. He had no hair - he shaved it off in
hopes of looking more frightening - and his eyes were small, beady,
and black. His toothy grin resembled that of shark, and the long scar
that ran from the top of his left eye, down to his chin, only added
to the ferocious, macho veneer his wounded ego struggled so hard to
protect. He wore a long-sleeved button up shirt, and tight fighting
leather pants. He wore no jewelry, and had very plain army-boots on.
Nothing spectacular, but he had discovered over the years that
apparel helped him not.

Cletus had been raised to serve the Dark Savant, as had his father,
and his father before him. They had been trained as spies for their
master. The only reason Cletus had made it where he was - in almost
everyone's opinion - the fact that he looked human. He had minor
control over the way he looked and was good at disguising himself.
And his height - or lack thereof - was a great asset when spying.
After all, the shorter the man, the less he was perceived of as a
threat. Cletus took this into consideration, and had practiced using
it to his advantage. He once told Juza that it made killing those who
had taken him in - the fools that were deceived - more pleasurable,
more entertaining. 

"He will pay," Cletus hissed through his clenched teeth. The work in
discussion was a very bloody massacre that lead to the death of three
of the rebellion's higher-ups. Cletus was the one responsible for it,
but he and Bane both wanted the credit. The reason for this was that
the blood taken from the death scene provided the Savant with more
souls - hence more power - to trick the Three Fates with. Bane would
be rewarded handsomely for his alleged 'accomplishment', and Cletus
wasn't about to let him get away with this charade.

"Listen, Cletus," Juza began. "You can't let this insane revenge
cloud your vision. After all, with this latest 'victory'.."

"MY VICTORY!"

"I SAID: with this latest victory, Bane has put himself in a very bad 
position. A deadly one." She spoke more forcefully as to get Cletus' 
undivided attention. He was far too stubborn.

"What do you mean?"

"Saros, Azonia, and this wizard, Kol Del Tac, are in heated
competition to be the Savant's number one servant, correct?" He
nodded in response. "And you and I both know that all of them will be
furious at Bane's accomplishment."

"Yes?"

"They'll be at each others throats, struggling to be number one. And
when people are jealous, they are blind. They'll slip up, make
mistakes. When they are looking most foolish, you rush in -
level-headed - and blow them away with an even bigger
accomplishment!"

"Like what?"

"Sailor Pluto. Setsuna. The one the Savant's looking for! Take her in
and you'll be his highest ranking subordinate!" She laughed
triumphantly.

"What about you?" He whispered, suspicious.

"My contract says nothing about advancement. What do I need to be the
head Lieutenant for? I am a mercenary, not a vindictive snake. Like
you, my dear Cletus. You're the type that stands at the head of the
Savant's troops, while I am not. You get up high enough, and you stop
seeing the action. You lose your freedom. That's what I am. A
free-lance killer. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"To the new highest ranking Lieutenant! ME!" Cletus laughed and Juza
just sighed. Some people were too treacherous for their own good. Not
that she was an honorable person. But then again, she wasn't foolish
enough to burn herself like the others. She found that if she gave
them all enough rope, they'd do the hangings themselves. She wasn't
planning on killing any of the Lieutenants, nor springing the trap on
the Dark Savant - not yet, anyway.

Juza smiled again, an evil smile. The kind that makes your blood run
cold. This was going to be fun.

*

The Dark Savant stared icily at his throne. He had sent Azonia and
Kol Del Tac away, so that he might speak with Bane. There were
several accusations between he and Cletus; not that it mattered any
to the Dark Lord. He only cared about his ultimate plan - and what
were his minions in the grand scheme of things? What were they
compared to her?

He walked up to the dais, his eyes glowing. If Bane had indeed done
all that he claimed, he would be rewarded well. But if he was lying,
he would make his death exceedingly painful. As he sat down, he
nodded, and the doors opened slowly, revealing a tall, lean man. 

"Welcome, Bane."

"Why do you summon me, M'Lord?" The man's voice was a fluid baritone,
very commanding, proud. He was exactly six-feet-tall, with long light
green hair. It was pulled back into a loose pony-tail, that reached
below his shoulders. His eyes were dark forest green, and they were
cold, distant. Not empty like Kol Del Tac's, nor full of spite like
Azonia's, merely indifferent. trait highly befitting of an
executioner/torturer. His skin was a pleasant tan, except for the
strange red scar running across his chest. He wore no shirt, but he
did wear a pair of dark green pants. He had no shoes upon his
feet. All in all, he was quite menacing. "I heard of your
achievements." Bane let the vaguest of smiles appear on his lips.
"But I also heard the accusations of Cletus." The smile
disappeared from his face. "I know of your rivalry. What do you have
to say?"

"He's a liar, M'Lord. I single-handedly destroyed your enemies! I owe
my allegiance only to you, my Master."

"Good; I'd hate to have to kill you."

"M'Lord?" As the Dark Savant get up and turn around, Bane piped up
quickly.

"Yes, Bane?" The Savant twirled back around, leaning against his
throne.

"I was wondering: Might I be able to play a part of this...mission?"
He asked slowly, softly, not wanting to press the Savant's patience -
nor his luck.

"Very well. I'll summon you when I have need of you." With a wave of
his, he dismissed Bane.

*

Bane sat alone in his harsh metal quarters. He waited for a servant
to come up with his wine. Food was an out-of-date trend he had
abandoned some time ago. He drank out of habit - preferring wine
whereas Azonia drank hard liquor, Saros had none, Cletus drank
champagne, and Juza drank beer like a fish drinks water. He didn't
smoke nor do drugs like Cletus either. He was a virgin - he had no
time for sex, nor a relationship and rarely found time for drinking.
His life was to prove himself to the Dark Savant. He would not be
disgraced by his father's treacherous name. He had spent his entire
thirty-two years trying to be someone in the Savant's eyes. His bond
with Cletus - almost a father/son relationship - was the start of
their rivalry.  He sipped the last of his hidden stash of wine from
its tankard.

"Sir Bane?" A timid woman's voice called from the hallway. Bane's
frown grew. 

"Enter."

The small, tender maiden of thirteen entered the room. She had short
brown hair and hazel eyes. She had the faint traces of beauty in her
features, but they needed time to mature. She was trembling and
fragile and weak.  Just a child. Just a child. "M..m..master Cletus
told me to bring you this."

Bane frowned as he read the note the scantily dressed maid handed
him.

'Bane,

  I don't know what your trying to pull...But be ready. I will have
my vengeance.

  Cletus'
 
He crumpled the note an tossed at the girl's feet. She jumped back as
if he had thrown a poisonous serpent at her feet. He smiled at her
and she eased up.

As in most barbaric cultures, there was many brutal traditions that
were still in use. Killing a virgin on the wedding day of a famous
higher-up. The hero of a great mission or war eating the still
beating heart of his arch-enemy. And Bane's favorite. Cutting off the
head of the messenger of bad news. He upheld his right; he reveled in
it. 

He motioned the young girl forward. She closed her eyes, smiling and
expected him to give her money or a kiss - as Cletus, Saros, and Kol
Del Tac had done with her before. But instead, Bane drew his
long-bladed dagger and severed her skull from her shoulders.

He got up. Leaving the young girl's dead body, he took her head and
went to take up some old business with Cletus.

Her dark garnet blood pooled, warm, glittering, into a deep puddle.
Droplets of blood followed the evil man. The girl's body crumpled,
limp, dead. Her arms curled around her in a fetal position.

The blood cooled and began to grow darker. A strangely beautiful face
started to rise from the puddle. It whispered softly, the one word
that would haunt that place forever.

"Setsuna...."

And then the face sunk back in. 

And finally, there was silence.


****To be continued****
_____________________________________________________________________


This part was strange; a real challenge actually. It's really
difficult to get into the minds of deranged and purely evil people
without being one. I think I did pretty good. I know most of you
expected me to pick up where the last chapter left off - that is,
explain where in the heck Pluto went. But I decided to develop my
evil characters first and set the stage for the next chapter, seeing
as it will take place in that bustling metropolis that the Dark
Savant was watching. Yes, you guessed it; that's where our beloved
heroine will end up at. By the way, I do have this planned out,
believe it or not.

For anyone who may be confused - I know a lot of you were after that 
prelude - I have included a list of the characters that have shown up
and that will continue to make appearances:

Forces of Good - Sailor Pluto/Setsuna
                 Sailor Uranus/Haruka
                 Sailor Neptune/Michiru

Forces of Evil - The Dark Savant
                 Kol Del Tac
                 Azonia
                 Juza
                 Bane
                 Saros
                 Cletus

(BTW, for those of you who are interested, Sailor Saturn will make a
few appearances, Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune will get to show up
as well. No, I have decided against having any Inner Senshi show up,
and no Endymion.)

Last thing I want to cover is, I do not intend to, nor will I ever
put into my fanfiction, Setsuna in love with Endymion. She's way too
good for him, and besides, he's taken.

Coming Soon.... 
                Part II: A Curtain of Iron - The Meager

(Part II will pick up where the Prelude left off.)

Anything still confusing you?

Email me at:

Backstabber@thevortex.com

Thanks!

~Khyron

"Another winter's day
Another grey reminder that what used to be
Has gone away.
It's really hard to say,
How long we'll have to live with our insanity;
We'll have to pay for all we use,
We never think before we light the fuse...
Look up, look up, look up!
The sky is fall-ing!
Look up,
There's something you have to know.
Before you go outside,
To take in the view,
Look up, because the sky
Could fall on you..."

(Did anyone get the DEWERCS joke? DEWERCS is screwed backwards. ;-)