Secondary Characters: The Fun
{Jon Carp}
address: jcarp@med.unc.edu


And then the fun begins.--Ian Shoales





	She's not my child, dammit.  She's not my responsibility.  


POV shift



	They're confused.  I think.  They don't understand what the hell I'm 
doing, much less why.
	I think.
	"Hello," I say, keeping my voice blank.  "I'm glad you came."
	"What did you do, Pluto?" Mars asks.  "Did you..."
	"Yes," I answer, hoping she's talking about what I think she is.  
Judging by the looks on their faces, I was right.
	"I really am evil," I say proudly, and prepare to defend myself.  
But they don't attack.  They just kind of stand there.
	"I mean to kill you," I add hopefully.  They don't take the hint.
	Dammit.  I didn't know they were such morons.  I have to do 
everything myself, just like always.  
	"Why?" Sailor Moon asks.  "Why did you do it?"
	"It doesn't matter," I say.  "Why not?  But let me ask you a 
question, before we start."
	They don't like the sound of that at ALL.  But Moon...she sincerely 
doesn't want to fight me, does she?  Fool.  
	I smile, maybe.
	"What is it, Pluto?" 
	"Did any of you ever love me at all?"  I never knew.  
	"Yes," Moon says quickly.  "We always did, Setsuna.  We always..."
	"Fat lot of good it did me," I say harshly.  
	She looks so sad.  I think.
	And then I go.



	Jump.  Dodge.  Jump dodge.  Dodge jump.  Jump dodge fire!  Dodge.
	They're not trying.  I think.  But something keeps bothering me.
	Moon isn't even faking it.  She's just standing there, looking 
worried.  She was sincere, when she said she loved me.  Hell, she's always 
sincere.  I envy that, since I've never been sincere in my entire life.  I 
think.
	Jump fire!  Dodge.  Jump jump.
	Dammit.  Too many years.  Too many memories.  Too many thoughts.  
Not enough room, even in my brain, for everything.
	I need help with this.
	With a thought, their ridiculous bodies slow to a stop and stay 
there in impossible positions.
	I go downstairs, searching through offices and cubicles until I find 
what I'm looking for.  It's in English, but that's one thing I can still 
remember.
	As I head upstairs, I search.  Aha.

sincerity, n. [L. sinceritas] the state or quality of being sincere; honesty 
of mind or intention; freedom from stimulation or hypocrisy; truthfulness; 
genuiness; earnestness

	That doesn't help.  At all.  I don't know what half those words 
mean. 
	I must have, at some point, but not anymore.  That kind of thing 
hasn't been important for so long.
	I get to the roof, noticing with satisfaction that Venus froze in a 
position where she kinda looks like she's doing the Twist.
	I can't fight now.  Not without knowing.
	Well, let's get started.

	Honesty, honesty...lessee...hortation...horizontal...hook...honor...
	No.  There's something else more important than this, though this 
certainly is important.  I flip back the other way.  Aha.  Here we go.

smile, v. [ME. smilen] to have or take on a facial expression showing 
pleasure, amusement, affection, friendliness, irony, derision, etc. and 
characterized by an upward curling of the corners of the mouth and a 
sparkling of the eyes.

	Hmmm.  Interesting.



POV shift

	

	Why, Pluto?
	I've just realized that everything I've thought all night has been 
some variation of the above question.  
	If Uranus were here, she'd be slapping me in the face, trying to get 
me to fight, instead of just standing there.  She's not here, though.  She's 
dead.
	Mars yelled at me a few times, and she's right, I know she's right. 
I can't let Pluto hurt anybody else, but how can I fight her?  She's 
supposed to be on our side!  How can I kill her?  Why, Pluto?
	I start.  Something strange...she moved.  She was in front of me, 
now she's...I look around, confused.
	No one else is moving.
	"I have another question for you," she says calmly from behind me. 
"I'm sorry to make this harder for you, but I need to know."
	She could kill us any time, but she hasn't.  She's not evil, she's 
talking to me.  She doesn't want to hurt anybody.
	"Pluto?" I venture, turning around.  "Are you okay now?"
	She ignores me.  "A few minutes ago, I smiled.  Do you remember 
that?"
	"Yes," I answer truthfully, and I really do.
	Her face is blank and serious.  "Did my eyes sparkle?"
	"What?"
	"Did my eyes sparkle while I was smiling?"
	"I...I don't know."
	"Think.  Please."
	They were as dead as always, I remember perfectly well.  But to tell 
her, hurt her, hurt everybody...  "Yes," I answer.  "They did."
	Her eyes close, and she seems to be thinking hard.  "I'm doing it," 
she whispers.  "It's working."
	And then she moves again.



POV shift



	She flipped through the dictionary again frantically.  It would have 
been best to remember these words, but it was crowded in her head, and they 
were just too far away.

happiness, n.  the enjoyment of pleasure without pain; felicity; 
blessedness; satisfaction.

	"Shit," she muttered, and searched again.

pleasure, n. [Fr. plaisir] the gratification of the senses or of the mind; 
agreeable sensations or emotions; the excitement, relish, or happiness 
produced by enjoyment or the expecation of good; enjoyment; satisfaction; 
opposed to pain.

	"Dammit!" she yelled, her head beginning to ache.  This was 
clarifying nothing.

pain, n. [ME. payne] the sensations one feels when hurt, mantally or 
physicaly, especially distress, suffering, great anxiety, anguish, grief, 
etc.; opposed to pleasure.

	That seemed slightly familiar to her, but not too much.  She 
thought she knew what anxiety, grief, and suffering were.
	"That's what I DON'T want, right?" she asked herself.  
	"I think so," she answered.  "Those are bad things.  I think.  
Waitaminute...shit."
	Flip flip flip flip flip flip flip.

bad, adj. [ME. bad, badde] 

	"Hmmm.  Nope, nope, nope...here we go."

3. unfavorable; unpleasant; disagreeable.

	Or maybe:

7. harmful; injurious; dangerous.

	"Yeah," she said.  "So good would just be the opposite of those.  
Yeah.  That's right."  She thought she felt proud for figuring it out, but 
then it occured to her that she had no idea what "pride" was.
	She sighed.

pride, n. [AS. pryte] a sense of one's dignity or worth; self-respect.

	"Can they define a single fucking word without using any fucking 
emotions?!" she yelled to nobody.
	Something that she thought was anger caused her to hurl the 
dictionary away from her.  It struck Mars in the head and knocked her to 
the ground, where she stayed in the exact same position.  
	Pluto clenched her hands into fists, and started walking towards 
them.


POV shift


	They kept bringing stuff in for them, probably by the order of 
Pluto, who, all of them had noticed, had not yet gotten the whole thing 
"straightened out".
	It took six people to lug in the air hockey table.
	Michiru grinned as the air flow from the little holes shut down.  
Haruka stared at the table in shock.
	Hotaru put her arms around the tall woman.  "That's best three out 
of five," she said.  "I think it's time you accept that Michiru is better 
than you are."
	"No!" Haruka protested.  "She cheated!"  
	"How do you cheat at air hockey?" Michiru asked.
	"She beat me too," Makoto pointed out.
	"Yeah," Hotaru said.  "This takes nothing away from you, Haruka.  
You're very good at air hockey.  She's just a little bit better."
	Haruka grunted.  "I HATE this place," she muttered, plopping down in 
her chair.
	Michiru went to her.  "Y'know what?" she asked, giggling slightly.
	"What?"
	"You're the loooooser." she said, grinning.  "And you know what that 
means?  I'm the wiiiinner."
	Haruka sighed.  "I like it better when you're passive-aggressive," 
she said.  "When the hell are the going to bring us back to life?!" she 
suddenly burst out.  'What the hell is the delay?"
	"There's no delay," a voice said behind her.  "I'm stalling.  And I 
refuse to bring you people back to life any more."
	They turned and saw the god Pluto standing there.
	"Aren't you supposed to be talking to Setsuna?" Hotaru asked, 
raising an eyebrow.
	"Shut up," Pluto answered.  "What the hell am I supposed to say to 
her?  I don't understand her.  You're the one who should be talking to her."
	"She doesn't want to talk to me," Hotaru said defensively.  
	"How do you know?"
	"Because the last time I saw her, she said, 'I don't want to talk to 
you.'"
	"That doesn't mean anything," Pluto protested.  "She doesn't know 
what she's saying.  She.."  He trailed off.
	They didn't know why.  There was no apparent reason for him to trail 
off.  Nothing in the room seemed to warrant that kind of reaction.  He 
stared off at the wall by the desk.  They all did the same, trying to see 
what was so captivating.  "What is it?" Makoto asked eventually.
	Pluto stopped staring.  He shook his head and sighed.  "Shit," he 
muttered, rubbing his hand through his hair.
	"What?" Haruka asked, rather forcefully.
	The answer came walking through the door in the form of four rather 
confused-looking people in short skirts.
	They seemed terrified.  Of course, that was in stark contrast to 
the senshi who were already in the room, all of whom were on the verge of 
busting into tears.
	Death and Jupiter followed the frightened ones in as comfortingly 
as they could.  
	Jupiter looked up at Pluto.  "It's not funny anymore," he said.  
"It's gone far beyond what you thought would happen.  I think you know what 
you're going to have to do."
	"What you SHOULD have done from the beginning!" Hotaru added.
	Pluto ground his teeth audibly.  "Fuck," he growled.  "Why don't we 
just make them goddamn godesses while we're at it?"
	Jupiter shrugged.
	"Okay!" Death called.  "Inners with me!  Outers over with the 
Terminally Sullen One there!"


POV shift


	The most wonderful thing has happened.  
	HE came.  Late.
	And when he saw her, lying in that twisted position, blood all 
around her, he did, I suppose, the most natural thing.  He fell down.
	"Hello," I say, although I know he's not listening.  "I did that.  
You hear?  ME.  I affected the future, I changed the storyline.  And it 
feels pretty fucking good, let me tell you."
	And I smile.  All I need is a mirror for this scene to be perfect.  
So I can see my eyes to make sure.
	I turn and start walking away, leaving him down on the cement, as if 
I'd killed him, too.  Goosebumps ripple down my arms.
	A slight noise.  He's probably trying to get her to wake up.  I 
turn, grinning.

	They're moving again.

	No!  I...I killed them!  I won!  I...
	They stand up, and all look at me.  Moon looks so sad.
	The others don't.  Their eyes aren't sparkling, no, they're hard as 
rocks.
	So I stop the world again, and BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! they're 
gone.  For sure.


POV shift.


	Again.


POV shift


	She turned to walk away again, not quite as satisfied, but still 
okay.
	Before she left, she turned to get one last look.
	They were moving.  Slowly, to be sure, but obviously moving.  
	Fear? beginning to well up inside her, she let the Dead Scream live 
up to its name.  
	This time though, she went to Moon's body, grabbed her crystal, and 
pocketed it.  That would take care of the problem.
	Not satisfied at all, she began to walk away.


POV shift


	Again!


POV shift


	She watched them, as she walked.  She watched for any twitch, any 
breath, any heartbeat.  
	They got up.  She screamed and swore, and killed them again.  Then 
she started to run away.


POV shift


	Again, dammit!


POV shift


	They got up, froze, and died.  She beat their corpses, kicked their 
heads, broke their necks, broke their legs, crushed their ribs, and smashed 
their faces.  
	Noticing for the first time that Sailor Jupiter was among them, she 
took a few steps back.
	They got up, and she killed them.  They got up again, and she killed 
them again.  They got up repeatedly, and each time she destroyed them, 
forcing their souls away from their mortal bodies.
	And seconds later, they got up again.
	After the fifty-third time, she threw her staff down, screaming with 
utter, true, recognizable frustration.
	The combined attacks of fire, water, love, wood, and roses struck 
her simultaneously.  As if that wasn't enough to kill her instantly, the 
force knocked her backwards and off the edge of the roof.  The last they saw 
of her was a green blob flowing downwards, and then there was the 
suprisingly loud thump of impact.
	It was over.



















	Eight minutes later, the rooftop door to the stairs flew open.  
Sailor Pluto stood there, panting from the effort of running up numerous 
stories.
	"Well," she said cynically.  "This was futile."
	






