1101 (Phase 01: Conception)
Rated R


     you're still breathing but you don't know why
     life's a bit and sometimes you die
     you're still breathing but you just can't tell
     don't hold your breath but the pretty things are going to hell

                    -David Bowie, "The Pretty Things Are Going To
Hell"



     Have you ever stopped to wonder what might be? Look beyond
what is real, and grasp at a destiny yet unrealized. You might be
surprised at what you find--not just for yourself, but for everyone
else around you.
     The future has been called a Pandora's Box at times. It is the
mystery of not knowing what is inside, what our future truly holds,
that gives us hopes and dreams. But to open the box and see what
awaits you...fate becomes a cruel mistress. Everything becomes
known, and the secrets die. Hope is lost in the darkness of knowing
what tomorrow's sunset will bring. Dreams are dashed like fragile
sands against an ocean tide.
     And yet there may be a way around it. Consider not one future,
but many futures. Not a single Pandora's Box, but a legion of them.
As the possibilities of a future Naoko Takeuchi envisioned grow
near infinite, the curiousity is satiated, and your dreams are
always there with you. For in seeing many futures, you still see
what is unknown. Which one will find you?
     So many realities, so little time.
     The past is history. The future is now. And His lordship Chaos
welcomes you to the future that is Crystal Tokyo. Choose your
future that is Crystal Tokyo.
     But choose wisely.
     The future has a nasty way of turning on you....


                         -His lordship Chaos
                              hislordshipchaos@hotmail.com





     Crystal Tokyo
     3XXX A.D.


     Upon the 218th floor of the Shadowgate Tower, a man sat
silently within the four walls of his office. Three of those four
walls were comprised of a crystalline composite made to resemble
transparent glass. The blinking lights of Crystal Tokyo flashed
around him, giving him all the illumination his office required.
There was no need for him to turn on his own lights. The only
things in this office numbered three: his chair, his desk, himself.
     Another hovercopter performed a flyby, nearly buzzing the
towering skyscraper yet emitting nothing more than a dull pulse of
rushing wind. These reinforced windows were built to withstand the
devastating tempests blowing at such high altitudes. 
     He continued to sit in his chair, pensive but brooding behind
his clasped hands. Of anyone involved with the Shadowgate Council,
he possessed the most cunning. That made him the most dangerous and
the most respected of them all.
     This was a city where people feared the powers that be.
     And he was the powers that be.
     There was but one true person upon the Shadowgate Council:
him. Those people whom the media showcased and claimed to be the
Council members were mere decoys. They served no purpose save a
buffer between him and anyone smart enough to get past his primary
defenses.
     Cobalt-coloured eyes stared at the laptop computer screen in
front of him. A list scrolled its way through the four Candidates
and their individual profiles. Their strengths. Their weaknesses.
Their latest performance records. Their behavioral exam results.
     His silence was disturbed.
     An incoming call.
     He reached over with one hand and tapped on another
rectangular screen at the front corner of his desk, this one larger
than his laptop. Darkness. And then the screen jumped to light and
life. A young man's anxious face stared at the shadowed visage of
his superior. The distinct black collar and jacket that was visible
on the screen marked the young man as an elite soldier.
     Lieutenant by ranking.
     "I'm sorry to disrupt your meditations, Sir," the lieutenant
apologized, saluting smartly. Trying not to stammer from the
nervousness he was feeling.
     Cobalt eyes fixated on the youth. "That is quite all right,"
he said. His voice was rich and hypnotic. "You know enough to
contact me only when it is an emergency."
     The lieutenant nodded, glancing at someplace off-screen. His
gaze quickly returned to his superior. "One hour ago there was an
unfortunate incident involving Eleven-oh-one."
     "Explain."
     "She escaped."
     The shadows did well to mask his narrowing eyes and severe
displeasure. "Incompetent assholes," he muttered to himself. To the
lieutenant he said, "Elaborate."
     "The details are currently sketchy, Sir," the lieutenant
answered. "I myself have only just arrived to survey the
facilities. But it was a forced escape; she subdued and wounded a
number of guards and doctors. And all this despite her having been
heavily sedated beforehand."
     It appeared the measures they had taken to keep her growing
rebellion contained had failed. He wasn't entirely surprised. But
that still didn't mean he was impressed with the situation.
     "Fatalities?" he inquired.
     "None, Sir."
     That was what he'd thought, but it was always wise to double-
check. The fact that 1101 had broken out meant she officially was
no longer playing by the rules they had established. The game was
thusly altered. And he had to know how far she would go to remain
undiscovered. 
     "While she forcibly took down anyone in her path, she moved
with such speed and stealth that no one detected her absence until-
-" The lieutenant consulted his wrist chronometer. "--twenty-six
minutes ago. That was when the shift change occurred. Indications
are that after using the ID cards she stole from the doctors and
security officers, Eleven-oh-one smuggled herself onto an outbound
transport."
     He exhaled deeply as he listened to the report. Such an escape
could have only been planned over the course of a year. Perhaps
even more. She had been simply waiting, biding her time.
Calculating their weaknesses. This indeed did not bode well for the
Project. For Shadowgate as a whole.
     The lieutenant paused in seeing him rise from his chair and
slowly move towards the grandiose windows behind his desk. The oral
report then continued as before. He listened to each word, analyzed
each action she had made. Cobalt eyes stared out at the city.
Watched Crystal Tokyo shine like a beacon in the night.
     Dozens of sprawling towers not unlike this one reached up in
the hopes of grasping a empyrean cosmos. The darkness of the night
was shattered by a deluge of countless artificial lights of any
given colour.
     And somewhere across this part of the city, he could see the
enlarged image of Neo Queen Serenity, smiling at all the people
walking on the streets below. Giving them reassurances. Encouraging
them to obey. Ensuring that the majority of the city remained as
complacent as always.
     His head tipped downwards.
     Looked to the world far below.
     Like a distant dream, at the base of the Shadowgate Tower, was
the shimmering vision that was the Crystal Palace. A century ago
the Shadowgate tower had been build and fused with the structure of
the palace. Citizens now saw not two separate buildings, but a
single entity joined together.
     "You have a fix on her locator?" he asked.
     The lieutenant nodded, giving a consulting glance down at the
datapad in his hands. The man was grimacing at the report he had
just given, hoping that the guillotine would not fall on him. "She
is currently in Ward Three-eight-one."
     381.
     Formally the Asakusa district of Crystal Tokyo. 
     Otherwise called Sin City.
     He said nothing in response. Scowled at the implications this
posed for any possible retrieval team. Simple enough place for 1101
to blend in. And there was enough aerial clutter to give her ample
hiding places. No easy way for flying vehicles to maneuver through
the maze of building gridworks. And the people there were as
anarchistic as the city got. Had this been a part of her plans too?
     "We have her exact position, but are awaiting your orders on
how to proceed with the retrieval," the lieutenant dared to say
after that minute of silence.
     "Such as?"
     "Stun or wound only, Sir?"
     He shook his head. "As a Candidate, she has progressively
become harder and harder to control. Eleven-oh-one is no longer an
asset, but a liability, Lieutenant. In her current state, she has
the power to bring down the entire Program. You now have the
authority to terminate her."
     The look of unbridled shock on the soldier's face could not
have been any more obvious. "S-Sir?"
     "Do not make me repeat myself, Lieutenant," he stated coldly.
His voice came out like a serpent's hiss. They could try a salvage
of her Essence after she was stopped. But they could not afford the
risk of 1101 talking to others; too many forces had been waiting
for such an opportunity to act against him, against Shadowgate and
the Program.
     The lieutenant nodded, thoroughly chastised. "I understand,
Sir. Shall I mobilize our retrieval unit?"
     He paused to consider this for a moment. Only a moment. "No,"
he answered. "The last thing we wish to do is bring unwanted
attention to ourselves. If Eleven-oh-one continues to run, people
will start to ask questions about why we so fervently wish to
capture her." A vicious smile almost manifested itself on his face.
"But no one will ask questions if we send the Sailor Senshi after
her."




                            who am i?
             who do i see when i look in the mirror?


                               1101


                 why do you act like you know me?


                      [PHASE 01: CONCEPTION]


     She ran.
     That was what she knew she had to do.
     She had to run.
     Her skin was pale, warm from the sweat and heat her body was
generating. The bodysuit she wore was pulled taut against her chest
and legs. On the verge of constricting her, yet strangely a part of
her. She should have tired from all this running by now, yet she
continued. Her body was not yet exhausted.
     Though slowly, steadily reaching that point.
     The crowd of people walking along the streets paid little
attention as she effortlessly moved around them, cut between them.
She was a ghost. Seen one moment, forgotten the next. There were
other people out tonight who looked stranger than she did.
     Sounds familiar and foreign did their best to beat down upon
her. Engines revving, roaring to life, stopping with a squeal of
breaks. The din of hundreds of people talking amongst themselves.
The echoes of over a dozen different radio songs. And from above,
the rhythmic pounding of the air.
     A hovercopter came, its long and sleek body passing overhead.
Its metal body and twin tails barely missed scratching the rooftops
of the buildings that towered over her. White spotlights continued
a roving patrol, moving one way down over the crowds before pausing
and reversing its direction.
     She shrank down as she ran.
     Tried to hide herself from the lights in the sky.
     Long dark hair caught the glow of the neon lights above and
around her. The tresses that flowed down her back rippled in shades
of violet and black. Wide, frightened eyes looked to her left and
then to her right. All she saw were strangers walking at the bases
of strange architecture. Catwalks and neon signs and communication
relay poles clamored for her attention.
     She dared to stop running for a moment and catch her breath.
Violet eyes looked to any face that might be friendly. A face that
she could risk to trust. She saw none. Blasts of warm air from the
surrounding people and establishments rushed and collided with the
cool night air. A motorcycle roared past her, pulling into an
alleyway some ten steps away from where she stood.
     She rubbed the back of her neck.
     Fingertips brushed against a small branding.
     And she shivered.
     This tattoo, indelibly marked onto her skin. Black like ink.
Unable to be removed. An identification of who she was. Of what she
was. A number.
     1101.
     The rhythmic pounding of air grew louder.
     The hovercopter was on her trail again.
     She had to run. But run from what she could not fully
remember. All she knew was that she had to run. They, whoever they
were, could not be allowed to catch her. Cage her. Make her their
prisoner once more.
     Was that what she had once been?
     She had little chance to think it over again as she caught
sight of flashes of blue and white. Of a large tank-like cruiser
rounding the corner before coming to a cushioned stop. Other people
paid it no heed, and simply walked around it. To other people, the
police cruiser was a mere inconvenience.
     She was no mere other person.
     They were looking for her.
     Frantically she turned her head in search of a hideaway.
Desperate to find sanctuary. The haven she decided upon was dubious
at best, but there was no other option she could see.
     Her eyes focused upon the glaring crimson lights just down the
street, near the alleyway the motorcycle had pulled into.
     A place calling itself the 'Tokyo Raven.'
     She could hide in there until the danger passed her by. 
     And then she could run again.


     Once in a while, it would rain.
     The days, however, had long been swallowed up by this veil of
perpetual darkness. She could catch between the jutting structures
of buildings a few fragmented glimpses of the churning storm that
never seemed to peak or break. It was always night here in the
city. Yet the moon rarely shone through the shroud, and she had
almost forgotten what it meant to see a twinkling star.
     There were other places to travel, escaping the blanket that
smothered this city. Yet she was afraid to leave, as if it might
trigger the final judgement. It meant she was abandoning
everything, even Haruka. And as Michiru looked out the window,
watching the hovering traffic pass through the streets, she knew
she could never leave Haruka.
     And Haruka wished to remain here.
     There was only one place in the world now where humanity
dwelled, and it was called Crystal Tokyo. Once she had found its
purpose as that of a sanctuary. No longer. 
     Two space colonies, one orbiting Mars and another drifting
with the edges of the asteroid belt, delivered a constant supply of
raw ore and metals. Earth-anchored, there were hundreds of small
settlements stretched across the planet, each one harvesting the
materials this world offered. Deep sea fisheries, rural farmland,
refining industries and lumber processing plants. But they still
housed no more than one to two hundred souls each. Much of the
labour was performed by robotic or youma hands.
     Crystal Tokyo remained the centre of the new world.
     And humans were its beloved firstborn.
     So why did she feel so rejected by this place?
     Why did she cry herself into a shallow slumber whenever Haruka
was gone, and she found herself alone in the darkness again? To
point fingers at the betrayal would only mean the blame coming back
to haunt them all, and the last thing she wanted was to discover
that her wound had not grown so numb over the decades.
     Michiru exhaled deeply and turned away from the window. She
knew her blonde lover would be returning soon. It would take that
much time for her to build back up her confidence in her lies, to
manage a smile.
     She had to be strong in front of Haruka.
     She had to make her lover believe she still had hope.


     The driver of the motorcycle removed her helmet as she stepped
in through the hidden rear entrance of the 'Tokyo Raven'. The
bouncers recognized her on sight and nodded respectfully as they
let her past. Despite their seeming inadequate size and bulk, the
three men were more than trained to break a man's body in half with
just their thumbs.
     One of them wasn't even human, but a lemures.
     The dull pounding of a bass rhythm suddenly exploded into a
bellicose, earth-trembling force. The neon lighting outside was
exchanged for the kinetic array of neon, flood and flashing lights
within. She ran a hand through her sandy-blonde hair and continued
to make her way through the crowd of people milling around here in
the darker corners. All too quickly she entered the open atrium,
brought face to face with the bizarre spectacle of cages, catwalks,
dizzying light displays and dancers that was called a night club. 
     The Tokyo Raven was one of the few clubs that had a building
all to itself--but that building was ten storeys high, housing the
business offices of the club and some private rooms in the top
floor. The nine other floors opened into the central foyer, where
you could look down and see below a frantic array of lights and
visual effects jolting the dancers to life.
     A contorted series of metallic catwalks, balconies and
transport lifts encircled the opening into the dance floor. And on
one side of the club was a towering, simulated waterfall that
poured a deluge into a haunting jungle pool on the main floor.
     "Tadaima," Haruka said quietly.
     Almost mournfully.
     I'm home....
     Abruptly a red caution sign blinked on for a few seconds.
"Warning: youma gang violence in area is rising," a female,
automated voice reported. It was Serenity's voice.
     She laughed at the caution. The world could have been entering
armageddon and that damned voice would still be friendly and
courteous. Hell, for all the insanity that reigned over Ward 381,
this was still better than the stranglehold placed over the rest of
the city.
     Crystal Tokyo had changed so much, the old idyllic stability
now gone. This "brave new world" as it had sometimes been called
was one of excess and decadence, where chaos manifested itself more
potently than ever before. Some might have argued that Chaos itself
had decided to not destroy this place, but rather made it Its home.
The city had become a sprawling megapolis of neon lights, euphoric
indulgences, neo-cyberpunk dogma, and roving gangs of youma. Utopia
was a case study of "survival of the fittest."
     This was the last in the world where human life existed. And
it had changed into a place where anything was bound to happen.
     The Tokyo Raven was no exception.
     Haruka's blue eyes narrowed. The clientele was always rowdy.
The music was always loud. The neighborhood was a bomb waiting to
go off. But here in the Asakusa ward she could disappear. This
district hadn't always been so...distorted. There had been a time,
centuries ago, when this had been an upstanding area filled with
fine arts and entertainment.
     When Chibiusa had been born and the Outer Senshi had to
disappear--something to do with the princess needing to not
recognize any of them, as she went back in time to help fight the
Deathbusters--this had been a library.
     But that had been long ago.
     So long ago.
     Haruka reached the end of the corridor, and accessed a hidden
retinal scanner. Once it granted her security clearance, another
hidden panel opened up. The music was dulled but not silenced as
she entered, and found yet another sealed door and checkpoint
awaiting her. She moved through without incident. One more narrow
corridor awaited her. In this one, the sound of the Tokyo Raven was
muted entirely.
     A small access card was removed from the folds of her jacket
and swiped down a small panel of the black tiled walls. A door
retracted to reveal a hidden elevator cab. There were only two
buttons, only two places to go.
     Ground floor.
     Or the tenth floor.
     Michiru was not waiting for her in the lobby, as the elevator
car opened up and Haruka stepped into the tenth floor foyer.
Michiru was, however, waiting for Haruka on the other side of a
voice-activated security door. As the tall sandy-blonde stepped
into their domicile, she marveled at how different it was from the
club below them.
     Here there was only the beauty of serenity.
     The clarity of silence.
     Their walls were of sliding paper screens, elegantly painted
by the aqua-green haired woman leisurely sprawled out across a
futon on the floor. Michiru was paging through a magazine, pausing
momentarily to type some personal notes into her laptop. Haruka
shook her head, unable to understand how Michiru could type so fast
and flawlessly with only one hand.
     "How was it?" Michiru asked, sitting up when she saw Haruka.
The ocean blue housecoat she wore was loose around her body,
draping down one shoulder.
     Very enticing.
     "Driving gave me some peace of mind," Haruka replied as she
set her motorcycle helmet down on a table. "The roads were deserted
by the coast, and for a moment I forgot that there was anyone else
but me in this place." With a bitter smile she ruefully added,
"Then I came home."
     "I trust your prized Cyclopath is secured in its cage?" The
smile on Michiru's face did not go unmissed.
     Haruka sighed and tried to brush aside the now unkempt hair in
her eyes. For as much as she loved racing, she hated the condition
known as helmethead. Added to that was the fact that she could feel
herself sweating. She unzipped her jacket and started to strip.
     "Where's Hotaru-chan?" she asked.
     "It's her shift on the third floor bar."
     Haruka nodded as she removed her shirt and started to wriggle
out of her pants. The brooding expression on her face remained.
Michiru could sense the somber disposition of her lover, and acted
accordingly.
     She pulled Haruka onto the futon with her, pushing aside the
magazine and laptop. The tall sandy-blonde was surprised to be
forced onto her back. Surprised but not entirely objecting. She
objected even less when Michiru helped her out of her pants.
     "The clouds will break soon enough, love," Michiru reassured
her. "We just have to give it a little more time."
     Haruka reached out her arms, and her lover drew closer. She
pulled Michiru onto her breasts, and they lay there together. "Did
your mirror tell you that?" she asked quietly.
     Michiru shook her head. "Without its queen, this city has
reached a breaking point. Unless a saviour arises and rebuilds what
has been torn down, humanity will be completely destroyed."
     "All the saviours are gone, Michiru." Haruka tried to choke
back the bitterness in her voice. To avoid brushing against an
overwhelming despair that could claim her whole this time. "We're
the only ones left, and we can't even be Senshi anymore. After what
happened so long ago, we don't even deserve to be called Senshi." 
     The cost had been severe, and Crystal Tokyo was still reeling
from it. Something had happened, and they had not been around to
stop it.
     "We failed in our mission."
     Michiru gently pressed her lips against Haruka's. "That may
be, but we have had centuries to wait for an absolution. And if we
are given a second chance, then let that be our penance. We can't
afford to lose this time."
     She placed a hand on either side of the tall sandy-blonde's
head. "And I can't afford to have you so melancholy when that
moment might occur at any time."
     Slowly she lowered herself down to Haruka's face.
     They kissed.
     They embraced.
     They made love again.
     It was their best, their only way, to forget about the tragedy
that was the past. To block out the harsh reality that was the
present. And to dare to hope for the dream that was the future.


     Evidently the man at the door had taken a liking to her. She
was let in automatically, set apart from the long and noisy line-up
of people pressed against the side of the Tokyo Raven, waiting for
their own moment to enter the club.
     Long dark hair. A bodysuit that was molded to bring out every
curve of her limber form. Wide enigmatic eyes. Unsure of
themselves, like a newborn watching the world for the first time. 
     Beautiful and innocent.
     She cast a glance back over her shoulder before going in. The
police cruiser still had its lights spinning around. A few officers
were milling about.
     An attack of sound greeted her as she stepped inside.
     Her senses struggled to keep from overloading yet again, and
she slowly shuffled across the floor. Gawking at what she saw.
Unable to find her place within this vibrating monster of people
and metal. Unable to find her inner balance.
     Unable to find herself.
     She moved past the large pool and the vegetation, pausing as
a three foot long--and still growing--crocodile adorned with a
spiked collar trotted out in front of her. The reptilian gave her
no trouble, and merely walked over the edge of the pool before
sliding into the water. 
     For a short while she simply watched the crocodile swim around
in the pool. It was joined by another, much larger cayman that
emerged from a perch hidden somewhere behind the waterfall. Such a
surreal thing to watch. This entire place defied every sense of
logic she knew to possess. Why did this feel so wrong?
     She resumed her walking and attempted to disappear into the
crowd. They might follow her into this place. She had to hide.
     A vent of steam erupted beside her, and she ended up emerging
from it looking like a lost soul. The flashing red and blue lights
by the jungle pool faded, though the roar of the falls was still
fighting with the pulse-pounding dance music to be the first to
destroy her eardrums.
     The scenery turned to shining grey as a maze of overhead pipes
and ventilation shafts cris-crossed over each other. Another
eruption of steam went off, drenching her in a cloud of warm
moisture.
     She kept moving.
     There was still a need to run.
     Walking stealthily up a metallic flight of spiral stairs, she
reached a long counter in front of rows of bottles. There were
maybe two other people sitting at the bar, each one lost in either
the music or their drink.
     She stepped up to the bar, her gaze holding at the beautiful
young lady standing behind it. Tender, pale skin. Large dark eyes.
Exotic ravenwing hair that was tied back in a single braid,
dangling over her shoulder. This female bartender wore a black
silken cheongsam, the slitted dress clinging tightly to her body.
     Accenting every muscle.
     Every slender curve.
     Everything.
     And in the young woman's right hand was a large metal sensu.
The folding fan was black, darker than the cheongsam, its upper
portions stained with crimson drops that resembled blood. 
     The young lady took notice of her standing there in front of
the bar, and warmly smiled. A second later the smile melted away
amidst an expression of stunned silence.
     She cringed under this woman's gaze.
     Yet resisted the urge to run.
     The bartender continued to stare at her with wide, nearly
unbelieving eyes. She began to move around the bar, and whispered
a single word. A name.
     "Rei...."
     Something about what this young bartender said sent a cold
chill of familiarity down her body. This was different from the
chill she felt when the instinct to run overpowered her. It was
different, but still frightening.
     Rei.
     Rei....
     Was that her name?
     What was in a name? Such a thing was what others called you.
Did she call herself such a thing as 'Rei'? Her mind was nothing
more than a muddled blur of fear and uncertainty as she searched
for an answer. She found nothing. Nothing at all.
     Save for more fear.
     The girl on the other side of the bar knew her.
     She might be in danger again.
     She had to run.
     She turned, moved to go away and disappear into the bursts of
smoke and dancing patrons, but the young bartender firmly grabbed
hold of her wrist. Held her at bay. She tried to struggle and
quickly realized it would do her no good.
     This girl had a strong grip.
     And she was only fighting with half her usual strength. A name
had been spoken. Her name. She wanted to know more. She wanted to
know why this stranger knew her name.   
     "Don't you recognize me?" the young woman asked, looking even
more confused now than before. "Rei, it's me: Hotaru."
     She stared at the one who called herself Hotaru. Vague and
scattered images tried to burrow through the mists of insecurity in
her mind. Hotaru. A girl with raven hair. Hotaru. The name brought
with it a strange warmth.
     It frightened her.
     "I'm not safe here," she whispered.
     "Then let me protect you," Hotaru stated, refusing to let go.
     She hesitated, considered trying to break free and run. But
then she realized such a thing was an impossibility. She lowered
her eyes and allowed Hotaru to lead her through the Tokyo Raven.
     

     The scenery had changed.
     But not her inherent fear.
     She sat on her knees, staring down at the futon beneath her.
All around she could hear the voices of the three women now with
her. They were talking about her. And she was listening to them.
     "This has to be some kind of trick meant to bring us out into
the open."
     "No one knows we're alive."
     "We don't know that for certain, Hotaru."
     "But Michiru, she's a deadringer for Rei. What if? Just what
if?"
     "Haruka, you know they're no longer a part of us."
     "But Michiru, look at her! She's not like the others! She's
not even like the Sailor Mars we've been watching for the past two
hundred years!"
     She suddenly found herself sitting in a shadow, and passively
lifted her head to stare up at the three women all looking down at
her. They were unsure of themselves. Unsure of her. Critical of
everything. The one with the wavy hair that shimmered like aqua-
green sea waves seemed especially skeptical of who she was.
     She didn't hold it against the woman. She didn't know who she
was herself. All she knew was a number: 1101. And because of this
number she felt afraid. The knot in her stomach tightened and she
suppressed the urge to leap up from the futon and bolt for the
nearest exit. She had seen all the safeguards in entering. There
would be no escape for her unless they allowed it.
     Coming here had resulted in an enormous uproar. The disruption
was unwelcomed for the two women rolling naked together atop the
futon. They were now hastily clothed. But upon seeing her, the one
with the ocean-like hair had seemed willing to destroy her where
she stood.
     Why did she evoke such an intense reaction from them, and by
mere sight alone? She didn't know the answer, and so she had
remained silent. Staring down at the futon proved to make her feel
disengaged from the rest of the world, as the three argued and
tried to calm each other down. Now they were debating what they
were to do with her.
     The opinions varied.
     She was certain she'd be forced to run again.
     1101 would have to run again.
     But the tallest of the trio, whose hair was blonde like beach
sands, refused to back down from defending her. "She doesn't know
who she is, Michiru. She doesn't know who we are. To find the
answers for her might mean finding the answer to this whole damn
mess."
     "That doesn't mean we can trust her," the one they called
Michiru countered. "Yes, she's not like the others; I can see that
in her eyes. But that doesn't automatically mean she's the Rei we
once knew."
     The girl who called herself Hotaru, and the one the others
called Haruka, both went silent. She could see the bitterness in
their eyes. Despair was eating away at their souls.
     "Even Serenity isn't herself anymore," Michiru whispered
mournfully, eyes staring out the windows to the streets and
towering buildings beyond. "She's only a face on a television
screen."
     Haruka drew up behind her lover, draping her arms over
Michiru's shoulders. "Michiru, an hour ago you told me that a
second chance would come, where we could redeem ourselves," she
whispered. "Don't tell me you're rejecting her, because you refuse
to believe this may be that chance. Whatever form it takes, we have
to be willing to work with it. We have to be willing to take risks
again, like we used to."
     That was meant to placate the aqua-haired woman.
     It only served to instill more dissension.
     "I'm tired of taking risks, Haruka! We fought against this and
risked our lives for countless years after the city changed, and it
amounted to nothing. All I want to do is spend these last days with
you."
     "But you were the one who kept telling me to have hope--"
     Michiru broke away from Haruka's embrace and went to staring
out another window, muffled sobs and mournful tears done with her
back to them. She sounded defeated in every way imaginable. "I
don't have any more hope, Haruka," she cried. "Those words I've
said to you were empty, but they gave you hope and kept you close
to me. I would have said anything...."
     The sadness of the aqua-haired woman made 1101--for that was
all she knew of herself, and trusted now--want to cry too. She
looked at these three women. They were in pain because of her. She
was the reason their world had fallen apart. Or had the world
already fallen apart, and they now had to admit to that broken
reality?
     Abruptly Hotaru, who was leaning with her back against the
black-lacquered wooden beams, spoke up. "It's been so long since
any of us have been soldiers that we're all afraid to go back to
that life. But we have to, if there is to be any hope for Crystal
Tokyo." 
     The woman's violet eyes were piercing, chillingly dark and
solemn. 
     "You two may have gone into near-total seclusion, but I've
been a part of this city always. I have gone out to explore and
interact with the people. I'm not afraid. And I'm not going to wait
for it to finally self-destruct, because I've learned that there
are some things in Crystal Tokyo still worth saving."
     Michiru's shoulders seemed to sag all the more, and she
slumped over, her forehead resting against the cold pane of glass.
     "I need to be alone right now," she finally whispered in a
tired voice. "Please, go away."
     Haruka tilted her head to the back of the room. "Hotaru, take
Rei back downstairs--and don't let her out of your sight."
     "I don't need to be told that," Hotaru replied, her voice not
as scathing as it might have been in any other situation.
     1101 looked up as Hotaru knelt down in front of her. Hotaru
gently touched her hand and she recoiled, pulling back her hand as
if it had been stung. The fear was starting to grow to a point
where she could not longer resist the temptation to run again. With
worried, dark eyes she looked from one woman to the next.
     "Daijobu," Hotaru said. "We're not going to hurt you, Rei.
We'll be going back downstairs, but I won't leave you."
     Their hands clasped, fingers lacing together.
     A firm tug found 1101 willing her muscles to go through with
Hotaru's intent, and she slowly rose to her feet. Compliantly,
without word of protest, she shuffled behind Hotaru as they walked
towards the door.
     Michiru abruptly said, "You too, Haruka."
     "Michiru...." Haruka found herself torn. Was this a time where
her lover needed to be held regardless of what she said, or was the
solitude necessary?
     "Go," Michiru said again. Her words now sounded hollow and
void of emotion. She had been depleted and was left without any
strength. In her moment of weakness, the last thing she wanted was
for Haruka to see her like this. "Just go."
     It pained Haruka to violate every screaming instinct in her
body, and turn away. "Hai, Michiru. We'll be downstairs if you need
us."

     
     The pulse of the Tokyo Raven was a frenetic one.
     The euphoria of forgetfulness--about life, about the city
outside, about personal hells--was one everyone was eager to
embrace like mother's milk. They fed off it on a nightly basis.
Some had let it grow into an addiction. They were lost in who they
were, and only knew themselves when they knew the comfort of the
Tokyo Raven's loud music, churning lights and swarms of dancers.
     They held no focus.
     And so as a woman stalked through the ranks of those within
the Tokyo Raven, the people she brushed against took notice.
Something lingered in the air after her. And it stole the euphoria
of forgetfulness away in a blanket of unexpected fear. So great
that those who felt the touch of her presence quickly ran back to
their pounding tempos and twisting dance partners.
     She was taller than most others, striding across the dance
floor. A momentary pause was given as she glanced over to examine
the pool in the middle of the open atrium. The large cayman
continued to leisurely paddle in the water. Black leather
noiselessly gave way as she lifted a hand up to remove the John
Lennon sunglasses from her face. Bangs of chestnut brown hair were
brushed away from in front of her eyes afterwards.
     "She's here," she muttered to herself.
     She could detect the lingering scent of 1101. Hell, she could
almost see the trail left in the air that had come into contact
with 1101, and was still saturated with her power. It was like
following an Esper. Their quarry was here within the building. The
Shadowgate military were still outside, if anything to secure the
building. Useless lapdogs that they were; it was for their own good
that they stayed out of the battlezone.
     1101 wasn't in control of her powers. There was no telling how
she'd react when cornered. The last thing any of them needed was a
Shadowgate soldier fucking things up for them. They had a mission
to fulfill. She had no qualms about executing 1101 for the sake of
the Project.
     The tall brunette's emerald eyes narrowed as she ascended up
the stairs, stopping at one of the bars. The Esper scent worked its
way to here, and remained. 1101 had been standing here for a time,
not moving. Not running. What was that little bitch up to?
     It was time to find answers to her questions.
     She stepped up to the bar and leaned against the counter,
noting how there was an absence of stools on this level.
     The bartender was a young woman, in her mid-twenties. Average
height, with a timid expression that had yet to be hardened and
chastised by the denizens of this city. Fresh blood in this place,
evidently. "You carrying a weapon?" she asked, visibly concerned by
the stranger's very presence.
     The tall brunette looked straight at her without even
blinking. And her eyes rippled with visible magic. Narrowing at
seeing the young girl step back in abrupt fear. "The boys at the
front said it wasn't a problem. Do you have one?" 
     The girl shook her head. "N-No," she stammered. 
     "I'm looking for someone," the tall brunette stated. She
glanced over at the series of glass cylinders displaying easily
thirty variations of drinks, much to the relief of the trembling
bartender. "Bukarda Wet," she ordered. "Hard up."
     The bartender nodded, and then stopped as she realized what
had just been ordered. "I...I didn't think you were the type to
drink something as strong as--"
     "Did I say I would drink it?" the tall brunette cut in, her
voice like ice.
     And then an unwelcomed interruption decided to make itself
know. "Hey, you!" came a somewhat slurred voice.
     The tall brunette turned her head as a trio of strangers
approached the bar, the leader showing signs of obvious
inebriation. All three were dressed in gothic garments of red and
black: the colours of the Bahamut. One of the more notorious phage
gangs in Sin City.
     When they were first created, the youma were nothing more than
docile slaves. That, or soldiers meant to eradicate the newest and
most vicious strain of youma ever encountered. Then over time they
grew their own intelligence. Asserted themselves. Integrated with
the rest of Crystal Tokyo.
     This youma explosion had given way to hybrids and breeds--or
as some called them, viral-like "strains". There were obvious
distinctions between groups of youma, and they were just as
merciless with each other as they were with humans. Daimons would
never be seen with phages. Neither with lemures or droids or
cardians.
     There was a time when mass-produced youma had become the best
soldiers to send into the hell zones, where it got too hot to risk
losing the Senshi to enemy forces. The daimons in particular had
been the most widely-used weapon in the Crystal Wars, becoming
lethal assassins and suicidal time bombs against an all new and
more vicious threat: a demonic army that had attacked the planet
long ago. Much of the growing youma population had suffered then,
and the grudges between human and youma had never fully healed even
to this day. There were still tensions the government had to
overcome between the two.
     The phage leader slammed her elbow down on the table, her open
palm towards the tall brunette. Her eyes were starting to glaze
over, but still held a cold `don't fuck with me' look to them. 
     "Twenty thousand says you can't beat me in an arm wrestle,
human," she challenged. The flashing lights made her blue skin
appear translucent, and her arm seemed to glow of its own accord.
Eyes flashed pale white in the dim ambience of the club.
     "I have other business here," the tall brunette answered,
barely giving him a second glance.
     "It can wait," the phage snapped. "We fight now!"
     The tall brunette glanced back at the terrified bartender. And
then she grabbed a hold of the phage's hand without even looking,
smashing it down onto the bar. A loud crack resounded from within
the creature's body. A heartbeat later, a piece of broken
endoskeleton punched out from her skin. The phage being screamed as
she clutched her wound. Sapphiric ooze spurted out from the jagged
break of flesh. 
     "Bitch!" she hissed, cradling her arm. Her two accompanying
youma instantly pulled handguns, training them at the tall
brunette's head.
     But the tall brunette was already standing, the tip of her
index finger against the lead phage's forehead. Lightening crackled
and snaked down her arm, disappearing right before it would have
touched the youma's head. She let her power, her identity, be
known.
     The two other youma hesitated.
     "Back off," she stated. "Right now." She lowered her arm and
turned back to the bar. "You sub-creatures keep out of my way, and
you'll live. Get out of my sight."
     The wounded phage hissed like a cat whose territory had been
infringed, but knew better than to attack someone like her. Even
youma had a built-in instinct to live. They retreated back into the
darkness, a trail of blood left in their wake to mark the route
they had taken.
     Slowly, deliberately, the tall brunette fixated her gaze on
the quivering bartender. "As I was saying before that untimely
interruption, about this woman I'm looking for...."


     Hotaru wondered if it had been the right thing to do, leaving
Michiru alone like that. She had taken Rei--she still believed in
defying the impossible, that this mysterious stranger was Rei--down
to the elevator, only to find Haruka joining them in the cab. Her
'poppa' had taken a bottle of Wild Turkey with her as she left the
apartment too.
     The doors closed, and they let the slight shudder of the
elevator take them downstairs.
     "Gomen," Hotaru said awkwardly. "I didn't know."
     "Neither did I," Haruka replied, putting her lips to the neck
of the bottle and taking a hard swig. "It's more my fault for not
having seen it, Hime-chan. You've gone on to live your own life;
me, I've been with Michiru since this all began. I should have
realized something."
     Her grip wavered, and the bottle slid from her hand. It
bounced on the floor tiles and tipped onto its side. Golden liquid
ran out from the glass onto the elevator floor.
     A chime sounded and the doors slid open.
     The two Senshi departed from the elevator.
     1101 silently shuffled out behind them.
     "Maybe you did, but just refused to believe it." Hotaru stared
at the doors that would lead them into the antechamber at the edge
of the Tokyo Raven's deafening music. "Ignorance is bliss. Both you
and Michiru were happy in deceiving yourselves, and each other."
     "We weren't happy, Hotaru. We never were." Angrily Haruka
slammed the back of her fist into the wall. It resounded as a dull,
muffled 'thud!' but with little other noise. This place had been
designed to be soundproof. "What the hell happened to us, Hotaru?
To this place?"
     Hotaru turned her head, not about to look away even as 1101
tried to hide behind Haruka and avoid her gaze. "Maybe Rei can tell
us."
     "If she's Rei."
     "Stop talking like she's not standing next to us, Haruka,"
Hotaru snapped. "She may have just shattered your illusions of
paradise, but maybe that's for the better! When we gave up hope,
this city died." Her eyes refocused on the apparent stranger in
their midst. "She may be the last hope any of us have left."
     Haruka nodded slightly, still looking emotionally battered
from what had taken place upstairs. She tipped her head slightly
towards 1101. "So who are you anyways?"
     "She doesn't even know her name," Hotaru answered instead.
"Unless you have something else to call her by, she's Rei. I know
she's Rei, somehow."
     Haruka nodded, not really listening. Then she abruptly froze,
her gaze focusing on the base of 1101's neck. She took a step
towards 1101, and the girl seemed terrified. Ready to bolt. 
     Her entire body shuddered as Haruka slowly reached out a hand
and brushed aside the long dark hair that was draped down her back.
Hotaru stiffened upon seeing what had caught Haruka's attention.
     "'One-one-zero-one,'" Haruka read, tracing a finger over the
tattoo.
     "Eleven-oh-one," the girl abruptly spoke.
     It had been the first time they'd heard her voice, and Haruka
and Hotaru were more than a little surprised. She shook her head at
the mistaken pronunciation. "They would call it 'Eleven-oh-one.'"
     "It's an ID brand." Haruka took a step away. "Maybe we should
be asking: what are you?"
     1101 shrank back at their interrogation. "I...don't know," she
at last answered, finding it difficult to enunciate the turmoil
that was raging within her very being.
     "You don't know, or you don't remember?"
     She shook her head.
     Haruka let out a weary laugh, closing her eyes as she pressed
the base of her palms against her temples. The night was getting to
her. "Shimatta. So much for answers." Her eyes opened, and glanced
back at 1101. "Next time we go back up, I'll see if we can find
something different for you to wear. That outfit might work here,
but outside the club you're going to attract a lot of attention we
don't want you to have."
     But 1101 shook her head. "I won't go back up. It's not safe
there, or here. I have to run again."
     She turned away from the Outer Senshi, and would have retraced
her steps back out into the dangers of the Tokyo Raven. But she
found her movement impeded as Hotaru grabbed her shoulder and held
her at bay.
     "Why do you have to run?" Hotaru's penetrating eyes gazed into
hers, and she again tried to vainly wriggle free of the woman's
grip. After a moment, Hotaru asked a different question, her voice
hushed. "Who's chasing you, Rei?"
     The fear in 1101's eyes was pure and without question.
     "I don't know."
     "You can trust us, Rei," Hotaru stated. "We won't let you run
until you have to. And then we'll run with you." She turned her
head towards Haruka. "Won't we?"
     Haruka gave what looked to be a non-committal shrug. "I'm
going outside," she said. "I need to clear my mind."
     "Haruka, you can't go out on your motorcycle now--"
     "I'm not!" Haruka snapped in agitation. "Just leave me alone
for a few minutes, Hotaru-chan. Take Rei, or Eleven-oh-one, or
whatever she wants to call herself, and show her around the place.
We'll meet back at the third floor bar in fifteen minutes."
     Hotaru lowered her eyes. "Hai," she murmured, sounding scolded
and chastised. Perhaps she'd pushed them both too far for one
night. But then again, this hadn't been the reaction she was
expecting from either of them.
     Haruka moved past them, the passageway opening up and granting
her access to the antechamber. Beyond that was the loud babble of
the Tokyo Raven. The tall, sandy-blonde didn't even look back as
the security door slid shut and separated them. Hotaru and 1101
found themselves dwelling in the hush of this hidden corridor.
     1101 continued to watch the door that had swallowed up Haruka
on the other side, hauntingly quiet and passive in her expression.
     "I don't know," she abruptly spoke. "I don't know what I am."
With trembling fingers she pushed aside her long dark hair and
touched the brand on the back of her neck. "All I know is that
because of this, I have to run."
     "Why?" Hotaru pressed, desperate for an answer. "Why do you
have to run?"
     But 1101 could only shake her head in uncertainty.
     Now it was Hotaru's turn to sigh amidst a wave of exhaustion,
trying to find the smallest and simplest way to relieve the stress
that was weighing down on her shoulders. The smile on her face
might have been weary, but it was sincere. And still had hope
within it.
     "Ne, when was the last time you had something to eat, Rei-
chan?"


     Betrayal.
     That was what she felt. That was the name of the stinging pain
that seemed to radiate out from her heart and echo a pulse within
the rest of her body. Haruka forced herself to keep moving and get
lost in the bliss and ignorance tempting the others in the Tokyo
Raven. But she found she couldn't forget anything, and instead was
remembering everything.
     Wounds centuries old were being ripped open once more.
     She wondered if she and Michiru could ever face each other
again. How could Michiru have lost hope, when she seemed the
stronger of them? And how could she herself have been so blind to
Michiru's despair? Haruka pushed through the surging and ebbing
tides of humanity around her.
     Right now she wanted to be a part of the wind again, and ride
with it on her Cyclopath. But too much of her being kept her
anchored here; the last remnants of a sense of honour and duty
still pulled at her to act upon what had just happened.
     That 1101 thing was more Rei than she wanted to admit.
     She'd dealt with the Inner Senshi, even Sailor Mars, when the
city had fallen apart. That girl was different. Somehow she was
defiantly different from the others. Haruka had felt something on
the edge of her consciousness that only confirmed it.
     So if this girl was Rei, then what the hell was going on?
     Haruka was snapped out from her doubts and conspiracies as the
ripples of bodies and motion pushed her offside, and she nearly
stumbled. Another person, trying to go in the opposite direction,
bore the worst of the collision.
     "Gomen," Haruka mumbled in apology, and took another step
forward as her sense of balance returned. 
     She abruptly froze as a wave of unexpected terror washed over
her. Slowly she turned her head, looking back at the one she'd
brushed shoulders with.
     The woman's hair was short, and in the cascading lights one
was barely able to make out the blue tint to it. And she too had
sensed something, and was looking back at Haruka with a scowl of
confusion. The woman then dismissed it, dismissed Haruka, and moved
through the people until she disappeared from sight.
     Haruka could only stand motionless where she was.
     She found her blood running cold, chilling her entire body.
"Ami," she whispered. Her gaze darted back up to the higher levels
of catwalks and dance platforms. "Shimatta."
     They'd been discovered.


     "I'm not sure what else to say," Hotaru said to her as they
walked out from the hidden passageway, and began to wander up to
one of the higher levels. It would be safer for them to talk up
there, away from the bulk of the crowds. "I don't even know what to
think. But you have to be her. You just have to be Rei. I can see
it in your eyes: the humanity Sailor Mars lacked ever since this
began."
     She nodded to herself. "Haruka and Michiru just need time to
get over the shock. They'll see...they have to see that we still
have hope."
     1101 remained silent.
     The names they were calling her seemed so foreign and familiar
all at once. There was a strange comfort in the way this girl,
Hotaru, treated her. But at the same time she sensed something
about Hotaru--about all three of those women. It reminded her of
fear. Of why she was running. Of who she was running from.
     And then suddenly her body broke out in sweat as they stepped
onto the third floor. The frenzied heat of the Tokyo Raven wasn't
the cause. It was something she had felt when she first began to
run. Her entire being trembled, her breath stolen from the terror
flowing like blood within her. 
     They were here. 
     They had found her.
     Hotaru saw the fright in 1101's wide eyes. Her own concern was
evident as she quickly looked around the bar. "Rei, daijobu?"
     "So here's where you've been hiding, you little runaway."
     Hotaru turned her head, and found someone who had once been
leaning against the bar counter now standing up to confront them.
The voice betrayed the femininity of the stranger, who was now
leisurely closing the distance between them.
     "You talking to us?" Hotaru asked. She heard the young woman
behind her give a frightened squeak. "Rei, what is it?"
     1101 was shaking, tears starting to stream down her eyes. "I
won't go back," she whispered, shaking her head. For every step
this stranger took forward, 1101 matched it with a retreating step
of her own.
     The woman openly, callously, laughed. "What makes you think
you're going to be taken back this time, you freak?" She cracked
her knuckles. "This time, there will be no running. You're going to
die."
     Hotaru stepped forward, angrily confronting the woman. "You
want her?" she growled. "You'll have to go through me first."
     "This isn't your affair," the woman stated coldly. "I have no
problems with killing you both."
     Hotaru's eyes narrowed. "You might find that a harder task
than you think," she stated. She couldn't go into an outright
Senshi form now, not when the Outers were believed to have died out
long ago. That would only complicate everything. But that didn't
mean she was completely defenseless. There were other ways to make
use of a sailor soldier's power while not wearing the uniform.
     The woman regarded her curiously, and then began to smile.
Vicious and predatory. "So, you're an Esper, are you? That might
buy you more time, but not much. You have no idea what that girl
behind you really is."
     "That's what I intend to find out on my own," Hotaru answered,
her voice rising in aggression. She kept as close to 1101 as she
could, her eyes trained on the stranger. "You're welcome to try
your luck."
     The tall brunette's lips curled into an acrid smile. "If
that's the way you want it. But don't say I didn't warn you." 
     Her emerald green eyes narrowed, and then the air around her
form started to ripple. Black clothing rippled apart, and suddenly
became white. Scraps of cloth were burned away as the space around
the woman crackled with saturated magic. Streaks of lightning and
electricity coursed through the air and entangled themselves around
her body. A uniform manifested itself upon the tall brunette's form
in a mere heartbeat, and she seemed oblivious to the transformation
as she continued to advance on her prey.
     The contours molded themselves into a fuku.
     A sailor battle fuku.




     Hotaru stepped back, sucking in a stunned breath as if it
might be her last. "Masaka," she gasped.
     She had at first believed this woman to be an Esper herself.
     But she was wrong.
     The woman before her was Sailor Jupiter.






                      [conception complete.]



                     [next phase: incubation]






               My indebted gratitude goes out to
               Greenbeans and Meara, who walked
               by my side as this realm first
               unfolded.


               To Angus MacSpon and "Sailor Moon
               4200", which dared to ask me the 
               question: what if Crystal Tokyo
               didn't last as long as we all
               thought it would?


               Thanks must be given to the "Crystal 
               Tokyo for the Baka" compendium. My
               work as its archivist has no doubt
               contributed to many of the ideas 
               that are here within this story.