Title: The Chosen - Resurrection
Author: Kenneth Krekeler

DISCLAIMERS: Sailor Moon and all symbols associated with Sailor Moon 
are not mine and are owned by DiC, Bandai, and many other corporations who 
I do not want to get in legal trouble with. 

The Chosen and all symbols associated with Nakiad, Kaneth, the Dark Lord 
and the rest belong to David Kogan, author of the original 'Chosen' series. I 
would not advise anyone reading this to continue until you have read the first 
'Chosen' saga.

David Kogan has written a sequel to the Chosen, entitled 'Perchance to 
Dream.' You can find both stories under the banner 'Shades of Light and 
Darkness' on the ASMR site. -My- fan-fic, however, takes place after the third 
part of Chosen, 'Choice', and changes just about everything from there.


_	_	_



The Chosen - Resurrection
Part 2: Bloodlines




Bubble.

Bubble.

Toil.

Trouble.

It was an old rhyme, but it fit the description of the Pool exactly. The Evil that 
was the black water within it splashed and waved, as if trying to break free of 
some restraints it was held captive by. It reached a boiling point, steam and 
bubbles rising off the surface of the liquid, hissing and belching, entrancing its 
observer.

General Calimite sat upon the throne, gazing into the Pool. It was almost 
hypnotic. The swirling was similar to that of the Negaverse sky, dark and filled 
with hatred. His chin rest upon his fist, arms resting on the armrests. Again he 
was thinking, what he seemed to do best. Soon, he thought, his gaze falling to 
the half-filled Pool. Soon, he could begin. The Scouts did not know what they 
were up against, not this time. Not even the Chosen knew of his plans, and 
only little of his very existance. Soon he would be able to initiate the Project.

To begin the Resurrection.

His eyes drifted to the sky, becoming moist, something they had not done for a 
thousand years. A warrior of the Negaverse rarely came upon the emotion of 
sorrow, but he could not contain himself when he thought of -her-.

Those lips.

Those eyes.

That beautiful, beautiful-

"General Calimite."

He snapped out of his daze, his eyes shifting ever so slightly toward the 
shadow at the doorway. "What is it?" he said, barley a question at all.

The shadow backed up just a bit, though he was several yards from the 
General. "The warrior you requested for, Vaprious Rogue, has arrived. I've 
shown him to his quarters, as you instructed."

"Excellent. See that he is not distrubed, and that all his desires are attended to. 
If he is displeased in any way, I'll hold you responsible."

"Yes, my Lord," said the shadow, and whisked off quickly. The shadows had 
begun calling him their 'Lord' when the General had assumed the throne, 
helping to cope with their own loss of the Dark One.

When Calimite was sure the shadow had left, he smiled a pleased smile. It was 
not a smile of evil, like when he came up with a diabolical plan to annihilate an 
enemy. Rather, it was the kind of smile he had when he was told good news.

So, he thought, Rogue has returned.

Things were looking up.


*	*	*


"That's suicide. That's bloody suicide!"

The Scouts and guardians had not reacted well to Nakiad's new plan.

Artemis was taking on a personality no one had ever seen in him. He was 
shouting, almost at the top of his lungs, obviously restraining himself from 
killing the Chosen. He was furious. "If you set the Dark Lord free," he yelled, 
"You're putting all of us in danger, including Mina! You're endangering the 
lives of not only everyone on this planet, but everyone in the entire Universe!" 
He leapt off the table and onto the ground, stropping centimeters from 
Nakiad's feet. "I thought you were the Chosen, prone to make good decisions, 
to be able to get the upper hand in any battle.

"I was wrong. Completely.

"Only an total idiot would do what you are suggesting."

Nakiad sighed. "Art-"

"No," interrupted the cat, anger blazing in his voice. 

Mina stroked him on the head gently, telling him to calm down. The cat 
agreed, bowing his head and taking very deep breaths.

Nakiad, still a bit stunned, knelt in front of his former guardian. "I'm sorry. 
Artemis." The way he said it left no room for doubt of his sincerity. "But look 
at it from my point of view. The Dark Lord is eating away at me, slowly, to let 
him free. If I just restrain His screams, He'll eventually kill me and be freed. It 
is inevitable.

"However, if I free Him voluntarily, I will still have enough power left over to 
fight Him, if it becomes necessary."

"What do you mean, 'if'?" asked Raye. "You two are mortal enemies. You 
-have- to fight him again."

Nakiad looked up at her, giving her a slight smile. "He is causing me pain, yes. 
He is projecting His rage at me, screaming into my mind of His fury. His 
imprisonment is driving Him literally insane.

"But He may not still be Evil."

This drew confused gasps from his friends. "His shouts," Nakiad continued, 
"are the shouts that any normal human being would project if held captive, 
good or bad. He is like a prisoner. If any of you Scouts were enslaved, you 
would react in the same way. And you are obviously not Evil."

Artemis continued to frown, but in thought now, not of pure anger.

"If He is not Evil, if He simply wants to be free, I can grant Him that."

Mina looked at him. "But what if He is? What if He still wants to kill you?"

Nakiad returned her penetrating stare. "Then I fight Him. Again."

*	*	*

Nakiad lay on his bed, pondering the future. Darian had spent over a half hour 
convincing the Scouts to leave, that it would be all right. Which both he -and- 
them knew not to be true, but it was comforting, and people like to be 
comforted, despite what reality has to say.

Throughout the entire meeting, Darian had been silent, just like Mina. The 
difference was, Nakiad could tell what Mina was thinking through their phsycic 
link, but Darian was a different matter. He had not once looked into his eyes, 
staring at the floor with a frown on his face, thinking about something 
distrubing.

But Nakiad had enough things to consider besides the reactions of his friends. 
He had to plan this feedom of the Lord; he had to figure out -where- to release 
Him, -when- to release Him, and what to do -after- he released Him. All these 
things were vital to the survival of the Universe.

What if he had to fight? What if he had to battle the Shadow for a -fourth- 
time, when no other Chosen had lived through one battle? He considered the 
consequences of his death, considered what would become of Mina.

"Come on in, Darian. Don't just stand there lurking outside the door."

Darian entered the room, surprised yet knowing he shouldn't be. Nakiad had a 
talent for predicting the future. "Hi," he said, closing the door behind him and 
taking a seat in a chair opposite Nakiad. "I'm not bothering you, am I?"

Nakiad noticed that that was often the prince's first question when he entered 
his room. "No, Darian. What's on your mind?"

There was a pause while Darian seemed to collect his thoughts. He closed his 
eyes, sighing heavily, clearly disturbed by something. "Nakiad," he said, "I 
can't go though with it again."

Nakiad just stared. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't go through with it again!" The prince got up,  turning away 
from Nakiad to look out the window. "I attended the calsh between you and 
the Dark Lord. I battled the shadows and defended you against Him. I sat idly 
by and watched as you were almost killed. I saw Mina's heart break when she 
thought you were about to die. And I knew there was nothing I could do to 
change anything." His fists clenched. "I cannot do that again. I cannot watch 
my friends die, physically or mentally. I love you all. I don't know what I 
would do without your courage. Or Amy's genious. Or Lita's fighting skills. 
Or Raye's determination. Or Mina's pure heart. Or Serena's love." He turned 
to face the Chosen. "I have a horrible feeling that something terrible will 
happen soon. And I'm positive that if you free the Dark Lord, someone will 
die."

Darian straightened, regaining his self control. "I'm sorry. I will fight beside 
you again, no matter what you do. I just had to tell -someone- how I felt. I 
don't really expect you to say anything, I didn't come looking for a particular 
reaction. It's just something I wanted to get off my chest." He managed a 
weak smile. "Thanks for listening."

And he opened the door and left.

Nakiad blinked. Once. Then twice. 

Then he collapsed on his bed. Oh, GREAT. All he needed was for this to get 
harder. Still, he had to respect Darian for coming forward like that. His bravery 
was something he was known for, and it took a lot of guts to admit fear.

Nakiad closed his eyes. He wondered if he could admit it himself.





Calimite sat upon the throne, awaiting his warrior. It had been a long time 
since they last saw each other, and the General's anticipation grew with the 
coming of his friend.

Yes, friend. There were not a lot of those in the Negaverse. There were 
soldiers who followed you, obeyed your orders, but did so out of fear, not out 
of loyalty or friendship. Vaprious Rogue had been his friend since Calimite had 
first enrolled in Beryl's army. They had shared the same quarters and talked 
quite a bit. Rogue was a shadow, and so Calimite spent many days learning 
how to fight him using the blades of Maraki.  Perhaps, Calimite thought to 
himself, perhaps there is a slight possibility of the General sharing a very small 
portion of Kaneth's honor.

A -very- small portion.

But if he did, he only felt loyalty towards Rogue, certainly not towards 
authority.

Not that there was any authority now, he sneered.

The light coming from the arch doorway was suddenly obscured by a figure. 
He was tall, almost as tall as the Lord had been, and had two red eyes on his 
transparent head that radiated an Evil so pure that it could almost be 
considered a weapon. He wore on his back a single sheathed blade. Calimite 
knew the blade to be of Maraki; almost all the shadows had them. The chest of 
the figure was large, and his arms flexed, seemingly in an attempt to intimidate 
the General. The figure suddenly struck a battle stance, its eyes falling on 
Calimite.

"Hello, Rogue."

The figure did not flinch or nod in any way to acknowledge his being 
addressed. He simply continued to maintain his position, completely stoic.

Calimite got up off his throne and began to approach the figure. He expressed 
no hesitation or relunctance of doing so, he did it as if he was unaware of the 
shadow's glare. He continued to advance on the figure, a slight smile on his 
lips.

When he was about five feet away, he stopped. The two looked directly into 
each others' eyes, the shadow still in a battle stance, Calimite totally relaxed.

Then the General did a very strange thing. Something unheard of in the 
Negaverse.

Slowly, the ruler of the Negaverse extended his hand towards the shadow.

The shadow eased his position and straightened up, looking at the hand, 
knowing of its significance.

And he took it.

Two warriors of the Negaverse exchanged a gesture that was expressed 
nowhere in the worlds they dwelled on. A gesture that meant each creature 
would give his life for the other.

For each warrior, though they would never like to admit it, possessed a very 
small amount of honor.





Artemis sat in the corner, muttering something. He couldn't believe what was 
happening. After all those years of training him, Nakiad had finally faced the 
Dark Lord and won. Then he had clashed with Him again and survived, which 
no Chosen was ever considered capable of doing. And still, Nakiad had gone 
on to battle the Shadow for a -third- and final time.

Final.

Right.

Artemis cursed in his thoughts. Nakiad was going to set Him free. They were 
all going to die. Artemis was not a pessemist, but he always had a bad feeling 
about the Lord, aside from the obvious ones. He never thought that any good 
could come from an encounter with Him, destiny or no. 

But Nakiad had mentioned the possibility of the Lord no longer striving for the 
side of Evil. He had said that the Shadow may have been transformed by the 
third clash, and that the only reason he needed to be free was because good or 
evil, every creature needed its independence.

But that was almost impossible, thought the white cat. The Dark One had been 
subject to eons and eons of various forms of cruelty and hatred. He had lived 
for over a thousand millenia, hearing and seeing only what the Negaverse had 
to offer. It was too late for him to suddenly 'change sides'.

But if He -had- turned...

Oh, whatever.

Artemis relunctanly closed his eyes, drifting off into a troubled sleep.

*	*	*

"It is good to see you again, my friend," said Calimite to the other.

Vaprious Rogue would have smiled, had he a physical mouth. "Likewise. I 
have not seen you since our malitas were divided before Beryl's turn at the 
throne."

"Much has happened since then," said the other.

The two engaged in a discussion about what each had accomplished in the time
they were apart. Rogue had been assigned to a weaponary division on the far                     
side of the Negaverse. He'd spent three millenia there, developing new arms 
for the armies of the Negaverse, implements of destruction that could eradicate 
dozens of universals at one time. The General smiled at Rogue's 
accomplishments, remembering the high potential in the shadow.

"Ah," said Rogue, turning the conversation to Calimite. "But you, you are a 
General! You are now ruler of the Negaverse! No one in this realm can stand 
in your way. Thousands of minions are yours to do with as you please! Surely 
you have some adventures you'd like to share with me, my Master."

"Please," replied the General. "Do not refer to me as your Master. I may 
outrank you, but I am not opposed to you reffering to me as you once did so 
long ago. Calimite will do just fine for now. Besides, I only became the 
emporer of the Negaverse by default. The Shadow has fled, and I was the 
second highest ranking member of the Negaverse Armies."

"Ah, yes, it is a shame about the Lord. Still, you must be proud of your title. 
Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on the success of your 
domination. I suspect that your family is equally as contented?"

Calimite's smile was suddenly wiped from view, replaced by a look of hate. 
Not directed at the shadow, more like at a memory. "My family is dead." He 
said it with an intense disdain, as if he were speaking of the Scouts.

Rogue hesitated. "My friend, if I may." The shadow paused again, taking a 
step closer to his friend. "Whenever your family is mentioned, or anything of 
your private life, you become conserved, and reluntant discuss the matter 
futher."

Calimite's eyes dropped to the floor, his mouth frowning even more. 
"Vaprious," he said, almost pleading. "Later. I will tell you later. It is too early 
in your return to tell you of the past. But I will. If you like. I owe you that 
much."

Rogue stood there a moment, not knowing what to say. So instead of saying 
anything, he drew his sword, showing it to Calimite. It held the color of Maraki 
on it's blade, as the General had expected. The handle was silver, with pictures 
of numerous monsters engraved on its sides. The blade glinted in a non-
existent light, it's tip obviously razor sharp.

Calimite knew that the shadow was showing him the sword in an effort to 
change the subject and alleviate some of his discomfort. The General almost 
smiled at this, but that would have ruined his friends' efforts, so stayed still, 
commenting on the blade instead. "My, how beautiful," was all he could 
manage.

"Care to hear the story of how I came to have it?" asked the Rogue.

And Calimite listened for hours.

*	*	*

"SERENA!! IT'S TIME TO GET OFF THE PHONE!"

"Just a minute, Dad!" the blond called back, holding the reciever away and 
covering up the mouth peice.

"YOU'RE NOT TALKING TO A BOY, ARE YOU?!" the booming voice 
called, filled with a sudden and unnecessary anger.

"No, Daddy, it's Mina!" she said.

"OH. OKAY THEN. TEN MORE MINUTES."

Serena sighed at her father's inability to let go of her and placed the reciever to 
her ear once again. "So, how are you handling this whole Dark Lord-getting-
free-and-we-fight-him-all-over-again thingy?"

Mina was quiet for a while on the other end of the phone. When she finally 
spoke, she did it carefully, as if the wrong choice of words would kill her. "I 
don't know yet. I love Nakiad so much. If anything were to happen to him, I 
don't know -what- I would do. If the Dark Lord got loose, He'd be in Tokyo, 
and probably reak havoc on everything He saw."

"Mina," said the Princess, "I know I may seem a little insensitive about things 
sometimes, but right now I'm totally serious. If the Dark Lord gets free, and 
does anything to harm Nakiad in any way, shape, or form, I'll moondust Him 
in the blink of an eye. I don't care who's destined to kill who. Anything's 
better than seeing one of my best friends be hurt." Serena's mind drifted to 
Molly and Nephlyte, the pain that had been there. She couldn't go through that 
again.

Mina sniffed. Serena realized she had probably been crying. "Thanks, Serena. 
That means a lot to me."

"SERENA!"

Geez, ten minutes sure flies by quick, Serena thought. It never went that fast 
when she was waiting for school to end. "Listen," she said, speaking to Mina, 
"I gotta go. But do you want to do anything tommorow, like go get some ice 
cream?"

"Sure," Mina replied. "That sounds like it can take my mind off Nakiad."

"SERENA! OFF! NOW!"

"Okay, okay," the girl grumbled. "Bye, Mina. See ya tomorrow."







The boy was dreaming.

It was something he was used to by now. It happened almost all the time. It 
wasn't something he could control. The forms just came to him, like breathing. 
The images swirled around him in a gray haze, obscuring it so that he could not 
distinguish very many details. He wanted them to go away, but knew by now 
that he was helpless against his 'gift'.

There was a girl standing in the fog, a girl with long, blond hair containing a 
red bow. She wore an orange skirt with white gloves that covered her forarms 
totally. Another bow, this one blue, was visible on her chest, and towards her 
legs the boy could make out a pair of orange knee-high boots.

The girl did not see him. No one in his dreams ever did. He was only 
witnessing events that he could not control, watching a TV show he couldn't 
change. He was fairly helpless. But even though the girl did not notice him, the 
boy knew who she was. He had seen that face too many times to forget so 
easily.

Mina.

Suddenly she morphed, taking on another shape. This one was taller, and a bit 
more well-built. As he came into focus, the boy saw that the new figure was 
male, wearing a black gi. His hair was a dark brown, and his eyes bore the 
experience of a thousand lifetimes within them.

He was a warrior.

Nakiad.

And yet, it was not only Nakiad whom the boy saw. Nakiad was visible, but 
the boy could -sense- many other presences behind the man in black. One in 
particular had a certain aura about him, making him far more powerful than the 
rest. He had a... -darkness- within him, an evil that was almost frightening.

Suddenly, with a flash of white light, the figure split into three, seperating 
simultaneously. One figure stayed the same, Nakiad in his black gi, striking a 
slightly more relaxed stance than before. 

The second figure was a swirling sphere of pure white. It radiated a Good that 
could be felt by the most terrible of creatures. It was a thing spawned by the 
very core of the Universe, containing vast amounts of souls.

But the third.

The third was everything the sphere wasn't. It was a blackness, a wretched 
circle of Evil that only held emotions like hate and anger and rage. The boy 
almost became lost in the darkness, threatening to envelope him within its 
ghastly heart.

And yet, it seemed -restrained- somehow, as if something was holding it back. 
The boy did not know how or why he thought this. The blackness made no 
visible gestures to lead the boy to that conclusion. It was just something he 
felt, something he knew without trying to know.

It was his gift.

It was his curse.

Then the three forms united again, not physically this time. All three were 
clearly visible. It was their -minds- that had united, forming an allegiance 
against a common enemy. The boy felt -another- presence, and looked up, 
trying to see.

There was something there, all right. Every part of him told him there was. 
Every part except his eyes, that is. He could see no monster or beast, or 
anything except a patch of clouds darker than the rest. A battle would soon 
come from these clouds, the boy knew. A battle concerning old enemies.

And still, the boy continued to feel yet another consciousness, one he had felt 
only briefly some time ago. He was a friend, and did not mean him or his 
friends any harm, yet the boy got the distinct impression that he should be 
fighting him for some reason. It was complicated.

The boy tried harder too see the figure, but the more he focused, the more the 
image seemed to blur, until it totally vanished from sight.

It was then that Greg woke up.

Something terrible was going to happen.

Something that would change the distinies of souls long since dead.

Something about a Project.

Resurrection.

The word flashed through his mind. It had some sort of significance, he knew 
that much. It had to do with the future, an event that transpired there. But 
there was no way Greg could know exactly what it was, as was often the case 
with his visions.

Not comprehending, he picked up a book from one of the shelves next to him 
and began to read, trying to get his mind of the situation.

*	*	*

"Hello, Raye."

Unlike Darian, the red Scout didn't hesitate in opening the door. She entered 
Nakiad's room as if she were entering her own. "Hello, Chosen."

Nakiad smiled. "Please, Raye, I told you before. The name is Nakiad."

Raye frowned, making it clear that she was not in the mood for chit-chat. 
"No," she said calmly, "You are the Chosen. Have you forgotten that?"

Nakiad looked at her, his eyes flickering with pain. "How could I ever?"

"I would wonder that myself. But you apparently have no problem shirking 
your duty yet again." Her voice grew a bit louder, though not completely to a 
shout. "How can you possibly think about dreaming of -considering- freeing 
the Dark Lord? How can you willingly place yourself in that position for a 
fourth time? You talk about the encounters as if they carry a great saddness 
with them. But if that were true, how can you do what you are about to do 
willingly?"

Nakiad sighed in frustration. "Raye," he said, trying not to become angry, "I 
have explained it to you. The Shadow will eventually become free whether I 
help him or not. The only thing I can decide is whether I want to be ready to 
fight him again."

Raye's anger was not the least bit alleviated. "You have an obligation to 
uphold the name of the Chosen! You do not seem to understand the liability-"

"I understand more than you ever will." Nakiad would not bring himself to 
argue with one of the Senshi, but he would make his feelings clear. "I have 
lived with a millenium of guilt. You will -never- be able to understand what 
that is like. To live each day knowing that you were responsible for the deaths 
of millions, if not billions of people. Consider that before you judge me, Mars."

The girl's expression softened a bit. Perhaps he was right. The Chosen knew 
his duties and protocals, she had no place lecturing him on that. He was the 
greatest warrior in the Universe, and always gave people their due respect. He 
had always been polite, had always been kind. Yet she knew that duty was a 
very important thing, too meaningful to simply ingnore. A debate suddenly 
began inside her, both sides cancelling each other out. As a result, Raye didn't 
know what to say.

"If you don't mind," Nakiad said, saving Raye the trouble of an apology, "I 
would like to be alone. I have a lot of planning to do before the coming fight."

She looked at him, as if extremely surprised. Then, regaining composure, she 
slowly got up and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Nakiad let out the breath he had been holding. He loved all the Scouts, 
including Raye, but she could be so frustrating sometimes. He just wished she 
would-

Wait.

What was that?

Nakiad looked around the room, suddenly aware of something. He was unsure 
of exactly what it was... He felt something. A prescence.

On the floor, near the foor of his bed, an area became darker than the rest. It 
began to distort, the floor behind becoming watery. Nakiad realized instantly 
what it was. He'd seen a portal from the Negaverse appear in front of him on 
many more than one occasion.

Immediately, Nakiad prepared for battle, leaping into battle stance.

A figure began to rise out of the portal. It was not very clear at first; too much 
smoke obscured it, but Nakaid could make out the more major details. It was 
about eight feet tall, with rippling muscles on its limbs. Nakiad noticed 
something strange about the arms, or rather, the fact that it had four.

As the smoke cleared, Nakaid could see the creature's face, a rigid mask of it's 
emotions.

And Nakiad knew.

Kaneth.

The ally from the Negaverse had returned. And from the look of his stance, he 
did not appear to be happy.


*	*	* 


Luna woke up, somewhat abruptly. She blinked rapidly, her eyes adjusting to 
her surroundings. There wasn't much light, just the moonlight shining through 
Serena's bedroom. A large bed was centered in the room, upon which the 
princess herself slept, dreaming the dreams of royalty. Probably chocolate 
cake, Luna thought to herself.

The cat felt something. It was a strange feeling, a sensation she had never quite 
experienced before. It was similar to the feeling she got when something from 
the Negaverse entered the Universe, but different somehow, as if it was 
goodness veiled by darkness. She didn't quite understand what was happening, 
but she knew that something was. She thought about waking Serena up, but 
that would only result in a futile struggle to rouse a sleeping mountain for 
something that may not even be there.

She tried a bit harder with getting a fix on the sensation, then even harder, until 
her mind was completely under strain. But she could not feel anything more 
clearly than when she had first tried.

She frowned, leaping onto Serena's bed, nimbly dodging the dreaming girl, and 
hopped again onto the night stand to where the communicator lay, a dull white 
rectangle in the darkness of the room.

She opened it with her paws, hitting the Mars symbol. After a few seconds,  
appeared in the upper right corner, alert and ready.

"Raye, here. What is it Luna?"

"I'm sorry, Raye, did I wake you?" asked the cat.

Raye shook her head. "No, I was meditating." 

For a reason Luna didn't understand, the girl seemed to be frowning, as if she 
were troubled. "Raye, did you feel anything strange just now?" Luna asked. 
She had figured that if only one other person on the planet could have felt 
mysterious tremor, it had to be Raye. She was the most... spiritual of the 
scouts, and had dealt with strange vibes and such many times in the past.

"As a matter of fact," said the red Scout, nodding, "Just a minute ago I felt a 
new presence enter the Universe. But... it was strange, somehow."

"Do you think it poses any danger?" asked the cat.

"Judging by the sensation itself, I'd have to say no. But any visit from an alien 
entity has to be worth looking into, don't you think?"

Luna frowned. "Yes. But we don't have anything to go on. We don't know 
where to find whatever it is we felt, and don't even know what whatever we 
felt -is-." The cat paused, trying to figure out what she just said.

Raye looked off someplace beyond the range of the camera on the 
communicator for a few seconds, seemingly thinking. Returning to Luna, she 
said, "I guess you're right. But I don't like it."

"Be on the lookout for anything suspicious," Luna said, hanging up the 
communicator. The black cat looked down to where Serena lay, sleeping on 
her bed. The girl seemed to be muttering in her sleep again, confusing dreams 
with the outside world.

"Tuxedo Mask," she said quietly, "You got me a present? Oh, what is it, 
muffin? Is it the new Sailor V video game? Oh, chocolate chip cookies! Thank 
you, Darian!"

Luna frowned at the lack of imagination Serena carried in her mind. Cookies 
and video games seemed to be the only thing the girl took seriously anymore, 
except for the few times she had saved the Universe all by herself. Luna 
remembered when the princess had destroyed Queen Beryl, thrown herself 
between the Darian and the oncoming blast of Alan and Ann, and discovered in 
the middle of the battle with the knight that all the power she ever required was 
locked within herself.

And yet, her interests remained the same. Luna could not count the times 
Serena had gone to play the 'new Sailor V video game' down at the arcade. 
Whatever company made those things seemed to be pumping them out every 
day.

Luna hopped down onto the floor again and drifted off to sleep, having her 
-own- dreams of a far more creative nature. And soon, she too was grumbling 
in her sleep.

"Artemis," she muttered, "You got me a present? Oh, what is it? Is it a can of 
tuna? Oh, a new ball of string! Thank you, snowflake!"


*	*	*


BRIIIIING!

She stirred a bit.

BRIIIIING!

She stirred a bit more, trying to ignore it.

BRIIIIING!

Amy sat up suddenly, reluctantly succumbing to the beckoning ring of the 
phone. She wondered who could be calling at this time of night. A quick 
glance at the alarm clock next to her bed of which she had been sleeping on 
revealed the time to be 11:21. Next to the clock, a plain sky blue phone was 
vibrating with the noise, which she quickly alleviated by picking up the 
reciever.

"Hello?" she asked drowsily, trying to restrain aggravation from being woken 
up.

"Uh... Hi, Amy." The voice on the other end was a young one, one that Amy 
recognized immediately.

"Greg?" she asked hopefully. Any annoyance she had previously had vanished 
instantly, replaced by quick anticipation as to what the purpose of the call was.

"Yeah," he answered. "Sorry to wake you, I know it's late, but this is really 
important."

"What is it?" the now-concerned Scout asked.

The boy's voice was hesitant. "Uh... I had another vision."

"Really? Did it concern me?"

"No, actually it concerned the Chosen."

"Nakaid?" Amy was confused. "Is he in danger?"

"Um... I'm not sure. I just saw a battle. Not an outcome, just a fight. There 
will be a battle soon, another one. It will involve Nakiad, you and the Scouts. 
And another warrior, an almost neutral variable..." He trailed off. "Anyway, 
sorry I bothered you." He suddenly seemed to be in a tremendous hurry to get 
off the phone. "I'll see you later."

He hung up, leaving Amy wondering what she should be doing right now. She 
considered calling the rest of the Scouts, but then realized she didn't really 
have anything to say. All she knew was of an oncoming battle. And they had 
plenty of those. She also wondered why Greg had so abruptly ended the phone 
call.

After another hour of tossing and turning in a futile effort to resume her 
slumber, she sat up, turned on the light, pulled out a chapter book and began to 
read, hoping the story could take her mind off her complicated life.


*	*	*


Calimite sat at a small table opposite Rogue, surrounded by darkness, the 
swirling blackness obscuring the two. The table was a rectangle, each figure 
sitting at each end. Upon it, two lit candles rested, their base a human skull, 
similar to the one in the General's room. Also on the table was Rogue's sword, 
glinting slightly in the candlelight.

Calimite had summoned Rogue from his quarters, and had anticipated his 
arrival. Rogue had absolutely no idea what this was about, and so sat quietly, 
not knowing what to say.

Calimite opened his mouth to speak. He did so calmly and quietly, obviously 
avoiding the shadow's eyes. "My friend," he began. "You have asked me 
before why I am hesitant in discussing my family. I have not told anyone ever 
before why, and I will never do so in my life.

"With the exception of you."

Rogue's eyes remained calm..

"Know, though," said the General slowly, "that if you disclose this information 
to anyone else, anyone else at all... You will never be forgiven." Normally, he 
would have ended the sentence with: "you will be slaughtered without 
thought." But Calimite could not bare to see his friend subject to such 
brutality.

Rogue, too, knew this. He realized what the General was thinking and, instead 
of being grateful, he frowned. Friends were rare in the Negaverse, and the 
shadow didn't want to loose the only one he'd ever had. Not just yet.

Calimite continued. "Allow me to tell you of my brother."





"There is an ancient structure in the Negaverse, an enormous building 
constructed for one purpose and one purpose only.

"The training of those who are to become part of Queen Beryl's army.

"The building is known as 'The Dome'. It is here you can find gyms, weapons, 
firearms, books on strategies and guides to domination. New recruits were to 
take a minimum of seven years in training before the Tournament.

"The Dome is closed now, of course. It was condemned beyond recognition 
soon after the Queen's demise. But it still stands today, a landmark of all who 
were loyal to Beryl.

"I spent my years at the Dome, training and training, toning my muscles and 
learning the operating procedures of new weapons. I learned of magic, learned 
the ways of casting spells. I was determined to become one of the leaders in 
the army that was soon to dominate the Universe.

"And... my brother did the same. He worked equally as hard with the same 
goals in mind. And, I dare say, he was quite the fighter.

"To earn a rank, one must participate in the Tournament. It is a classical 
tournament, based on the process of elimination, and is held within the Dome. 
Two soldiers would face off, the winner would face another winner, and so on. 
The loser would be dead. The ultimate champion would become the Head 
General; the four following him would become the Four Generals.

"When the Tournament began, I did exceptionally well. As did my brother, 
unfortunately. We both struggled against the odds, overcoming our opponents 
with little or no difficulty. It went on for months like that, each of us coming 
closer to the rank of Head General.

"We never threatened each other outside of the Tournament. You see, the day 
would eventually come when the two of us would have to face each other. And 
so, we never spoke of the competition, never discussed the possible outcomes 
and consequences of the winner. We were brothers, you see. And I suppose we 
had just a slight amount of honor, for we never clashed outside the walls of the 
Dome.

"Time went by. Days went by. Weeks went by. I still awaited my final battle 
with my brother. I did not know if I could bring myself to kill my own blood, 
but knew that I must, for it was my duty to become the Head General. A 
private, more personal confrontation raged on between my brother and myself, 
each trying to outrun the other to acquire the rank. But still, I expressed 
nothing toward him, nor he toward me. We kept silent, privately hoping the 
other would fail before the final fight.

"Then came the day when there were only five contestants left. This meant that 
we would be the Four Generals, one of us taking the role of the Head. I 
suppose I should have felt pride at my accomplishments. I didn't. I only felt my 
determination grow in anticipation for the rank of the leader. I felt nothing 
except for my own greed. 

"It was no longer a battle to the death. If it had been, we would have 
eventually been left with one General remaining alive.

"I engaged in two more battles. I won both of them, although it was with 
extreme difficulty.

"Which meant that the only remaining contestant left was my brother, as he 
had overcome his opponent as well. The winner would assume the role of the 
Head.

"The night before we were to duel, I lay awake for several hours, pondering 
whether or not I could go through with what I had to go through with. Should 
I betray this foreign feeling called 'honor' and defeat my brother at all costs? If 
I knew him, he would not stop attacking until I was dead. He knew my 
determination to be equally great, knew the lengths I would go to to obtain the 
rank. Eventually, I fell asleep. Troubled, but asleep.

"I awoke to a tremendous pain in my side. Looking down, I saw a jagged knife 
embedded between my ribs, blood pouring from the wound onto myself and 
floor. I slumped to the ground, clutching whatever I could.

"A figure stood above me. I could not recognize it through the darkness, but it 
was more than obvious that it was he who had stabbed me. He was tall, and the 
way he stood menacingly over me was adding to the stress of my wound.

"He kneeled slowly, leveling himself to me.

"And I saw his eyes.

"Instantly, I recognized him. And instantly, everything came together."

"And then he whispered in my ear, ever so softly.

"'I like these odds better.'

"And that was all."






The hatred was plainly evident on Calimite's face. His eyes burned with rage, 
hit teeth gritted in anguish. He no longer appeared to be talking to Vaprious 
Rogue any longer. His vision seemed to be focused on an area of the table, as 
if something more than nothing was taking place there. He wore an expression 
on his face Rogue had seen only on the faces of crazed killers as they were 
about to strike.

General Calimite continued, still fixated on the memory. "He just... walked 
away. He didn't care. He didn't care about what happened to me. He just... 
walked away. My own brother. Bastard.

"My own damn brother.

"Malachite."

The General slammed his fist into the table suddenly, splitting it in two. 
Wooden shards flew about, falling to the stone floor. Calimite was on his feet 
now, his hands still balled into fists. They began to radiate a soft green glow, 
illuminating his face eerily. The glow became stronger, then almost blinding. 
Rogue resisted the urge to shield his eyes, choosing to observe the General 
instead.

Calimite appeared to be building to a crescendo. His breathe became heavier. 
His eyes became pure rage. And the glow around his hands kept getting 
stronger, climaxing to-

Suddenly, he stopped. The breathing, the glowing, everything stopped. Rogue 
looked at his friend, now perfectly still, standing straight as did all the 
Generals, as if nothing had happened.

"I'm sorry, Rogue," he said. "That shouldn't have happened. I learned long 
ago to keep that... experience in check, not to let it get to me." His tone 
changed again, to a much, much darker one. "But when I think of what he 
did..." Yet again, he straightened up, saying the next words with no expression, 
as if he was reading them. "The day the final fight was to take place at the 
Tournament, I walked in with bandages. I don't think it was my brother's 
intent to -kill- me, just to take me out of action.

"Which he did. I lost.

"And so, I became but one of the Four. A high rank, yes, but in my mind, not 
high enough. Jadite, Nephlyte, Zoicite, and..." He paused, then resumed, 
putting strength into his words. "Malachite, they all served their time under 
Queen Beryl. They each were given the opportunity to vanquish the Scouts, 
each failed miserably. By the time Zoicite had failed for the last time, the 
Queen thought it necessary that the Head be called in; she thought it would be 
wisest not to settle for any mere General. So I was never able to make my 
appearance, never able to present my self before the Queen.

"I could have annihilated those damned scouts. I could have destroyed them 
with a blink of an eye. But I was never given a chance. I was never given a 
chance..." 

The emotional strain was to much for the ruler of the Negaverse. He fell to his 
knees, thankful that no one else was around except his friend, whom the 
General hoped would not judge him.

The shadow did not, of course. He walked to where Calimite knelt, tears 
running down the General's face.

Tears. Real tears.

The last time tears had been shed in the Negaverse, at least as far as Rogue 
could remember, was when Princess Serena had wept for her pitiful little 
prince. But that was entirely different. Calimite had much better reason to... 
well, to cry.

Rogue rested a hand on Calimite's shoulder, hoping to comfort him. The 
General stopped the instant he felt it, realizing what he must look like. A fool. 
He must look like a complete fool.

Still kneeling, he spoke, his voice hoarse. "Leave me."

The shadow removed his hand, taking a step back. He certainly didn't want to-

"LEAVE ME!" screamed Calimite.

Vaprious Rogue reluctantly obeyed.