Tomoe rocked back and forth on her heels and checked her watch for the umpteenth time. Atena had been gone for nearly ten minutes now.  She amused herself by punching random buttons on the drink machine. To her surprise, the machine emitted a short chime and displayed the message, "Transaction Valid," on the small screen above the keypad.  She frowned.  That was strange… hadn't Atena said it wasn't working?
"Aieee!" came a shout from a nearby stairwell. "Not good, not good!"
No sooner had Tomoe peeked around the corner to investigate than a short, blue-haired sailor senshi in a light blue uniform came charging down the hall. Tomoe stared open-mouthed as the girl rushed past her and out the front door.  
She was still in shock when two firefighters and a policeman emerged from the same stairwell.  "Hey," one of them called to her. "Did you see a girl in a blue skirt go by just now?"
Tomoe blinked, and blinked again. After a few seconds, she snapped out of her daze. "Awesome!" she exclaimed. Her heart skipped with excitement.  A real live sailor senshi!  And not one of the ones I've seen on TV, a brand new one! Forgetting the soda and the question she'd just been asked, she ran off in pursuit of the mysterious girl.
The police officer shook his head.  "Kids these days…" he muttered.

~*~

"Silence Wall!"
Once again, Saturn's defensive magic deflected Carnelian's onslaught in the nick of time.  The android slammed into the translucent force field with a loud crack and rebounded several meters before crashing into the pavement.  The fire around her sputtered and died as her flamethrower gave out completely.
Saturn gave the caped man a faintly smug look.  "Don't be deceived by an illusion, huh?"
Their would-be rescuer coughed into a gloved hand, looking embarrassed.  
But their triumph was short-lived.  Carnelian jerked to her feet awkwardly, like a marionette, and marched toward the senshi once more.  Behind them, Pyrolusite cracked his knuckles and dropped into a menacing crouch.  If his creation wasn't going to take out the senshi on her own, he'd have to take matters into his own hands.  He hated having to do things for himself.  The human body was so... crude and inefficient.  He had long believed that people only did things on their own because they weren't smart enough to build a machine that could do the job better.  The sailor senshi had done more than damaged his favorite project.  They had insulted his genius, and he would make them pay.  
Little miss rabbit-head spun to face him.  He flexed his mechanical arm, and the hydraulics responded with a satisfying hiss.  Yes, he'd consider this a field test for his other favorite invention.
Sailor Moon felt Saturn's back press against hers, felt the tightening in the smaller girl's shoulder blades as she braced for Carnelian's attack.  Beside her, Ceres vacillated between the two threats.  The caped man stepped in front of her, shielding her from whatever Pyrolusite had up his sleeve, and in spite of the danger a giddy blush rose to her cheeks.  She gave her head a small shake and reminded herself that even if she had a handsome stranger protecting her, she was a senshi and should be perfectly capable of defending herself.
Unfortunately, said handsome stranger was also blocking her view.  She heard Pyrolusite's metal fingers clicking together and shuddered.  Cautiously, she edged out from behind the caped man, craning her neck to see what their adversary was up to.
At that moment, Pyrolusite and Carnelian lunged in unison.  Ceres barely managed to duck the robot's attack, and countered with a knife-hand chop to her ribcage that ended up injuring her hand more than her opponent.  Catching Carnelian off balance, Saturn pinned her head to the concrete between the points of her glaive.  
Opposite them, Pyrolusite was grappling with the stranger.  The Moira's mechanical arm gave him an edge, and he soon overpowered the other man, slamming him into the ground.  Sailor Moon grabbed him from behind and made a pathetic attempt to pull him off.  Pyrolusite barely glanced at her as he backhanded her.  The force of the blow lifted her feet off the ground, and she went tumbling backwards.  Through a haze of pain, she heard Saturn's worried cry.  She sat up, bruised and disoriented, only to have the stranger's limp form come crashing into her, courtesy of Pyrolusite.
That moment of distraction would cost Saturn.  Carnelian rolled sideways, oblivious to the blades biting into her plastic neck, and kicked her captor in the gut.  She got to her feet in a flash and wound up to punch Saturn, but Ceres caught her wrist in one of her looped pigtails and yanked it tight.
"It's a slipknot.  These things aren't just for decoration, you know," Ceres explained at Saturn's surprised look.  Carnelian struggled, and she grunted in pain, but the hair-noose held.  She kneed the robot in the back, aiming for her kidneys… but Carnelian didn't have any.   Without so much as flinching, she retaliated by flipping Ceres over her shoulder.  The next thing Ceres knew, she was face-down and winded on the pavement.  She heard Saturn attack Carnelian, followed by a shout and a thud as her friend was felled by the same technique.  For a moment, consciousness threatened to desert Ceres, but she would not allow herself to succumb.  Carnelian was standing over them, and unlike her master, the android would not pause to gloat…
Sailor Moon felt Pyrolusite lift the man off her.  She heard the mechanical arm clench, followed by soft choking sounds.  
A sudden, wordless terror sprang from the deepest part of her heart and forced her to her feet.  Though she still didn't know the stranger's name, in that moment he was as precious to her as life itself, and her only thought was that she could not let him die.  Even before her vision had fully cleared she sprang at Pyrolusite.  
The cocky inventor was so intent on snapping his enemy's neck that he didn't even notice Sailor Moon until she was upon him.  With a rough shout, she jabbed the blunt end of her wand into the elbow joint of his robotic arm, forcing it between the metal plates until she felt the crunch of gears jamming and fluid lines tearing.  The contraption trembled, let out a sputter and a clang, and seized up.  Pyrolusite roared in pain and frustration.  The caped man slipped from his grip and fell into Sailor Moon's outstretched arms.  She eased him to the ground, then rose and faced Pyrolusite, eyes burning with a vengeful rage that seemed out of place on such a pretty, innocent face.  Out of place, and disturbingly familiar.
Behind them, Ceres sat up.  Her back hurt.  Her face hurt.  Everything hurt.  And now her hairstyle was lopsided.  Channeling her frustration into willpower, she stood and faced Carnelian with an angry shout.  Her body lit up with a pink aura, and a swirling torrent of flower petals exploded around her.
Carnelian raised her half-melted arm and tried to fire a mini-rocket.  It got stuck in the launcher and exploded, burning the plastic "skin" off the side of her body and leaving her arm a twisted hunk of metal.  She looked back at Ceres, her expression never changing.  Her artificial mind could not comprehend despair. And so she gathered data and evaluated non-existent options the way she'd been programmed to do, right up to the moment of her death.  
"Amazones Bouquet Twister!"
A storm of glowing petals poured from Ceres' outstretched palms, surrounding Carnelian in a beautiful, deadly cloud of gold.  An intense pink flash illuminated the cul-de-sac.  Moments later, Carnelian dropped in a mangled heap.
Pyrolusite growled through clenched teeth when he saw his prized creation fall.  He tugged in vain at the wand jamming his mechanical arm.  Sailor Moon stepped toward him, one hand raised in a commanding gesture, and the elegant golden crescent atop the weapon began to glow.  Frustration turned to panic.  He tripped backwards in his rush to get away from her.  The force of his landing finally managed to shake the wand loose from his arm, but it was too late to escape.
Perhaps it was the look of fear on his face that shook her, or perhaps it was the realization that her mother would never have sought vengeance over reconciliation, but for whatever reason, Sailor Moon stopped short.  She shook her head, as if coming out of a trance, and ceased her attack.  "No," she said softly.  "It doesn't have to be like this."
Saturn held her glaive at the ready with one hand, but the other she extended toward Pyrolusite.  "We don't want to fight with you," she told him.  "Open your eyes.  You're smart enough to see that what you're doing is evil."
Sailor Moon nodded.  "There's something better than the life you know.  Come with us.  You can start over."
For a split second, Pyrolusite stared at them in disbelief. Then he threw back his head and laughed. "Idiots," he said with a sneer.  "I don't need your pretty words or your so-called redemption.  You're the ones who will be begging me for mercy in the end!"  From inside his jacket he produced a tiny orange capsule.  "But you won't be shown any," he hissed.  With those ominous words, he shattered the capsule on the ground, unleashing a thick cloud of choking black smoke.  While the senshi coughed and staggered around in confusion, he hoisted what was left of Carnelian over his shoulder and fled.  By the time the air cleared again, he was nowhere to be seen.
"Oh, perfect.  Now we've let him escape," Ceres groused, rubbing her watery eyes.
"Ceres," Saturn admonished.  "Have you forgotten your own past?"
The look of shame on Ceres's face made it plain that she had not.  No one spoke the names, "Cere-cere" or "Mistress Nine" or "Black Lady" (actually, no one ever mentioned Black Lady—Usagi didn't seem to remember any of that fiasco, and her friends wanted to spare her the knowledge of what she had done under Wiseman's influence) but their presence hung in the air like malignant spirits.
Even so Ceres argued, "How many chances can we afford to give him?  Innocent people are going to get hurt because we let him escape."
"We'll protect them," Saturn vowed.
"You couldn't protect Souga-san."
The other two senshi winced, and Ceres immediately felt guilty.  "I'm sorry," she sighed, feeling suddenly weak as her own doubts surfaced.  "It's just… it will be on our shoulders!  I'm not sure I can live with that.  Can you?  Did we… did we do the right thing?"
"Yes," a voice from behind them replied.  The stranger in the white tuxedo (which was now grey with soot and grime) had recovered and was back on his feet.  "No one will fault you for believing in second chances."
Ceres looked doubtful.  "I'll fault myself if anyone else disappears."
"There's no proof those guys were involved with Souga-san's case," Moon reminded her.  In truth, she strongly suspected they were, but she wanted to make Ceres feel better.  It didn't seem to work.
"If the people of Crystal Tokyo are in danger, I'll help you protect them," the man assured them.  He bowed and turned to leave, but Saturn's hand on his arm stopped him.  
"Who are you?" she demanded.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  "Not who you think I am," he replied cryptically.
Saturn's hold on him did not loosen.  "I think you're pretty suspicious.  And I think I'd like to know your name."
"Since you did save my life, I suppose I owe you that much.  It's Pegasus Kamen."  He plucked his arm from a startled Saturn's grasp.  As the senshi watched in awe, a pair of feathered white wings unfurled from beneath his cape.
"Adieu!" he called as he rose into the air.  Just then the sun slipped below the horizon, and the deepening shadows of dusk embraced him until he vanished from sight.
"Pegasus, hmm?" Ceres repeated.  She and Saturn exchanged meaningful glances.
"Could it be?  Helios…" Moon breathed, casting a longing glance in the direction Pegasus Kamen had departed.  Her heart skipped in delight at the possibility of being reunited with her childhood friend.  But why was he being so secretive?
Saturn frowned, lost in thought.  "Maybe.  But I still don't trust him," she said at length.  "He could be using that form to trick us."
Ceres nodded in agreement.  "For all we know, he could be the one behind everything.  Isn't it pretty convenient that he's always right there when the enemy appears?"
"Well, so are we," Moon pointed out in his defense.
"Sailor Moon," Saturn said gently.  "Sometimes strong feelings can cloud a person's judgment."
"First you say he's not our ally because he never helps us, and then when he does help us you say that makes him suspicious!" Moon protested, her voice rising with her temper.
"All right, I'm not being fair," Saturn conceded. "Because I have strong feelings too."
Sailor Moon couldn't stay angry at her friends, especially not when Saturn gave her that look.  She let the subject drop without another word.  For now.
Ceres turned her thoughts to something they all agreed on.  "This attack was no coincidence. That man and his robot specifically targeted Saturn, before she transformed, and used her to get to Sailor Moon.  You realize what this means, of course."
Moon nodded.  "They know who we are."
We have to find Vesta and Juno," Ceres declared.  "Before the enemy does."

~*~

Osaki Junko was mesmerized.
Even lying unconscious on a hospital bed, with a dark bruise forming on her cheek and matted scarlet hair clinging to her brow, Vesta's civilian form was striking.  Normally a sailor senshi's transformation augmented her beauty, but Junko thought this girl was even more stunning out of uniform.  (Not that there had been much chance to notice while they were fighting for their lives.)  Her deep olive complexion was smooth and perfect.  High cheekbones sloped gently down to a small, rounded chin and full lips.  Wide, slanted eyes were framed by dark lashes that made them seem even larger.
It took Junko a second to realize those eyes were wide open and staring at her.
"Juno?"
"Junko," she corrected quickly, with a hushing gesture.  The last thing either of them needed right now was the flood of attention they were sure to get if some nosy staff member got wind that there was an unknown sailor senshi in their midst.  For one, she was an introvert by nature and abhorred being the center of attention.  And common sense told her that revealing themselves now would invite far too much unfounded speculation about why new senshi had appeared, where their loyalties lay, how they had been injured, and exactly how much information the royal family was withholding—questions for which Junko herself had no answer, questions that would ultimately lead to mass panic.  Thankfully, her senshi title happened to be close enough to her civilian name that most wandering ears would dismiss it as a slip of the tongue.
"Where am I?" the girl croaked.
"At Crystal Hiroo Hospital," Junko replied in her best attempt at a soothing tone.  "You passed out."
"Ugh. I remember now.  How long have I been here?"
"They had you in the bio-stabilizer for four hours.  Then they transferred you down here where you slept for another six.  And by the way, I told you so," Junko couldn't resist adding.  The pretty redhead—she still didn't know her name—gave her an annoyed look in reply.  Junko chuckled, knowing that if things were the other way around, she'd probably have been just as adamant, and fared just as badly.
"How about you?" the girl asked.  "You were in bad shape too."
Junko made a pooh-poohing gesture.  "They hooked me up with some of those healing stimulants.  I'm good as new."
The girl reached out and clasped her wrist with sudden urgency.  "Have you been to see the princess?"
"No, I was waiting for you to wake up."
"Go.  First things first," she insisted.
Junko shook her head.  "I can't just leave you here."
"I promise not to go anywhere until you get back," the girl said, with a rueful glance at the plastic hospital bracelet fastened around her wrist.
"All right," Junko said reluctantly.  She crossed the room to an open window and peered out over the pale, glossy rooftops that reflected the starlight.  "Think I'll take the quick way out."
In her hands appeared an orb of translucent viridian glass, laced with brown mineral veins reminiscent of tree branches or jagged lightning, and engraved with her asteroid's glyph.  Closing her fist around it, she murmured her henshin spell.  A cloud of green sparks surrounded Junko's body, and when they cleared, Sailor Juno stood in her place. After pausing on the sill to give her friend one last stern look, she sprang over the edge, landed on an awning below, and disappeared between Shibuya's gleaming crystal spires.

~*~

Though nightfall provided him some cover, Pyrolusite's ragged breathing gave him away as he dragged Carnelian's limp body through the shadowed back streets.  Carrying her would have been no problem with his arm enhancement, had Sailor Moon not reduced that to yet another dead weight.  For once he almost regretted not spending a little time working out with Ripidolite.
At the edge of his vision, a flash of green and white caught his attention.  He turned in time to see a tall, boyish-looking girl in a green sailor suit leap across the gap between two buildings.  Pyrolusite couldn't believe his luck—whether it was good or bad, he wasn't sure.  One thing was certain: he was going to need backup.
With great reluctance, he reached under the high collar of his duster and pressed a button on a tiny, round pin.  The pin was his link to the Moirae's "Cyber-Psionic Communications Network," (or as Calomel had affectionately named it, "Saichuu,") a system that used a fusion of ancient magic and modern technology to create a sort of computer-facilitated telepathy.  He only used it as a last resort, not only because it emitted a distinct energy signature that would attract the attention of any senshi or magically attuned person for miles around, but because he was none too eager to talk to the person on the other end.
What do you want, Pyrolusite? Ripidolite's dry, impatient voice inquired.
Have enemy in sight, he thought back.  Requesting backup.
He sensed her rolling her eyes.  All right, I'll send a golem to the nearest drop point.  And use complete sentences, moron.  This is telepathy, not a telegram.
After the link closed, he grumbled under his breath.  Though he was capable of cohesive and even eloquent speech, it was not something he accomplished without a conscious effort.  Unlike his sisters, who had inborn magical capabilities, he was unaccustomed to anyone else having access to his mind, and he preferred to keep his thoughts short and unruffled.  But this was Ripidolite, who frequently barged into his room uninvited and then complained about his taste in decorating (or lack thereof.)  It should be no surprise that her manners in the psychic realm were not much better.
He flipped open a panel on the back of his wrist, and a tiny LCD illuminated with a map of his current location. At least that part still worked. Presently a blip appeared over a nearby street corner, indicating that Ripidolite's transfer was ready.  Hoisting Carnelian over his shoulder once more, he hurried toward it.