Gator Part Two Black Rags By EvilGate There was no sound but the steady splatter of blood against the cold pavement and the shallow breathing that emitted from Serena. Her hand was pressed to the stab wound as the hot blood poured over it. So much blood had dripped from her, her countenance was terrifyingly pale, and her body quivered with the agony of the wound. Rei, uncharacteristic concern in her dark eyes, fumbled with her awkwardly, while Ami lay in a semi-coma beside Serena. Rei was terrified, more for their wounds than her own. Her own throat had a large purple bruise across it, and her scalp had a small split that send blood twirling in little droplets down her hair, but compared to those two she was peachy. Hands shaking with concern and the effects of a long choke hold, she gently bandaged Serena's wound with strips torn from her dress. Ami, in a near daze, had blood running from a long split in her scalp down her face and back, so Rei then tore more of her dress away, relying on the sanctity of the temple to keep her near-nudity away from strangers. She stauched the flow of blood with the red cloth, which turned a darker shade of red almost immediately. "Damn you, Serena, get up," she muttered. Serena groaned slightly, but her eyes fluttered open, full of terror and pain. Whatever that huge man-Gator, he had been called-had done to her, he would pay, Rei vowed. "Get up, Serena, you have to heal yourself and then Ami." Serena moaned again and shivered all over, reaching for the crescent moon wand. "I...I can't!" she rasped out. "I'm not strong enough!" Rei shook her head and gestured to the nearly comatose Ami. "You don't have a choice, Serena! You can't let Ami die just because you are too lazy to-" Rei didn't bother to finish the sentence, it had worked. Serena bristled and jumped to her feet, albeit unsteadily, and waved her wand delicately over Ami. Tiny balls of a pure, white light spun out of it, the light soon enveloping Ami entirely. The light faded away, and when it did Ami had her eyes open, her face a mask of terror. Her hand went instantly to her throat, and Rei grimaced in sympathy. These men certainly had a thing for choke holds... Serena cried out sharply, breaking Rei's train of thought. She was clutching at her stomach. "Serena!" Rei snapped, more sharply than she had intended to, "Heal yourself! Now!" Serena shivered and waved the wand over herself. Rei didn't bother to watch to see if it worked-she knew it would. Instead she turned her attention to her own dripping scalp and bruised throat. She felt a light touch on her shoulder, and she turned around to see a healed Serena. "Let me heal you," the blonde girl said with a nervous look over her shoulder. "I don't need your help," muttered Rei, but she didn't pull away. Serena gave her a withering look, and only the seriousness of the danger kept the two of them from sticking their tongues out at each other. Serena pulled the wand out once more, waving it in a slow circle over Rei's head. The scalp wound closed, and the bruise faded to yellow and then to nothing at all. "Thanks," was all Rei begrudged, and Serena stuck her tongue out at her. Rei returend the gesture, spittle flying everywhere. Ami, watching from the floor, put a hand to her temple and sighed. Gator frowned at the wrecked hotel, the police milling out front like their anthill had been kicked. Chicken Beak had just barely gotten all their guns and drugs out of the building in time, and they were hiding in an old warehouse across the way the stupid Tokyo police had never thought to search. He believed for the first time that no member of the Yakuza had ever squealed if this pot-bellied lot was the best they were put up against. Gator touched the bandage on his forehead gingerly, and grimaced. Lucky little cunt with his pretty little rose. Gator felt a powerful urge to crush some bones. Behind him, Rippa was grumbling and kicking things around the room out of the same rage. Only Chicken Beak seemed calm. "FUCK!" exploded Rippa finally, looking toward Beak. "Why can't we just go cut them down now?" Chicken Beak responded calmly, without looking up from the gun he was cleaning. "Because we need to lay low, assess our wounds, get some allies, avoid the cops and learn about our enemy before we go stomping off into the brush looking for a fight." Gator ground his teeth in rage, crushing a crate like a grape under a hammerlike blow of his hairy fist. "Damn it, Beak!" he growled, but he couldn't argue with the fat man's logic. Rippa was obviously thinking the same thing, because he kicked a wad of trash across the room viciously, where it hit the wall with a wet smack. Rippa stuffed his hands in his pockets and wandered over to the window, watching the police bumble through the investigation of a battle scene. "Goddamn," he muttered, flopping dejectedly down onto a semi-clean crate. Gator grimaced in sympathy-Rippa couldn't STAND being denied his fight. Chicken Beak slammed a fresh clip into his newly cleaned glock and looked up at both of them with a sudden grin. "Hey, guys." The other two men turned around to look at him. He stuck the gun through his belt. "I've got an idea." It never failed to strike Serena as ironic that no matter what demonic freak she had faced the night before, she always found being late to be a big deal. It was no less so this time, because she had been pulverized, choked and nearly disembowled, yet she was nearly frantic as she charged headlong through the crowded sidewalks, leaving a trail of fallen people behind her. Around a corner she skidded and plunged up the stairs with a speed born of desperation. She watched her flailing arm for her watch. Ten more seconds.... She didn't bother to open the door, simply barreling into it and wheeling toward her homeroom class. Five...four...three...the homeroom door was ahead of her. She dove for the open door wildly. Two...one.... Serena smacked into the suddenly closed door just as the bell gave it's harsh buzzing. Her full throated wail-before she even hit the ground!- brought her teacher rushing out immediately. "Serena are you okay? Yes? Good. You're late-one hour detention. Get inside please." It occured to Serena that the woman could have at least waited for an answer, but she wiped the tears off her face and shuffled dejectedly into the classroom. Then she stopped, eyes wide with shock. Serena had led a relatively sheltered life, but the signifigance of the black bandanna every boy in the classroom wore around his ankle didn't escape her for a moment. "Gangs," she breathed almost silently, fearfully as she walked nervously toward her desk. Melvin, beside her, gave a sneer. "'Sup? Never seen a rag before?" He waggled his own black bandanna at her for a moment. "Me and my boys thought of it. Wicked, eh?" Several of the boys groaned. "YOUR boys, Melvin? Dream fuckin' on." Serena looked up at a larger rag-wearer who was sneering down at Melvin. "Gator runs this racket-unless you wanna challenge him for it." Melvin paled immediately. "Uh, yeah, well, HIS boys, then." He looked away from Serena, embarrassed, as though he had believed that her thinking he was leader of a gang would impress her. She snorted and looked up at the teacher. "Class, sit down," Miss haruma said, looking around with disdain at the black rags. One wearer snorted. "Why?" he said, and was echoed immediately by a few others. Miss Haruma's jaw dropped. "Because it's time for class to begin," she grated. "Fuck you and your class too!" shouted another, from the back of the class-where, Serena noted acidly, his anonymity would be preserved. A titter of laughter broke out within the classroom. Miss Haruma turned pale with rage. "THAT kind of language is NOT tolerable in my classroom, young man," she snapped, gesturing toward the door with the ruler. "Head for the principal's office, if you will. Try using those words with him." The student snorted and kicked open the door, but the direction he wandered was away from school entirely. Miss Haruma yelled after him "The office is the other way, young man." The student turned around. "I know," he said before he walked right of the classroom, followed by several other members of the gang. Something clicked in Serena's head. Gator....hadn't that been... With a sudden dread Serena realized she knew where those black rags had originated. The class had to bear the brunt of Miss Haruna's open, white lipped, snapping fury. Serena almost burst with relief when the bell rang, announcing second hour. She ran out of the classroom headlong, then her reluctant heels dragged her to a stop. The black rags, everywhere. On every ankle, it seemed, all the guys and even some of the girls. Everyone wearing one swaggered through the hallways in a slouched posture, lips curled in a cruel sneer. Wrapping her arms around herself to suppress a shiver of fear, she ducked her head and shuffled toward her locker. Even the teachers cowered in their rooms, or fumed, perhaps, at their inability to really control the rag wearers. Serena noticed the principal scurrying toward his office-with a big black eye. She decided that whatever Gator and his bunch's agenda was, they were enlisting the help of the city's youth. She almost bumped into Ami, who was slightly pale. "Serena, we need to talk," she whispered, and Serena nodded, entering her combination with numb fingers. "Those bandannas-they're from Gator," she whispered. "The same Gator we fought last night. They say he's running their gang directly, and supplying them with guns and drugs-nobody knows why, though." Serena shivered as she got her books out of the locker. "We'll have to find out why," whispered Ami as Serena silently walked off. She was on time for once-early, as a matter of fact-because she was so eager to get away from those black rags and their swaggering, foul-mouthed wearers. Gator surveyed the few individuals violent enough, far enough over the edge, addicted to crack enough, or just desperate enough for simple acceptance to walk right out of school on his orders. He nodded approvingly outwardly, though inwardly he felt disgusted at their numbers and their apparent ability as they blasted away with cheap homeade guns at the targets Rippa had set up earlier. These were his hard-core members, sad though that was, and he would have to deal with them. "All right, get over here, men," he shouted above the sound of gunfire before somone shot their foot off. They reluctantly stopped their firing barage and walked over to him, guns still in their hands and pointed up in the air like in action movies. Men, he decided, was too generous a term. "You all know who Sailor Moon is?" he said slowly, folding his massive arms over his chest. Chicken Beak chuckled again at the mention of the name, but everyone who heard the description had relayed the same information to him. Everyone nodded, although they seemed more engaged in posing with their weapons and blowing nonexsistent smoke out of the barrels. Gator wanted to scream, and Rippa, behind the rag-wearers, rolled his eyes sympathetically. "Good, I'm glad. Because I want her dead." There came shocked gasps at the statement, and Gator grimaced-this was going to be hard. "B-but Gator, we CAN'T kill Sailor Moon...she's a hero!" came the flustered shout of one member. Gator smoothly stepped forward, put a hand on the boy's shoulder, and smiled sympathetically. "A hero, huh? I bet you want to be a hero, and save the world too, huh?" The boy, a pimpled, fat fellow with a mop of brown hair, nodded stupidly with a grin. Gator grinned back just before he drove two fingers into the boy's throat. The sound of ripping flesh filled the air, and the boy's gasp mixed in with the splatter of blood on the concrete floor. Gator curled his fingers in the warm flesh of the wound and savagely yanked out a hunk of throbbing flesh. With a gurgle, the boy fell to the ground. Gator crushed several of his ribs with a kick. "Go hero in Hell, fuckhead," muttered Gator. He looked at the rest of his 'gang' for responses. One boy jumped forward-a scrawny scarecrow of a punk, waving his gun in the air. "You can't do that to---" His protest was cut off as Rippa's chain split his scalp all the way down the front of his face. He screamed horribly, spitting blood out desperately. He was still screaming when Rippa slammed the chain into the back of his head. Abruptly he stopped and fell to the ground, where he twitched once and lay still. "Anyone have any objections to my plans?" The response was fairly predictable, and Chicken Beak took center stage, stepping neatly in front of Gator, who wiped his bloody hands on his JNCO's. "Listen good," said Chicken Beak, "cuz this is what we're gonna do..." The healing of the darkness was painful, a stabbing, burning and squeezing sensation all at once as the crushed bones in Jadeite's nose and his various other injuries gained in his battle with Gator and his group were healed by Queen Beryl herself, her long, dusky-grey fingers tracing over his cheekbones lightly, a rapturous flow of constant, demonic energy sealing the wounds easily. But Jadeite was sweating and biting his lip hard enough that the salty taste of blood filled his mouth, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. The agony of the one using the power was nothing beside the pain of the one receiving it. Just as he began to fear his sanity would break, Queen Beryl chuckled madly and leaned back on her black throne. He rose from his place of kneeling at her feet, touching his formerly crushed nose gingerly. He began to stammer his thanks but Queen Beryl cut him off with a wave of her hand, eyes lost in a grim calculation. "You've done rather well, you little fool, for once in your miserable exsistence. It will be rather easy for us to gain a foothold on the Earth kingdom with these so called "Sailor Scouts" busy battling the...rabble you have recruited." The Queen's grin was feral, pointed teeth contrasting with her full, dusky red lips. "A dangerous man, this 'Gator' individual, yes? I think he will serve our purpose admirably." Her twisted grin widened. "Without even knowing." She stopped, one black nail tracing Jadeite's cheek mockingly. "Yes, Jadeite, you've done well." Jadeite shivered at the touch-it was anything but inviting. "Yes, my queen, Gator is perfect for your plans. But for one thing..." Her voice and facial expressions as she replied were neutral-very, very carefully neutral. "Which is?" Jadeite gulped-flawed plans did not go over very well with the Queen, the cause of the flaw usually punished in a lingering fashion. "Well, you see, street sources tell me his gang is out to kill the Sailor Scouts, but..." "But?" There was a definite, chilling edge to the queen's voice as she too-nonchalantly examined her black nails. "My queen," Jadeite blurted, "they also have orders to kill me." Her face turned more flinty than usual, and the eyes that snapped up to him from her nails were terrifyingly angry. "You make us still more foes, you damn fool? You gain us a deadly enemy when you go to recruit allies?" Jadeite forcefully swallowed the terrified bile that came up his throat, trying desperately to hold in his quivering guts. "M..my queen, he attacked me the minute he saw me...I did nothing...I blamed my attack on the Scouts..." He quailed away, expecting her response to be a condemnation to the eternal void. Instead, the Queen's smile grew a little more feral. "Come here, Jadeite." Jadeite stepped closer hesitantly, hands crossed behind him. Beryl reached a hand out and delicately grasped the lapel of his shirt, pulling him closer. She leaned her head down toward him, her hot breath coming down onto his face as she spoke. "You know how much I want the Earth kingdom, don't you?" Her nail traced it's way along his throat, sending shivers through his body. "Yesss, I thought you did..." Her lips were almost touching his, brushing them gently as she spoke. "So you also know that if you botch it," she whispered, the overwhelming scent from her perfume making him dizzy, "I will kill you." Her hand tightened on his throat and she lifted him up easily before he had time to think, his feet kicking absently. Mocking him. Damn her. "Understand?" Jadeite nodded-it was all he could do. Serena ate outside, with Ami and Rei, far away from the rest of the students. Non-black rag wearers also huddled together, apart from the mass of gang members. Even though it was warm, Serena shivered at the anarchic antics that permeated the single knot of students in the center, daring anyone to interfere. ANYONE. Even the teachers and administrators stood back, some nursing bruises. Their terror was as great as the other students. "God," whispered Ami slowly. "They are everywhere...even people I thought were above that..." A fight erupted in the middle of the school grounds, but no one bothered to stop it. Serena flinched away from the scene. "It scares me... what could Gator want with this?" "Drugs," muttered Rei. "I've been offered a dozen different drugs while we've been here by members. He's running them drugs." Serena shook her head. "I always thought these things would never come to our school," she said sadly, watching the gang member in the fight step over the red spots his unconcious opponent left on the sidewalk. "Apathy helps a lot," muttered Amy, jerking a thumb toward the cowering school officials. "Why hasn't someone called the police?" said Rei exasperatedly. "Because no one wants to ADMIT their students are out of control," said Ami patiently. "It would make them lose too much face to be worth it." "We have to do something about Gator and his bunch," said Serena suddenly. "Until he's gone, there wont' be any peace for this neighborhood." "That may be a mistake," said Rei sardonically. "As I recall, we just about got killed last time we fought him." "Chicken!" snorted Serena contemptuously. "We fight monsters from the Negaverse all the time. Why should monsters from Earth frighten you?" Rei reddened instantly, and unable to think of a proper retort, stuck her tongue out at Serena, who returned the gesture. "Stop it!" snapped Ami, looking between the two of them. "This is no time for...." She stopped as both of them stuck their tongues out at her, and rolled her eyes dejectedly. "God! Maybe Gator isn't so bad after all..." Click. The gun was cocked, newly cleaned, a shining insturment of black in hands that held it in a white knuckled grim. A pair of eyes that were cold and vengeful gazed along the sights for a moment before the gun was lowered. Click. Click. Clickclickclickclick. Two dozen guns behind him did the same, cheap homemade insturments with plastic parts, in fumbling hands. The eyes that looked along those sights were wide with fear, their mouths twisted into fake grins. The Black Rags moved out into the town, the pale moon above seeming to shrink back in terror as Gator repeated his grim promise. "Tokyo," he whispered to the town around him, "you are mine." Rippa watched them go, and Chicken Beak nodded, both of them taking up their own weapons and heading toward the warehouse district. They had their duties as well. They reached the mostly empty district shortly, down by the docks. The only sounds was the gentle slapping of the waves against the dock and the soft creaking of the ancient wood. Chicken Beak tapped Rippa on the shoulder and jerked his head toward the chosen warehouse. Rippa nodded and moved toward it slowly, opened the door, and took his position inside. Beak stood outside the door, nonchalantly sitting on a crate, but with his gun at the ready. Gator's whispered command recieved little objection-the Black Rags had seen what happened to the others who questioned him-and soon they were in a more commercial district, slow moving traffic creeping in front of him. He chuckled once before standing fully erect and shouting. "Now!" he shouted and the Black Rags fell to. The first alarm was wailing even before Gator had pulled out his motolov cocktail, and he decided his newfound gang members weren't so bad after all. A few gunshots echoed, but not many-he had warned them to conserve ammo. Lighting the homemade firebomb, he gave a war whoop and sent it flying against a car. The bottle shattered instantly and the flames spread wildly over the car, the epoxy\gasoline mixture clinging desperately to it. The owner jumped out screaming, but Gator already had another firebomb and threw it into a bus stop. The young coupleinside-making out, Gator noted with a chuckle-began to scream long before the flames reached them, but stopped screaming shortly afterward. But his attention was already diverted by then. A group of Black Rags, chains and bats flailing, waded into a group of teenagers, a preppy looking bunch even for Japan. As Gator watched, leaning up against a phone booth with a frantic young woman in it, they began to mercilessly assault the preppy kids, the crack of bones even louder than their screams. Gator chuckled-probably some sort of vengeance for being snubbed. Almost nonchalantly, he lit another cocktail, opened the door to the phone booth, and flung the firebomb into it. The woman's screams were cut off he slammed the door shut again. Another group of Black Rags was busy forming a sort of chain, moving tv's, computers and stereos from an electronic's store, the owner on the ground with a large, bloody gash across his face. He nodded his approval and turned toward an individual Black Rag, dragging a woman into an alley. He frowned on that-no telling what kind of diseases the woman might have, and a waste of time besides. Of course, he couldn't expect much better when he hired teenagers, who perpetually think with their groin. With a sigh, he turned back toward the street, lighting another firebomb. Sirens wailed in the distance. Traffic was momentarily stopped by the burning car, so the next throw was easy. The firebomb arced higher and then fell like a flaming star, splattering against the side of a van. The crackling of the flames didn't drown out the constant screaming that erupted within. It was only a matter of time, now. That 'hero' couldn't stay out of this fight for long. And then.... Gator hissed slightly, lighting another cocktail. And then, there would be a reckoning. Nobody touched the Gator. Nobody. Serena jumped slightly as her communicator beeped softly. Flushing with embarrassment, she rushed out of the theatre and into the ladie's room, mumbling into the communicator "What is it?" Rei's voice came through accompanied by a slight burst of static. "Across from the temple-Gator and his men, they're rioting...killing people. And the fires...the fires are everywhere." As if to punctuate her terrified words, a burst of gunfire sounded in the backround. "We've got to stop it! Meet us there!" The communicator beeped shut, but Serena was already running by then. Gator wouldn't get away with this. She arrived, panting, on a scene of horrifying chaos. Sailor Mars crept up behind her and pulled her into an alley. "Transform, you idiot, we can't fight him in our regular forms." Serena, flushing, began to transform while Sailor Mercury arrived on her bicycle, sirens wailing behind her. "What can we do?" she whispered pantingly to Sailor Mars as Sailor Moon finished her transformation. "How do we stop this kind of carnage?" With a grim shake of her head, Sailor Mars looked out of the alley, where Gator was wading through a crowd of businessmen, bones cracking in his wake. "I don't know," she said with a disgusted hiss, "but we'd better do something." A burst of gunfire erupted from behind an overturned car, putting bullet holes in the side of a newly arriving cop car. The officer on the passanger's side dived out, but the driver was hitcrumpled as though his bones had melted, one side of his face exploding as more bullets shattered the window. Rei ducked back into the alley quickly. "We have to do something," she muttered to herself, like a mantra. Sailor Moon came up behind her, peeked out, and jerked her head back in, pale. Gator's sharp eye caught the retreating head, and the more slowly retreating tails of blonde hair, standing out like tentacles from the head. He smiled slowly, ferally. They were there. He drew his gun and whistled sharply, his men instantly appearing behind him with their own weapons drawn, though Gator had no doubt the more excitable ones had shot off all their ammo already. "Follow me," he said grimly, and like a tidal wave the Black Rags swept across their street toward their enemies.