Tacky Yellow No Name 3
Malachite whistled cheerfully as he trekked home that evening. The day couldn't have been a better one for the ex-general (except for that minor fight with Zoisite) and he was in the mood for a small celebration. He walked jauntily down the sidewalk, even skipping a little bit when no one was looking. He couldn't wait to return home and share the good news with Zoisite and his cape.
The day had been remarkably good from the very beginning. Zoisite had slept late that morning leaving the shower (and the hot water!) for him to enjoy. Not even Malachite's shout of "Woah, yes! Good hair day!" had managed to awaken him. That in itself was enough for Malachite to consider it a good day. The little episode at lunch with the maxed credit cards had been a bit trying, but the best was yet to come, for it was that day that Malachite had found an opportunity for advancement in the Wal-Mart hierarchy.
Thinking back, Malachite grinned to himself. He couldn't have had a better opportunity if he had planned it down to the tiniest detail. He swung around a lamp post and clicked his heels with glee at the memory. Malachite had been getting ready for his coffee break when he noticed Eddie Krabsek heading for his office... ...alone. He had swiftly grabbed the opportunity to strengthen his position in retail. Needless to say, Eddie hadn't put up much of a fight and Malachite had acquired the job of his ex-manager before his fifteen minute coffee break was up. Eddie, it seemed, had opted for a nice long rest and a highly recommended psychiatrist after his little "encounter" with the silver-haired clerk from checkout four. Malachite had assured him that it was nothing personal ("In spite of the fact that that overbearing little snot kept calling me Malcolm!"). It was, quite simply, a matter of life and death. If he didn't get a higher paying job, Zoisite would kill him.
Malachite gave a semi-maniacal chuckle, not wishing to attract a large amount of attention to himself. With the raise in pay that came with Eddie's job he would be able to pay off Zoisite's bills and still have a little left over for himself. That, combined with the one million dollars that he already may have won (according to Ed), and the fact that he had snitched his credit cards from Zoisite's wallet during lunch, would hopefully be enough to keep the credit people from breaking down his door and hauling his butt off to jail.
Overly pleased with himself, Malachite continued to make his cheerful way home. When he turned down his street, however, some of the bounce went out of his step. The expression on his face began to change as he moved closer and closer to the house which he was learning to call home. Within a few minutes, he stood just outside his front door and the smile had vanished from his face. He could not believe the sight which met his eyes.
From the outside, the house appeared to be a giant jack-o-lantern. Multicoloured lights flashed in dizzying patterns and it took Malachite's eyes several minutes to adjust. The rest of him, however, took a little bit longer and he simply gaped at the scene before him.
The entire lawn was covered with cars which had crushed his humble, but painstakingly constructed, rock garden and had torn up the grass which Zoisite had forced him to mow the other day. A large number of people, possibly the owners of the vehicles, were lounging on the front porch smoking cigarettes and tossing back large amounts of beer, coolers and other adult beverages.
"Hey man!" Malachite turned at the sound of a voice and connected it to a rather unkempt (and rather drunk) young man of about twenty-five. "Hey, are you here for the party?" Malachite looked at him blankly, still in shock.
"Uh, no......I live here...."
"You do?" The young man gave Malachite a closer look. "Oh, you must be Malachite. Zoi told me about you. Cool!"
"Uh, yeah....." Malachite said, unsure as to why he was being deemed "cool" by a complete stranger.
"Zoi's inside. He said you'd be home pretty soon."
"Mmm....thanks...," he mumbled as he headed towards the front door. He turned the knob tentatively, uncertain what to expect from the loud and garish place that he had called home only that
morning.
Immediately upon opening the front door, Malachite was assaulted by a sonic blast composed of voices, laughter, breaking glass and extremely loud music. He stood in the doorway, frozen like a deer in headlights. He didn't know what to make of the scene in front of him but he couldn't turn away. A sea of bodies filled his living room, jostling, shoving and pushing their own, individual ways in a manner which could only be described as chaotic. The flashing multicoloured lights were being controlled by a mousey looking young man in the corner. As he manipulated the panel in front of him the lights went from solid, to flashing, to strobe and back again. On the other side of the room there was a table with enough food to feed twice as many people and, as he watched, a tall blonde woman emerged from the kitchen with another pile of food to add to the smorgasbord. In front of the television (another one of Zoisite's purchases) sat a group of young men, feeding on microwave popcorn, watching a hockey game and amusing themselves during the ads with a belching contest. A very familiar laugh was audible over the music: in the middle of all this was Zoisite, holding a diet Pepsi and doing "the Macarena". He noticed Malachite, slack-jawed, at the front door and ran over, depositing his (miraculously unspilled) drink on the coffee table.
"Malachite! Welcome home!"
Malachite's mouth worked for a few seconds before any words could come out. "What?......why?.......how?...."
"Oh, this? Just a little housewarming party.....meet the neighbours...that type of thing."
"Little?"
"Oh sure. This is about half the number I was going to invite."
"H...h...how...?"
"Uh, say that again, dear. You're hyperventilating."
Malachite tried again, this time successfully getting the words through his constricted windpipe. "H-how d-d-d-did you p-p-pay?"
Zoisite looked at him oddly. "Plastic. How else?" These words finally allowed Malachite to gain some control over his speaking abilities.
"What??!!!?? But I took my credit cards out of your wallet this morning!!!!!"
Zoisite grinned at him mischievously. "You forgot about the American Express, dear. It was in my jacket pocket. Now come on, I want you to meet some people." Zoisite grabbed Malachite's arm and dragged him toward a group of people who were hovering around the punch bowl.
Notoobrite watched as Zoisite drew the very stunned Malachite across the room and chuckled to herself.
'That fool Zoisite is becoming no better than a pathetic human and he's dragging Malachite along with him,' she thought. She caught the eyes of Saabbite and Litebrite, who were on the other side of the room, and exchanged an evil grin with the two. 'This is going to be easier than we thought.'
****
Raye, safe with the others in their temporary hiding place at the temple, suddenly stiffened.
"What is it, Raye?" asked Ami, ever-observant. Mina, cheated of a line, glowered.
Raye frowned. "I'm *sure* I just felt evil grins being exchanged. There are bad vibes somewhere in the city!"
Lita blinked. "Um...could you be a bit more specific?"
"We'll have to go out and look for it!" said Raye decisively. Ami and Lita groaned.
"But it's really *late*! And Reeny's out there somewhere!"
"Come on, guys," sighed Mina, taking a moment to run her fingers through her hair for extra dramatic effect (it was unnoticed by the other three, who had shifted their attention to the pair in the corner).
Serena and Darien were making an effort to talk quietly, but their sharp gestures made it obvious that they were having some sort of argument.
"Uh, Serena?" ventured Ami finally, "Scout business. We gotta go!"
Serena glanced back over her shoulder, keeping one ear tuned to Darien's ranting. "LOOK," he shouted finally, a tad louder than he'd intended, "I don't care what anyone says - she's not MINE! I don't know *what* you get up to in the future, but -"
Suddenly noticing the stares of the four Scouts, Darien abruptly cut off his sentence and blushed. Large sweat drops suddenly appeared all over the room.
"Um..."
"You were saying, Ami?" asked Serena quickly, wearing her "that-didn't-really-just-happen" expression.
"Raye felt some evil vibes - we gotta go out and help her look for the source," replied the blue-haired girl, grateful for the distraction.
"Oh, MAN," sighed Serena, "not the evil-divining bit again?"
Raye nodded grimly. "I think the time has come."
Darien looked confused.
****
"Goodnight!" waved Zoisite cheerfully as yet another drunken reveler stumbled out the door.
"G'nigh..." muttered Malachite from the depths of his Pepsi- stained couch. He had to put a good face on things, or risk the wrath of Zoisite to make his evening even worse. He held his cape like a talisman in front of him, its bundled length resting on his lap (the edges tucked securely away from anything that might stain it. Just because it was Wash'n Wear, didn't mean he wanted to take any chances).
He surveyed the wreck of their living room gloomily. The TV had been smashed a couple of hours before, to match the condition of its audience. The carpeting was stained with Pepsi, beer and even less desirable substances; several people lay on the floor in various stages of consciousness. The wall looked like something out of the modern art section of the local museum. The scattered holes in the plaster made him worry about the structural integrity of the room; the trail of garbage leading to the kitchen made him worry even more about the condition of the rest of the house. But he couldn't get up the energy to go look - what would be the point?
Sullenly, he held his cape closer and longed for easier times, when he'd only had to deal with the psychotic and unpredictable Beryl.
Just around the corner, hidden in the coatroom formerly known as the bedroom, three figures stood and smirked in anticipation.
****
"A little to the left," ordered Raye imperiously.
The Scouts grunted with effort, swerving as they made their awkward way down the dark street.
"Is this absolutely necessary?" grunted Darien breathlessly from where he held Raye around the waist.
"Hush up!" said Raye. "This is an ancient ceremony, and you should be respecting it! Incidentally, move your hand down a little further, Darien."
"HEY!" said Serena indignantly, pinching Raye's ankle.
"Ouch! Well - you gotta admit, it was worth a try. To the right now, and keep walking!"
"You think this is bad?" muttered Lita to Darien, "Most times we don't even have you to help!"
The six made a strange sight indeed. Holding Raye above their heads like some sort of strange sacrifice, they proceeded down the street. Raye's arms were stretched out at an angle above her head; Lita held one and Ami the other. This could have possibly been better planned, since Lita was the tallest girl and poor Ami was running along on her tip-toes. But who were they to question ancient rituals? (Raye, unseen, grinned sadistically.) Darien held her waist while Serena supported her feet; the fifth girl held Raye by the shoulders.
The black-haired girl had become a giant divining rod, pointed feet-first down the street.
"A little to the right!" she shouted. "And run! Run, damn you! Don't be so lazy! There's EVIL out there, I tell you!"
There were groans from all around.
****
The last of the "guests" finally wandered out the door, pulling his car out of the muddy mess that had formerly been Malachite's well-kept lawn.
"Great party, huh?" squealed Zoisite exhuberantly, hurling himself down on the couch next to his semi-comatose partner.
Malachite, rudely awakened, started up with a gasp and clutched his cape, removing his thumb from his mouth. Zoisite was disappointed; for a moment, Malachite had reminded him of that cute Linus character from "Peanuts".
Shaking green hair from his blurry eyes, Malachite yawned. "Er...yeah. Great," he mumbled, trying to keep his vision from focusing on the ruined house around him. Maybe he should try for district manager of Wal-Mart? Examining the pruned quality of his thumb, he frowned. He really had to stop that habit.
"It's going to get even better!" crowed a triumphant female voice from the direction of the hallway.
Zoisite turned halfway around. "You're a little late for the party - the chow's all gone and so are all the other guests. How 'bout we make it next time?" he said casually. As much as he loved parties, this one had gone on for long enough - he'd been hoping for some snuggle time with Malachite.
Malachite was less diplomatic. "For pete's sake," he moaned, "GO AWAY!!"
"I don't think so." A male voice this time, deep and obscurely threatening. "I see you've kept my darling safe for me, Malachite!"
Suddenly alarmed, the two ex-generals whirled to face the three standing in the hallway entrance.
The black-haired man with fiery eyes.
The slender woman with the navy braid.
The small and nondescript man in brown.
The three grinned evilly.
"Oh," said Zoisite, "it's you."
Saabbite blinked. "Huh?"
Malachite sighed. "Really, what *were* you three thinking? Did you really think you could just waltz in here and not get killed?"
Notoobrite smirked, the same I-know-something-you-don't-know expression that had annoyed Saabbite earlier. "Maybe you should study your story regulations a little more carefully."
Annoyed, Zoisite rose and moved around the couch, flipping brown hair back over his shoulders as he approached his erstwhile foes. "Look, people, we're tired and Malachite has a long day tomorrow. Don't make me hurt you." Holding his hands out, he flicked his fingers. "Shoo!"
Litebrite fidgeted nervously.
Glancing over, Notoobrite smirked. "Don't worry, Litebrite. Remember what we discussed? I can't be wrong about this!" With an evil laugh, she stepped forward. "Let's rumble, pretty boy!"
A slender and wickedly tipped crystal appeared in Zoisite's hand. "We're just trying to live a normal life! Leave now!"
Notoobrite shrugged. "Like your happiness is a big concern of mine. Go ahead, you hussy!"
Snarling at the insult, Zoisite hurled his crystal straight for the black-uniformed woman's throat.
Litebrite's fingers moved even faster than the crystal. 'GASP!'.
Whipping up a hand, Notoobrite caught the thing in mid-flight and crushed it to a fine powder in her fist.
Zoisite's eyes widened. "Uh...Malachite? Honeybunch? Would you take care of this for me?"
With a groan, Malachite heaved himself off the couch. Holding his cape safely in one hand, he hurled an absentminded purple boomerang with the other.
With a single move, Saabbite deflected the thing into the wall.
"Um.." said Malachite.
"HaHAHAHAhahahaHAHAH!!!" cackled Notoobrite. Flinging her hands out in front of her, she rained a trail of sparkling meteors down on the two ex-generals. Malachite swore and ducked down to protect his cape; Zoisite brushed ineffectually at his smoking hair.
"Hey! Watch that!"
A blast of force from Saabbite knocked them both into the wall; fortunately for Zoisite, he was cushioned by Malachite's stomach. (This was, however, not so fortunate for Malachite. He might have been peeved, if the couch slamming into his head hadn't provided a greater distraction.)
"It's TRUE!" crowed Saabbite gleefully. "We're winning!"
With a grimace of pure rage, Litebrite raised his hands above his head; his fingers glowed with multi-coloured power. The other two grinned evilly.
Just then, the door burst in with a thundering crash.
"OUCH!" screamed a voice, "I'm a divining rod, NOT a battering ram!!"
"Wait for me!" shrieked another, smaller voice; the sheer sugary sound of it sent shivers down the spines of the combatants. (The author pauses to admire her use of alliteration.)
A tumble of girls in short skirts lay on the floor; Saabbite and Litebrite paused for a moment to admire the view presented by a few of them.
The door was a broken mess; sawdust floated through the air. A pink blur flew through the entrance, revealing itself to be a smaller girl in yet another skirt; she ignored the generals and started digging through the pile of teens, throwing them aside with remarkable strength.
"Tuxedo Mask, where ARE you?" she whined.
One of the girls, a brunette in a green skirt, struggled to her feet and, ignoring the pink spore, regarded the three generals with a sort of hostile curiosity. "Who the hell are you? And what are you doing, beating up on..." Here she paused, glancing around at the now-empty living room. "Um...I could've sworn I heard a fight in here..."
Notoobrite cursed - in the distraction, Malachite and Zoisite had escaped! However, their lack of presence provided her with a good excuse to avoid fighting the Sailor Scouts - they hadn't been prepared for this!
"Erm..." she paused, thinking back to all the skills she'd learned in high school improv. "Um..."
With effort, Saabbite tore his gaze away from the white behind of the red-skirted Scout. (From the depths of the pile, Mars groaned. "Why do *I* always have to do the panty shots??") "What fight?" he said innocently. "We were just having a nice party!"
Raising her head - and hiking down her skirt - Mars glared at the three generals (a glare that was somewhat impeded by Sailor Chibi-Moon's arm smacking her in the face). "I distinctly felt evil grins emanating from this place!"
"Oh, *right*," groaned Tuxedo Mask as Chibi-Moon finally unearthed him from where he'd lain beneath the Scouts. "And your aim is *so* good, too. That's why we're stuck with *her* again!" Shaking his arm in a half-hearted attempt to dislodge the pink fuzzball, he sighed.
"Hey," snapped Mars, "how was *I* to know she'd be giving off so much evil?"
The blonde Scout with strange pompoms on her head finally rose with a grimace. "Hey, sleezebuckets! I am Sailor Moon, and you can't just....um...." Looking lost, she glanced over at Mars. "Exactly what *are* we supposed to be punishing them for?"
"We weren't doing anything," protested Saabbite with an innocent look. "And I'm very hurt by your snap judgement of me as a sleezebucket! What have I ever done to you?" His eyes began to vibrate, denoting stress and anxiety; a single tear made its way down his handsome features.
("Ohmigod," whispered Jupiter to Mercury, "he looks *just* like -" Mercury sighed. "Shut up.")
Waves of guilt assailed Sailor Moon; a large sweat drop appeared on her head. "Gee," she apologized, "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything..."
Notoobrite, getting into the act, let out a small sniffle. Litebrite adopted a doleful expression.
Saabbite began to bawl.
Sailor Moon frowned - he was stealing her schtick! Quickly, before her character trademark could be infringed upon any further, she turned to the other Scouts and hustled them out. "C'mon, guys...there's obviously nothing going on here..."
Hurling one last apology over their collective shoulders, the Scouts disappeared outside. The sounds of arguing could clearly be heard as they retreated....
"Good one, Mars!"
"Hey, it wasn't *my* fault! Ami must've been holding my arm too low!"
"Maybe you wanted me to wear stilts??"
"I want a piggy-back ride, Tuxedo Mask!"
"ARGH!"
"Hey! I didn't even get *mentioned* in that scene!"
"So, where *is* the evil?"
"Who cares? As far as I'm conc..."
As the Scouts moved out of audio range, Saabbite snarled. "Where the hell did they go?"
Litebrite shrugged.
Notoobrite smiled grimly. "Don't worry - they'll show up somewhere. Remember the regulations!" Remembering the presence of Sailor Mars nearby, she quickly wiped the grin from her face. "Ack! We don't want those guys back...come on...think happy thoughts...think happy thoughts..."
With artificial smiles plastered to their features, the three generals marched out the door and back to their waiting car, a stylish blue Volkswagen Beetle. It was a little cramped for Saabbite's taste (and legs), but Litebrite had, in a stubborn moment, insisted on cuteness over utility. Notoobrite, after noting that many people seemed to hit each other as they drove by, was all for the idea.
(The author wonders what her point was. Oh, yeah.) The three generals hopped into their car and drove away.
****
"Oh, *man*," sighed Zoisite, "this is just *great*." He shivered slightly in the chill of the night air. He and Malachite sat huddled on a bench in "The Park", that infamous place where events in so many fanfics seemed to happen. "Say," he muttered finally, glancing around, "didn't your sis- "
"Stop that! We will have *no* cheap plugs in this fanfic!"
"Oh..." Zoisite hung his head. "Sorry!"
Malachite snarled. "I don't get it - how could they possibly stand against us? Those guys were the worst!"
"Well, Saabbite -" Zoisite paused to snicker for no apparent reason, "used to be able to hold his own...but Notoobrite? Actually stopping one of my crystals? Something is really wrong here!" Shivering again, he eyed Malachite's cape.
"Don't even think about it." Malachite drew the white cloak possessively over his own shoulders, nice and toasty-warm.
Zoisite pouted.
A small sweat drop appeared on Malachite's head.
Zoisite's eyes began to vibrate ever so slightly.
Malachite sighed; he knew where this was leading.
"You don't love me any more!" sniffed Zoisite.
"Oh, FINE. Here - you can *share* the cape. But don't you dare get hair gel on it like last time!"
"It's OK, sweetie - I switched brands!" Eagerly, Zoisite scrambled under the cape and cuddled up to Malachite, now secure against the chill of the night air. With his mind now free to concentrate on things besides being cold, he turned his thoughts to the problem at hand. "What did she mean, we should 'study the story regulations'?"
Malachite frowned. "I'm not quite sure."
"Psst!" A figure cloaked in black suddenly appeared.
Malachite and Zoisite both jumped. "GLAA!!"
"Take this!" Hurling a thick book of papers at them, the figure vanished.
"Um...." Malachite stared suspiciously at the stack of papers, held together by several staples along the side. Something about the cloaked figure had seemed alarmingly familiar.
On the front page of the booklet, the words "FANFIC REGULATIONS" were written in large black letters.
"Oh, don't be such a wuss!" Picking up the book, Zoisite flipped through it. "This thing is huge - we'll never get anything out of it! What's the point?"
From out of nowhere, a pronounced sigh was heard. As if by magic, a large red bookmark appeared somewhere near the middle of the book.
Zoisite almost dropped it. "Ack! Here, Malachite, you read it!"
Gingerly taking the book from Zoisite, Malachite flipped to the bookmark, noting absently that it read "IS THIS GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU, LAZY?" and had a rather unflattering picture of Zoisite before his morning coffee. Removing it from the page, he began to read:
"Character creation in Sailor Moon fanfics. All characters in Sailor Moon fall within four categories. Class A, the heroes, fight wrongs and triumph over evil, although they must occasionally make sacrifices and suffer temporary losses. Most heroes...yadah yadah...."
Zoisite frowned. "Well, that's certainly not us!"
"Class B," continued Malachite, skipping ahead, "are the villains. This group often consists of one leader and various henchmen, most of whom are abused and suffer from various mental disorders. Egomania is prevalent. This group is always destined to lose, although none of them will ever believe it. Often, their characters have the best hair."
"Well...." Zoisite pondered a moment. "I guess that's not really us anymore either, is it? Although we do, of course, have great hair."
"*I* have great hair," muttered Malachite.
"What?"
"Nothing, dear. You're right. We haven't done anything really evil in quite a while now." Malachite wondered if his "promotion" at Wal-Mart counted, but then decided his actions had hardly been out of place in that cut-throat establishment.
"Go on," said Zoisite impatiently. "What's the point of all this?"
"Class C are the wise mentors, who have phenomenal power but are always constrained from using it for one reason or another. They stay on the sidelines, periodically spouting poetry or wise and encouraging things."
Zoisite snickered. "Yeah, *right*. What's with that Queen Serenity chick, anyway?"
Malachite, reading ahead, ignored Zoisite. His face had suddenly gone pasty white, matching his hair perfectly.
"Um...Mal? Something wrong?"
"C-Class D," continued Malachite finally, licking his lips nervously, "are the....innocent bystanders. Any character...who doesn't fit into the above 3 categories...is an innocent bystander, and is available for Class B (evil) characters to kick around at any time."
Zoisite gulped. "Um...isn't there another class in there somewhere?"
Mutely, the blue-haired ex-general shook his head.
"We can't be innocent bystanders! We were the best in the Negaverse!" raged Zoisite.
"*Who* was the best?" asked Malachite, mildly irritated.
Zoisite frowned. "Hey...I was getting better....really..."
Malachite sighed and shrugged, suddenly deciding that the argument wasn't worth pursuing. "It doesn't matter now. Since we're not evil anymore, who cares?"
"Do you want to be evil again?" asked Zoisite finally. "You could wear your cape..."
Stroking the flowing white fabric, Malachite smiled nostalgically. "Those were great days, weren't they? But...now that I'm not really evil, I also realize that if we went back to being Class B, we *would* be destined to fail. What's the fun in that?"
"But we can't be Class C, we're not wise or powerful enough!" said Zoisite, growing alarmed.
Malachite nodded. "We don't have a lot of choice left to us."
"You mean....?"
"I'm afraid I do."
From out of nowhere, dramatic music began to play. "Duhn- duhn-duhn-DUUUUUUUUHNNNNN....."
