Lethal Premonitions Miraclelady Alternate Reality/Drama/Romance PG My VERY brief summary: Serena is recieving odd dreams about the UN building. What do they mean? Why is she getting them? Author’s notes: Hey minna! Hope you enjoy my story! I want to thank Jenny W. and Sarah B.-- you’re the coolest! : ) This story contains Sailor Moon’s characters (who belong to Naoko, NOT me... although they would make a very cool b-day present... but the bottom line is: they do NOT belong to me!) Okay. I’ll let you read the story now. Ja ne! Laugh more, Miracle lady ^.^ “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good, to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” Genesis 50:20 Prologue Serena stampeded down the hall, dragging her sheets with her. She was impossibly twisted in the white, cotton material, and she was in a hurry. RING RING The phone was bringing itself off its rest, vibrating wildly with the need to be picked up. Serena attempted to disentangle herself from her sheets, slipping dangerously on the polished hardwood of her living room floor. RING RING Serena was red with fury by the time she had managed to push the bed linens off her legs and into a pile on the ground. Vaulting over her mastiff, Charles, she grabbed the receiver. Breathlessly she shouted, “YE-es? Johnson residence. Serena speaking.” Cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear, she patted Charles’ big head. “Ms. Johnson?” Serena sighed when she heard the voice of her taciturn, stodgy, old boss, Connor O’Brian. “Yes, Mr. O’Brian?” She refused to allow her voice to carry a hint of the anger she felt boiling up inside. It was 4:30 in the morning, and the birds outside her apartment hadn’t even begun their dawn cheeping yet. “We need you here, at the UN, earlier than expected,” Connor ordered crisply, his military background showing up in his tone. “Now, Johnson, understand? We are having problems-- security is being upped. Get here, soon as possible. I’ll be waiting. Be here by 5.” The phone went dead on the other end. Serena groaned, slamming the receiver back into its rest. Charles woofed at her. “Yes, I know, Charlie-- Thank the Lord I have a job, and a good one, too, even though I don’t have the best education-- but working as a secretary’s secretary for that old mule?” The twenty-one year old woman stretched, yawning. “May he die and roast,” she muttered rebelliously, storming to, and around the kitchen, starting to boil water for her tea. Charles wisely curled his big body up in a corner, watching his mistress through wide-set brown eyes. ~*~ Serena deftly pulled her wet, dark blonde hair back into a simple twist, securing it tightly with a barrette and hair spray. She had just showered, and now had Charles exuberantly munching his kibbles in a corner of her apartment kitchen, slopping the bits of his breakfast everywhere. “Stop it,” Serena commanded, giving her dog a slap on the rump. Turning on the small television that perched in the middle of her glass breakfast table, Serena poured herself a glass of tea and sat in a chair. When Charles was finished with his “cuisine”, he came over and hunkered down next to her, dropping his broad, black muzzle in her lap. “Charlie boy,” Serena said with a laugh, pushing his head out of the chair gently, “you go catch forty winks. I’ll see ya when I get home, and we can go for a walk, okay?” Charles’ great tongue enveloped Serena’s hand in a lick, then he took off for an obscure part of the house to nap in. Serena put her barely touched tea in the sink. She wasn’t thirsty-- she was, however, in a hurry. “Today, the UN is conducting a meeting about the precarious situation NASA has found itself in. Due to the discovery of life on other planets-- or rather, the life on other planets’ discovery of us--” the news anchor’s play on words fell flat, Serena thought wryly, listening to her TV closely-- “NASA officials and spokespeople are hard-pressed to find something vindictive to tell the world about what exactly the aliens are intending to do, and if it’s perilous to Earthlings. “Mr. Brady O’Brian, brother to the infamous secretary general, Connor O’Brian, was the first to see this foreign people. Many people doubted the validity of his observations on the “aliens”, and O’Brian fell into the bad graces of the world’s business elite. Connor always staunchly stood beside his brother-- a true to the bone sort-- and the O’Brian clan now has the power to laugh in our faces! And yet, they stand by us. “Connor and Brady, along with various other officials from the UN’s sworn-in countries, are going to be at this meeting today--” Serena switched the television off hurriedly. That was what she was needed for today. ~*~ Serena drove wildly, cutting people off, and running red lights and stops signs in multitude. New York, her home of three months, was a very busy place, and Serena had somewhere to be in-- “One minute! Dear God, help me make it!!” Serena swerved crazily around an 18 wheeler, her Honda Civic’s right side bouncing up onto the sidewalk. She turned, narrowly missing hitting a tree, coming to a stop at the entrance to her designated parking garage. The guard, Cindy Lemay-Wilkers, walked over to say a cautious good morning and to find out what she wanted. “Hey, Cin,” Serena greeted her immediately. “Look-- I’m already late, and Connor’s probably going to chuck me after he has me short-hand his meeting, and--” “You?” Cindy asked incredulously. “Aren’t you--” “Yeah, I am-- one of the little people, pretty obvious-- only been working here two months, but Cin, I really, really gotta go-- Connor’s gonna kill me, he honest-to-goodness will, and I need this job, yes I do-- oh yeah, the reason I’m here-- I’m one of the top short-hands in the country, and Connor’s other top, Ami... Ami Idunnoherlastname, is sick, so he called me at 4:30, and I was s’posed to meet him five minutes ago-- oh, just let me in, Cindy!” “Fine, fine,” Cindy grinned. “You know where to park. Breathe a few times before you see the old man-- you’re purple around the lips, girlie.” She waved Serena on, turning to the next car, one of the many Serena had nearly hit in her attempt not to be late to her UN building rendezvous with O’Brian. ~*~ Serena backed into “her” parking spot, a spot that was going to create major problems for her. She was across the garage floor from the elevators and stairs, and from there she’d have to get to the first floor, from which she’d have to mad-dash it down the street to get to the UN building and O’Brian. If she was lucky, she’d get to Connor by 5:15. If she was lucky. She hopped out of her car, grabbed her briefcase, shut and locked the door, and ran wildly down the concrete parking level. It brought back a strange sense of deja vu-- reminiscent of her crazy high school and college days. Serena was breathing with difficulty when she reached the elevators, and collapsed against the brick wall, punching the down arrow button. “Come on... come on!” she rattled the button again, punching it thirteen separate times in her anxiety. When three minutes came and went, and the elevator still had not surfaced, she moaned angrily, kicked the silvery chrome of the elevator doors, and scurried for the stairs. Galloping down eight different flights of steps takes a lot out of you, Serena realized, gasping for air as she pushed on the door that led to the lobby of the parking garage. She felt horribly faint, so she stopped for a quick drink at the water fountain, hoping to revive herself. She pushed on the lever, waiting apprehensively for the water. She whimpered with fear, stepping back when water did not surface from the spicket. Liquid, blood red in color, squirted out, and the stream had not diminished when Serena had backed away in fright, therefore allowing the fountain’s button to pop back out. Droplets of the cerise fluid hit Serena’s small fingers, burning like fire. “Ouch,” Serena sobbed, trying to wipe her hand off on her business jacket. “Here-- maybe I can help,” a young woman, about Serena’s age, said softly, taking hold of the offending fist with careful fingers. “My name is Mina-- Dr. Carmine Lindheim, actually, but I’ve never used the name before in my life. I’ve come with the German party-- to attend this meeting about the aliens from... oh where was it? Do you know?” Serena shook her head shyly. “No... However, I am supposed to be meeting with the secretary general... ten minutes ago... What! Oh, God, please... PLEASE don’t let this be happening to me!” Serena snatched her hand from the young doctor. “Thanks,” she said, realizing the pain was gone. “Could you get a janitor by any chance...?” “Already taken care of,” a young man reported, tucking a damp rag into his baggy coveralls as he pulled away from the fountain. “Nice doing business with you, ma’ams.” The custodian, Serena supposed that was what he must be, walked off, his step flavored with a jaunty swagger. Dr. Lindheim was openly staring in admiration. “Hope to see you again, Doctor,” Serena laughed. “Look me up sometime. Serena Johnson. Gotta go!” Serena turned on the heel of her loafers, and jogged out the glass door of the foyer. ~*~ Andrew walked around a corner, then he let out a soft curse, rubbing his fingers ruefully. That red junk pouring out of the water fountain like there was no tomorrow burned like the blazes. He snuck a peek back around the wall. The two women that he had spoken to a moment ago were talking. One of them turned and sprinted out of the lobby, while the other merely stood frozen, staring in his direction. Andrew chuckled indulgently as he crept away from the corridor junction, wondering if the motionless lady had even noticed her friend’s departure. “I know I’m gorgeous,” Andrew laughed, high-tailing it for the men’s bathroom to make an important “call”. He found a janitor’s closet instead. “Hmm... What potential,” he murmured to himself, pausing next to the green door. There was a window in the middle of the verdant portal, but the glass was frosted so any passerby would see no more than a shadow if a person were inside, and the words ‘Janitor’s Closet’ were swirled across it in bold, greenish print. Andrew snuck into the room, closing the door and leaning against it heavily. This appealed to his logical side. He was pretending to be a custodian-- why not use his “designated” room for this “call”? He impatiently brushed shaggy blonde hair out of his face, then pulled a walkie-talkie looking contraption out of one of the many pockets on his over-sized custodian uniform. He pushed a small black button on the side of the walkie-talkie, held the speaker up near his mouth, pressed a different button, and, holding it down, whispered, “Dare? This is Andy, over.” Andrew’s finger slid off the button, waiting for a reply. Static echoed noisily around the nearly empty concrete closet. Andrew sighed, about to speak the code again, when a deep, male voice became intelligible. “Andy-- found your meal ticket?” “No, not yet. I do, however, have a possibility. A young doctor could invite me to the--” “It doesn’t matter how you get in, just get in!” The voice was curt. Andrew frowned, considering shutting his transmitter off. “Fine,” he muttered brusquely. “I’ll get back to you when mission accompli.” “Good.” The walkie-talkie speaker once again emitted a static noise. Andrew sighed, staring pensively at the apparatus, as if he expected the voice’s owner to materialize at any moment. Suddenly, the door he was leaning against opened. Andrew stuffed the transmitter into a pocket as he fell backwards to hit the hard marble of the floor. “I’m so sorry!” A feminine voice cried remorsefully, small hands grasping his to help pull him to his feet. Andrew smiled winsomely, rubbing the small of his back. “Hey-- don’t worry about it. The name’s Andy-- Andrew Triedman. Nice to meet ya.” He offered a palm, and she shook it energetically, beaming at him. Andrew recognized her-- she was the doctor that had been so dumbfounded when he had done his handyman number on the water fountain. She was also the one, Andrew realized, that could get him into the meeting with the aliens. “Umm... It’s nice meeting you,” the doctor said, blushing and looking at her feet. “I’m Dr. Carmine Lindheim, but my friends call me Mina. I’m here from Germany for the conference at the UN building today.” She looked up, her wide blue eyes meeting his hazel. Andrew gave a nonchalant shrug, still grinning. “Sounds interesting. I’ve been wondering about them, too-- the Lunarians, I mean. It’s so wild that we’ve had people living on our moon all these years, but they were invisible to us, living in some sort of parallel universe.” Andrew allowed his face to take on a more serious expression. “And they aren’t green-cyclops-looking fellows either-- they seem to fit together much like humans do. Anatomy-wise... I mean,” he added quickly. Mina giggled. “You seem awfully interested, Mr. Triedman--” “Andy,” Andrew corrected. “You seem awfully interested, Andy,” Mina said, her voice going soft when she said his name. “Would you like to come to the conference? I’m sure nobody would mind a fellow earthling, as intrigued as you are, to sit in on our talks. I know I wouldn’t miss it for the world, and I am so glad I was chosen to come. “Surely you’d want to change.” Mina shook her head slightly, as if clearing it, before going on. “Everyone’s going to be in their finest, including me-- which reminds me, I need to go NOW, and prepare. The conference is in... an hour and a half,” Mina paused, checking her watch. “Can you make it? I’ll meet you at the entrance to the garage’s lobby.” “Sure. See ya soon!” “An hour!” Mina yelled at his retreating back. “So we can be seated!” Andrew waved a hand back at her, never pausing in his stride down the hallway to an exit. Time to report back to headquarters-- and he would also notify Darien of the acid shooting out of the fountain. ~*~ Greg swiped a hand through his dark brown hair, sipping his black coffee appreciatively. “Good, strong stuff, Dare,” he murmured. “Just the right way. When them womenfolks make it, it’s all sweet and sugary... and...” He shuddered in mock agony. “And just yucky.” Darien gave his friend a small grin. He never smiled. Not since the accident that had taken his family all those years ago... The most he could ever muster was a small twitching at the corners of his lips. And even that was only awarded to certain people on certain occasions. “I’m glad that you’re enjoying yourself,” he said cuttingly. “Oh, of course,” Greg answered airily. “Now that I’m relaxed with a good cup of black, the world can continue spinning.” Darien gave a derisive snort, turning away to fiddle with a pencil. “Wonder what’s taking so long...” “You know Andrew, Dare-- He’s probably showing off for that doctor lady he was talking about. You know how he can be around women. He’s that way around men sometimes, too. Asked him what kind of gel he was using, for future reference, you know-- and... just never get him started. He can go on for hours about how hot he is.” Greg shook his head. “I think his parents loved him too much.” Darien gave a nod. “Probably right.” The tall, black-haired man sat down at the control panel that dominated the room he and Greg occupied. He still toyed with the pencil, apprehensive about Andrew’s ability to worm his way in to places he wasn’t supposed to be. Abruptly, Andrew’s voice boomed out of the speakers to his left, breaking the room’s silence. “Dare-- this is Andy. Look, I’m in a hurry, and--” “Andy, are you able to get in?” Darien growled, punching several buttons on the control board: turning on a mike, the other speaker, and fiddling with the volume. “Yeah-- and I bet I can get you and Greggy-boy in too. I’ve got this girl hooked--” “Greggy-boy,” Greg snorted, taking another sip of his coffee. “I’ll get him for that one.” “Don’t think it would be too noticeable?” Darien questioned doubtfully, ignoring Greg. “Nah. The girl fed me some blather on how she thinks everybody that’s interested ought to be in on these talks-- like I haven’t seen enough conferences to last me three lifetimes and then some.” “Ooh... I have a revelation,” Greg called, spinning a red straw around in his now-empty coffee mug. “Somebody likes this doctor-chick.” Andrew, luckily, hadn’t heard. “Do you want to come or not? You gotta be here in 45 minutes to an hour-- UN’s parking garage-- know where that is?” “Yeah,” Darien replied tersely. “The lobby, next to the glass sliding doors at the entrance. Should be a valet or two around-- that’s how you’ll know it’s the main entrance. D’you have it? I gotta go. Catch you there-- Oh, wait! Some girl was trying to wet her whistle down here, and the fountain started spouting red acid everywhere. Might want to look it up. ’Bye.” Darien sighed, shutting off the control board. “Interesting. Red acid...?” “I don’t know,” Greg shrugged. “Could be several different things-- I’d have to have a sample to identify it. ‘Red acid’, eh? Nice description.” ~*~ Mina was a little surprised when she met up with Andrew. He had two friends with him, and both, she thought dazedly, were as gorgeous as he was. “Hey, Andy!” she cried, waving her hand to catch his attention. “Ready to go?” The three guys walked over to her, and Mina backed up. She felt a bit threatened. The trio gave off a very commanding air; all were rangy and athletic men, each towering over her. “Um... Nice to meet you,” Mina greeted timidly, offering a hand to shake. A man with black hair and resplendent bluish-silver eyes took her hand in his. “The pleasure is mine,” he answered gravely. “I hope you don’t mind, but Andrew told Greg and I we would be welcome to come with you to attend this meeting. You can call me Darien.” Mina’s eyes widened at the odd name. The other stranger stepped forward, an easy grin on his face. Mina relaxed slightly. Surely she wasn’t in the company of rapists. Impossible. “Nice to meet you, Mina,” he laughed. “Don’t worry-- I’ll keep these two bullies off of you. I’m stronger than I look!” The man pounded his chest with a fist, as if to emphasize the point. Mina blushed, looking away. “W-we need to-to hurry,” she stuttered, staring at the toes of her high heels nervously. “Um... If you’d jus- just follow me, p-please.” She whirled and walked off, not bothering to look over her shoulder to check if the threesome was following her or not. She was concentrating on getting to the UN. A hand on her shoulder caused her to wheel around, ready to issue an admonition on the consequences of touching her without permission and a five-minute forewarning. “Carmine! How nice to see you again!” Mina was enveloped in a hug. “Wha-AT!” “Mina, don’t you remember? It’s me! Mizuno Ami!” A smile tugged at the doctor’s lips. “You mean Ami Mizuno.” “No-- well, yes... I suppose. This IS America, not Japan. You people say your surnames last; I keep forgetting! There’s just no sense in it,” Ami giggled, pulling at a corner of her business jacket. “I’m getting over a virus. Connor isn’t going to let me do my job and short-hand the meeting, but I don’t care! Nothing on this planet could keep me from sitting in on this conference! Imagine! Life on other planets, even though it is--was, excuse me-- scientifically impossible!” Mina studied her old schoolmate’s face. Ami had a Japanese-American heritage, having a white mother and an Asian father. Ami’s face was unnaturally white, a tell-tale sign of being sick. Her friend was also a good three inches taller than her own 5’2” height, and her hair was a very deep shade of blue. “I’m headed to the conference, now,” Ami confided, her blue eyes sparkling in delight. “Connor’s having another secretary-- Serena Johnson-- take notes, but I don’t care!” “I’m headed to the UN, too. I’m bringing some guests with me,” Mina nodded at a small cluster of men striding their way. “The one with blondish hair is Andy, the black-haired one is Darien, and the brunette is Greg.” “Oh, Mina,” Ami scolded, giving the men an appreciative look, “you don’t call men brunettes! That’s a word for women only. And,” Ami’s voice was openly admiring, “he’s too cute for his own good!” “Ami,” Mina sighed, “Let’s go before you get yourself in trouble.” Grabbing the woman’s hand, Mina careened through the people crowding the sidewalk, hastily making her way to the UN building’s entrance. ~*~ Several guards lined the pathway up to the door of the UN. Mina frowned, wondering at the security arrangements. Surely something bad wasn’t expected to happen...? Ami waved cheerfully at a guard, leaned back to shamelessly flirt with Greg, laughed at Andy’s arrogance, and attempted to get through Darien’s shell. Mina groaned and pushed her social friend into the building ahead of her. “I’m sorry,” she apologized to Andy and his two friends discreetly. Ami had already gone over to sign in at a security booth outside the nearest entrance to the UN’s largest conference hall. “I think she has some alcohol, or something, in her system. Maybe a glass of wine in celebration...” When Darien looked at her oddly, his blue eyes mocking, Mina smiled in exasperation. “Ami is the quietest girl you could expect to meet-- a nerd, although she doesn’t look it. But when even a drop of wine-- or any other form of alcohol-- meets up with her system, the girl’s personality does a complete 180. It’s... strange.” Mina glanced at her watch. “We’re a tad early. Shall we go in anyway?” All three men nodded their heads, each in a varying degree of curtness. “A yes would’ve been nice,” Mina remarked dryly, leading the way over to the cubicle where Ami stood, waving at them brightly. I got myself and Mina checked in,” she said. “And you three shouldn’t take too long.” The guard watched them, a keen flame of curiosity burning in his eyes. “Greetings,” he said lightly to the men. Then he turned to Mina, with a special look. Mina blushed. “Nice to meet you, especially, Dr. Lindheim. I know all about your progress in the battle of down syndrome and other hereditary diseases, and I eagerly await your next discovery.” “Thank you,” Mina said breathlessly. The security guard was handsome, she realized with a sudden bang. He had white hair that came down to his shoulders, and dark eyes that regarded her with a serious contemplation and-- desire, she thought worriedly. “I am Jon Malachite,” he announced, turning his amazing eyes on Andy, Darien, and Greg. “ID?” He took their cards, scanned them, did a check on a computer program, then handed the identification cards back. “Nice to meet you, Andrew Triedman, Darien Carter, Gregory Mason.” The men in question nodded back, and strode through the double doors into the UN’s conference hall. “It was nice meeting you, Mizuno Ami, and you, too, Carmine Lindheim.” “Mutual,” Ami assured him, catching hold of Mina’s hand and dragging her into the hall behind her guests. “He was hot, you know,” Ami said, looking around for Gregory’s brown hair. “But... what I want to know, is... why didn’t our threesome tell us their whole names? And why did the security guard make such a point of telling us the whole name-- first and last? Something to think about.” “Right,” Mina nodded. “We may have to strangle it out of the guys, though,” she continued thoughtfully, “because they seem like the secretive type. The guard might be easier to get information out of... but still... Hey! I know! Maybe they were trying to sneak in here. But... why would anyone want to do that? I thought anybody was allowed.” “I don’t think any security officials were allowed in. Except for a very trusted, RETIRED few. That would mean no FBI and so on. I bet that’s what they’re doing! How romantic,” Ami sighed, letting Mina go as she spotted her designated chair. “And only those invited by Connor are supposed to be let in, I thought... “ Ah-ha! That’s where I’m sitting. See ya later!” Ami bounded off. Mina soon found where she was supposed to sit, and collapsed. “Heavens... That was draining,” she murmured. “Dr. Lindheim?” Mina looked up to see the official in charge of her German party crouching in front of her. “Do you feel all right?” “Yes,” she whispered. “Just a tad queasy. I think I’m over-excited.” The official nodded in understanding, moving to his seat. “I understand.” ~*~ Darien, Andrew, and Greg sat down near the back in a shadowed spot. “Well done,” Darien acknowledged. “Yes,” Greg agreed, smiling at his co-worker. Andrew straightened and said, “You expected less?” Before Darien could give a properly arrogant reprieve, a voice boomed through the speakers wired around the room, “Good day, friends.” All doors shut with resounding clicks. “We are to discuss an agreement-- therefore, we must all be willing to compromise for the betterment of our planet, and the home of the people that have traveled long to reach us. Agreed?” A chorus of affirming answers echoed through the hall. Andrew, Darien, and Greg remained silent. “Good,” the voice said. “Now, may I present to you, the Empress Tomashima!” ~*~ Serena sighed in exasperation. She felt harassed. How a day could be so horrible, she didn’t know, but this one definitely took the biscuit. She set down the pencil she was holding and began fiddling with her hair, attempting to salvage the -do she had done that morning. Her hair was falling every which way from her fingers nervously running through it. The meeting with O’Brian had not gone well. Not at all. She had realized, for the third time since she had begun working for him, that this was not a man to cross. You obeyed O’Brian, and you obeyed him well. There was no stuttering or apologies in his presence. What you did you did, and you were expected to face the consequences like a man. No matter what gender you were. He had chewed her up and spat her out. She had found his old friend, Donald Anderson, waiting for her upon her arrival at the UN, holding a sign with “Serena Johnson” printed on it. He had laughed at her flushed face, leading her into the conference hall with a mere wave at the guard as they had walked by. He’d explained to a flustered Serena that since she was with him, no identification process was necessary. Donald-- or Donny, as he adamantly insisted on being called-- was a very blustery man. The sort that gave off the impression he didn’t care for others’ feelings too much, but was a marshmallow at heart. Therefore, O’Brian had held off his temper until Donny had moved away, going over to talk to the security guards he was having patrol the UN’s hallways for terrorists. Then, Connor let her have it. He kept his voice down, true, but he scathingly told her exactly what he thought of her tardiness and explained in detail what would happen if she repeated her performance. Serena had gone through it all with a straight face, but afterwards had lost her self-control. She wasn’t used to being treated with such brutality; her father was a preacher, a loving and kind man that cherished everyone in the world, poor and rich alike, therefore being perfect for his job; her mother was a homemaker, and though she had her “mother of a voice” she was pacifist and a vegetarian and treasured folks, often going to people’s houses with home-made soup when she heard of a sickness or grief. Her sister was older by thirteen years, and was more a second mother than the dangerous older, or annoying younger, siblings she heard her friends moan about all the time. Serena had gone to the bathroom, re-done her splotched make-up, fixed her hair, and come back out with an established smile, moving to her place in the front of the hall. Serena sighed again, forcing her mind off the conversation she had had with her boss. She fervently wished he would die, going against the grain of her Christian nature. <> Serena thought, sniffing back tears of anger. <> “Excuse me?” A tough voice broke through Serena’s anguished meditation. “Yes?” She looked up at the woman standing in front of her. She was uncommonly tall-- 5’12” or 6’ perhaps-- and very pretty. Curled brown hair fell to her shoulders, and narrow green eyes framed with dark lashes glared at her with intense dislike. “May I help you?” “I believe you are sitting in my spot,” the woman growled. She had a very deep voice. “Um... I’m sorry,” Serena said lightly, trying to stay calm, “But you must be mistaken. I was told to sit here by the secretary general himself... and... I...” Serena came to a painful stop. Was it just her, or was this lady going into a fighter’s crouch? “See? My name plate’s right here...” Serena gestured at the flimsy, bronze plaque set before her on the back of the chair in front. The brunette laughed harshly. “That means it’s your chair,” she explained, her voice posh and British. She sounded like she was saying ‘ Thot means it’s yoh chah.’ “The sign is actually ON your own chair, not on the one in front. Serena Johnson, I presume?” she went on, as the secretary deftly tucked pencil, pens, and paper back in a briefcase. “Yes, and I’m so sorry,” Serena apologized, standing and tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear. She leaned back a little to look the Brit in the eyes. “Don’t worry. I was worried you were going to give me a hard time-- and you did,” she said thoughtfully, “but not very.” Serena’s cheeks heated up. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Johnson. I’m Ilita Payne. My mother named me, and she was Spanish, therefore ‘Ilita’, but my father was from the UK, hence the ‘Payne’. Learned to defend myself, with that name. My dad got me involved in a karate class.” Ilita cracked her knuckles and grinned toothily. “I justified my Hancock when anyone decided to have a go with it.” Serena gulped. “Do you have a nick-name?” she asked carefully, watching Ilita for any sign of offense. “Yeah. Lita. Sounds more British than Ilita, and I prefer to have my names match up. Like everything else. Always was preoccupied with stuff like that. I’m here for this whole alien meeting/conference thing because I’m CEO of an important UK company.” “Like what?” Serena interrogated, clutching her briefcase tightly. “Heard of PHInc?” “That big hologram company? With all the futuristic branches?” “Uh-huh. C.E.O. of that.” “Wow,” Serena said, then fell silent. “Well, I’ll let you go now,” Lita went on uncomfortably after a few moments of silence had crawled by. “Um... yeah... I apologize again,” Serena replied, backing down the aisle. “Sure. Cheerio!” Lita turned and engaged another person in conversation. Serena sagged in relief, turning around and carefully stepping down the walkway between the rows of chairs. She reached the huge, red-carpeted esplanade going down between the two main sections of seats before the platform at the beginning of the room, and turned into her row. Finally reaching her designated spot, she collapsed. Literally. The blonde just sat a moment, working on getting her thoughts collected and comprehensible. Then she began digging paper back out of her briefcase. After about ten minutes had crawled by, Serena felt a hand-tap on her shoulder. She turned around slowly, nervous. “Yeah?” “Hey-- Serena? Remember me? Lita. I just met somebody you might be able to identify with. She’s walking down your aisle now. Her name’s Raychel McDanse-- an Irish rep. She traveled with my group-- real temperamental, but she’s wonderful with notes, so she was chosen to come and sit in for her country along with Chad Morgans and Jeffrey “Jad” Murphy. I figured you two could talk secretarial stuff. She didn’t understand my talk of holograms and hovercrafts too good-- she’s utterly conventional. So... good luck!” Lita gave Serena a wink and turned away. Serena swiveled in her chair to get a look at Raychel. She wasn’t too happy about her privacy being interrupted-- she was enjoying the silence-- but she would just have to deal with it. Raychel wasn’t as tall as Lita, Serena saw with relief, although still fairly rangy at 5’6”. She had purply-black hair cut in a short bob, an hour-glass figure that showed up clearly in the cut of her business suit and skirt, and large, violet eyes. Her skin was pale, and her lips red-- Serena thought she looked like Liv Tyler, from the movie she had fawned over in her teens, “Armageddon” and some other hit movies, long since forgotten. <> Serena wondered in aggravation. <> “Hello, Ms. McDanse,” she greeted the young woman, standing and holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you,” Raychel replied huffily, shaking Serena’s hand and swiftly sitting in the chair directly to the left of Serena’s. “Umm...” Serena sat back down, glancing at Raychel, then away. “This is my seat, don’t worry,” Raychel said stiffly, undoing the clasps of her briefcase. “This whole row is for secretaries from various countries. It’s only fate that I should be next to you.” “Of course,” Serena nodded, “Ms. McDanse.” Raychel, who had been digging in her satchel for a pen, snapped her head up. She dropped the stuffy facade for a moment, grinning. “Call me Raye. My parents were tipsy when they named me-- a tad too much wine in celebration-- and therefore I got an odd spelling of a perfectly ordinary name. Impeccable for nick-name usuages.” She looked back into her bag. Serena blinked. Lita leaned over the chair to Serena’s right, a dreamy grin decorating her face. “Look at those men over there,” she ordered, nodding towards the door. “Both of you. This is a sight you don’t want to miss.” Serena and Raye both turned around to see the magnificent double doors, from which representatives from many different countries swarmed. There were three tall men, each one incredibly handsome in his own way. They didn’t look alike, but they were all glorious examples of the male species. They commanded attention as they were heads taller than everybody else entering at the time. Serena sighed in appreciation. “That is a sight for womankind,” Raye decided, her eyes glazing over. “I wish I had my camera as this is most definitely a Kodak moment.” “Hey,” Lita reminded her, “you’re a taken woman, Raye! You’ve got your hubbie picked out already.” “Who?” Raye looked at the Brit questioningly. Lita gestured towards the large diamond gracing Raychel’s ring finger. “Lookithat!” “Oh yeah... Jad... Forgot...” Raye resumed her criticizing observation of the three men, deliberately moving the ring out of sight. Lita gave an exaggerated sigh. “These guys remind me of the marble statues in museums... Well, these are dressed and the statues aren’t, but... Oh! Just look at those faces! They’re perfect!” The trio moved on, into the shadows at the back of the room. Raye watched them disappear before turning back around and moaning, “I don’t think they even saw me!!” “In a room stuffed with people... Gee, I wonder why?” Lita questioned, opening her eyes in faked innocence. “Aw, don’t be so pessimistic, Leets!! This is a thing of wonderment. That God would create such wonderful Apollos and put them on this earth... They are beautiful, and yet... manly at the same time.” Raye pulled a pen out of her bag and set the briefcase on the ground in a daze. “I think the black-haired one was the most princely-looking one. Even from here I could see his eyes...” “Shish!” Lita proclaimed, a twinkle in her eye. “You’re set to be married in two weeks! Be quiet, McDanse-soon-to-be-Murphy woman!” Raye “didn’t” hear. “Who was your favorite?” she asked, turning to Ilita. “Um...” The brunette became flustered and began to blush. “That’s confidential--” “The blonde one, right?” Raye interpreted idly, toying with her pen. “Serena?” “No comment,” Serena answered abruptly, the tips of her ears glowing red. “You think the black-haired one is cute, too,” Raye hooted, giving Serena a slap on the shoulder. “But too bad! He’s mine!” Lita and Serena looked at one another, each wondering how Raye knew such things. Ilita pretended to drop a pencil, and as she leant over, she murmured in Serena’s ear, “I’ve always held to the opinion that Raye is a psychic.” Serena smiled. Raye’s eyebrows shot up at Serena’s curved lips. “What’s she saying? That junk about me being telepathic again, huh? I’ll...” “Everything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law, sweetie,” a deep voice interrupted, “and what if Ilita died? Wouldn’t you feel horrible?” “The witch never will die,” Raye informed the tall, blonde man behind her, turning around and giving him a chaste peck on the corner of his mouth. “Everyone dies, darling, or don’t you remember?” “Leets is immortal, as am I, sweetcheeks,” Raye retorted, attempting to pinch the man’s lean face, “or have you forgotten? “Serena, this is Jeff Murphy-- my Jaddiepoo. Jad, this is Serena Johnson, a fellow secretary.” “Hi, Ms. Johnson,” Jad said, reaching over his fiancee and shaking Serena’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” “Likewise, and call me Serena.” “Then call me Jad. Please refrain from the Jaddiepoo. I’m working on my “darling” wife. She’s like a puppy getting potty-trained-- they both make messes. Only Raye has a potty problem with her mouth, not the other way round.” Raye’s mouth fell open, and she turned to gave her husband a slap on the shoulder. “You venemous thing!!! Okay, now we have to go “talk this out”. Excuse us Ilita, Serena.” Raye walked off, pulling a guiltily smiling Jad out of the conference hall by his lapels. “I wonder...” Lita murmured. Serena got her drift. “But I thought you said she was conventional!?” Serena demanded, shocked. “Surely they wouldn’t! Not in the UN!” “I was teasing, more-or-less about her conventional-ness. Raye is normally--normally-- very prosaic and stuffy around strangers, but she took to you. I’ve known her since the beginning of time-- thus the easy relationship between us. She is so shameless in front of me... But, no matter, those cute guys were for us singles only, eh, Serena?” Lita elbowed the blonde and gave her a broad wink. Serena chuckled, thinking of the black-haired hottie she had had the privilege of seeing. “I think Raye was right in comparing them to those marble statues you always see by Leonardo and them,” she said in awe, “they were chiseled to utter perfection by the Divine Creator!” Lita and Serena fell silent, thinking about their boring romance lives, and reassuring themselves with dashing pictures of their future husbands. ~*~ Raye slipped in, flushed and sweaty, moments before the doors slammed shut around the conference hall. “Hello,” whispered Lita, “you bad little thing.” Raye flushed even more than before, but smiled dazedly, straightening her jacket. “...willing to compromise for the betterment of our planet, and the home of the people that have traveled long to reach us,” a voice was booming over the speakers. <> Serena realized, and swiftly began short-handing. Raye was busy, too; and the person to her right, a strawberry blonde, had her hand streaking across paper as she took notes on the history-making meeting she was privy to. Serena felt a grin tickle her lips. “Agreed?” thundered O’Brian. A chorus of “Aye” and “Yes” and “Of course” echoed across the hall. Serena wondered where Carmine was. “Good,” Connor went on. “Now, may I present to you, the Empress Tomashima!” The hall was silent, no one coughed, no one sneezed. There was a slight rustling of paper from the strawberry blonde beside her. Click Click Serena held her breath. Tomashima’s shoe heels could be heard, tapping their way to the podium. Not many people had seen Tomashima. She had refused to go into public or attend a press conference. Serena had certainly never seen her. Click Click Click Click Serena was holding her breath. Raye elbowed her, and Serena exhaled gustily. Raye and the strawberry blonde both glared at her. Click Click Click The empress had slowed down. The clinkings of her shoes were coming slower. Serena bit her lip. Click Click Click A collective sigh was let out around the room as Tomashima came into sight. Serena nearly choked on her own spit. Tomashima was magnificent. She was perfect-- what every woman had been striving to look like since girlhood. She was tall, very tall. <> Serena’s overwhelmed brain comprehended. Her skin was so white it nearly shone silver. Her eyes were huge, a liquidy bronze-brown, surrounded by thick, black lashes. Her hair was sterling, curled naturally, and was so long it probably went down past her ankles. At the moment it was plaited and pulled back into a mass at the back of her delicate head. She was thin to the point that she was fragile as a feather. Serena was close enough that her fragrance, one of roses, washed over her head, making her dizzy. Tomashima moved swiftly to the podium, shaking hands with O’Brian and taking the microphone in a dainty hand. She moved away from the wooden lectern, smiling winningly at the audience. “Good evening, all,” she said. Her voice was soft and whispery, a beautiful speaking voice. Serena wished she looked like that. <> she thought wistfully. “My name is Tomashima, and I hope to speak to all present and visit your countries in due time, that I may get to know your people as well as I know mine. “Your world is lovely; all the blues and greens, as well as multitudes of other colors. My home planet, your moon, doesn’t have such hues. White, soft yellows, grays, and light pinks are resident there. I have enjoyed my time here so far immensely; Mr. O’Brian has been good enough to show me many things about each country present over the internet. With my brain power, I was able to absorb most of it.” Tomashima paused and smiled again, showing off straight, white teeth. She caught Serena’s eyes and nodded imperceptibly in her direction. Serena’s mouth fell open. <> she thought. “I am happy that I was able to be here, able to connect through the universe and time spans. It was wild, trying to get here, I’m telling you!” Tomashima laughed; a high, sparkling sound. <> thought Serena. <> “I’m proud to--” A shot rang out from the back of the hall. Tomashima frowned, looking down at her white dress. A small red spot appeared over her heart; it quickly spread until her entire chest was drenched, the snowy silks ruby with her blood. Tomashima gave a sigh and dropped the microphone; it rolled off the stage, under the chairs of the two rows before Serena, and came to a stop inches from her toes. Tomashima crumpled to the ground. Serena stared at the apparatus balefully; she was having problems grasping the reality of what had just happened. F.B.I. agents and bodygaurds were coming out of nowhere, covering the ambassadors from all the countries and surrounding Tomashima from further attack. Lita was thrown to the ground and covered by her personal guard; Raye had Jad immediately at her side, taking her protectively into his arms. The strawberry blonde ran for the door. Serena watched in mute horror as a second shot rang out, coming from the stage this time, catching her in the side. She dropped to the ground, twitched, and lay still. Other people, the “important” people, dressed in silks and tuxedos, drenched in jewels and perfumes, ran for the large double doors; beyond those there was freedom; a precious thing, an elusive thing; a thing priceless and unattainable once it is taken away. So many people, a mob of hundreds, had stampeded for the exit, that there was no way two guns could dispose of them all. Serena exhaled in relief, her fisted hands relaxing. It was a given; some would escape. They would get the police and back-up in here to dispose of the terrorists that had somehow snuck in. Serena looked away from the hordes at the door. She watched the scene unfolding on the steps. A man, as beautiful as the empress, was climbing the steps of the platform swiftly: with wavy, silver hair that reached the bottom of his neck, large purply-silver eyes surrounded by sooty black lashes rather than bronze-brown, clothes of grey satins and white silks; his skin was darker. Serena stared at his skin hard, her numbed mind focusing on this problem rather than the shot-down bodies of Tomashima and her fellow strawberry blonde secretary. She finally classified it as a darker shade of white. Because, though the tone was undeniably white-- it seemed blacker, bleaker somehow. Then she grasped the fact that this lovely man was carrying a pistol; a more technologically-advanced piece of equipment to be sure, but none the less it was still recognizable as a gun. He ran towards Tomashima, knocking guards out of the way. One attempted to stop him; the beautiful man shot a laser beam at him. The guard fell to the ground, eyes wide open, a stunned expression on his face. Serena whimpered, turning to Raye and Jad. They weren’t there. She began to tremble, swiveling more to look for Lita and her protector. They were gone, too. Serena felt tears of fear streaming down her face; she reached up to wipe her eyes, rubbing her washable mascara everywhere. She sniffed as hard as she could, resolving not to be a wimp, to stand her ground. She looked around the rows of chairs. Not one other human was there. Serena looked at the doorway; the masses of people attempting to push their way out were being shot down, herded by men dressed all in black. Serena sat down when she heard the scream of a dying woman, and buried her head in her hands. This was not how the day was supposed to go. She had expected to have so much more time in her life; she wasn’t even dating yet, much less having a husband or children. She’d never had her own home; an apartment, yes, but not that home she’d been dreaming of since she was small... And what about Charles? She looked up again. She needed to do something... to help... somebody... But she didn’t know who. It was obvious there were two evils in this room; what classified “them” as “evil” was the fact they were killing her fellow humans who had done nothing wrong. One of the evils had shot Tomashima; this side was dressed in solid black and seemed to be coming out of the shadows. The other side was the empress’s; they all looked alike: with silver, wavy hair, large browny-bronzy eyes, and perfect skin; they were all resplendent, other-worldly, ethereal. Angelic was the word. But, appearances could be deceptive, Serena thought, as the man that had killed the guard shot down a woman in her mid-twenties that was, like Serena, standing awkwardly and wondering what to do. <> Serena thought, a blaze of righteousness burning up her insides, adrenaline pumping in her blood, <> Serena slumped. Serena, feeling an odd sense of deja vu, turned slowly to see Raye rushing towards her. The world seemed to slow down; the sounds of death faded out. A click was heard. It echoed through Serena’s blank mind, and she turned to the beautiful man in bewilderment. He had his laser gun pointed at Raye. “NO!” Serena screamed. Her voice wasn’t slowed down to the point it was deep as she had expected; it was a high shriek that went on and on and on; somewhere, something broke. Serena heard it. She watched in horror as her new friend fell and lay still; her blood pooled around her on the floor. In that moment, it was decided who her first victim as “Mankind’s Avenger” would be. She turned in silent agony, her blue eyes fixing on the man; the cause of all her pain. As Serena began to walk towards him, all the Earthlings in the room stopped what they were doing. They weren’t submissive or admitting surrender; willing to be led to slaughter like sheep-- they were merely watching this small blonde, 5’1” give or take an inch, walk towards one of the sources of their suffering. The man laughed, bringing his laser up to focus on her. Serena didn’t notice: her heart had remembered something. She was concentrating on remembering what this something was; she realised this something was a very important something. Click He was preparing to fire-- it reminded her of Tomashima’s shoe heels, she thought idly. Wait! That was something that could buy her time... Wisht Seconds before the laser was fired, Serena bent over, still thinking too hard about that “something” she needed to remember to consider her current, perilous situation. The light shaft whizzed over her head, missing by millimeters. Serena unclasped her shoe, and, holding it carefully, stood up. She frowned at the shoe’s weight, bouncing it from hand to hand. Then, with no warning, her head came up, she pulled her arm back, and heaved the shoe at the pretty man. It hit him squarely on the forehead and fell to his feet. He blinked, then looked down at the fallen creamy, size 7 loafer with the wooden heels, $13.99. Sale. Dillard’s. Out of the blue, that something hurtled into her mind, leaving her gasping. “I know!” Her cry echoed through the silent hall, startling people into taking their first breath in seconds. Holding her right hand out, palm up, she concentrated. A glowing cylinder appeared, floating above the soft, outspread fingers. Serena’s hand closed around it. She then looked at her feet, her out-stretched arm falling heavily to her side. She stood there, peering at the ground as if an article of interest happened to be sitting there, attracting her full attention. The silver-haired man silently began to aim his gun at Serena’s reclined head. Suddenly, Serena stood straight. There was almost no motion; she was slumped over, then she wasn’t. She grinned. “Hello, Demando. It’s nice to see you again,” she murmured throatily; nevertheless her voice carried to all corners of the hall. “How did you arrange all this? All this nonsense? That poor young girl; why did you dress her up as the great Tomashima? I knew her once. Now she may as well be dead. She isn’t quite; she shall be paralyzed the rest of her life. She’s so young. A pity, really. And you killed her, Demando.” Serena started to struggle with this over-powering force in her mind. She didn’t think it was nice; she felt woozy, sleepy, and she wanted to be herself again. Somebody out there, some bodiless spirit, was talking through her. <> Serena’s arm came up, the cylinder pointed at Demando’s forehead. “Goodbye.” She pressed one of the buttons on the cylinder’s side; a beam of pure, white light blazed toward Demando. He couldn’t get out of the way in time... CRASH A large arm encircled Serena’s waist, the other came up over her hand and turned the direction of the beam toward the wall. It hit. A deactivated bomb fell to the ground from the paneling’s crumbled ruins. “What?” Serena pivoted. “Who are you, that you would dare...?” <> Serena’s sleepy mind woke up a little, concentrating on the man that was holding her body so close. <> He had a revolver, and it wasn’t on safety. He pointed it at her temple, and whispered, “Good-bye yourself.” She collapsed, screaming.