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The poster outside the small downtown movie theater announced tonight’s entertainment. It had slanted Indiana Jones-like text covering up the classic image of the Creature from the Black Lagoon with a painted pin-up damsel in its arms. The poster was deceiving though. The Creature from the Black Lagoon was not on the roster for tonight’s show; neither were any of the classic monster movies. No favorites, just obscure titles; the small theater only had one screen and it's owners had trouble securing the rights to show any big name movies.

With the raise of monsters and terrorist activity in Destiny City, it was miracle that a tiny independent theater was still running. Artsy movies and cult classics just weren’t bringing as many people as they used to. Everyone was going to the big blockbusters. The owners of the theater were hoping that this one night, and advertising, would bring in a lot of business.

The deceptive poster had been plastered all over town. It had been stapled to many café message boards. Several posters were glued to the brick wall in the alley behind the theater. It was certainly hard to miss. The retro painted poster style clashed with the bright flashy posters for bands and plain white babysitting ads. At least it was hard to miss for Morgan Everett.

Morgan loved this kind of thing. Ever since she had spotted the poster a week ago, she had been excited for tonight; not that she told anyone. She wasn’t about to admit to any of her friends that she was skipping a night of clubbing to see a bunch of monster movies nobody had ever heard of. They certainly weren’t mainstream titles, but for anyone in the know, The Terror of St. Mark’s (a gory monster flick set in set in a Catholic church with oodles of cheesy priests)* was huge on the cult movie seen. Even better, it was playing first.

Morgan was even dressed for the event. She was wearing her best pin-up, rockabilly outfit: a low cut polka dot halter top, high-waisted skin tight jeans, a cross necklace, and big round vintage sunglasses (so no one recognized her). She had already gotten her ticket, pop corn, and soda. Scanning the nearly empty theater, she looked for the best seat.

The theater had a nice empty balcony section, only a few people were loafing around up there; it was perfect. Morgan walked up the steps and found a spot in the middle row. Putting her feet up on the seat in front of her, she settled in and got comfy.

((*Totally non-existent))

“OH. My apologies. I didn’t see you there, your hair just matches these seats so well.” It was only a slightly sarcastic remark. Morgan tapped the mossy-brown fabric of the theater seat with the heel of her peep-toe pumps. “Perfect match.”

In actuality, Morgan did see the girl in front of; she just didn’t care. Hitting her wasn’t intentional, of course. But, Morgan wasn’t about to sacrifice her comfort for a girl she didn’t even know. As the center of the universe, she didn’t feel see why her comfort had to be forsaken for the benefit of this girl. However, Morgan was willing to play along. She inched her feet over, dropping them into the crevice between the two seats diagonally in front of her. That was all she was willing to budge.

“There all better.” She giggled slightly and began to munch on her popcorn.

“Really, if it bothers you that much that you have to make a scene…” Morgan made a flimsy gesture to point out the few other patrons that were starting to stare. “Alright. Onto terra firma.” Her feet fell to floor and made a loud click against the linoleum floor.

Just then the theater grew dark and the screen flickered; the movie was starting. “Look, it’s starting. Maybe you should just sit back and enjoy the show.”

The small dispute left the red-head relatively unscathed. She wasn’t really bothered at all. Having her feet on the floor wasn’t such a loss. It certainly wasn’t as comfortable, but Morgan didn’t want to start a scene. God forbid she attract attention to herself. What if she knew someone in the audience? What if they say her, here? No, it was better to give on that one paltry demand.

As the introductory music began to play, Morgan couldn’t help but to tap her feet to the beat. The clack of her shoes was almost in time with the musical cues.

Without any hindrance, Morgan tapped her heels happily to the dark thematic music. She thought it added some ambiance. As the movie played, Morgan laughed to herself as she noticed silly things in the background. Nearly a minute in, she noticed the fuzzy edged of a boom in the top left corner. Then she saw a shadowy figure running across the screen.

Tilting her head, Morgan strained her eyes to see it more clearly. It was too fast to be someone in a costume. It had shiny scales and a set of claws that looked like they were made from real bone; there was no way the movie had the budget to pay for good costumes.

That monster was real! Morgan clued in before it had ripped through the screen. Jumping to her feet, she looked around for the safest place to transform. The theater was chaotic; people were running around screaming like there was no tomorrow. There wouldn’t be if they didn’t get out soon. Morgan watched as people fought over the emergency exit and ran out the regular doors. Her options looked limited, it was wait or get out and find a better position.

Then the girl in front of her caught her attention. Why was she still here? Morgan sighed at her obvious stupidity. If she couldn’t realize that the monster was real, and would likely shred her to pieces, then perhaps it was just natural selection at work. She was forcing her hand, Morgan had to get out.

“ I’m sure it would, but now isn’t the best time for me. Shouldn’t you be running along too, it must be past your bedtime anyways?” Morgan yelled at Devi as she began to dash down the stairs. The redhead figured that her best bet was to transform in the washrooms. If that stubborn b***h was still there when she came back, then that was her problem.

Morgan was quick to get out. She had disappeared into the washrooms. Lucky for her it was abandoned, everyone must have gotten out. When she emerged, she was Sailor Circe. The teal suited senshi ran back to the theater, the carpet lining the aisle muffled her foot steps.

When she returned to the theater, she was glad to see that the brunette civilian had gone. Though, Circe was surprised to see a new brunette senshi getting her a** handed to her by the youma. Hmmm another senshi already on the scene. Circe considered stepping back from this one, save herself the injuries. She couldn’t help but feel just a tiny bit sorry for the brunette senshi, mostly for her unfortunate fuku. Sighing lightly, Circe scrambled down an aisle. On her way down, she picked up a half empty soda cup and tossed it at the back of the youma’s head. It made a satisfactory splash as the lid popped off.

“That’s for ruining my night.” She took a stance, ready to defend herself if the youma came after her. Her powers were mostly defensive; all she had to attack the youma with was her fists and wits.

The youma struggled under the weight of Requiem. It furiously wagged its arms, trying to scratch and tear at Circe, simultaneously attempting to shake Requiem. It had no such luck at bucking off Requiem, however it managed to scratch Circe. She hissed at the pain, a blood was starting to lightly rise to the surface of her skin.

Though she didn’t appreciate being told what to do, she looked around for something, anything to beat the youma with. Amber eyes scanned the theater. Ah!

Circe dashed up the steps and into an row of seats. A purse with a metal chain was abandoned on a seat. Picking it up, Circe jumped up on the seat and leapt from on to the next. She stopped just short of the youma. “This’ll do!”

Before she went closer, she called out “Molt Boost.” A faint golden glow came over her. Her skin glistened, and the pain in her arm became numb. That was her special gift, temporary protection from pain and damage. It would help protect her from the youma’s sharp claws, or at least minimize the damage. Circe stepped in front of the youma and wrapped the purse’s chain strap around it’s neck and tried to pull it tight.

It was like a scene straight out of a Tarantino movie. Blood splattered onto Circe’s face when Requiem bashed into its skull. Her grip on the purse straps remained firm. There was distinct snap, the sound of a bone cracking. The youma’s neck and what was left of its head drooped off to the side. But like a chicken with tis head cut off, the youma still had bit of fight left in it. Its claws swiped angrily at Circe, digging passed the protective magic layer. The magic that protected her broken, and layer of gold seemed to shed off her. “Mother ********/> After striking, the youma exploded into dust. After wiping the blood off her face with a glove, Circe looked down at her arms, a long gash was bleeding on her forearm. It wasn’t deep and looked more like a bad cat scratch, but the mark would stay for days. All the redhead's concern was for herself, she didn't bother to thank or ask about Requiem.

The tone of Requiem’s voice was not lost on Circe. Glancing away from her own troubles, she took in the frightful sight that was Requiem. “Thank you. But you’re fine. But should I be thanking you? Did you HAVE TO be so violent as to splatter blood all over me? There was no other way to do that… or do not have a useful power?”

Circe was all for force when force was absolutely necessary, but it have to be quite so gory? Having never heard of the Blood Moon, or seen a cadet in action, Circe considered those particular tactics so… primitive. Circe’s amber eyes narrowed, looking over the drab fuku. Judging by how she looked, Requiem couldn’t possibly had an interesting or useful power. It was probably boring people to death, or conjuring moth balls. Requiem looked like an undertaker from an old western movie.