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In the past week the news had been filled with kidnapping reports. Aithne remembered clearly, sitting at her table, spooning soup into her mouth as the news channel covered the disappearance of a beautiful girl with black hair. It was at that moment that she thought, "Ah, this is the kind of thing Marlo wouldn't be able to stand." So when the call, proposition, and obligatory guilt-trip came she wasn't surprised. Marlo, whatever others thought about him, was a fundamentally good person, mostly. Money helped drag that part out into the open, but he was a good person deep down.

Fundamentally good didn't stop him from being an a** though. Yes, it was very nice of Pollux to come around and save Crux from nasty encounters. And yes, they were friends, good friends, but no. She had never believed Marlo had come to her side purely in the name of friendship. He was always calculating, always weighing losses and profits. Aithne liked that part of him. It meant he was rational. It meant he was less likely to do something rash, something undeniably and horribly stupid. It meant that if things took a turn for the worse, Pollux would retreat or toss her aside even if they were friends. She liked that assumption too, if either of them became too reliant on the other that would be dangerous. Reliance was weakness. This knowledge kept them both on their toes, well aware of the definitions of their relationships.

But assumptions were assumptions. There was a little part of her who often spoke out, voicing out the dangers. It reasoned that if she knew that Pollux would be willing to toss her aside, why would she even bother with him. Better to stay away, somewhere safe. Aithne liked to push that voice away. Not because it was questioning or voicing doubt, but because of the answer she held down in her throat. Because if worse came to worse, I'd protect Marlo. And there was a even smaller, suppressed voice that said Marlo might do the same. She had become good at tossing these thoughts deep into her stomach, into the bowels of her soul where she hoped they would stay. Whenever it began to surface, she thought of Diarmuid. Loyalty brought him nothing but pain and betrayal. She had no desire to end up like him, loyalty was a trait of hers better left to gather dust.


Slowly, she struggled to open her eyes. Darkness was still seeping at the edges of her vision, but she was waking up. Aithne sat up. She looked around. It was an empty room, concrete floors, high ceilings and walls. A lone window let in a beam of moonlight. There were a few crates, a few crowbars and a forklift. There was dust and cobwebs gathering in the corners. Her hands were bound, but not quite tight enough. Whoever had done the kidnapping had been careless. She slipped out of them after a small struggle. Rubbing her wrists, Aithne sucked in her breath and closed her eyes, trying to remember the previous events.

She remembered getting ready. Pollux had reminded her to keep her cell-phone on her body at all times. A means of tracking, of finding these men. She didn't recall much else. They'd talked briefly about the people, waltzing around the topic of motive. He'd given her the choice on how to act the victim, she'd chosen sleeping pills. Aithne would fall asleep on a bus stop well within their area, a sitting duck. It would only be a matter of how long it took them to find her. As soon as her tracking dot began to move, Marlo would know. Before she had popped the pills, she had remembered looking him in the eyes. "I trust you." She had said directly.

A quick glance at her wrist to check the time. But her watch wasn't there.

"s**t."

Aithne stood up quickly and made her way to the door. On the way she grabbed a rusty crowbar. The door wasn't even locked. What foolish men. She slipped out into the hallway and hoped that she hadn't kept Marlo waiting too long. The world only knew how much patience he had.

Aithne had been fairly confident she'd done a good job of hiding herself. Damn Pollux to hell, calling her out like that. She'd lost the only advantage she had. Aithne was fit, she was fast and lithe, but in terms of hand-to-hand combat, she was disadvantaged. Perhaps if she had been able to stay hidden, she would have managed to sneak up and take them out before they realized she had escaped.

As it was, a man in his mid-twenties came at her, ready to restrain and hurt. On instinct, Aithne swung the metal crow bar at his midsection. The bar caught him in the ribs and he staggered backwards. But as soon as the man fell away, another guy came at her. She saw Pollux blocking and punching. Unlike her, he was experienced in both street fighting and formal fighting. Next to his skill, she seemed like a quivering toddler, even if she had a weapon.

She stepped back. Took another step back as they continued to approach. And then Aithne remembered that she was not just Aithne. From her pocket, she pulled the slim henshin pen, from her soul she called forth the familiar fire. A surge of power, like flames running through her veins clawing for release.

"Repent!"

She said, unsure if the voice had reached anyone amongst the scuffle. Closing her eyes, she welcomed the power as it broke free from inside her. When Aithne opened her eyes again, she was no longer Aithne Byrne, helpless captive. She was Sailor Crux.

One of the men came at her, his fist shooting out to hit her. Crux caught his wrist in her own, was aware of the cold of his skin. She kept eye contact, did not break it even as she leaned forward. Once again she felt the power gathering within her, pent up against a wall as if waiting for release. Still staring into the man's eyes she whispered, "I absolve you."

She felt the power flow out from her and into the man. He stepped back, as if dazed, his enmity falling away like discarded clothes.

She'd managed to dodge the man's second punch and landed her own in his stomach. Was the man underestimating her just because she was a girl. Crux scowled. He swung again, the punch too wide to hit her. She jumped back, felt her shoulder blade scratch against the walls. And then, as if lead by some kind of instinct, she punched the man under his chin, forcing his head up. He stumbled before falling down, hitting his head on the wall and knocking himself out in the process. She pulled the back of the hand against her forehead, dragging away sweat. Two guys attacking her were down and out, one of them was out cold and the other one seemed to have lost his will to fight. That meant the only ones left were the ones going after Pollux. And last she checked, one of them was already on the ground. She allowed herself to lean back against the wall and let out a sigh of relief.

"Crux, clock them!"

Or not. She whipped her head in Pollux's direction. His ankle was firmly in the grasp of the man on the floor. Another one seemed ready to knock his pouty little teeth out. Pushing off the wall, she made a grab at the non-bloodied man. Crux caught his free arm, the one that wasn't about to punch Pollux, twisted it back so that the man whirled around to look at her.

She forced the energy out, willing it towards the guy. It was harder this second time, so much harder than the first time when it had seemed second nature. "Absolution!" She cried out.

It made no difference. The man swung out, albeit without that much force seeing as she still had a firm grip on one of his arms, to hit Pollux. She let go instinctively, had jumped back. It didn't work? From the few times she'd used her power, Crux had surmised it's ability. To dissolve enmity. But following that logic, the man shouldn't be able to attack. Yet...

Obviously it hadn't worked. Frantic, she stamped down hard on the other man's hand. Hopefully it was enough to make him let go, hopefully it would be enough to release Pollux from his grip.