Dancing With the Gods

Chapter 1: Bridges

Written by Sailor Stroiketcy

There was a tiny blonde sitting near the bar. She didn't drink their alcohol, she was too picky for that. She had her own little flask, from which she poured a light blue liquid into what looked like a simple but elegant martini glass. Most people who knew her would not have recognized her. Her too-fine blonde hair was stiffly moused, spiking out of a clip and hair-sprayed purple. Her traditional skin-tight black leather pants had been traded for purple-and-green tights and a shiny black miniskirt, and her favored turtle-neck sweaters had been exchanged for a tight purple corset with a long-sleeved green mesh shirt that turned into fingerless gloves. She'd even gone so far as to adorn her face with what she mockingly called 'sloth' makeup - despite her fondness for it, she had to mock anyone else who wore it. Dark purple lipstick and heavy green eyeshadow over matte white foundation. The only part of the young woman that did not change from her day-to-day persona was the heavy, knee-high steel-toed boots that she wore at all times.

Carmelle Cherry leaned back in her vomit-soaked chair and let a pale smile flit across her face. This was her place, these were her people. She could feel it. Of course, a good many of them were drunk or glitterstim-crazed, but they were like her. They appreciated this music, this atmosphere. This was the one place where they could be whoever they wanted, without repercussions.

The loud angry sounds from the band on stage flowed through her, healing her nerves from the stress of the bar. She always attended these shows. The band was made up of gods, she knew it. No one could manipulate instruments like that without divine blood running through their veins. She closed her eyes and felt every strum of the bass, every beat of the drum. To her, music was a better high than glitterstim could ever give. This was the true nectar of the gods. She shivered with the delicious loudness of it, and wiggled her toes inside her boots as it ended.

Of course, most beings in the galaxy would find their ears bleeding after such music, but Carmelle was not the average being. In fact, most popular music offended her, thus the many signs in her bar with the emphatic phrase 'no SINGING!'. This was also because most of the beings in her bar ended up being very, very drunk, and with her fervent belief that the gods of music would be very, very offended by any musical aspirations by said beings, she did her best to make sure that no customer sang in her bar.

She felt a keen sense of loss as the song ended and sighed heavily. She was happy now, but reality would soon weigh in on her again. She watched the follow up band trudge onto the state with critical eyes. She'd heard them before but they were ludicrously bad. They had a much too cheerful sound for this place, had no knowledge of their instruments and really belonged at one of the teen clubs on the upper levels. She sighed in exasperation and headed for the door, grabbing her black trench coat and shrugging it on as she walked out. It wasn't worth the loss of sleep to stay.

She froze outside the door, feeling an uncomfortably familiar sensation in her gut. She slowly moved to the side of the building and peered into the alley. She sighed and moved closer, inching her hand into her purse in search of her Chalice. She pulled it out with a triumphant smirk and struck a fingernail against the edge. A high clear note rang for an instant and the ghost she was staring at covered her ears in panic. The young woman the ghost had been stalking stopped and stared at her. She was pretty, long dark curls and eyes just a little too brightly green.

"Um... hello?" She greeted cautiously, shooting a look toward the stage door.

"Just a second," Carmelle said quickly. She turned her eyes to the ghost and frowned at it. "You know of any reason why the ghost of a middle-aged woman in a tacky green robe would be following you?"

"A WHAT?!" She panicked and looked around, jumping back against the wall. "I HATE ghosts!"

"I resent that!" The ghost said, though whether she was replying to the girl or Carmelle's reference to her outfit was unknown. "Who are you?"

"I think the title is 'Agent of the Spirit World'," Carmelle shrugged, "but as far as I can tell I just see dead people."

"Oh GREAT!" The girl was still panicking. "So just you get to see it?!"

"Yeah, just me. Lucky, lucky me," Carmelle held up the glass. "Now, you have a couple choices here. You can tell me what you wanted from this girl here and pass on to the next life, or I use my pretty little martini glass to suck you into a jar with all the rest of my uncooperative ghosts. Believe me, I was thrilled when I figured out that little feature. Of course, my pet ghost gets on me for filling it with olives, but I figure heck, they're the ones that gave me lip, they can deal with being cramped."

The ghost started to look nervous. "Hey now, I didn't actually do anything you know. I didn't touch her."

"Do I have to do the spiel again?" Carmelle was started to look annoyed and began to dig through her monstrous purse for the olive jar. "You pass on, or you spend eternity learning to really love olives."

"Okay! I was gonna try this thing I heard about." The ghost was looking around anxiously now. "This ghost a couple floors down told me how to possess people. Permanently. You can live again, just in someone else's body. So I started shopping around for a look I liked."

"That's a new one for me. Body-shopping. 'I kind of like the one with the brown hair but her boobs are a little small, I think I'll keep looking and come back later'. Sorry, can't let you. This girl obviously appreciates fine music, so I just can't allow you to possess her. Besides, I think she's with the band."

"I am! And I don't wanna be possessed!" The woman shrank back against the broken hover-car behind her and shuddered. "Really don't!"

Carmelle shot her a dark look. "Okay, how about you RUN then?"

"But -" she pointed in the direction she guessed Carmelle had been talking to, "there's a ghost! I can't just leave you alone with it!"

Carmelle raised an eyebrow and gave her a second look. Either she was trying to pull something because she didn't believe her, or she was surprisingly brave. "Fine then, have fun helping me fight something you can't see." She turned back to the ghost - which was obviously stupid, since it hadn't made a move to possess the girl or run away - and held up the Urn of the Spirits, what she jokingly called Olive Purgatory. "Okay, choose now or forever hold your breath."

The spirit's aura darkened. They didn't like ultimatums, which was generally why Carmelle so enjoyed giving them. Her formerly high and rather nasal voice turned deep and gravelly. "You will not treat a member of the spirit realm with such disrespect! MORTAL!"

"Okay, you're calling ME mortal? Which one of us is the dead one here?" Carmelle was quickly tiring of creative banter. She held the Chalice as if to toast and grinned. "Oppa!" The ghost looked at her oddly. "Kidding. Stroiketcy Sailor Salut!" Magic filled the air and moments later Carmelle had been replaced with Sailor Stroiketcy. She tapped the Chalice again and watched horror flood the spirit's features. "This is just a headache ducky. Want to spend eternity crouched in the bottom of an olive jar next to a man who might not have bathed real often before he died?"

A massive roar escaped the furious phantom's throat and she charged at Carmelle. The petite blonde was thrown by the force of the ghoul's punch, her back hitting the wall with such force that a small crack appeared. The woman screamed and stood up shakily and faced the direction the push had come from. "Leave her alo-gah!" She was interrupted by being suddenly lifted up a good thirty feet above the concrete alley floor and floated in the general direction of the main road.

Carmelle looked at the specter with growing irritation. "Okay, ghoulie, time for it to start." She pulled out a long thin chain from seemingly nowhere and used it to grab hold of the ghost's foot. Unfortunately the ghost was also continuing to float itself upward. "SMEG!" Carmelle looked down and swore again, seeing the Urn sitting atop her purse on the floor. She had no choice. "BRACE YOURSELF!" She yelled.

"WHAT FOR?!" The curly-haired woman shouted back rather hysterically.

"THIS!" Carmelle connected both hands to the chain and shouted upwards. "Spirit of the Underworld, you have broken the laws of Life and Death! You are condemned, I bind you to my control!"

The specter laughed for three seconds, before it realized that it was rapidly shrinking, and its essence was slithering along the chain that bound it to Sailor Stroiketcy. All of a sudden, its powers vanished and the two women plummeted to the ground. Carmelle landed roughly on the back of the hover-car, then emitted a loud 'OOF' as the girl landed half on her, half in the back seat.

The dark-haired woman quickly scrambled off of her and onto the solid ground. She shuddered and whimpered. "I hate ghosts."

"Try fighting them for ten years without the powers," Carmelle glowered, picked up her abandoned chain and dropping it into the Urn. She watched as it dissolve instants later, abandoning the ghost in a purgatory of pickled fruit and spirits. She always got a vindictive pleasure in putting a ghost away. There was a feeling of having done well when she saved a soul and let it rest in peace or become one with the Force or whatever you called it, but it never gave her as much satisfaction as seeing one put to purgatory. Let the smeggin' things suffer was her opinion.

The girl gave her a sudden suspicious look. "So you're a Sailor Senshi?"

"So they tell me," Carmelle shrugged. "I get a little extra help against the ghosts is all I've found." The magic was slowly fading away, leaving her back in her bar-hopping attire.

"Oh. I thought it was a myth. Well, I'm Nella. That is, Ranella Marcis."

"Ah," Carmelle folded her arms. "Carmelle Cherry."

"Your name is yummy," Nella grinned and hopped on the back of the hover, scooting around to get comfortable.

The blonde - who was pleased to note that her hair had returned itself to its purple-spikiness - rolled her eyes. "I get that a lot. You might want to try not being in dark alleys so much."

"Well I was going to get the hover car, we've got a lot of equipment to carry."

"Oh right, you said you're with the band! You were for real? Brock Chaus?"

"Um... yup," Nella looked at her curiously. "Are you a groupie?"

"In every way except for having slept with a band member, yes!" Carmelle's eyes were nearly glowing. "I adore them. They've been blessed by the gods of Music. Assuming they aren't direct relations that is."

Nella nearly fell off the hover, she was giggling so much. "Gods? Them?" She regained her composure after a moment - though she was still hit with the occasional giggle-fit for the next few minutes. "Nope, they're human. Brock is my boyfriend. Believe me, it's a little harder to love them when they're playing and you're trying to sleep."

"I would only dream to sleep to that," Carmelle rolled her eyes. "It's better than the drunks outside my bar trying to serenade me."

"You have a bar?" Her eyes lit up. "Do you need a band?"

Carmelle chewed her cheek. "I would, I really would, but I wouldn't insult them by having substandard conditions. I know others do, but I can't. You're welcome to come to the bar, though. It's Cherry, and um, here, I've got the address written down. Y'all should come. I'll get you a round."

Nella took the piece of paper and smiled. "I'll be there," she held out her hand to Carmelle. "It was really nice to meet you, and thank you for the help. If you ever need help, let me know."

Carmelle took a deep breath and gave Nella a long searching glance. "Well, do you have any experience tending bar?"

A long slow smile spread across Ranella's face. "As a matter of fact, I do," she replied, tucking the card into her belt. "When do I start?"

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