#002: SCHOOL DAZE
-Goodbye My Education-

Farley's first class that day happened to be painting. She liked it. First of all, it didn't really matter if everyone else left the classroom, and second of all, she was in it with Sailor Crescent Wrench, who was probably her best friend in the world. Sailor Crescent Wrench was a bright, sparkly-eyed pink-tinted redhead who liked to work on cars, and wasn't too artistic, but had to be in Painting I for some Sailor reason that Farley never pried too deeply into.

Even in high school, Farley had personally thought that Sailor Crescent Wrench was one of the more sensible Sailors around. Sure, she was Nene Romanova's daughter in the Sailor Moon universe, but what did that matter between friends? Nadia was good at what she did, which was repairing hardsuits and supporting the Senshi Sabers in their fight against Nega-Genom and its evil nasty youma-boomers. Also, like Farley, Nadia had absolutely no respect for the Sailors, Knights and Masks at the cuter end of the shoujo spectrum. At times, this often included herself, since she did have pink-red hair, sparkly green eyes and a petite build that just begged to be cuddled. The self-hate this inspired, and the feeling of being doomed to a life inside a maddening, illogical mythos was something that Farley could, and did, empathize with.

"Yo, Nadia." Something that had been nagging at Farley ever since the incident with the hedgehog in Chapter One. "I have something to ask..." She peered over the top of her easel at the kawaii engineer.

"Shoot." said Nadia, blowing her bangs out of her eyes as she worked.

"Well, it's Sailor business, sort of. I was just wondering... who's Sailor Scallion?"

"Scallion? Isn't that a type of snail? Maybe she's a refugee from the FSC."

"I don't think so. I'd probably have heard of her in that case." Farley shook her head. "She has a hedgehog- that's really all I know. I met the hedgehog."

"Oh, yeah. The hedgehog. That's a St. Tail rip-off... er, reference." Nadia grinned.

Farley rubbed her forehead. "But St. Tail just came out, didn't it?"

"In this universe, yeah."

"So she's new. Newer than St. Tail, anyway. But..."

Nadia peeked over at her. "What?"

"The hedgehog... the hedgehog was heading for the old school. Juuban Jr. High."

The pink-haired girl shrugged. "So what?"

"Nadia... So far, every Sailor, Knight or Mask has been relatively the same age as the First Team. Or a few years older, college transfer students, but... but..."

"Yeah, they're getting younger, okay? It's a new generation."

"Aw, fu- Er, hello, Kaiou-sensai."

Michiru Kaiou, the art teacher at Juuban Jr. College, perused Farley and Nadia's work coolly. Nadia was holding her breath and getting all starry-eyed, just as she did every time the teacher walked by. So what if Kaiou-sensai had known the First Team intimately, and was rumored to be one herself sometimes? The same was true of practically everyone in Juuban... besides, Sailors were Sailors. Farley wouldn't care even if it were true.

"Nice work, Nadia. I like the space in this picture." said Kaiou-sensai, gesturing at Nadia's pleasant meadow. "Farley, yours shows spirit."

"Thank you, Kaiou-sensai." chorused Nadia and Farley, and she moved on.

"Isn't she just the coolest?" Nadia squeaked to Farley.

"A little hero worship will never hurt you, Nadia." Farley said, staring at her canvas. "I, on the other hand, am barely restraining myself. Stop acting like..."

"A goofy schoolgirl? I AM a goofy schoolgirl, in case you hadn't noticed." said Nadia, looking so gosh darn cute and miffed it was all Farley could do not to giggle at her. However, Farley knew she really hated that. Better to save the giggles for some time when it would be worth it.

Farley shrugged. "That's true... I'm just in a bad mood. A whole new generation of Sailors, Knights and Masks... just friggin' great. Er... I apologize, OK?"

"Arigato." Nadia said, nodding cutely and retreating behind her canvas. Farley giggled quietly. The green smudge on the end of Nadia's nose was just too much.

Amazingly, as the hours wore on, our pissed-off protagonist Farley Okoru actually got through an entire day without any sort of horrible disaster, besides of course the depressing revelation in Painting 1. None of her teachers or fellow students had had to skip out of class to foil some sort of evil plot, or anything like that. Things had, in fact, gone rather well. Of course this meant they were only going to get worse.

Dodging the usual assortment of civilian Sailors, Knights and Masks that were usually swarming around Juuban Junior College in the evening, Farley headed down the street towards the shopping center for lunch. "I hate this place." she thought. "Someday I'm just going to snap and try and swim to mainland China. It may be Communist, but it's got to be better than this."

Farley knew that due to the quietness of the afternoon, an attack of nasty evil badness was due to hit the shopping center sometime this evening, in the dramatic lighting that came with twilight. This place was a prime target, full of happy, smiling, money in their purses, vermin draped over their shoulders, skinny-legs, shiny-haired, bubble-headed... Farley felt herself slipping into bitterness, and decided to go get some chocolate ice cream.

Unsurprisingly, yet amazingly frustratingly, the line in front of the ice cream shop stretched for quite a few blocks down the street. It was made up of cute, clean-cut pretty people, most of whom Farley went to school with. She found an empty bench underneath a tree near the ice cream shop, (just in case the line miraculously cleared) and sat down. Reaching into her backpack, Farley pulled out her black notebook and began making notes for Monday's "Sailors, Knights and Masks" column for the Tokyo Tattler.

WHY I HATE SAILORS, KNIGHTS AND MASKS

by Farley Okoru

she wrote, with an emotion not unlike a small amount of happiness. Her editor, Mr. Kawazaka, always made her change her headlines before her stories became hard copy, but... what the hell.

"Sailors, Knights and Masks." Farley wrote. "They began showing up in 1993, avalanching into Juuban's humble reality like a million pounds of suffocating snow. Like a billion snowflakes, all are superficially different in tiny, non-creative ways, or so some people would have us believe. But all I see are a bunch of..."

Farley took a deep breath, erased the last sentence and started over.

"But it's true," she continued, "that those who have stuck around through their college years, like Sailor Tin Foil Salamander or Deckhand Matey Mask, all have something in common. First, they're all amazingly successful. None have died or lost their powers. Second, they're doggedly persistent, continuing their adventures long after many have tired of their adventures. Third, they're all amazingly incompetent. Which explains why none of them have defeated any of the countless nasty bad evildoers who, for some time, have been stealing our energy, soul crystals, dream mirrors, star seeds, ambition bubbles, happy smile generators, love wiring, heartbeat audio feedback loop collectors, and sometimes even our wallets.

"However..." Farley began a new paragraph. "This reporter has garnered some new information, which may either please the public or horrify it to the bone. The current crop of Sailors, Knights and Masks, is not the only one. A new generation has been spawned from who knows where, and-"

Farley paused. Was that screaming she heard? It must be, for the Sailors, Knights and Masks who'd been lined up in front of the ice cream shop were taking off in various directions to transform, henshin or whatever. Farley tucked her notebook back into her bag, went over, and ordered a triple scoop of double chocolate in a waffle cone. Strolling leisurely, she headed for the battle.

It was the evil Apocalypse Lovelies today, six of them. They were from an alternate dimension. Or maybe a dark comet. They dressed rather sluttily. And they were lined up in a row facing a few scattered members of the Celestial Seasoning Scouts- Parsley, the Jupiter-template, Sage, the Mercury-template, Rosemary, the Chibi-Moon template, and Thyme, the Pluto-template.

Farley stood upwind, finished her ice cream, and snapped a few shots at dramatic angles with her Polaroid. Then she wrote down a few notes as the combatants began to hurl insults and speeches at each other. When they tired of that and began hurling stupid attacks, Farley hunkered down behind a trash can, lit a cigarette, and watched.

It was not long before something struck her as odd about the leader of the bad girls- Fatale Beauty, if Farley had her name right. Well, actually, a lot about her was odd - the teal skin, the glowing purple eyes, the fact that her chest wasn't causing her to fall over... but actually, all that was par for the course as far as bad girls went. No, Farley's bad feeling merely intensified as she studied Fatale. Something bad was going to happen. In the blink of an eye, Fatale suddenly stopped zapping at the fiery Sailor Paprika, teleported, and appeared behind Farley. "Why am I always right?" muttered Farley.

How, you wonder, did Farley know Fatale was behind her? She knew it because she got really angry all of a sudden. Farley got mad at destiny sometimes, fate, whatever it was that made the world work. Farley knew without a shadow of a doubt the way Fatale would fight. She was evil and outgunned- hostage-taking was the way to go. And of course, Farley was the only person who ever defied the convention that all battles take place in an abandoned area.

Farley often wondered about that. Wasn't anyone even curious about the Sailors, Knights and Masks? Did they just prefer to read the spoon-fed, calming articles morons like her risked their lives to get? Speaking of morons, wasn't anyone even stupid enough to sneak up on a Sailor, Knight or Mask battle... except her? Wasn't anyone even unlucky enough to stumble upon one accidentally?

But no, thought Farley, getting to her feet. She was quite obviously the unluckiest person in Juuban precinct. If not the entire city of Tokyo. She turned around to face Fatale. If not the entire continent of Japan. Farley noticed that Fatale had suddenly sprouted some long, thin, razor-sharp, blood-red claws. If not the world. "Listen you." said Farley in an intense whisper, cigarette dangling out of the corner of her mouth. She grabbed Fatale's wrist and squeezed, funneling all her anger into this useless gesture. "No one takes me as hostage. No one! And you know why?"

Fatale raised one thin eyebrow and gave Farley a brilliant fanged smile. "Foolish human." Reflexively, Farley rolled her eyes so far back into her head, it hurt. Fatale grinned and decided to repeat herself, twitching her hand to shake off Farley's grip without even trying. "Foolish human... why ever not?"

"Because no one would care." Farley hissed. "It's just not dramatic. Those Spice Scouts don't know me from Akira! I don't enter their world. Sure, it would have worked if they'd met me earlier today and I'd been a guest star in their little cosmos- maybe did some crap speech about my first kiss or a lost puppy. Then they'd care, and when they rescued me, people everywhere would go 'Aww.' There's even a provision in the dramatic code for bitches like me, you know? In case bitches like you get real desperate. All I have to do is get saved by the Scouts and repent of my bitchery. Well you know what, punk? It ain't... gonna... happen."

Farley and Fatale stared at each other. Fatale's eyes narrowed to match Farley's gaze...

Fatale blinked.

Farley shouldered past her and stomped down the street. As soon as she was at, well, what she really didn't care if it was a safe distance or not, she stopped, leaned against a lamppost, and closed her eyes. Dragging deeply on her cigarette, she moved it into a shaking hand as she exhaled. Squinting, she began rubbing her forehead reflexively with the other hand. She'd seen a lot of people make a lot of dramatic speeches. Then, magically, a symbol appeared on their forehead. But not Farley. She just got a migraine right between her eyes.

It didn't go away as Farley walked home through the smoggy, noisy streets of Juuban. It got worse as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. Aspirin didn't help, and she was out of the cheap sake she bought by the case at the corner drugstore. It was only seven PM, but Farley pulled the shades, collapsed on her futon without getting undressed, and growled at her pillow, "If I'm not asleep in five minutes, I'm going to bang my head against the wall until I'm unconscious."

Five peaceful minutes and two painful ones later, Farley Okoru's day was over.

* * END CHAPTER TWO * *

Go on to Chapter 3 of Farley's Tale

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