#003: SHADOWED NIGHTS
-Had I But Known-

Farley woke from her restless sleep at approximately midnight. She felt physically horrible, but serene and calm, as though the leg cramps, pounding headache, and general icky feeling that she always got when she slept in her clothes mattered not a bit.

In fact, she felt great. Slightly detatched, which counts as peaceful if you're Farley. Slightly energetic, a little jumpy, but that was to be expected. Why not get up now? she thought. It's not as though I have regular sleeping habits anyway. Farley rolled out of bed, put on some slippers and padded into her darkened kitchen for her customary morning meal.

She was out of cigarettes.

She was out of coffee.

She was out of sake.

The moon shone through the kitchen window. Farley swore at it in West Slovakian. It would be hours before any sort of convenience store was open in her neighborhood. She paced around her apartment desperately searching for an extra pack of cigarettes, a half-empty bottle of sake, some diet pills, mouthwash, anything.

Nothing.

Farley looked up at the moon, deluding herself into believing that it was almost light... almost the dawn of a new day... Something would be open. She just had to go out and look for it. It was better than staying inside till she started slitting the linings of her couch, anyway.

She kicked off her slippers, dashed into the bedroom, pulled off her jumper, and decided the crumpled blouse underneath wasn't so bad, so she left it and pulled on a pair of jeans and some shoes without socks. Grabbing her purse and slinging it over her shoulder, she left her apartment. She discovered quite a few new aches and pains as she thumped down the stairs, her smoker's lungs protesting in vain.

Farley stopped on the street outside of her apartment building, leaning against a lamppost. She glanced around, but couldn't see lights in any store windows. "Fine." she said, and started walking to the subway station. The city was quiet, with only an occasional car passing Farley in the darkness.

Suddenly, a dark figure loomed out of the alleyway. Farley's left eye twitched, and she grabbed for the taser she kept in her purse.

"Hold it right there, evil nasty badness." she snarled.

The dark figure stepped forward, accompanied by a dramatic surge in the background music. However, it was not heavy on thumping bass and minor chords, which would indicate evil, but rather trumpets and a hint of electric guitar, as befitted a courageous, strong, honorable, upright, well-dressed, manly hero.

"Oh for Macek's sake." said Farley, sighing. She relaxed, for over the years she had learned that the background music never lies. "Sorry buddy, unless you're a one-man tobacco outlet store I'm not interested."

"This is my quest." the shadowed figure said in a husky voice that curled Farley's toes. It made her want to take all her clothes off. She resisted. "I need your help. I'm looking for Hitsuji-hime."

"Princess Sheep?" Farley translated, winced, then thought about it for a while. She wondered if the man in the mask was as sexy as he sounded. "Well... Look, I could probably help, but not now. During normal business hours, that's fine. Come by the newsroom sometime, I'll..."

"What? But you're one of her guardians!" said the figure. "Can't you tell where she is through your psychic connection?"

"Awww." Farley sighed. And he sounded so nice, too. Why did he have to turn out to be just another easily brainwashed, angsty wacko? "Listen, template-boy... I'm not a Sailor, Knight or Mask. If I were, I'd know." She pushed past the shadowed figure and moved on down the street.

"But you are!" said the shadowy figure, following Farley down the street. "You're Hitsuji-hime's protector, Sailor Yagi! You have all the-"

"The goat senshi?" Farley stared at him. "What, your mythos is based on barnyard animals? Come on... I could pull a better mythos outta my- Hey, who are you, anyway?" she stepped forward, half angry, half amused. The mysterious guy drew back. "No, come on. Tuxedo Farmboy? Bib Overalls-Mask? Did Sailor Practical Joke send you? Look, would you just come out of the damn all-concealing shadow?" she yelled. "It's hella annoying, especially considering we're directly under a damn street-light!"

"I cannot reveal all my secrets to you now, Sailor Yagi. But don't worry. I'll be back." Farley watched the dark figure jump to the top of the lamppost and dash away over the rooftops.

"Why can't they ever just mug me?" she muttered, and continued on in her search for cigarettes, a little bit more jittery with each minute that went by. "Sailor Yagi." she laughed, rubbing her forehead. Suddenly nervous, she pulled out a pocket mirror and stared at her forehead.

Nothing.

"I knew that." she muttered, shoving the mirror back in her purse. Suddenly, she felt tired, as if the encounter with the freak had drained her somehow. But Farley knew from long experience what an energy drain was like, and that hadn't been it. She was just tired of dealing with people... No, she was just tired.

She turned around, and began walking home. She felt dead on her feet, and wondered vaguely about the energetic surge that had caused her to jump up and run out in the middle of the night for sake and cigarettes, especially when she knew all the shops would be closed... but she was too tired, way too tired to wonder.

Her head hit the pillow. It was one AM.

She was on a windwept white plain, marble ruins scattered like discarded toys, serene and beautiful even in their varying stages of decay. "Sailor Yagi... It's your destiny!" said the shadowed figure from his balcony.

Farley struggled to speak. "Nothing's destined but death, taxes, and me getting a bad haircut. The death part is optional if you're a Moon-template, of course."

"But I have to find the Princess- she needs my help! It's my quest, you understand, don't you? Don't you want to help her too?" God, the voice just got sexier. Was that a faint English accent? Farley wondered.

"Wouldn't the clues have more room to fit in your head if you got rid of some of the crap in there?!" Farley yelled, waking up suddenly.

"Macek!" she whispered, staring down at her rumpled sheets. "Dream invasion! This is weird. This is... way too complicated to be a mistake." The thought scared her for some reason, and she forced herself to think through the implications. The scary, weird, unsettling implications. "It's not just a mistake. Someone's going to a hell of a lot of trouble to get me to do something I don't want to do."

Farley thought about it for a while. She knew who she needed to talk to. There was a person who could help her... if she could find him. Unlike a lot of Sailors, Knights and Masks with so-called secret identities, Moon Shadow Gunman was as mysterious as the conspiracies that he claimed permeated every level of government and society. Farley had never seen him de-transformed; that is, if she had, she didn't know who he was. They'd always met under mysterious circumstances; the only difference was, Moon Shadow Gunman always tried to unravel the mysteries. Farley was always on her way out the door. She just didn't want to know.

Farley got up, rummaged through her kitchen, and turned to the window of the room which served as home for her computer and the cabinets full of Sailor, Knight and Mask files that she kept in her apartment, her office at work being way too cluttered already.

Carefully, she taped the outline of a crescent moon shape on the lower right pane of glass, unlocked the window, and waited. After about two minutes, she got up to put on a pot of coffee. "Aw, Sailor Obscenity." she cursed, remembering she was out of coffee. Then she heard it- the window, almost imperceptibly sliding open.

She sighed. "Six-month old green tea, anyone?"

"Not with this mask." said a soft voice from the living room.

Farley grinned, shook her head. "Sorry; I forgot. Have a seat, Moon Shadow Gunman-sama. There's something I want to tell you about."

As she futzed around in the kitchen, then crossed back into the living room, Farley told her visitor about the events of the past few days, starkly and without invective. As much as she could, she refrained from theorizing about the not-so-mysterious figure's motives, affiliations and sanity.

When she had finished, she paused for a sip of her tea, then peered across the room at the Moon Shadow Gunman. Tall and lanky, the simple, minimalist lines of his modified Tsukikage no Knight costume suited him well. The outfit was a flat navy blue, the cloak a shimmering charcoal gray that complimented his fedora. He wore dark sunglasses, and a Tsukikage-ish mask over the lower part of his face. The sword in a midnight black sheath at his side echoed the glasses, and underneath the hat-brim, Farley could see his hair was dark. But that was all.

Moon Shadow Gunman leaned forward in his chair, raising one eyebrow above the dark glasses. Farley could tell he was intrigued. "And this dream..."

"Happened only a little while after the encounter. I called you as soon as I could."

"Well then... it appears you have a destiny after all."

"Like I told the dope- not unless it's death and taxes. Which, actually, doesn't even apply, because I get my tax dollars back. I don't earn that much." Farley cracked a smile.

"True, but how do you know you're getting your money back?" said the Moon Shadow Gunman, suddenly grim. "It could just be an elaborate money-laundering scheme. I know a guy who-"

"Stay on-topic, okay?" Farley waved at him. "Look, I know what you always say- rule out incompetence, then suspect conspiracy; and the scary thing is that I think I've done that. There's no way this guy could be mistaking me for someone I'm not. I mean, Sailors, Knights and Masks have psychic bonds all over the place, right?"

"But he wants you to think you're his Sailor Yagi."

"Right. But why?"

"Well, maybe he just needs that extra bit of help to find his Princess. You know, maybe he's really, really clueless and desperate and can't find her. You're a reporter-"

"That's an insult to reporters, Moon Shadow Gunman-sama." Farley raised her eyebrows. "I'm a fluff writer."

"But you're a fluff writer about the mythos of Sailors, Knights and Masks. Think about it, Farley-san. The guy can't go to any other person who's a Sailor, Knight or Mask. Practically by definition, they've got their own box full of missing-princess-to-find and-"

"Nasty-evil-badness to defeat, you're right." finished Farley, realizing suddenly that her friend was right. "You're so right! He would need a civilian... but a civilian wouldn't have any reason to help him, unless he could trick her into being a Sailor!"

"Thus, you." said Moon Shadow Gunman grimly. "Unless of course it's all just a plot to confuse you for some reason, but we'll bypass that for now. My final advice to you would be... play along. Help the Mask find his princess."

"Ugh. That's exactly what I'd expect a dupe of the conspiracy to say."

"Hey, that's my line!" the Gunman grinned. "Really, Farley-san..."

"Sorry." Farley shrugged. "But really, what's the point?"

"The point is that Tuxedo John-Boy will be able to gets his story arc over with before Juuban gets invaded by the 4-H scouts. He'll be out of your hair, and you'll be doing the cause of romance a good turn."

Farley snorted.

"Think of helping him as good karma." The Gunman added. "I'll go with you if you're-"

"Scared? Of a farmboy Tuxedo-template? What's he going to do, throw a daisy-chain at me? No, I'm not scared. The guy just gets under my skin." She snorted again. "Good karma? Puh-lease, how's good karma going to help me when some nasty evil badness is chewing on my ankle?"

"If he gets on your nerves, just tell him you don't buy this Sailor Yagi crap. You won't have to battle any nasty evil badness, just help him. Let him ruffle through your files. Then dump him back on the street."

Farley sat stubbornly. Help him? She didn't know why she was so resistant. It would be simple, really, just a stroll through the files. Maybe it was because she'd always fought to remain an outsider, someone who didn't play the game, uninvolved with silly battles and angsty romances. Even her job at the Tattler reinforced her identity as someone not connected with the Sailors, Knights and Masks. After all, who's more separate than a reporter? Professional detatchment and all that. But maybe... this time... even if she didn't care, maybe this time she could make a difference. Quick and easy, and Princess Hitsuji would be back in the arms of her farmboy. She supposed it really wouldn't hurt...

"Fine." she said, rubbing her hands over her face. "I'll do it. I'll try and contact him tomorrow... but, listen..." Farley looked up towards the Moon Shadow Gunman... but he was gone.

"Damn! Just once he could stick around for five minutes. But no..." Farley sat there on the couch, drained. Slowly, she picked up her cup of tea, and carried it into the kitchen. As she emptied the dregs into the sink, she sighed. "Hell. He's just a slave of his mythos, Farley... what did you expect?"

She left the cup unwashed. She just couldn't think about any of it any more. Dead on her feet, she finally changed out of her clothes and into a cotton T-shirt. With arms of lead, she dragged the sheets up to her armpits and rolled over.

Farley had no more dreams that night.

* * END CHAPTER THREE * *

Go on to Chapter 4 of Farley's Tale

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