The adventurers had been separated and the cleric didn't know where she was being taken. She was told that the room she was locked in was being filled with sleeping gas, and the cleric asked why gas needed to sleep. She felt the room shudder, and the cleric asked what was going on. The only response the cleric got was more sleeping gas being pumped into the room, and even that was only a guess. The stuff made her eyes itch. Whatever happened to hitting in the back of the head with a brick? Sure, that was also irritating and just plain rude, but at least it would eventually render the cleric unconscious.
Faced with nothing better to do with her time, the cleric decided to take a nap. It had been a long time since she had actually gotten some sleep. Despite the hard plastic seat the cleric was strapped into, it hardly took her any time to fall asleep. She had trained for years to fall asleep, and stay asleep, in arid deserts, humid jungles, frozen tundras, forgotten caves, forgotten temples, ancient ruins, and a host of places mortals were never meant to dwell.
Eight hours of restful sleep later, the cleric awoke in prison. More specifically, the cleric awoke at the front entrance to prison. A woman in an orange jumpsuit was standing over her, holding a bundle of papers.
“Hey,” the woman said, “The guards transporting you weren’t able to wake you up. You need to get these papers filed, once you’re done, I can show you where you submit them.”
“Enough of that,” the cleric said, pushing the papers away, “Where am I?”
“You’re in The Embassy,” the woman said.
That was strange, the cleric thought. This place looked like a prison, not an embassy. Either way, corrupt officials and corrupt prisoners were all the same to her.
“You don’t know what The Embassy is?” the woman asked the cleric.
“Of course I know what embassies are,” the cleric told her.
“The Embassy is a maximum security prison, refurbished by Ultimate Rider and the Rider Gang,” the woman said, leading the cleric to a lunch line, “There are a few rules you’ll need to understand. The reason why there aren’t walls or guards posted is because the Rider Gang doesn’t care about what happens to us, in their eyes we’re all trash. As long as you stay inside the prison grounds, you’ll have food, shelter, and clothing. The moment you step outside, Riders from all across Rider Gang territory will try to kill you.”
“Lot’s a people have tried to kill me,” the cleric said, “Some have even succeeded, but that never stopped me.”
“Listen, life here can be exhausting,” the woman said, “Honestly, nobody wants to be here, but at least there are a few workshops to help pass time. If you put in enough hours, you can actually buy things. It helps prison feel a bit more like home.”
The woman heard a loud, cracking noise behind her, and worried that a fight had just broken out. Even divided into male and female prisoners, or perhaps because of it, tensions always ran high at The Embassy. So many people always wanted revenge, escape, status, the list of petty reasons went on and on. Around the time the woman said “stick with me and-” she realized the cleric had left some time ago. Daring to turn around, she saw that the cleric had ripped a board out of the picnic benches used for meals.
At least she didn’t interrupt anyone's lunch.
The cleric gave her new club a few test swings against the concrete floor, and scowled when the plastic club quickly came apart. Fighting with this would be terrible, the cleric knew, tossing the plastic club to the floor. She would need to constantly use her magic to repair the club, and it was a whole lot of effort the cleric simply didn’t care for. Hopefully, the cleric thought as she wandered away, the cell bars would be much sturdier.
The next time the woman saw the cleric, she was hanging off the bars to a cell. Each foot was braced atop a bar, while her hands pulled at the bar between her feet.
“Is that your cell?” the woman asked.
“Could be,” the cleric admitted, “But you said the local government doesn’t care what we do here, so I’m not breaking any laws.”
“What are you doing?” the woman asked.
“I noticed there was a lot of evil outside the prison,” the cleric said, a thunderous clang echoing through the halls as the top part of the bar snapped free and the cleric started work on the cross piece, “I’m going to go fight evil, it’s really all I do. And I prefer having weapons.”
“You can’t fight the Rider Gang!” the woman said.
“Why not?” the cleric asked, “They’re evil, aren’t they?”
“You’ll die!” the woman pleaded.
“I find that possible, but unlikely,” the cleric told her, wrenching free the left side of the cross piece.
“Listen, you are in the middle of Rider territory!” the woman said, “Entire cities will be fighting you!”
“Entire cities have fought me before,” the cleric said, “And lost.”
“Where are you going to go?” the woman demanded.
“Towards the bad guys,” the cleric told her.
“You’re going to get yourself killed, and-” the woman said.
“Is this the part where you say you’re coming with?” the cleric asked.
“What? No!” the woman said, “Once they kill you, the Riders are going to parade your mangled corpse around the prison! All of us are going to be forced to look at it. Forced to see it! Forced to relearn that there is no escape from here! It’s awful! Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to go through that? How many times I’ve had to see the corpses of hopeful people?”
“I don’t,” the cleric said, the other side of the cross piece finally coming free.
She gave the crude club a few practice swings before leaving The Embassy.
Faery Fire woke up.
She had learned to hate waking up.
Waking up meant she was still alive.
It had been a few weeks since Faery Fire had encountered Ascension at Castle Gorestrike, and the crazed supervillain spat black gunk onto her. Faery Fire had taken herself to multiple hospitals after that, first to figure out what Ascension had done to her, and then repeatedly to fix it.
What Ascension had done to her was activate a killswitch he had put in Faery Fire, somewhere in the host of genetic augmentations and new organs he had given Faery Fire. The doctors had told that her body was attacking itself, her once invincible immune system turned against her, and they didn’t know how to reverse the change. Or stop the change. Or slow down the change.
Faery Fire had trouble believing it. Everyone she had talked to told her to put her affairs in order, and that it would hurt the entire time. Medication designed to suppress the immune system only aggravated it, and surgeries to remove the cancerous and necrotic flesh only produced more of it.
Eventually, Faery Fire stopped talking to anyone about it. Gargoyle didn’t know, she wasn’t going to tell her fans, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell any of the Sailors. Gamer Man knew. Apparently, Gamer Man was quite the early riser, and had asked her why she was having trouble walking. And what was hurting her so badly. And if he could do anything to help.
It felt like a dam broke in Faery Fire when Gamer Man had asked that, and he became the one crack in her facade. She had told her that her whole body was withering and that he couldn’t do anything to stop it. In the days after that, Gamer Man helped Faery Fire get to the bathroom in the morning so she could vomit up the acrid, black ichor that she was slowly melting into, he had built plastic casing that Faery Fire could put around her legs so the Sailors wouldn’t see the thin, sickly things her legs had become. Gamer Man always came up with reasons to get the Sailors and Gargoyle out of the Sailors’ studio when it all became too much for Faery Fire and she just wanted to break down screaming. Most of all, Faery Fire made Gamer Man promise that he would never tell the Sailors.
Gamer Man told the Sailors the next day.
One evening, when Gamer Man said everyone should go out on patrol for a while, the Sensational Sword Saint Sailors had confronted Gamer Man and demanded he tell them what was happening to Faery Fire, and why she always seemed so tired and never seemed to have an appetite. The Sailors weren’t stupid, Gamer Man found, and so he told them.
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This put Gamer Man, Gargoyle, and the Sailors in an awkward bind. They all knew what Faery Fire was going through, but none of them could act like it.
Today, Faery Fire’s memory coming in fuzzy as Gamer Man carried her to the bathroom, was game night. Gamer Man, the Sailors, and Faery Fire were going to sit around a table playing board games to make sure the Sailors could relax, and ensure Sailor Pink was mentally healthy.
“We’ll need blankets,” Faery Fire muttered.
“I know,” Gamer Man said, “Did you eat anything yesterday?”
“Don’t want to eat,” Faery Fire muttered.
“You’re not going to recover if you starve yourself,” Gamer Man said.
“Keagan, I’m not going to recover,” Faery Fire said, “Last night, I bought plane tickets.”
“Where to?” Gamer Man asked, “Planning a trip?”
“Back home,” Faery Fire said, “I’m going to go back home and die.”
“If you’d let the others help you-” Gamer Man said.
“I’m not going to make the Sailors cry,” Faery Fire seethed, “I’m not.”
“I’m just saying,” Gamer Man said.
“Keagan, there’s hardly anything left of me,” Faery Fire said, “It’s over. Tomorrow, I’m going to go back home, and I’m going to die.”
“What do you want me to tell the Sailors?” Gamer Man asked, already knowing what he was going to tell them.
“I don’t know,” Faery Fire admitted, “Just tell them I had to leave.
Gamer Man and Gargoyle lead the Sailors on patrol, the Sailors left for their scheduled performances, Gamer Man brought dinner back to the studio while the Sailors practiced their dance routines, and Gargoyle, the Sailors, and Gamer Man went out to look for board games. Faery Fire wished she could be with them, huddled against herself wrapped with a thick blanket, but she didn’t have the energy. She hated not being with the Sailors, she hated dying, and she hated living.
Finally, it was game night. One of the few activities where Faery Fire could sit down, pretend to relax, and involve herself with the Sailors. It didn’t require running or jumping or singing or dancing, all Faery Fire needed to do was be there.
The game they had picked out for the night was some sort of resource management game. Gamer Man said he had heard of it before, and that the mechanics sounded interesting. So, the superheroes and superheroines were sitting around a table to playing a game with rules that they barely understood. Gamer Man knew the rules, he always seemed to, and was explaining to Faery Fire how to take her turn.
“No, see, if you play the heavy rain event, you get three turns of well watered land, and you can turn part of Green’s field into marshland,” Gamer Man explained.
“How are you making sense of this?” Gargoyle demanded.
“It’s not that complicated once you understand the rules,” Gamer Man said.
“It’s a game about harvesting wheat,” Gargoyle said, “Why does it need so many rules?”
“It’s a kingdom management game,” Gamer Man said.
“It’s a game about harvesting wheat,” Gargoyle repeated.
“Next time, can I pick the game?” Sailor Green asked, “I wanted to play Maid Wars.”
“That card game?” Gamer Man said, “Deck balance is terrible.”
“We’re not looking for balance,” Faery Fire said, “We’re looking for fun.”
“I’m having fun,” Gamer Man said.
“Well congratulations on having fun with your wheat game,” Gargoyle said.
“I’m having fun,” Sailor Red said.
“You’re winning,” Sailor Blue said.
“I am,” Sailor Red said, “And winning is fun.”
“Finally, someone who gets it,” Gamer Man said, “Later tonight, do you want to play-”
“Congratulations, noble and honorable Sailors!” The voice came from a pillar of shimmering light that coalesced into the breathtaking beauty of Sailor Celestial.
“You have defeated Ultimate Rider, and peace will once again return to the land,” Sailor Celestial said, “For your great works, I shall grant you-”
“Um, excuse me, Sailor Celestial,” Blue said.
“Yes?” Sailor Celestial asked.
“We, um, we actually haven’t defeated Ultimate Rider yet,” Blue explained, “We’re fighting the Rider Gang, and I think we’re making good progress with Gamer Man and Gargoyle, but we haven’t even found Ultimate Rider’s lair.”
“Really?” Sailor Celestial asked. “Well, excuse me for just a moment.”
Sailor Celestial vanished in a burst of light.
The cleric was basking in a good deed done well. She had needed to switch out her cell bar club out for a street sign halfway through her rampage, and then had to change that out for a proper weapon when Black Knight Rider had challenged her. The lance she had taken from him had lasted her quite a while. Finally, she had reached Ultimate Rider, and the villain lay cleanly bisected when she picked him up by the ankles and slammed him against the wall.
“Who are-” Sailor Celestial demanded, pausing when she saw the cleric, “I- I beg your pardon, Great Believer, but what are you doing here?”
“Fighting bad guys,” the cleric answered.
“Ah, well, you see, I have my own warriors who were going to fight Ultimate Rider,” Sailor Celestial said.
“Oh,” the cleric said, “Are they good?”
“Well, admittedly they aren’t good enough to face Ultimate Rider in combat yet,” Sailor Celestial explained, “But I have been closely watching their progress. I expect they would have beaten him within the year at their current rate of growth.”
“Okay,” the cleric said, “Why didn’t you just hire me?”
“What?” Sailor Celestial asked.
“My goddess isn’t against me taking up the job for other minor divinities,” the cleric explained, “You could have just hired me.”
“You were busy,” Sailor Celestial said, pushing down her irritation at the “minor divinities” comment, “And across dimensional barriers.”
“Oh,” the cleric said, “I suppose that’d do it. Could I meet them?”
“Hmm?” Sailor Celestial asked, “Meet my Sailors?”
“Yeah, you commissioned them,” the cleric said, “Which I think means you’re not going to commission me, even though I’m right here. I’d like to give them a bit of training, make sure they’re capable of fighting other threats.”
“They are more than capable,” Sailor Celestial said, “And I had planned to reward them with a divine boon once they had defeated Ultimate Rider.”
“Can I have it then?” the cleric asked.
“No,” Sailor Celestial said, “The Sailors are my chosen servants. You work for… someone else.”
“Then can I train them?” the cleric asked.
“The people you train tend to,” Sailor Celestial said, searching for the right word, “Be overcome with zeal.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” the cleric said.
“It tends to affect their work ethic,” Sailor Celestial said, “And their personal relationships tend to wither.”
“Do they win fights?” the cleric asked.
“I expect a lot more out of my chosen servants than just winning fights,” Sailor Celestial said, “However, at your insistence, I believe you can meet them. Take my hand, Great Believer.”
A second burst of light heralded the return of Sailor Celestial. The cleric was there also.
“Compassionate and honorable Sailors,” Sailor Celestial declared, “This is the person who felled the evil Ultimate Rider.”
“Hey cleric,” Gamer Man said.
“Hey,” the cleric replied.
“Who?” Faery Fire asked.
“What?” Blue asked.
“Wait,” Gargoyle said, “You know her?”
“Yeah, met her a couple times,” Gamer Man said.
“Faery Fire,” Blue said, sitting down next to Faery Fire, “What are they saying?”
“Huh?” Faery Fire asked, “Oh, um, they’re saying.”
“You, Gamer Man, met an insane woman a couple of times,” Gargoyle said.
“Yeah,” Gamer Man said.
“And why didn’t she kill you?” Gargoyle demanded.
“Why would I kill him?” the cleric asked, “He’s a paladin.”
“If I may,” Sailor Celestial said, gently clearing her throat.
“This is not over,” Gargoyle growled.
“Ultimate Rider is dead, an arch villain felled by the Great Believer’s mighty hand,” Sailor Celestial explained, “And I made an oath, one that my Sailors are not aware of, that once Ultimate Rider was dead I would grant you more powers. A reward for faithful work.”
“A reward I do not get,” the cleric grumbled.
“So, to honor the oath I made between myself and the Sensational Sword Saint Sailors,” Sailor Celestial continued, “Rise, worthy daughters. Rise and be blessed!”
Gamer Man waved the cleric over as the Sailor all moved to stand before Sailor Celestial.
“My friend is very hurt,” Gamer Man whispered, pointing to Faery Fire, “Can you heal her?”
“Of course,” the cleric said, shooting a burst of golden light from her hand and hitting Faery Fire squarely in the chest.
There was a clatter from Faery Fire’s feet, and the superheroine doubled over into a coughing fit. Gamer Man rushed to her side, hoping he could wipe away the viscous, black bile that had been plaguing Faery Fire, only for the superheroine to push him away.
“I’m fine,” Faery Fire choked out, “I’m fine. I just- I just need some water.” Faery Fire bundled up the blanket she had been resting under, taking extra care to keep her fake calves wrapped up, and strode towards the kitchen. “Getting kinda hot in here, I’m going to put this away.”
“If we may continue,” Sailor Celestial grumbled, “I hereby grant you new forms and new strength! Call upon my name, upon the Sailor Celestial, and be reborn as the Pretty Rose Prism Rangers!”