Trust Me... I'm a Sailor Scout.

Human beings are all the same. They mindlessly follow what they believe to be right or wrong, no matter the consequences to those around them. An endless battle between 'good' and 'evil', with neither one truly defining the standards of honor and virtue. After all, how can one side truly say that they are... without a single doubt... one hundred percent... correct, in their ideals? How can they say... they're right?

It's all about faith, kids.

Be it strong, be it blind. Faith in our beliefs is what drives us to continue following them. And it's not just about religion. Sure, believe in some mythical being in the sky who wants the rights to your body and soul when you die. Or believe in a flying spaghetti monster. It's all subjective, anyway. Who or what you have faith in. Who or what you... trust.

All of it... based on opinion.

And now, the question of the week slithers forward: was it wrong of Seth Iser to say and do what he did to poor little Reya? Was it... wrong... of me to join him in such savagery? To partake in a brutal attack on a woman who has done little to nothing to me (personally), and is truly a... good... person? Hell, you could call her a saint. An angel. A heroin. And yes, that last part's missing a key letter. Quite intriguing, how you can rid a word of a simple 'E', and have an entirely new concept. But it was no mistake.

Heroin... a highly addictive drug, derived from morphine, that causes... euphoric symptoms. Am I wrong? Comparing Reya Serra to this? Some would say... watching her wrestle, watching her behind the scenes... it gives them pleasure. It makes them happy. Excited to know that there's a woman they can truly look up to, as a strong independent sweetheart who don't need no man.

Gag me.

Though I never answered that question. Was my decision to align with the Deity of Destruction a mistake? It all depends on your viewpoint. Putting aside good and bad, or right and wrong, look at it from a logical standpoint. From an unbiased, intelligent... point of view. Is it not simply... a smart move in my career? An opportunistic decision to align with a man who doesn't have a single loss (not counting our little... planned... disqualification) on his record in VoW? And for him... it's simply beneficial to be aligned with someone of my talent, who also happens to share a similar... goal. The other more relevant question, though? With our history... will this last?

Perhaps that's also... subjective.

"Ya don't just get trust. Ya earn it."

Wise words from an eccentric idiot. Jen Ryette rocked back and forth, standing in front of me in a darkened room. I sat in a simple chair, arms strapped behind my back as though a prisoner waiting to be questioned. Pale eyes staying on the mere figure of the small Asian, I licked my lips and responded coolly. "Or you fight for it."

"Ain't I fought enough for it, Cera-saan?"

"Ha. Not even close."

Click!

A single light flashed on, and I squinted around dazedly. The room was small... small enough to where even I had a sense of claustrophobia. A single door led to the outside, and a table lay between two chairs. The one I sat in was cold to the touch, and I could see by the looks of the other one... they weren't your average pieces of furniture. That alone sent a chill down my spine. But I let it slide, knowing that if I let Jen... 'play'... for a day... she'd bother me less on the other days I needed to utilize for focus, training, and relaxation.

"So what game are playing today, Jennifer?"

"I hate when ya call me dat, meany head... and you know it!" My 'manager' whined, stomping a foot. I merely smirked. It was always quite amusing when Ryette decided she wanted to 'play' with me... usually conducting one of her many 'social experiments'. I knew how to play back, though. Silly girl... didn't she realize, she was the pawn in my game? I simply acknowledged her's to let her believe she was in control.

"On a different note, what the fuck are you wearing?"

"Eh?" Jen looked down at her outfit, which looked like some kind of sailor outfit mixed with a schoolgirl outfit. Her hair was even in long pigtails with buns at the top. My idiot manager grinned and suddenly struck a pose. "I'm SAILOR JENNY! SWORN TA PROTECT THE PRINCESS OF HECK!"

"You better not be referring to me..."

"I CAST AWAY EVIL-DOERS LIKE MATTY RIDE ADELE, VALKISS, AND HUGASTRANGER!"

"...."

"I also got dis kawaii pen that looks like Sailor Moon's transformation thingy!" Jen raised the starry looking thing into the air, her other fist clenching at her waist as she shouted... "MOONING, PRINCESS, POWAHHH! FORM OF... CERA'S CUDDLE BUDDY!"

"...pretty sure you just mixed up two different shows."

Lowering her pen in confusion, Ryette smiled sheepishly and tossed it onto the table. "Actually, it's a knife. Disguised as a pen disguised as a Sailor Moon toy. Kewl, right??? Tell ya what, let's play a game Cera Bear!"

"Finally. I'm getting bored just sitting here."

My manager grinned wickedly at me, and a sinking feeling moved through me. But I shook my head and focused as she explained the rules of today's... experiment. Apparently, I had to escape. She would untie one arm of mine, and I'd have to use her 'toy' on the table to free myself. It was a task that was... easy enough. But I knew Jen... more than anyone else. There was always a 'catch'... always a lesson to be learned. And I always got caught up in it. So I shrugged and agreed, waiting as the smaller woman sat down in the chair in front of me with a grin.

"I thought you were going to untie my arm?"

"Oh I will. First... let's chitchat."

"Seriously...."

"YOU AGREED TO PLAY!" Jen suddenly shouted, slamming her hands down onto the table. Narrowing my eyes at her sudden outburst, I let a corner of my lips twitch upward.

"Fine. Go on."

Jen nodded firmly, looking a bit excited, as she lifts a finger and twirls it in a circle. "Imagine a similar scenario, Cera da Bear. Imagine wakin' up in a room, not alone, but with two of ya. It's dark... you're both uber scared. Then a voice tells ya... there's a gun sittin' on a table in front of ya. You'll have one arm released soon. All ya gotta do is be the first ta grab that gun... and shoot the other person."

"So it's a game of reflex, or a game of who's willing to murder who?"

"Nope, it's a game a' trust."

"How so?"

"Because, they get about ten minutes. There're multiple straps on both of them. But rather than kill da other, they can just both try and get free with that released arm, and if one gets free faster, they can help the other."

Watching her, a thoughtful look on my face, I wriggled slightly in my constraints. "Seems like a simple choice then..."

"Yeah, ya'd think..." Jen frowned slightly, leaning her elbows on the table. "... my group at the 'center' did it. When we were experimentin'. But it's weird... every time we did it, one person would jus'... shoot the other. They never worked together. They could sit there, listen to the stories about how one person had kiddies, a waifu, and all dat shiz... and still pick up da gun and BAM!"

"Humans, by nature, are rather cruel." I murmured, a sardonic laugh escaping my ruby lips.

"Mhm! To avoid their own downfalls, no matter da case... they'd rather just off da other person so there's a chance they survive."

"What happened to those people who would shoot the other?"

"Wellll they never gotta chance ta shoot 'em. They reached for the gun, then got electrocuted... since it was always a staff member on the other side."

"Electro-" I tensed, glancing down at the chair I sat in. But Jen waved my concerns off.

"The chairs ain't been used in forevverrr. So you're fine, Cera Bear!"

"Still disconcerting..." I mumbled, before meeting her dark eyes with an icy look. "What's your point, anyway? You know I have-"

"A match ta win?" She finished, drumming her small fingers on the table we sat at, a mischievous grin playing on her face. "I know. But don't ya think my past experiment kinda pertains to dem boiz you'll be facin'??"

"How so...? It's not really the same idea as a wrestling ring, Jen."

"You're better than them, neh? This lil Fatal Four Way was made by moi... or at least, I requested somethin' similar... ta prove somethin'. When boiz like them... up and comers... kiddies who think they're da cats meow-"

"Cocky motherfuckers who need to be taught a lesson, you mean?"

"Ehhh sure. But that ain't my point." I just looked at her expectantly now, awaiting her oh-so-brilliant 'lesson' that was probably completely unneeded and a waste of my time. Jen, elbow rested on the cool steel table, placed her chin in her palm and continued thinking aloud.

"Matty Ride Adele is-"

"Matt Rydell. Barely larger than me. Known as a loner, with no use for rules or morals." I stifled a yawn, a hint of amusement in my tone. "He's your typical bad boy who has a lust for glory. There's nothing... unique... about him. Just like the other two..."

"Eh? But Valkiss has a funny name!"

"Valquist." I corrected with an eyeroll, trying to squirm my one hand free. Focusing on that, I still continued my little speech. "A man with your traditional sense of righteousness, who believes he's strong because of his loyalties and a bit of martial arts training. A small amount of non-wrestling training, and accomplishments in some other organization, doesn't mean you aren't the atypical cookie cutter piece of garbage I see time and time again... never set your achievements in one federation as the foundation to your career in another. It's childish. And... he's nothing special."

"Hugastranger is though!" Jen giggled, tapping the side of her head. "And not da fun kind like me!"

"No comment there." Came my bored response, as I sighed in frustration. Being in this small room... for some reason... was driving me a bit... crazy. My head was starting to hurt, and I getting antsy. If she brought me in here just to fuck with me and drive my paranoia up the wall as we talked about my opponents... goddammit, it was fucking working...

"Hugo Strange is loud. Large and loud. He's on the 'right side of the tracks' at the moment... not that that affects anything." I blew a strand of hair out of my face, before continuing with a tone clearly voicing my resentment. "All three of them have this idea that... they're the strong one. They're the one who'll show VoW what they're made of. And they can all beat the shit out of each other for all I care. I'm clearly more seasoned... clearly more intelligent... and clearly, I'm the one they have to look out for."

"But they ain't gonna see it that way. I wonder... is it cuz you're a girl? Is it cuz you ain't as big as them?"

"Wouldn't that make them... ignorant? If that's the only reason?" I was bemused. This conversation was just going exactly where I knew it would. Leaning forward in the hard chair, I rested my forehead against the table and groaned as I felt the straps dig into my skin. "Look, Jen... I'm in pain, my eyes fucking hurt, and I've drank too much water and not enough tequila this week. Let me go already."

"You gotta let yourself go, remember?" Jen smiled sweetly at me, before she stood up, her very short skirt nearly showcasing her 'goods' as she did so. "By da way... my story diiid have a point. All three guys, though two of 'em are goody two shoes and one's a naughty lil munchkin... are fresh blood for this place. Newer... and want a piece of the more established goody that is da Baddest Biznitch."

"Mmm... and according to what I've gathered so far... all three have some... violent tendencies. I'm starting to wonder if this is all just going according to your's... or Sky's... plans..." I turned my head, cheek now against the table, but my heavy gaze never left Jen. The little Asian blinked down at me, turning her head to the side, before grinning yet again.

"Plans... I dunno what you're talkin' 'bout..." She hesitated, before moving behind me and starting to undo one of the straps. "You should trust me more, Cera-san. Ima Sailor Scout."

"Whatever that is..."

"Y'know if they teamed up against ya... you prolly wouldn't be able ta stand against them..."

"Bullshit."

"With your arm injured like it is, and then da fact that ya sacrificed your vision for this stuffs with Iser-kun?"

"I can still see..."

"Not very well, yah?"

I wanted to tell her to mind her own business, but considering she was my so-called 'manager', it technically was. I'd been foolish... though my arm wasn't intended to be as... agonized as it was at that moment. The green mist was purposeful, but perhaps foolish. It hurt, and my vision was blurred. At least I was staying hydrated this time, so a fluke in the match with Starrkadian wouldn't happen again. But... weren't Rydell, Valquist, and Strange... getting a handicap, all thing's considered?

"You could even say it's a bit unfair to me..." I thought aloud, lifting my head off the table finally and straightening. I felt my arm finally get released, and I stretched it. Holding my hand in front of me, I clenched and unclenched my fist a few times, before glancing back at Jen. "Either way, I assume after this, we can go rest up... then train tomorrow, correct? I'm not really a fan of fatal fourways, but you've made a point... I have to be prepared for anything."

That last sentence seemed to make Jen smile in a rather eerie way, and I ignored that same... damn... feeling... in my chest. Reaching toward her weird-ass Sailor Moon themed knife, I heard my manager quietly begin moving toward the door. Which is exactly when I knew that something was amiss. My voice was clear, as I grabbed hold of the knife... "It always ended badly for the people in your experiments, didn't it..."

"They never played my game right. It was uber disappointing..."

Fuck.

I heard a few more steps, as she moved closer to the exit, and I swiftly pulled back and popped the top off of her anime-themed 'toy'... to find that it really was just a pen. No knife. Nothing sharp. And my other arm, along with my torso, was still tied there. My thoughts ran a mile a minute, as I wondered... what I did wrong. What part of her stupid fucking game hadn't I played correctly? This was bullshit. She knew my concerns. She knew what I was dealing with physically, mentally and emotionally. She knew... she FUCKING KNEW... how much... I HATE being restrained!!!

"Jennifer... you..."

"Hehe. Such a naughty red devil of mendacity, opinions and heart fierce with tenacity." Ryette giggled, as I jerked back to look over at her, shouting in a shrill tone...

"GODDAMMIT JEN, LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

"Don't worry, Cera-san... I'll be back! I'd never EVER letcha just... rot away... here." She paused, hovering there at the doorway with the most innocent of expressions. Finally, a dark look crossed her face, and she flipped off the lights, before slamming the door shut, her final words (followed by a giggle) being the last thing I heard...

"Don't ya trust me...?"

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~This has been a V rp, thanx for reading and have a great f*cking day!~