The autumn leaves drifted in tepid from the desert outskirts, transforming the last of the summer terrains into shades of gold, crimson, brass, and bronze. Sundowner winds sunk in and out of the city and its cerulean skies, and only poppies radiated, their oblivious silken blooms, their rayless black hearts, scarlet poison flowers. She could not ease her mind in the pleasant windy afternoon, Ivy Rose Parker. Ivy woke up in the afternoon to find her miniature radio missing. She lifted herself up from the towel and placidly pulled her radio from the mountain of leaves like a four-leaf clover hidden amongst the other scattered clovers.

“With the fall semester barely in session, faculty is still questioning the whereabouts of four students at the University of Nevada - Las Vegas,” the reporter said. “Two students have already been found dead and one is in critical condition at Sunrise Hospital, all whose families have chosen to keep their child’s names anonymous. Police reports have stated that the killings, injuries, and disappearances of students have to do with the infamous MS-13 gang and will be investigated further.” Ivy lifted her small hand and curled the tanned fingers, let autumn shadow itself through. She wanted to make sure she was still alive with the recent dangers around her university. Ivy wished that things were back to the way they had been, that life was ordinary, that the gust would stop howling.

The siren whirred in the radio background, and Ivy stared out at Las Vegas that roared with hustle and bustle and shimmered like a star in some arcane galaxy, withholding its neon glow like a forbidden electric paradise. Her feet wrapped in heeled pumps from Betsey Johnson, she didn’t mind her revealed feet. The bottom of her dahlia vintage dress fluttered up in the wind and her bare legs could be seen, olive and willowy. Her allure was like the vigor of an Amazon warrior queen, feminine and intense.

She clicked the radio off and placed it in her bag. She smelled like roses and pomegranates, Aphrodite’s fruits. “Miss,” a cat dotted with print similar to a leopard and a faint golden musical note upon his forehead approached. “Why did you turn off that device? Couldn’t you see that I was listening to it? You should too.”

“Bloody cat! Now I’m really hallucinating and I’m not even hammered yet!” Ivy scowled. She wanted to believe that her life wasn’t getting any less routine. She didn’t want to know what the future held and its casualties. Glancing for her water bottle secretly filled with vodka and hints of fuchsia from the Bacardi Pink Squeeze, she attempted to ignore the talking cat out of disbelief.

“I don’t think that would be the best idea right now,” the feline pawed at her faintly pink bottle. “With all of the deaths secretly linked to the Proelium War occurring today, this wouldn’t be the best time to get drunk. You could be next.”

She realized that the cat knew of the true alcoholic contents in the bottle, clearly, and thought about the insanity of the situation. Urged not to drink by a cat. On comedy television shows, cats speaking to humans were always inane. Spoken to by a cat then walked away from the creature, the star declared the situation nonsense while a pseudo audience chuckled in the background. The disturbing thing about it was that Ivy wasn’t stunned. To Ivy, it seemed like another part of the afternoon full of murder and melancholy radio broadcasts. Life transforming into a superior horror was something she didn’t want to believe. Four students missing at the University of Las Vegas, those two dead students, one hospitalized student, and everyone in Las Vegas who was tormented by the mysterious killer.

“I’m going to get pissed if I want to, a bloody cat is trying to speak to me about some war for heaven’s sake,” she muttered.

Beneath the feline and Ivy resided Las Vegas, bursts of lights blinked and screamed down the main road. In Las Vegas, silver-grey sagebrushes blew boldly in the gust like clouds plummeting through a stormy sky into a hurricane nightmare, and tourists plugged their ears with an irritated expression as ambulances shrieked.

The cat’s ears fell behind his head to exude some of the ambulance’s noise from below the park. “Listen to me. You need to trust me; I know that seeing a cat talking to you isn’t something that happens everyday, but you are in danger, Ivy.”

“How do you know my name? This seems like a load of bollocks.” She murmured in her British accent, her hands folded in her lap.

His turquoise eyes gently glanced up at her. “Because I was sent here to guide you in specific and the rest of the Meridianus senshi in the Proelium War. Could you at least try to believe me?”

“Proelium War…?” How could she stop this from happening? How could she turn the movie off?

“There isn’t much time to explain Ivy, but I need to give you this.” From the jumble of leaves that her radio was once lost in, the cat pulled out a glass bottle. A transparent bottle in the shape of a fleur de lis, tied with rugged leopard skin, the bottle withheld crushed flowers and leaves inside.

“Just when I thought this couldn’t get any worse you have to give me a bottle of rather psychedelic looking flowers? What’s next, a stash of bloody magic mushrooms?” Ivy took the fleur de lis bottle from the cat but held it away from herself skeptically, her eyebrow raised. Some lovely afternoon this turned out to be.

He eye rolled at her and tried to keep his calm, “It isn’t just any bottle of ‘psychedelic flowers,’ it’s your transformation item for the Proelium War. If you ever protect anything, please protect that bottle.” He spotted a faded figure at the bottom of the park’s hill and said, “Look, as I said before, we don’t have much time for discussion now because I feel the person who attacked all those Errata senshi – I mean students at your university – is coming nearer.”

“I’m sure if I pinch my cheek then this will be a dream, I’m such a prat believing in this nonsense for a moment…” Ivy groaned and stood up from the picnic blanket. She held onto the bottle of flora petals and her purse with the radio inside, sauntering away from the cat.

“Ivy, I’m warning you, it wouldn’t be such a good idea to walk on your own with the sun setting and a dangerous person afoot. Wait up…” the cat’s voice transformed into nearly inaudible as the British girl quickly meandered away from him, in doubt of the entire occurrence. “…She’s more stubborn than I thought she’d be.”




In autumn this predicament would have been unbelievable, this crisis, but it had resided before Ivy, as destined as fate. She didn’t even know the alias Sailor Jungle then.

Eerie desert willows spawned shadows creeping onto the soil path. A blind wonderland, Ivy wandered far away from the feline and decided not to look back, she didn’t want to see that her encounter might not have been a dream.

The dying jasmines on the very edge of the park writhed around the willows and Ivy continued to move past them, frightened by the ghostly darkness of the park. She was still running toward the park entrance as the figure peered out. Before her as the dirt path became a sidewalk, a vestige of a person stood with its arms crossed. Traces of an outfit that looked like a sailor suit could be seen and a pocket watch glimmered faintly by the shadow’s side.

“Hand over that bottle now, or else suffer the consequences,” the shadow in the sailor fuku urged Ivy, extending her hand to receive the bottle.

“Officer? I know I’m underage, I just wanted to get smashed, go to some frat parties, and not deal with the reality of the killings at my university, I apologize for my actions and the contents of this bottle,” Ivy held her water bottle containing a mixture of alcoholic beverages close to her chest in a territorial manner. She had a constant fear of getting caught with alcohol and of people discovering her drinking problem, like an ant carrying a crumb when nobody was looking, paranoid.

The shadow crossed its arms in a tight pause and spoke in its dark voice, “I’m not fooling around, girl. Hand over the other bottle you’ve got there or else face the wrath of Sailor Symphonic Metal.”

She watched the figure pick up its pocket watch, a golden antique. If you ever protect anything, please protect that bottle. She could deliver the fleur de lis bottle to the figure, place it in the figure’s hidden hands, shadowy as the twilight, then go back to her apartment by the university. How serene she’d be when she returned to her apartment and witnessed normality again. Of course, the feline’s voice echoed across her mind. She held onto the bottle of crushed flowers firmly.

“I don’t think that was the right choice,” the figure said and opened its pocket watch.

All the strength had gone out of her body.

She heard the sound of leaves crushing, the silhouette moving toward her. “I was told to protect this bottle, don’t be so naff…”

She couldn’t even stop herself from feeling fearful. All she heard was the outcry of the feline.

“Finally, I found you…” the feline sounded exhausted but still roared, his paw prints embedded in the soil behind him. There was a pause. “Whatever you do, don’t give her the bottle I gave to you.”

“Don’t listen to that cat. Why, in a mere minute’s time I could destroy both of you as I destroyed the other students so easily,” said the voice on the other side of the sidewalk path, as if she epitomized a deity.

“So she’s the one who harmed all the students, not a gang…” Ivy searched for her voice.

“That’s right. Now, I need you to do something with that bottle—“

The figure observed her pocket watch and shut it abruptly. “Well, it looks like time’s up. It didn’t matter if you handed me the bottle earlier, as I’m about to get it anyway!”

“What?”

She didn’t expect the figure to open her pocket watch again and chant a peculiar phrase. “Awakening the Centuries!”

The pocket watch opened and right there, in the desolate park, amongst the cedars and catclaw acacias, the shadow peeled a number off of the watch. The number transformed into much larger number, an immense seven, and raced towards Ivy. She tried crawling away, but the feline hopped on top of her and moved her head out of the seven’s way, the entire time the figure was saying, “You’re not even going to recognize this pitiful park once the apples of the Hesperides have fallen. You will be injured each time you touch an apple, they’ll consume you in their golden beauty and then I will have that bottle.”

Both she and the cat hadn’t a clue what the figure meant, who still continued to hide in the shadows of the evening, until it happened. The figure moved away and continued to cackle in her dark voice. From above, apples rained and started to cover the park. Inevitable, each apple felt as though it bruised a part of Ivy’s body, bruised shoulders, bruised arms, bruised hands. She could hardly even move and began to feel unlike the golden apples, sparkling in such an aura. “Please help me, cat…” If you ever protect anything, please protect that bottle. Drowning in a pile of mythological apples eternally falling, she continued to shelter the fleur de lis bottle close to her chest.

“I need you to do this quickly,” the cat dodged the golden apples that poured through the sky. “Please, lift the cork from the bottle and shout the phrase ‘Jungle Meridianus Power, Make-up’ as soon as you’ve opened it.”

“What? There’s no way I’d say such a silly thing, it sounds lame!”

“Just say it, you have nothing to lose at this point.” the cat whispered as apples piled on top of his body. It was true, she had nothing to lose. It was difficult for her to utter such words with the apples falling from the sky the size of fists that she had to attempt to dodge in her heels. And she was standing there, holding onto a tree branch, defenseless, within the park.

She hurriedly set the bottle in her lap and pulled the cork out, flower petals flickered in the wind. “Jungle Meridianus Power, Make-up!!” She held onto the bottle, her eyes closed, inhaling in the scent, camellias and daisies and some peculiar tree scent, that she loved in the way a cat loved catnip. The bottle continued to release the crushed flora petals and leaves into the air, an engagement with the apples already collapsing. Ivy was enraptured in the mixture of contents from the bottle as flower petals covered her.

She opened her eyes and realized that something was different. She looked down and noticed her new attire in earth tones, leopard print, and black lace. Flowers adorned her golden-bronze hair and eyes masked with rose, she felt quaint. Pearl earrings and a double choker tied with a bow graced the wardrobe and Ivy felt as though she could faint.

“I thought you’d listen to me,” the cat said in a weak tone, no longer visible, “You are Sailor Jungle of the Meridianus senshi, epitome of the jungle genre. Without you, jungle could no longer exist…”

It felt strange to be in this new form, in the obscurity of the night. This was the first time she’d ever felt this way, she felt an aura of verdure around her as Sailor Jungle. The fact that she could possibly represent a music genre hadn’t sunken in yet and still, the apples collapsed and stung with every drop. She felt like a super hero.

“As Sailor Jungle, what am I supposed to do now?” Sailor Jungle tried to dodge the apples without much success, they continued to fall harshly from the sky.

“Try using ‘Darkcore.’ Quickly!”

The apples of Hesperides were up to her waist now and each individual apple stung. “Ugh, why do I have to say such ridiculous phrases? You are going to pay for this, cat!” Sailor Jungle pointed through the pile of apples and shouted, “Darkcore!”

From her finger, spawned black flower petals that made their way toward the enemy, slashing through the apples. Sailor Jungle tried not to look at what her chant had caused with its horror themes, the park now transformed into a jungle environment, the fog, the creeping sounds of animals stirring, the metallic stench of blood. Dark jungle music played with this attack and the flower petals began to violently slash at the figure now visible.

“So you think you can fight back Sailor Symphonic Metal with your flowers and horror jungle music? Think again.” The figure stood above the pile of apples and held her pocket watch, closing it. As soon as she closed it, the apples disappeared and both Sailor Jungle and the cat fell to the park ground.

The figure moved into the park light, she wore an outfit with a sailor flap much like Sailor Jungle’s but a different wardrobe in myrtle green, gold, and fishnet. She looked ghostly and stern, arms crossed, eyes masked in black liner, “Welcome to my land of dark where death in all the centuries is what I left behind.” The petals from Darkcore crumbled and fell to the ground beneath Sailor Symphonic Metal’s feet, she crushed some of them and snickered.

“Look at the time,” she opened her pocket watch, “I must get going. Although I didn’t capture and destroy you and your bottle this time, I will do so next time then you and your precious genre will be forgotten too! The Proelium War will not continue for much longer at this rate, Sailor Jungle.” The figure disappeared into the darkness just as quickly as she arrived. Sailor Jungle felt alone in the park in her garbs and flowers all about, the sidewalk smelled of decaying apples.

“She won’t destroy you, don’t worry.”

Sailor Jungle turned around, she had forgotten about the feline that guided her. Without him, she wouldn’t have survived the woman or her attacks. Now she knew she wasn’t alone, her only company the cat beneath her, the leopard print uniform she wore, the fleur de lis bottle in the grass.

“Why would you say that? Didn’t you see what just did with the apples? She nearly killed us,” she said.

“She’s only an Errata senshi, while you are a Meridianus senshi, meaning you are much more powerful than she will ever be. Don’t let her intimidate you.”

Sailor Jungle lifted the fleur de lis bottle from the ground. “Why was she after this anyway?”

“If she destroys your transformation item before you are awakened, she can erase any recollection of your genre, jungle, altogether. Now, all she can do is destroy you in order to destroy the genre in the Proelium War.”

Slight bruises on her hands, Sailor Jungle nodded off as he summarized the Proelium War, explaining her opponent Superna senshi and the planet Lyrica where genres originated. She still nodded, not listening, she wanted to go to her apartment and bask in a normal life. Finally the cat finished and pawed at her bare feet, soil stained.

“Are you listening? Let’s get on with the formalities, shall we?”

“Formalities?”

“Let’s introduce ourselves. My name is Leon and I’m your guardian in the Proelium War, so I plan on living in your household throughout this.”

“You…what?! No way! I can’t keep a cat that looks like a leopard, my room mate and neighbors would go bonkers. Besides, you’re probably high maintenance.”

Sailor Jungle put her hands on her hips, stroking her aureate hair and its flowers.

“You’re accusing me of being high maintenance, miss?” Leon chuckled, “I won’t be any trouble plus, I think your life would appreciate having me there in case something like this happens again.”

She just stared at him, thinking. What time is it? She hadn’t known the time or how long she’d been here for. She had lost track and wanted nothing more than to leave the park. “Okay, fine, you win. But we really should get going. It’s late and I personally want to live an average life at least for a few hours before I sleep.”

Leon followed behind her. “You can’t walk home in that! It’s asking for trouble especially if there are opponent senshi around, your identity will be obvious.”

“How did you expect me to get my clothes back, furball? Or is there some cheesy phrase to summon my clothes back too?”

“Ha, ha, very funny. In order to get your outfit back, simply concentrate on transforming from Sailor Jungle and you’ll return into your clothes.” Sailor Jungle listened after him and closed her eyes, she was thinking about the red hearts speckled on her dress and the silver necklace dangling between her breasts, the Jackie-O sunglasses on top of her head. She felt her fuku disappear and opened her eyes, normal clothes on her body once again.

“Thank you, Leon,” the pair began to walk towards the exit of the park.

Leon stopped. “Heyy, you aren’t getting off the hook that easily! You didn’t introduce yourself.”

“You already know who I am, cat. Remember?”

“It’s rude to not introduce yourself properly,” eyed Leon, his feline eyes glittering like unknown fireflies. “And call me Leon.”

“Fine, fine. I’m Ivy Rose Parker and apparently the personification of jungle music. Now can we get going?” she glared at the cat.

“Now that you’ve introduced yourself, we can get going. Lead the way, Miss Parker.”

Ivy sauntered on the sidewalk, holding herself together with her arms, as if she was overcoming a horrid sight just seen. Leon followed beside her, his aqua eyes aglow in the night. She peeled out of the park and towards her apartment with her newfound guardian tagging along, admiring the neon city that hosted the Proelium War. Proelium Cantus.