Sailor Moon AR:
Merry Christmas Tumbler






It had been many months since he was cast out.  

So long.

So long to be awake in limbo.  The cusp between realities.  Not quite 
sure if he was alive or if this was the death he had been dealt.  

Two of the most powerful beings he had ever faced did this to him.  
Both had the power to escape his hell.  Both had killed him.  

Or thought they had.

Tumbler's jaws swung open with a start, like waking from a bad dream.  
No words came out.  No scream could be heard.  He tried to scream.  He 
tried until his body ached with shear effort along ever wound and every 
rip in his flesh.  

Strike Fiss.  Prince of Saturn.  Holder of a key that should have been 
destroyed long ago.  The key that saved him.  Tumbler growled to 
himself within his head.  He should have destroyed the sword while he 
had the chance. 

Prince Destiny.  Prince of Sol.  Holder of no key, but heir to a star 
that had magic few would ever understand.  He was able to transform his 
own matter and mind into different states.  Tumbler had not expected 
that.  It had been enough of an edge to lose his prize.  

The prize that floated above him, just out of his reach.  Home.  

Guarded by the Barrier of Nothing.  It defied every physical law, every 
rule of time, and everything that tried to pass.  Guarding the 
Nothingness he sought.  

They would pay for denying him his prize.  

Below him was their Universe.  A relatively tiny globe of time and 
space that held him fast.  Vaguely, he had heard Strike Fiss say 
Tumbler was home.  

Tumbler screamed at the audacity of that statement.  Strike Fiss would 
never have hoped to understand.  He would die because of it.  If it 
took him another forever, he would die.  

And then Tumbler saw it.  The way back.  

A small piece of rock.  The Tumbler of Destiny.  A smile cracked 
Tumbler's face.  It was coming towards him.

Now, it was only a matter of time.  

Time was something he had.  Something Strike Fiss now had.  Something 
that Prince Destiny had.  Tumbler prayed silently that they would 
survive the ice.  That their lives would continue.  That they would 
have time.

Next time, there would be no mistakes.  

Next time.

Time.

Ah yes.  








In the black, echoing void between our universe, and the veil of 
Tumbler's home, he floated.  As he did, his wounds began to heal, and a 
plan began to form.  

As it did, Tumbler watched his home floating above.  It was only a 
matter of time.