Freely admit to ripping off the opening scenes from Alan Moore's "The
League of Extraordinary Gentlemen".  Of course, since only the first
issue of that has come out, there's a limit to how long the parallels
can continue.  ^_^

I have some ideas for the rest of the team and the mission.  Should be a
nice three chapter story.  Let me know if I should finish it.

--------
"Common Cause"
 By: Matthew Campbell

	The woman stood alone on the seawall, closing her eyes and allowing the
salty scent of the rising air into her nose.  Noise of rockets
thundering up from the nearby spaceport dispelled the silence that might
otherwise have been brought by the dense fog.

	She was on the short side, reddish-brown hair pulled back into a tight
bun.  Worry lines crisscrossed her face, and the black dress made her
appear thin and wasted against the fog's white background.  She tilted
her head as a figure approached, the sound of its footsteps being
drowned by the distant rocket roars.

	"Neptune," said the woman, acknowledging her visitor.

	"Umino-san, it's good to see you again," replied Neptune.

	"I no longer use my late husband's name.  For that matter, I no longer
use my own.  You can call me.... Molly."

	If Neptune was offended by the other's lack of pleasantries, she didn't
show it.  In contrast to "Molly", Neptune was dressed in white, in a
style that was more than a little reminescent of her senshi uniform. 
She raised her hand in a placatory gesture.  "Of course Molly.  It
really has been too long."

	"Still running Pluto's errands, eh?  No, don't bother to deny it.  Her
fingers are all over this.  Manipulative bitch."  One side of Molly's
face clenched up, displaying more emotion than she had heretofore shown.

	"No longer so much as she once was.  Her time staff is shattered and
the future thrown into doubt.  The promise of Crystal Tokyo has dimmed
and flickered out, and the future, whether for better or worse, a
mystery.  These days Pluto can only guess at what is to come, no more
than any of us."  Neptune's tone was neutral, giving no clue how she
regarded these events.

	"It doesn't matter.  I didn't agree to work for you once again because
of her.   Only because..." Molly trailed off.

	"Only because Serenity asked-"

	"Only because Usagi asked!  And you may tell her for me that this is
the last time she may evoke old friendship.  We've both traveled too far
for me to owe her more than this last courtesy."

	At last Neptune showed signs of annoyance.  "This isn't a matter of
courtesy!  We need you to undertake this mission.  Humanity needs you."

	Molly laughed, but it was a bitter laugh and swiftly died.  "Magical
girls!  Women now but girls still.  Too entranced with higher battles to
do anything about the snake crawling on the ground.  So you come to me. 
Not one of you, but not one of them either.  The perfect freak to go out
and recruit other freaks while your senshi play at games of beauty and
power."

	"You have no conception," said Neptune.  "No conception of our
responsibilities and our limitations.  You're right, you aren't one of
us."

	Molly suddenly changed the subject.  "The information you've provided
was a good start, but can I expect any further support?"

	"Perhaps.  Once you have your team in place, someone will be in touch
to give you any further information we've gathered.  I can't speak more
certainly than that."

	"Then if that's all, you had better leave now.  My friend should be
here any time.," said Molly.  She grinned a terrible grin.  "If she
finds you here, she'll most likely kill you."


********

	Advances in technology, Molly reflected to herself, don't always touch
every area of life.  However much the world had changed since the time
of her youth, some things remained much the same.

	Chinese whorehouses, for instance, remained much as they had always
been.  This particular instance was a run-down building reeking with
filth and the scent of human desperation and need.  Molly wrinkled her
nose, contrasting it to the memory of salty air.  She made a mental note
to change clothes later.

	Clearing her throat, Molly raised her voice and shouted, "Could someone
help me please?  I'm looking for someone."

	The proprieter came bustling forward.  He was a man of middle years,
but a faint grey tinge to his skin added a decade or so to the
estimate.  His neck was pocked with bluish and green spots, marks of a
popular new drug.  Bowing in a servile manner, he appraised her dress
and obvious good health.

	"Welcome lady, welcome.  You looking for somebody, we can do that.  Got
a few men who know just what the ladies like, or a few ladies who know
what the ladies like, if that's what you want."

	Molly leaned forward.  "I'm looking for one person in particular. 
Ranma Saotome.  I was told he comes here quite frequently."

	The man backed off, suddenly more hostile.  He walked off, saying as he
left, "This is no infobooth, lady.  My customers, they like their
privacy.  You not here to get some, then get out."

	Molly almost laughed. Privacy?  As houses of ill repute went, this
nameles building was a pitiful example.  There weren't even any rooms,
just a large open space littered with the place's employees performing
various acts upon their customers.  Some had at least bothered to
retreat shadowy corners, but many were too far gone to care.  From where
she was standing, Molly could see at least a dozen men who might have
been her quarry.

	A person-by-person search could have taken hours.  Time enough to shake
each man or woman out of their activities and interrogate them.  Not
that she wasn't willing to take the time, but from the way the
proprieter had disappeared, Molly had a strong suspicion he would be
back shortly with some friends to help assist her in exiting the
premises. 

	"Ranma Saotome!  Are you here, Saotome!?"  No answer.  Either he didn't
want to be found, or was too far gone to listen for his own name.  Well
there was, as they said, more than one way to skin a cat.

	Walking swiftly over to a hole in the wall, Molly pulled a sheet off
the side of it.  The hole might have been supposed to be a window and
her prize possibly drapes, but it was hard to tell.  Pulling out a
lighter, she set the cloth on fire and walked over to the nearest smoke
sensor.

	Not installed by the current management, of course.  It was a leftover
from the days when the building had been a warehouse and had held
something worth keeping safe.  It wouldn't have been kept maintained,
but in those advanced times most such equipment was kept relatively
maintenence free.  If Molly were lucky...

	A hooting siren filled the air and water sprayed down from the
rafters.  Just as she had hoped.  Screams of outrage and indignation
echoed from all over the room, but in one particular corner the
screaming seemed altogether more hysterical.

	A woman, young but not particularly pretty, raced out from behind a
stack of crates.  She was wiping at her mouth and appeared about to go
into hysterics.  Moments later another woman appeared, this one much
older.  The older woman was dressed in masculine clothing several sizes
too large.  And her trousers were hanging down around her knees.

	"Hey baby!" shouted the older woman.  "Get back here.  I paid for the
hour.  This ain't no big deal."  She paused in her pursuit to pull up
her pants.

	"Saotome!" Molly shouted again, this time waving her arms for extra
emphasis.  She was somewhat pressed for time, as the proprieter had
emerged from the back in the company of five large men.  Three of them
looked to have some sort of cyborg augmentation, and the other two were
carrying old style projectile guns.

	The older woman paused and blinked, as if trying to recall something. 
Finally she stumbled up to Molly and looked her in the eye.  I'm Ranma
Saotome."

	It was at that moment the proprieter, trailing somewhat ahead of his
companions, reached the two women.  He angrily accused, "You two causing
all this trouble for me!"  Snarling, the proprieter reached out to grasp
the smaller and older looking woman by the shoulder, perhaps intending
to make his point with a little violent emphasis.

	Ranma instinctively tossed him into a wall.  Unsteadily, she turned to
face the proprieter's enraged henchmen and added to her earlier
statement.  "Sorry about this."  The gentlemen were not amused.

	Two of the cyborg-augmented henchwork lumbered toward Ranma in a
coordinated movement.  Each positioned himself at one side of her and
simultaneously grabbed.  Each simultaneously missed.  A blur; Molly
couldn't describe it any better than that.  There was a blur and the
unprotected faces of the cyborgs slammed together.  Another blur and
both joined their employer against the wall.

	While this was happening, the third cyborg had sidled up to Molly. 
Smirking, he caught one of her wrists in a literally iron grip and began
lifting Molly off her feet.  Leaning in to her captor, Molly pressed a
small metal device against his skin and pushed a button.  The man
shuddered and collapsed to his knees, hand loosening enough for Molly to
esacpe.

	A shot rang out as one of the two remaining goons fired his gun.  Molly
ducked down, trying to use the dazed body of her assailant as a shield. 
Before she could plan what to do next, this shield disappeared.  Ranma
picked up the cyborg, as she had the first two.  This one, however, she
threw at the gunmen, knocking them to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

	Saotome took a step forward and shouted, "There's more where that came
from you j-".  Mid-word, she cut off and clutched her side. Whatever
burst of energy had allowed her to plow through the five attackers
deserted her, and suddenly there was nothing there but a very old,
tired, woman.

	Moving swiftly, Molly took her target's hand.  "In a few seconds,
they're going to get back up, and you look like hell.  I'm guessing you
don't have it together enough to do that again.  Come with me."

	Ranma didn't respond, but allowed herself to be led out of the building
and down the street.  Molly snuck a quick glance at her as they ran.

	Ranma's body was tight and well-toned.  She had acquired some of that
peculiar thinness that sometimes comes from advanced age, but it was
mostly masked by layers of muscle.  Even her hands looked only slightly
worn.  From below the neck, in loose clothing, she could have passed for
merely middle aged.

	On her head, however, the wrinkles were not concealed by clothing. 
Around the eyes and the mouth, Ranma's skin looked worn and folded.  The
rest of her face still retained some of the elasticity of youth, but
there remained a faded look to it.  Her eyes made her seem older still,
appearing clouded and tired.  Her hair was cut short and damp, clinging
tightly to her skull.  There was still some grey in it, but the rest had
gone to the snow white of the truly aged.  Overall, not a pretty sight.

	Spotting the designated corner, Molly dragged them into a blind alley. 
The sound of pursuit was growing behind them, becoming steadily louder. 
It sounded as if the outraged proprieter had located another dozen men
or so.

	Ranma seemed to shake herself somewhat out of her stupor.  "Wha- What's
going on?  Wha' we doing here?"

	"We're here to meet a friend of mine," said Molly.  "Unfortunately she
doesn't appear to be where she said she would be."

	"Wha's going ta' happen?"

	"Well if she doesn't show up in the next few seconds, I imagine we'll
both be raped, then killed.  If we're lucky we'll merely be killed, but
I don't count on it."  Molly smiled.

	"I can tak' em.  I'm the greshest marpal... mutal... mashal... fighter
in the world!"

	"Of course you are dear."

	The shouts had grown quite close when the end of a rope ladder hit
Molly in the head.  It was a superlight metallic compound of some sort
rather than the traditional hemp, but the principle remained the same. 
She pulled the ladder over to Ranma and physically placed the other's
hands on a rung.  Still somewhat dazed, Ranma began to climb.  Molly
encouraged her with a slap on the bottom, then quickly began following
suit.

To be continued....

-- 
Matthew Campbell
E-mail: mgcampb@clemson.edu

"Margaret's explanation, which I liked better, was that you 
had to learn a culture until you knew whether the person on 
the other side of the table was following a cultural norm 
different from yours, or just an asshole."

- EARTH MADE OF GLASS by John Barnes