Okay, this ain't done either, but hey-- why not let you see what IS done?
Before I gear up to the somewhat... different part. ^_^
Robert Haynie Jr. Working at the moment on Pop's machine, so the sig isn't
nearly as funny as it should be. In fact, this is kinda dull. No good
jokes, no wierd statements, no... wait. Does this qualify?
-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --
-- File: paragon4temp.txt
Most people didn't understand the truth about Cologne. Which
suited her just fine.
For quite some time now, she had been well aware that the chances
that Ranma would actually submit to Amazon law and return to China
with Shampoo were less than good. One doesn't live to be more than a
hundred without being something of a judge of human nature and
hearts, and there was little doubt in her mind that the only thing
keeping Ranma and Akane from the altar was the fact that they were
being forced into it.
Besides, law or no law, she no longer really wanted Ranma in the
tribe. They boy was just too independent-- he'd make a proper amazon
husband the day that Mousse developed spontaneous 20-20 vision and
Shampoo took a vow of chastity. The lad also carried chaos around
him in ways that she still at times could not believe. A year in
Jokuzetsu would likely mean no more Jokuzetsu, since she had no
reason to believe that the unending string of challengers, strange
happenings, paranatural occurrences, and just plain wierdness would
stop at the Nerima limits. True, this area probably amplified it a
bit-- the ward was known for a history of odd happenings-- but the
boy attracted such things wherever he went.
She hadn't taken a really active hand in the matter since the boy
had used the Neko-ken to defeat her for the Phoenix Pill. It was
then she realised that he was truly opposed to the idea, which had
startled her. She had assumed-- as had most Amazons-- that a male
would fall for Shampoo's allure, sensuality, and culinary skills in a
heartbeat. She had assumed wrong.
Because Ranma wasn't like most males. He was practically
unseduceable. He reacted to physical advances not with
reciprocation, but with unease. He wanted-- if he wanted anything--
to be left alone, to find his own path. It was fairly clear that
that path didn't include making many little Amazon babies.
Of course, that combined with the fact that Shampoo's first idea
was to kill him and her second and following ones were to hang onto
him like a love starved chunk of moss on a reluctant oak tree didn't
do a lot to help either.
Sometimes Shampoo would come across some old or arcane piece of
lore or paranormal seasoning, and try it. It never worked, of
course-- love doesn't work that way, and fate derailed attempts to
make it do so-- but Shampoo, who couldn't see anything past the idea
that Ranma = Airen would try again. Cologne neither encouraged or
discouraged these attempts anymore. She just sat back, watched, and
enjoyed the chaos.
After all, Nerima was so much more FUN than the sleepy Amazon
village. What had started as a husband hunt had become what Cologne
considered a sort of temporary retirement with a never ending floor
show.
From time to time she would teach Ranma something. Not because
she hoped to gain him for the tribe. Not because she had any real
plans for the boy. Rather, because he was such a joy to teach--
unlike the children of the Amazon tribes she knew who saw the Art as
just another way to fight, he understood the truth--
The Art was... The Art.
Shampoo knew how to fight-- very well indeed-- but she didn't
really understand the Art. Kuonji was skilled with her-- admittedly
peculiar-- weapon of choice, but she didn't really understand the
Art. Akane, the one she knew Ranma would eventually choose, Amazon
Law be damned, had potential that she was letting go to waste because
she had no real commitment to it-- she could have understood the Art,
but she didn't.
Hibiki, now... he understood. You don't learn the true Bakusai
Tenkatsu without understanding the Art. You don't master a move like
the Shi Shi Hokodan without understanding the Art.
And Ranma-- mastering the Burning Chestnut technique without
being able to touch fire-- and THEN refining it into a devastating
attack technique (which it had not been intended for).
Mastering the Hiryuu Shoten Ha without having been taught the
final move-- instead exectuting it on instinct... and later
developing methods which didn't require leading the opponent into a
spiral, but merely executing one himself. Much less once creating,
on the spot, a variation that worked while he was soaring in midair.
(And oh, did she have a quiet chuckle when Mousse had related THAT
tale to her. Poor Herb... heh.) She expected any day now for the
boy to design a variant that let him stand still.
Seeing the Shi Shi Hokodan and imitating it without the scroll--
and then after seeing the scroll refining it into a new and non-self
destructive technique-- Mokou Takabisha.
And his almost insane skill at adapting whatever was around him
into a new technique on the spot for that fight alone. (She still
boggled at times when she thought about the Pantyhose Meteor Kick.)
The boy didn't understand the Art. The boy WAS the Art.
Besides, law or no law, no WAY was she going to try to force the
lad who had killed Saffron- SAFFRON, dear Gods, SAFFRON- to go to
China. She liked her little restaurant in one piece.
Her little body, also.
And as for the lure of a cure for the curse-- apparently some
passing spirit had whimsically decided to remove it. Even if Cologne
found a cure, it was useless as a lure now.
Well, it was really for the best. Ranma would NOT make a good
Amazon.
But Shampoo didn't understand that. And so, without mentioning
it to her, Shampoo had gone to prevent the wedding of Ranma and
Akane. And she had actually expected Ranma to be grateful.
(My great-grand-daughter's a love-struck idiot,) Cologne mused.
A miserable one now, since Ranma refused to talk to her, or even
acknowledge her presence of late. Ranma was not grateful for the
interrupted wedding. He was, in fact, unhappy about it.
Or he had been.
Something had happened along with the cure, Cologne decided.
Something important. Ranma would vanish for extended periods, and
no-one knew where. He wasn't talking about it. He wasn't, in fact,
acting much like Ranma. He was acting as though he was finally
maturing.
Hmm... how much did a curse have to do with his long-held
immaturity?
The phone rang, interrupting Cologne's musing.
"Moshi Moshi."
"Oh, you. Haven't heard from you in a long time, Doctor--"
"You... you aren't serious? You ARE? Oh, GODDESS..."
"Well, of COURSE I'll come. I'm sworn to her service as much as
any of the rest of the Brotherhood. Especially since I'm the only
female IN the Brotherhood, and I'll have to make certain you don't
advise her poorly with your male outlook..."
"I don't see what's so funny. Hmmph. I'll meet you there
tomorrow."
She hung up.
Thoughts about Ranma, about Shampoo, about the Art, about
everything were banished. There was something vastly more important
to consider.
The Dark had returned. It HAD to have returned--
Because the Paragon had.
####
Robert Haynie Presents
A Ranma 1/2 / Sailor Moon fanfiction
PARAGON
Episode Four : Fearsome Battle! Paragon VS Ferriko!
####
Naoko Takahashi sighed. No sign so far of any weaknesses in the
dimensional fabric so far-- at least none that the Compact could
locate.
Then she sighed again, because she had more reason than ever
before to BE Naoko. That reason was because she didn't share certain
problems in the life of her alter ego-- well, the one named Ranma
Saotome, to be specific-- and one of import was girls.
As in, for some reason she had never completely understood, he
tended to attract them in a manner similar to how a bucket of snails
attracted French gourmets.
It wasn't that every girl Ranma met would start chasing him.
Only a few-- those who were capable martial artists, in general would
actively chase him. In a wierd way, that was a relief. Because
Ranma often feared that if those three or four or how many it
happened to be at the time were ordinary girls-- instead of the kind
that not only could but very likely would wreak a path of destruction
a half mile wide across Tokyo-- he'd be chased by hundreds.
(Incidentally, he was right. Since where other girls would have
fought with spiteful words or hair-pulling, his not-so-wanted
fiancees would have fought with spatula, bonbori, ribbons, and the
occaisional mallet, most girls who would have made a play for the
young martial artist tended to feel that they'd have to try for
second best.
Then they decided to set their sights lower, since second best
was usually considered that cute Hibiki boy, but no one could usually
find him, or even talk to him when they did. It was generally
considered that he didn't like girls, since he refused to talk to any
who even flirted with him slightly.
Adorable Shyness wasn't a thing that the average Neriman girl
understood.)
But those were Ranma's problems. Naoko didn't have anything like
that to worry about.
Instead, Naoko had to worry about boys. Fortunately, the males
in Juuban were strangely less, well, frothing pits of boiling
hormonal letchery than the ones in Nerima. She had discovered that
the worst thing she had to look forwards to was an ill-phrased
attempt to make a date instead of the more familiar (and much less
liked) leer or glomp and thinly veiled (when veiled at all)
suggestion of immediate intimate physical activity. The boys of
Juuban were much less-- for lack of a better term-- perverted. Akane
would have been astonished.
The girls though-- well, it looked like every time Ranma hit
Juuban he'd attract at least a dozen admiring gazes. Hair would
surreptitiously be adjusted to best effect, compacts would come out
for a quick check, and preparations would be made for a clever and
apparently accidental meeting. (In Juuban, as in much of Tokyo,
accidentally-on-purpose meeting a boy was the preferred method. As
opposed to Nerima, where it seemed that it was either challenging him
to combat or making some flat out insane entrance.)
Which never came off, since Ranma had pretty well decided that it
was safer to hide as Naoko whenever in Juuban. And Naoko was DAMN
well going to spend as little time in Nerima as she could,
considering the idiots there. Let Ranma handle that, since he was
expected to kick people into the near stratosphere, where if Naoko
did that, people would begin to... wonder. No, Naoko was playing it
at just barely above Akane's level. You know-- normal. (One can see
that Ranma/Naoko had an understandably skewed view of what was normal
for a martial artist.)
In other words, the Paragon was leading two entirely separate
lives-- BESIDES that of the Paragon-- as far as Japan was concerned,
with the exception of two residents. One a doctor, one a rabbit.
And Clark Kent thinks HE has problems with secret identities.
####
Usagi was feeling a wee bit down. None of her friends were able
to DO anything today. Ami had some grueling super-study session for
an unexpected juku exam, Rei had roughly a quarter tonne of shrine
duties, Mamo-chan was in class and would be spending most of the day
in the university lab, Chibi-Usa was at a sleepover with her friend
Momo-chan, Naru was at the park with Umino, and Minako and Makoto
were getting annoying with their recent obsession of the mystery boy
that they had discovered and that Usagi personally thought was a
figment of their imaginations. Heck-- she was even caught up on her
studies and didn't have any homework to do. (As though that was ever
a consideration?)
So it was with curiosity she saw her new friend Naoko peering
intently into her compact (although Usagi didn't know why--
Naoko-chan was so pretty!) and scowling. Maybe she had a blemish.
Approaching, Usagi curiously poked her face straight into Naoko's
to see what possible blemish the pretty redhead could have.
"AAAIIIIIGGHHHHHH!" greeted Naoko, who had found, instead of a
signal of the weakness in the dimensional fabric that would have
clued her in on the next Ur-demon incursion, a pair of curious wide
blue eyes attached to a pair of golden baseballs.
Understandably startled, Naoko backpedaled into a convenient
tree, knocking her head against it, and grunting out a feminine but
very well felt "Ouch!" to go with it.
"GomenNaokochanIdiditagaindidn'tI?" babbled Usagi, contrite.
"That's-- owww-- okay, Usagi-chan," Naoko replied. "I'm getting
used to it. But it's getting to be a bad habit."
"I'm REALLY sorry," the blonde said. "I don't MEAN to keep...
um..."
"Injuring me?" Naoko grinned.
"Hai... I mean, startling you, but you were looking at your
mirror, and I was wondering if you had a smudge, or something,
because you're always so perfect with your makeup, and..."
"Um... I was just checking, Usagi-chan." Actually, the
transformation into Naoko tended to make certain that she was not
only approprately dressed, but invariably perfectly coiffed and
decorated. Which, frankly, she was somewhat pleased with, since she
wasn't at all certain she could handle it for "real". She barely
understood lipstick, and that was only because of a few pre-cure
episodes that had required it.
Although it DID seem odd that every time she met up with Usagi
she'd somehow get an ouchie. Hmmph. For a moment she wondered why
her usual danger sense never warned her of these incidents, but
decided that it was because Usagi wasn't really a danger-- just
someone who was something of a klutz with some of the worst timing
she had ever met.
Actually, she kind of liked that about her.
"It's no biggie, Usagi-chan. I'm a martial artist, remember? I
know how to take a little knock."
"Well... if you're not mad at me about it..."
"Hey, you get much worse in sparring. So you have to be able to
take a knock. My idol says that the life of a martial artist is full
of peril. But he's an adventuring type, I hear, I guess I'm more a
hobbyist..."
"Adventuring?"
"Um... well, you know, minor things like burglars and the like."
(And oni, and dragons, and Saff-- don't go there, Ranma.)
"Sugoi. Say... are you doing anything today?"
"Ah, no, not really." (Scanning's a wash, and if something
breaks out suddenly I should sense it-- Star says I should be able
to.)
"Cool! Want to go shopping?"
With a contrived look of anticipation, Naoko replied, brightly,
"Sure!"
Later, she considered that a MAJOR mistake.
####
Three people.
Doctor Tofu Ono, physician and student of arcane lore and
medicine.
Cologne, matriarch of a tribe of Chinese Amazons (for lack of a
better term) and expert on martial arts and dangerous magic.
Those the reader will recognize.
The third was a man in his late seventies, of Chinese descent.
He didn't look it, however. His hair grayed slightly at the temples,
and there were a few wrinkles, but in general he was well preserved.
Only close examination would have revealed that one of his hazel eyes
was in fact glass, a small souvenir of an unfortunate incident with a
demon he had encountered while aiding a noted archaeologist back in
the late forties. He was also one of the richest men in Hong Kong.
Many people knew David Wong, brilliant financier and master
businessman. Few knew he was a talented if unofficial archaeologist.
Nobody remembered the name he had been known by in his youth in
Shanghai .
"It's been a long time, Cologne," Wong said.
"Ah, my young friend. You're looking well. Whatever happened to
your handsome associate?"
"He died a few years ago. I'm not certain how."
Cologne chuckled. "Knowing him, likely a jealous husband. No,
that's not fair... he never played in other men's fields, did he?"
Wong shook his head. "He might have been a scoundrel, but never
that much of one..."
Tofu looked on, blankly. "Um... how long have you two known each
other?"
"Too long, it seems. I'm not getting any younger, and the Elder
here just seems to have stopped." Wong gave a mild chuckle himself.
"So, we do have a Paragon after all? I spent years of archeological
resources and research to find the Amulet, and one just pops out?"
"Well, it seems that the... girl was given the Amulet by a person
or persons unknown, although I'd be tempted to describe the giver as
a kami of sorts. I always said that that little search wasn't likely
to give us any results," Tofu clarified.
"You certainly got enough legends, scrolls, and obscure texts out
of it for us to advise her with, though. IF we can figure any of
them out," noted Cologne. "Any idea when the other two are likely to
arrive?"
Tofu shook his head. "Realistically, they can't come here on a
permanent basis, just as Wong-san will need to return fairly soon to
his buisinesses. However, should any of thier special talents be
needed, they can be here withing twenty-four hours. As far as
permanent staff is, it's me-- since even you, Cologne, may be needed
by the Jokuzetsu at any moment."
"We're lucky that she HAS a permanent contact as it is." Wong
shook his head. "If it IS luck."
"At any rate, Hesse is not going to be able to be here for a few
days for this meeting-- being the chief of Archaeology at the
University of Berlin is a hounding duty. But we can expect Jack Case
tomorrow... and he's already setting up the computer news searches
that we hope to use to predict paranormal event possibilities.
Genius..."
"Well, he IS the man who wrote the REAL protocols for the
American Military computers. I STILL get the giggles when I think of
all those hackers who THINK they have penetrated the Pentagon's
security," Wong chuckled.
"I know. I got online a few months ago myself. I've been, ah
'surfing', including Usenet. Have you ever seen those idiots that
occaisionally post notices that say something to the effect of--"
Here Tofu took a deep breath, and somehow managed to actually
quote--
"HeY DooDz, I nOw OWN the InTERnet, aLL pAy HOMAGE to mY
KEWLNESS!"
The other two began to laugh hysterically.
"Oh, YES," Cologne guffawed. "Even on Chinese feeds, where few
can read them!"
"You have a net connection, Elder?" asked Wong, who had seen that
sort of troll more than once in the financial groups.
"It's a lot easier to run a restaurant with one, besides keeping
track of REAL Chinese politics that way."
Tofu smiled. "I'd love to see the face of one of those idiots if
they knew there was someone who DID own the Internet..."
####
(I should have claimed some other appointment,) Naoko mused as
the blonde girl zipped about the mall like a comet. Usagi had an
incredible talent for generating incredible amounts of enthusiasm and
energy as long as whatever she was doing was essentially trivial. At
least, trivial in Naoko's view.
It probably wouldn't have been so bad if Usagi hadn't insisted
that Naoko join in. Joining in meant trying this dress or that skirt
on, or this pair of shoes or that hat or... other female clothes.
It was bad enough that Naoko had to dress in a "fully female"
mode when transformed into Naoko, but now she was trying stuff on.
All under Usagi's critical eye. Said critical eye consisted of the
simple statement that thus and such an outfit looked really cute on
Naoko. Apparently, a gunny sack would look cute on Naoko.
Naoko held... different opinions.
"It's too frilly, Usagi-chan. I'm not a frilly person, you
know?"
Usagi just beamed. "Well, I think it's cute. You dress nice
enough, but always so plain. You should indulge yourself once in a
while."
Naoko tugged at the ruffled skirt she was wearing and scowled.
"I don't care to indulge myself this far. Um, at least not except
for a special occaision. I need practical clothes because of the
Art."
"I don't get it."
"Well, you never know if there's going to be a fight. Suppose we
were walking and a mugger attacked us? I can fight pretty good, so I
could hold him off, but I'd, ah, hate to get a nice dress ruined in
the fight. So, I wear plain clothes usually, durable stuff. That
lets me kick. So I can fight if I'm attacked or a friend is."
"You're really into all this martial art philosophy, aren't you?"
"I sort of have to be, if I want to be as good as... Him." Naoko
allowed herself a starry look, again giving the impression that she
had something of a denied crush on her as yet unnamed idol.
"Well, I suppose so... OOOH! This would look SO good on you!"
Naoko sighed. She certainly wasn't going to buy anything, but it
certainly seemed that she was going to be wearing a lot of them...
####
"I KNOW I saw him."
"Mina-chan. You keep saying that. He shows up for a minute, and
then vanishes. I'm beginning to wonder about that boy."
Minako peered at the taller girl uncertainly. "You aren't
suggesting that he's an enemy, are you?"
"No... I don't get that kind of feeling about him. But maybe
he's gay?"
Minako blanched. "No! That's not possible! He's too CUTE!"
"Then why does he avoid us?" Makoto replied. "For that matter,
we've both seen some fairly cute girls start towards him, and he
always ducks into an alley or something and then goes poof. I think
he's scared of girls for some reason."
The blonde thought. "Maybe... he's had bad experiences with
girls before. Dumped, or something, and so he's shy about it. So
he's avoiding them because he's trying to deal with a tragic
heartbreak?"
Makoto sighed. That was JUST the kind of logic that Mina-chan
would pull out of her hat. On the other hand, it also made a sort of
sense.
"That could be it, I suppose..."
"And so, as the Goddess of Love that I am, I owe it to him to
show him that not all girls are fickle or cruel. The poor thing. He
deserves a proper girlfriend." It was obvious that Minako had
already convinced herself that her hypothesis was a proven theory.
"I still saw him first."
"Oh, stop SAYING that..."
####
Usagi looked at her friend with some mild concern. Naoko was a
nice girl, and a pretty sensible one-- unless you got her on the
subject of martial arts, and then she'd go downright ditzy. She'd
begin to prattle and rave and drop small comments about her idol--
who she had yet to actually name.
But it was something of a shame that such a pretty girl was also
such a tomboy. Oh, Naoko tried to hide it, and probably wore dresses
because her mother made her or something, but Usagi had a feeling
that Naoko would be happier in a t-shirt and jeans, rough and
tumbling it with other likeminded girls and boys. And her facination
with the martial arts suggested to Usagi that the only kind of boy
she'd be interested in would be a martial artist.
The only male martial artist that she knew of-- besides
Mamo-chan, who had studied a little kendo once, which stood him in
good stead as Tuxedo Kamen-- was that wierd boy who would show up at
Rei's place every once in a while, looking for either someplace
called the Tendo Dojo or a pig farm. Hmm... there was a thought. He
was pretty cute, and might be just the kind of guy that Naoko needed.
Although he did seem to have a problem with directions. At
least, she was fairly certain that he had headed towards Kyoto when
directed to Nerima.
So, if she tried to set Naoko up with a nice boy, it had better
be one that would get to the date on time.
AND who was a martial artist. Hmm... Mako-chan knew a lot about
martial arts, maybe she would know of someone.
Meanwhile, Naoko, unaware that her life was about to become
feminine social hell, was trying not to explode at the fifth silly
dress that Usagi had found in THIS shop.
####
Mamoru Chiba was somewhat annoyed at the universe, or at least
his particular corner of it. Of all the days for a lab fire to break
out, when he had at least three experiments he was supposed to do,
bah.
Intellectually, Mamoru was aware that what he'd probably wind up
doing with his life was sitting on a throne next to Usako-- who by
then wouldn't be Usako any more, technically-- and wearing a mask
most of the time. (Why Kind Endymion wore that thing habitually, he
didn't never know, but his short trip to a distant future suggested
that that would be the case. Perhaps it wasn't a mask, but mask
shaped glasses? After a thousand years, he could go nearsighted
after all...)
But despite that destiny, he STILL wanted to become an accredited
surgeon or genetic researcher first. Besides, he thought with a
smile, there wasn't any telling how much money the king business
paid, where medicine could probably pay for the whole Crystal Palace.
At the moment, however, he had nothing to do. Nothing at all.
He was bored-- a state he wasn't used to. He was damn tempted to
produce the Rose and start jogging on streetlamps just to do
SOMETHING.
"No WAY, Usagi-chan! I'd look like some demented ice-cream
dessert wearing that! And I hate pink anyhow!"
"Aw, Naoko-chan, what's wrong with pink?"
Hmm. Maybe things were looking up a bit.
Mamoru gazed in quiet amusement as his girlfriend and future
queen tried to cajole an unfamiliar redhead into a rather ornate
party dress, that was more suitable to a idol singer than a ordinary
girl. Being the basically chivalrous type, he decided to rescue the
new person from the hell of Usagi's sometimes over the top fashion
sense.
"Hate to say it, Usako, but I have to agree with your friend
here. She looks to be more or less the practical type."
"MAMO-CHAN!" Mamoru braced himself for the almost bullet-like
impact of Usagi's hug. He wasn't dissapointed.
"So, who's your new friend?"
"Oh, gomen, Mamo-chan, this is Naoko Takahashi, and she's a
martial artist, and aren't you supposed to be in lab today?"
"Lab got canceled. Pleased to meet you, Miss Naoko."
"Ah..." The redhead looked a bit flustered, and then replied,
"Likewise. You have to be Usagi-chan's boyfriend?" (DAMN, he's WAY
older than her. Then again, I see wierder realtionships all the
time. Mostly mine.)
"Mamoru Chiba, at your service," Mamoru returned, adding a sort
of half-comic bow. To his mild surprise, where most girls would have
responded with a cute and embarrassed giggle, Naoko instead looked
oddly nonplussed.
"Oh, that's nice. I mean, you're very polite."
Naoko was somewhat uncertain how to react. True, she had no
attraction to the male gender, but she did know what real girls
found attractive-- and this youth was just that. Also, to her
discomfort, he was a charming type. She'd met more than one fellow
who thought they were charming-- bozos all, in her opinion-- but
genuine unfaked charm wasn't something she was familiar with.
Right now she was praying for some sort of distraction so she
could figure out how to pretend to react.
Prayers are answered sometimes.
####
Ferriko did not like Earth, did not like the East, did not like
Japan, did not like Tokyo, and especially did not like Azabu-Juuban.
She REALLY did not like Juuban.
The place was crawling with Senshi it seemed. Every time she
tried to send out an Ur-demon to find the StarGem, along bounced a
pack of Senshi, complete with inane speeches and invariably a Paragon
in tow. That is, unless Paragon showed up to be followed by said
pack of Senshi.
They HAD to be coordinating somehow. Perhaps Paragon was
actually a Senshi with an unusual fashion sense. Or something.
There was no doubt that they were working together, though.
Ferriko, one can see, was not a great believer in coincidence.
"Mistress?" The apparent girl next to the trenchcoat-clad
Ferriko looked at her controller with concern of a sorts. Ur-demons
did not actually have emotions of the tender sort, but they DID know
that a mistress should be kept happy if they wanted to stay intact.
"Chiculii, I'm thinking."
(Brooding, more like,) the Ur-demon mused. "Mistress, have we
found a target yet?"
"No. And right now I'm not looking for one. I'm trying to
figure out how to get my hands on Sailor Moon."
"Sailor Moon?"
"She and the Paragon are our main problems, but it's usually
Sailor Moon who actually finishes the fights. She doesn't seem to be
as capable a fighter as Paragon, at least not in an ordinary battle--
so she should be easier to capture. Paragon is going to take some
effort."
"Oh. So, we won't go after that fellow there after all?"
"Eh?"
"That tall fellow with those two girls. I sense great focus in
him."
Ferriko blinked. And looked in the direction Chiculii was
indicating. "Hmm... you're right. VERY focused heart, that one.
Well, it can't hurt to check if we can get him alone. Although
blondie there may be difficult to disentangle. She's got a grip on
him that a barnacle would be jealous of."