Sylvie hung up the phone, a strange expression on her face. Anri noticed
it and came over, curious.

   "What's the matter?"

   Sylvie pointed at the phone. "Leon McNichols just called. He wanted to
know if Darlene had come back."

   Anri blinked. "Why in the world would he want to know that?"

   "I'm not sure. He wouldn't say. He just said that something had happened
today that made him think of her, and kept muttering 'you'd have to see it
to believe it'."

   The two women looked at each other, and shrugged. "Men."

                    ***********************************

Personal Log: Entry 19, Year 20.

   So far, so good. The opening day of the store went well, and I seem to
have the hang of running the place. Thankfully, Minerva has taken a great
deal of the weight off my shoulders. Regulations. Paperwork. Japanese tax
laws. Arrrgggh! _SHE_ gets to do the income tax.

   Sylvie and Anri are still a little bothered by the fact that Char growled
at me, but they don't seem to hold it against me. Incredible. They are two
of the kindest, most caring people I've ever met. I can't see how _anyone_
could consider them anything other than human. Carbon or silicon.. they're
just building blocks. What makes you a person is how you act towards others.
Whether you treat another thinking being as a fellow person to be cherished,
or a mere thing to be used. And by _that_ standard, I'd say at least 20% of
the executives of Genom don't qualify. Probably more than that, now that I
think of it.

   I don't _think_ the Knight Sabers are suspicious of me, but one can never
really know, then. Sylia's mind is so sharp, it terrifies me. She is 
dangerously intellegent. If it weren't for Minerva, advising me from behind 
the scenes like some high-tech Jimminy Cricket, I could have easily spilled 
the truth to her accidentally.

   Of course, I'm going to _have_ to do something about Minerva's sense of
humor. I can't believe she dyed those wanna-be robbers green. Still, it
_was_ hilarious! I'm glad she recorded the expressions on their faces when
they saw what looked like three of the bugs from "Aliens" appear out of thin
air and grab them, dragging them away. Heh. Tonight should prove rather
entertaining over at the ADPolice holding cells. The police are going to get
a surprise when they find out that those two empty-headed wastes of skin
will now glow in the dark until the dye wears away!

   I had to replace my fake glasses, though. The idiot with the pistol
managed to get off a single shot, and he hit me right between the eyes. It
didn't really hurt me, (actually, it itched a little) but the slug shattered
my specs, trashing them completely. Most annoying. Kept the pistol, though.
A nice little piece, once I cleaned it up and did a little maintenance on
it. The Israelis always did make good guns, and the Desert Eagle was one of
their best. I think I'll add it to my collection.

   Twenty years now.. It's still hard to accept. Technically, I suppose I'm
fifty-four, now. Yet if I remove the dye from my hair, I look twenty-five at
the very most. I wonder what my family and friends are doing right now. Do
they think I'm dead? Do they think I've just run away? I wouldn't put it
past that bastard Smith to lie to them. The only hope I have left are the
recordings I've seen that tell me I do eventually get home. Travel between
universes affects duration in odd ways, from what little I've studied. With
the Burroughs Irrelevancy Drive, I can hopefully return to a moment right
after I left. If that makes any sense. Fortuna knows it confuses the hell
out of me.

   The recording _did_ say I managed to get home, eventually.

   I have to keep hoping.

End Log Entry 19, Year 20.

                    ***********************************

   Several weeks went by, and sales remained steady in the bookstore. As
word spread of Ed's seemingly miraculous ability to find rare, exotic, or
simply out-of-print books, a small reputation began to build in the literary
community of Mega-Tokyo. Word of mouth spread rapidly, and customers began
appearing from other parts of Japan as well.

   Sylvie and Anri apparently decided to let the little incident with
Charcoal slide, and Ed visited them regularly. Not that he ever went near
the dragon again. That, he thought, would be about as sensible as a normal
human sticking their head into a microwave oven and turning it on. Lunch,
though... lunch with the two women remained the high point of each day.

   For some strange reason, Sylia seemed interested in his store. She would
occasionally drop by and take some time to browse the shelves. Each time,
she would invite him over to see 'Silky Dolls', but he begged off on the
grounds that a lingerie shop made him uncomfortable. He considered the
possibility that she was suspicious of him, and wished to use those hidden
sensors in the store front on him. That worried him somewhat, but he refused
to let it get in the way of waiting for Twister. Minerva didn't agree.

   "Boss.. just let me snoop on her, please?" she pleaded. "I can be in and
out of her systems and she'll never even know I was there!"

   "That's not the point, pretty lady."

   "Then what _is_ the point?!"

   "Has she tried to come after me?" Ed asked. "Or even spy on me?"

   "There was that snoop in the security alarm company's installation
team.."

   "Can you _prove_ it was Sylia behind that? Without spying on her first?"

   She let out a defeated sigh. "No, boss. I can't."

   "There you go. For what it's worth, girl, I DO think that was Sylia's
man... or someone Fargo hired for her. But it was likely done out of concern
for Sylvie and Anri. I can't fault her for that." He looked stern. "I'm a
unknown, flashing a lot of cash around, no background that isn't on paper
and apparently well connected, if you go by my ability to... acquire things.
She has to _know_ whether or not I'm a threat to them. Hell, I'd do the
same, were I in her position."

   He began pacing back and forth across the living room of his apartment.
Then he stopped and looked straight at her.

   "We leave it be. I will _not_ fire the first shot and start a fight." He
looked at her. "But you have my word. I won't start a war, pretty lady...
but I'll damn sure finish one."

                                   * * *

   At 'Silky Dolls', Mackie looked up as a FedEx delivery truck pulled up.
The driver entered and handed Mackie a small package. "Delivery for Sylia
Stingray, please sign here."

   Mackie did so, looking at the return address, then went in back where his
sister was going over some records. "Sis? There's a package from you. Did
you order something from America?"

   "Ah! It's arrived." She stepped out to the counter, and opened the
package, revealing several small video disks and a thin book. She turned to
Mackie. "I need to view these right away. Take care of the store, please."
She quickly returned to her office, closing the door. Mackie shrugged. *If
it's something I should know, she'll tell me. Sooner or later.*

   In her office, Sylia slipped the first of the disks into a player, and
watched intently as a kaleidoscope of cartoon images filled the screen. A
star map appeared. The opening narration was in English, with Japanese
subtitles. She listened to it closely.

   "This is the Inner Sphere - thousands of planets colonized by humankind.
Once it was united under the Star League, but for the last three hundred
years it has been consumed by savage wars. Until a new enemy appeared -
mysterious invaders known as the Clans. Powerful and ruthless, they struck
like lightning, attacking ever sector at once. But they made one big
mistake: they attacked my home planet! Now, in the spirit of the Star
League, ancient enemies have reunited... and we're gonna take back our
galaxy!"

   Sylia watched, intrigued.

   Three hours later, she was still watching.

                                   * * *

   Riding in the elevator at Genom's main office, Kate Madagan was listening
to a subordinate rave on and on about a wonderful new bookstore she'd
recently discovered. She tuned out the conversation, nodding politely now
and then, maintaining the fiction that she was interested in the subject.

   Until the young exec happened to mention the address of the store.

   "You should see it, Ms. Madagan!" gushed the young woman. "It's just a
block or two away from that wonderful little art store with all the dragons,
and the owner has the most _incredible_ gift for finding a book, no matter
HOW rare it is. He's even got museums asking after him. If you want
something, and you can pay, he can get it for you."

   Madagan winced inside at the mention of the art store, remembering a
certain encounter almost a year ago with its owner. She knew she'd been
_extremely_ fortunate to walk away from that confrontation alive and
uninjured. If that ADP officer hadn't convinced Darlene that she'd
eventually come to regret killing Madagan... well, she had _no_ illusions
about her chances of escape from the power-maddened young elven mage.

   She felt a.. tugging in the back of her mind, and listening to her
precognitive powers, began paying closer attention to what the young woman
was saying. When the elevator came to her floor, Madagan touched her on the
arm.

   "I'd like you to come with me to my office. I want to hear more about
this bookstore. I'll clear it with your immediate supervisor."

                                   * * *

   "Sir? We may have encountered a break-through in the Gramarye project."

   Quincy looked at Madagan, calmly noting the faint golden glow in her
eyes. "Indeed?"

   "A possible source of the documentation necessary to advance the project
has come to my attention, sir. With your permission, I'd like to approach
him, and acquire the items we need." She placed several sheets of paper on
Quincy's desk. "Here is what information we currently have on him."

   Quincy scanned the papers, and smiled faintly. Madagan had been quite
thorough. Ever since her psionic awakening, her value to the company had
increased steadily. Reading them, he nodded.

   "The proprietor does appear to be the sort who would either have, or be
able to find, some of the items we need." He handed the papers back to her.
"Please proceed. But take all due precautions. This project is inherently
hazardous, and any person dealing in such items could prove to be extremely
dangerous. And avoid approaching the art store," he added dryly. "We do not
want a repeat of the `Elf' incident, Ms. Madagan."

   Madagan shuddered ever so slightly. "I _fully_ understand, sir."

                                   * * *

   Upstairs, in Ed's apartment...

   "Ahhh... there is _nothing_ like good italian take-out. Trust me on this
one, Sylvie." Ed eased back in his chair, and sighed happily. He took a
Cuban cigar from his jacket, then hesitated. "Do you mind if I smoke,
ladies?"

   "It's your home, Ed.. we're the guests today," said Anri. 

   "Well.. true.. but I do try to remember that not everyone appreciates
breathing tobacco smoke, m'lady. It's just common courtesy." He smiled.
"Besides, you two are my friends. You are the closest thing I have to
family, here."

   Anri blushed, and Sylvie looked away, embarrassed. "We were just being
friendly, Anthony."

   "No. You've been _friends_." He looked at them. "There's a difference, a
big difference. I haven't had many friends, and I cherish those I have."

   The downstairs bell rang, and Ed stood up. "Whoops! I thought I hung out
the `out-to-lunch' sign, blast it." He snorted. "Open a store, and sure as
Ghod made little green apples, the customers will try to take advantage of
you." He turned and headed for the stairs. "I'll take care of this. You two
go ahead and finish lunch."

                                   * * *

   Back in 'Flights of Fantasy', the eyes of a metal statue began to glow
softly. A faint growl echoed through the room. Then it fell silent again.

                                   * * *

   Downstairs, Ed found a tall, elegant woman waiting for him. She was
accompanied by two muscular bodyguards. Even a blind man would have known
them for the boomers they actually were.

   *Why does this scene feel so damned familiar?* he thought. *There's
something here I'm missing...*

   He looked the woman over closely, noting that she was doing the same with
him. Long purple hair, pale skin, and elegant clothing that reeked of power,
class and influence. *Damnit.. I _know_ her. I'm certain I do. But who is
she?* He shook his head. *What I wouldn't pay for a better memory. Doesn't
matter. But I wonder where all the weird hair colors come from?*

   "I'm sorry, but we're closed for lunch at the moment. I'd be happy to
help you later in the day, ma'am."

   She smiled. "I understand. But I can make it more than worth your while."
She waved one of the bodyguards forward. It held out a bank draft for 25,000
yen. "This is for the inconvenience I've caused in interrupting your lunch."

   He blinked and waved it aside. "That isn't necessary. But if you feel
that it's _that_ urgent, I suppose I can spare a few minutes to listen."

   She smiled. "Thank you. My name is Madagan, and I.."

   Ed snapped his fingers. "Madagan! Kate Madagan, right? You work for
Genom. That's why you look so familiar!"

   "Pardon me?" She looked confused for a moment, then examined him closely.
"Do we know each other from somewhere else?"

   He shook his head. "No. We've never met. I've simply heard of you from an
.. err.. acquaintance of mine." He rubbed the back of his neck, where an
ache was beginning to develop. *Well... it's not _really_ a lie.. I AM
acquainted with Twister through Darren's stories.*

   "What can I do for you, Ms. Madagan? A high-powered corporate VIP like
yourself doesn't visit the peons lightly. There must be something you want."

   "There is, Mr. Edwards. I have a list of books I'd like to commission you
to find for me. You will be well paid for your efforts."

   Ed's brows drew together suspiciously. "May I _see_ the list before I
agree to undertake the commission?"

   Madagan considered the request for a moment, and after finding nothing
harmful in it, took a small sheet of paper from her briefcase. Ed looked it
over, his eyes slowly growing cold and hard.
   
   "Cultes des Goules" - the Comte d'Erlette.
   "The Book of Eibon"
   "Unaussprechlichen Kulten" - Von Juntz.
   "Thaumaturgical Prodigies in the New-English Canaan" - Reverend Ward
    Phillips.
   "De Vermis Mysteriis" - Ludvig Prinn
   "The Book of Dzyan"
   "The Revelations of Glaaki"
   "The Pnakotic Manuscripts"
   "Ponape Scripture"
   "Marvells of Science" - Morryster
   "Saducismus Triumphatis" - Joseph Glanvil
   "Daemonolatreia" - Remigius
   "Necronomicon" - Abdul Al-Hazred.
 
   "You want _these_ books?" he asked in an icy voice.

   Madagan nodded. "And as quickly as possible. We will pay all expenses,
and any required bribes, if need be. Price is no object."

   "The price may be no object, but I _am_." Madagan was surprised to see
his eyes begin to glow a bright gold behind his photogrey glasses,
noticeable even under the bright lights of the bookstore. Her psionic senses
were muttering at her, hinting at dangers that she couldn't see, telling
her that the man in front of her was much more than he seemed to the naked
eye. "Madagan, we've just met. So this time, I'll give you the benefit of
the doubt. You don't _want_ these books. No one in their right _mind_ wants
*these* books.  They are too dangerous.  They make biological warfare look
like child's play. Trust me. Go home to Genom, and forget about these books.
Tell _them_ to forget about these books. Please."

   She shook her head. "I'm sorry that you feel this way, Mr. Edwards. But
we _do_ require these for our research. Is there anything I can do to change
your mind?"

   "No. Putting those books in the hands of Genom, or the hands of ANY
megacorp for that matter, would be akin to passing out loaded submachine
pistols in a kindergarten classroom." His face hardened. "I _cannot_ be a
party to that. Go home, Ms. Madagan. Forget about this. It's safer that
way."

   She considered using the boomers to convince him otherwise, but the
second that the thought crossed her mind, her precognition *screamed* at her
in a way she hadn't heard since the day she'd attacked Darlene Stefanson.

   Stepping back, she bowed respectfully. "If you do not wish to undertake
this effort, I understand. However, should you ever change your mind, I can
be reached via my office at Genom tower. I've left instructions to forward
any calls from you immediately."

   As she left, followed by her bodyguards, he muttered "not very damn
likely" and locked the door behind her. Then he headed upstairs to finish
his interrupted lunch with Sylvie and Anri.

   It wasn't until hours afterwards that he realized he'd nearly, and
neatly, duplicated Madagan's first meeting with Twister, the occasion when
she'd tried to purchase Charcoal from Darlene.

                                   * * *

   Later that night, Ed found himself pacing restlessly in his living room.
Frustration and anger wouldn't let him sleep. "Why, Minerva? Why? Just as
soon as things settle down, Genom has to try something stupid! Doesn't that
idiot Quincy know how deadly those books _are_?! C'thulu isn't something
that you can summon and control.. it's something that eats your very soul!
And then it goes out and polishes off the entire planet like an after-dinner
mint!" He kicked at a chair lying in his path, unthinkingly reducing it to
splinters. "Damn him! What kind of fool is he?!"

   "The standard kind, boss. He wants to take over the world. It's that
simple. And you're ruining the furniture, b'wana."

   "Well, I've got news for him," Ed snorted. "Madagan isn't Pinky and he
isn't the Brain. Lucifer is going to take up a job as a ski instructor on
the powder slopes of paradise before I help that megalomaniac lay a finger
on those books." He frowned, and replayed Minerva's remarks, then looked
down at the wreckage of the chair. "Ooops. Sorry 'bout that, m'dear."

   "You need some way to relax and have some fun, lover.. let me think for a
moment." A sound not unlike a version of "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor" as
played by a wistful audio generator hummed in his ears. "How about this?
There are still plenty of muggers left in Mega-Tokyo..."

   "Hunting for punks?" He grinned. "True.. but I haven't done that in
years. I don't have a look anymore. Besides.. PCHammer wasn't very happy
when he heard about my running around in a cheap knock-off of his 'Darkwing
Diggy' outfit."

   "That simply means I'll have to think up a new look for you, boss." He
could practically hear the grin in her voice. "I haven't done a superhero
costume for you in quite a while."

   "Just don't go overboard, pretty lady.. last time, they could see me
coming from miles away, what with all the flashy details you put on it," he
smirked. "Try and be a little more subtle this time around, girl."

                    ***********************************

   Leon and Daley were going over the weekly reports when Bochinski
interrupted them. "I think you might want to hear this, Inspector. There's
been a reported sighting of the _person_ from White Wolf's bar."

   Daley looked up. "The one who tore apart a boomer with his bare hands and
then vanished into thin air?"

   Bochinski nodded. "Uh-huh. Only it seems that boomers aren't the _only_
item on his menu. Some muggers downtown tried to jump a couple, and a man
dressed in a cowboy hat and a long leather coat came to their rescue." He
gave his superiors a bemused look. "When the couple called it in, they told
us that the muggers were tied up. They failed to mention that they'd been
tied up with traffic railing."

   Daley looked a little startled at that, but Leon just nodded. "And there
are other reports, aren't there." His tone made it a statement.

   Wadderson walked in at that point. "Two more have just arrived," she
added. "Some Outriders were harassing people in the Ginza district, and
they were found disarmed and tied up with their own motorcycles."

   "Motorcycles? I've heard of tying someone _to_ a motorcycle, but how do
you tie someone _up_ _with_ a motorcycle?" wondered Daley.

   "By crushing the bike with your bare hands and twisting the wreckage
around their body," Wadderson smirked, and flexed a muscle. "Whoever this
is, I like their style. I'll have to try that myself someday, now that I'm
strong enough." She laughed, then looked down at her notepad. "What makes it
certain is that all the reports have one thing in common. Each time, the
mysterious hero _vanished_ in a pillar of light, or so the witnesses say."

   Leon hmmm'ed to himself. "It sounds like our man.. if it _is_ a man. It
could still be some advanced type of boomer, for all we know. Or worse."

   "Worse?" asked Daley. "What's worse than an unknown type of boomer?"

   Leon reached across his desk and *ting'ed* a fingernail on a small statue
of a dragon by a fire hydrant, receiving a parking ticket from a cute
looking police officer on a motorscooter. "Think about it for a moment. Do
you really want to know?"

   Daley looked a little nonplused. "Ummm. Yeah. I see what you mean. So..
we have what appears to be a new vigilante in town. Do we set a trap for
him?"

   "No. We buck this up the chain of command and wait for orders from much
higher up on this one, partner. I smell politics in the wind." Leon frowned.
"It's time we start preparing CYA packages, people. Personal logs, and
document every single breath you take. Teleportation? Every one from the
government to Genom to the USSD is going to get involved. We'd better watch
out that we don't end up caught in the crossfire."

   Everyone nodded.

                                   * * *

   Ed peeled the leather duster off, and threw it onto the bunk in his cabin
aboard the Calypso. The Stetson followed it, sailing across the room. Then
he fell into his chair, laughing like a loon. "Fortuna! I haven't had _that_
much fun in YEARS! YEEE-HAAW! Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

   "Told you it'd relax you, boss," interjected Minerva. "I especially liked
the expression on the mugger's faces when you _ate_ their guns."

   Ed broke up into laughter again, then belched loudly. "W-w-well.. In the
TV show, Superman always crushed them with his hands, and I wanted to try 
something a little different."

   "It was a nice touch." Minerva smiled, and a scutter rolled in with a
tray of steaming towels and a bottle. "We'd better get you cleaned up,
B'wana. And you need to re-color your hair before you go back to the book
store."

   "I think I'll take a hot shower first," he said, still snickering as he
headed for the shower. "Then you can do my hair, pretty lady. Goddess.. the
expression on those punk's faces.. Did you record it all?"

   "Done and done, lover. It'll make for some fun home movies."

   Blurred by the running water, Ed's voice sounded cheerful. "Maybe we can
send some edited copies to the AD Police, baby..."

                                   * * *

   Nene looked at Naoko. "Could you cover for me for a few moments, Naoko? I
need to take a quick break."

   "No problem, Nene. Calling a boyfriend?" Naoko smiled.

   Nene shot her a withering glance. "Naoko..."

   "Just kidding, Nene. Hurry back."

   Nene hurried to a public phone outside ADPolice headquarters. A moment
later, she had Sylia on the line.

   "Sylia.. the person you wanted me to watch for? He's appeared again. I'll
have more for you in the morning."
                                   * * *

   In her office in the rear of `Silky Dolls', Sylia hung up the phone and
returned to examining a collection of faded paperback books on her desk. It
was rather unusual reading matter for someone like her. She ran her fingers
down the list of titles she'd managed to obtain:

   "Battletech: Legend of the Jade Phoenix" - Robert Thurston.
   "Battletech: Blood of Kerensky" - Michael Stackpole.
   "Battletech: Saga of the Grey Death Legion" - William Keith.

   There were many more, and several of the novels apparently came in sets,
following the adventures of a particular individual or mercenary unit. But
they all seemed to share the same basic background, a shared universe based
on a popular role-playing game.

   She reached for a pad and started taking notes.

                    ***********************************

   "I'll never be an angel/I'll never be a saint, it's true/I'm too busy
    surviving/Whether it's heaven or hell/I'm gonna be living to tell.."
      - Madonna, "Survival", _Bedtime Stories_

   The next day, Sylvie and Anri could sense the difference in Ed. A huge
grin covered his face, and occasionally, he'd stare into empty space and
chuckle.

   They were having lunch at his place again, and Sylvie noted the small
works of art that he was using to slowly fill the empty spaces in his
apartment. "Ed.. why haven't you come to us if you want some art? We'd be
happy to help. After all, we're friends. It would be a pleasure to find a
few pieces for you."

   He started to speak, then stopped with his mouth half-open. "Ahh.. Would
you believe it never even crossed my mind?!" He slapped himself on the
forehead. "Quote from the Three Stooges - 'I'm tryin' ta think, but nuttin'
happins'!'"

   The two women giggled. "You aren't _that_ bad, Ed," smiled Anri. "Just
sort of." She stood and walked over to the wall, where two small pencil
sketches hung. "Did you do these, Ed? I've never seen these before. They're
very beautiful." Sylvie joined her and they both looked closely at the
pictures. Two different women, one depicted as an elegant vampire, the other
as an anthropomorphic cheetah. They jumped, and turned around when they
heard a glass shatter.

   A puddle of ice tea had spread over the tabletop from Ed's glass as he
looked at the sketches with pain in his eyes. "No. I didn't." He looked down
numbly. "I'd better wipe this up. Don't want to make a mess."

   Sylvie rushed to his side, grabbing his arm. "Sit down, you idiot! Let me
see your hand. You've probably cut yourself badly..." She blinked in
astonishment at his uninjured palm. "How..?" Suspicion colored her voice.
"You're a boomer," she said flatly. Anri edged closer to the door, ready to
make a run for it.

   He just sat and stared at the wall. Several minutes went by tensely. "No.
Not a boomer, m'lady. Although I might have been better off if I were." He
finally blinked, and looked over at them. "And before you say what you're
thinking, no. I'm not a trap set for you by Genom, either. Not that Genom
would even try, after the scare Darlene threw into them."

   "You _know_ about that?" gasped Anri.

   "Yes. Just as I know that the two of you are sexaroids, and that you
occasionally keep company with the Knight Sabers, the Crystal Knight and the
Elf. But those are _your_ secrets. They're not mine to share." His lips
twisted into a bitter smile. "I was right. I should never have bought a shop
so close to you two. All it did was cause trouble."

   Sylvie still looked at him warily. "Who and what are you? And how did you
know those things about us?"

   "That's a very long story, Sylvie. One that's also very hard to believe.
Even for me."

   She pulled over a chair from the dinner table, turning it around and
crossing her arms over the back. "We're waiting."

   He nodded soberly. "S'beit, then. By your leave, m'lady. It was a little
over twenty years ago, in a little town in northeastern Colorado..."

                                   * * *

   An hour and a half later, the two sexaroids were staring at Ed with
astonishment in their eyes. Sylvie shook her head, stunned. "I've never
heard anything like that before. Except possibly for what happened to
Darlene."

   "At least what happened to Twister was a true accident, Sylvie. I walked
into that laboratory with my eyes open and wide awake," sighed Ed bitterly.
"I knew, or _thought_ I knew, what I was doing and I _still_ managed to
shoot myself in the foot."

   "Are.. are you still human?" asked Anri.

   "Anri!" Sylvie exclaimed, embarrassed. "How could you ask something like
that?"

   They were both surprised to hear Ed laughing. "No offence taken, m'lady."
A faint note of hysteria colored his laughter. "She hasn't asked anything I
haven't already asked myself for decades now. And for what it's worth, the
answer is - I don't know."

   Sylvie looked at him closely. "Why are you here, Ed?"

   He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I'm here because this was the last
place I know of that Twister had also been to. I'm _not_ a mage. Aside from
what very little a certain one of my otherselves knows about magic, I'm
completely ignorant about it. I'd hoped.." He stopped and took a deep breath
before continuing. "I'd hoped that by staying near to you two, I might find
an opportunity to approach Twister and beg for Darlene's help. Science
hasn't been able to find my home short of trial and error. Perhaps magic
could succeed where science has failed."

   The women looked at him, thinking. 

   He cleared his throat. "And as long as I'm being honest here, you should
know this as well. I'm the person the ADPolice is looking for in that case
involving White Wolf's bar."

   Sylvie raised an eyebrow and Anri's eyes went wide. "That was you?" Anri
gasped. "You're the one who tore that boomer apart bare-handed?"

   Ed nodded. "That was me. The disappearing trick was pulled with the help
of the ship I mentioned." He smacked himself on the side of the head. "Jesus
X. Bushmaster! If brains were gunpowder, I wouldn't have enough to blow my
own nose! Minerva, m'dear, feel free to introduce yourself to the ladies."

   A warm, musical soprano filled the room. "Greetings, Sylvie and Anri. I
am Minerva, an Autonomous Computer Intelligence. I serve as the brains
behind Ed's ship, the 'Calypso'. And I generally try to keep him from making
an utter fool of himself. Not that I'm very successful at that, most of the
time."

   Ed groaned, while the three females laughed. "Just what I need. A
feminist critique of my life. Thank you, Susan B. Anthony."

   After the giggles stopped, Sylvie spoke up. "So.. where do we go from
here?"

   Ed shrugged. "It seems to me that it would be in your own best interests
to avoid me. I tend to attract trouble. Minerva tells me it's because I'm a
`focus of probability'. Reality tends to.. get weird, when I'm around."

   Both women shook their heads. "We don't just abandon our friends, Ed,"
said Anri. "Hmmm.. Edward Anthony - Anthony Edwards.. I see. So you wouldn't
slip up when someone called you by name, right?"

   He nodded. "I was afraid if I took a totally different name, I might not
notice when someone called me. That would start people wondering, if they're
the suspicious type. Assumed names can be awkward, particularly if you
forget which one you're using at the time." He looked back at Sylvie. "Will 
you be telling the Knight Sabers about me?"

   Sylvie shook her head. "Why should we?"

   Ed bit his lip. "Well.. I'm arguably the most powerful single being in
the city at the moment, I own a starship that could burn Mega-Tokyo to the
ground and leave nothing behind but a smoking crater, and I have Genom, the
ADPolice, the USSD, and Fortuna only knows _how_ many other groups after me
in order to pry the so-called `secret' of teleportation out of me." He
winced. "I'm bad news walking, ladies. A natural disaster on two legs.
The sensible thing to do when you see me coming is to dig a hole, jump in,
and pull it in after yourself."

   Sylvie looked angrily at him. "Will you _stop_ that? Anri already _told_
you, we DON'T give up on our friends. If you've read about us in that story
you told us about, you should know that already."

   Minerva spoke up. "They've got you there, B'wana."

   "No commentary from the peanut gallery, please." He sighed. "But you're
right. If you aren't going to give up on me, I can't give up on myself.
But.. why NOT tell the Sabers?"

   "You said it first, Ed.. It's _your_ secret. Not ours. Your privacy is
safe with us."

   He closed his eyes for a moment. "Thank you." A tired smile crossed his
face. "And as for your original question, Anri... No. I didn't do those
sketches. A friend from days long past did them for me. Shou listened as I
described Natasha and Ailuro, then he did those for me." He waved a hand at
the pictures. "They're a.. remembrance of my past. And fortune willing, a
hope for my future." He looked down at the table. "Looks like we let lunch
grow cold while we were talking. Heh. Tell you what. Let's find a restaurant
and have an early dinner. My treat."
   
                                   * * *
   
   Late that night, he came home to the shop, and walked upstairs to the
apartment. He felt.. odd, somehow.

   He sat down with a snifter of brandy and thought it over. Reflecting upon
his feelings, he came to a realization. *Sylvie and Anri are my friends. And
I _HATE_ lying to my friends. No matter _what_ the reason. It makes me feel 
dirty. Now.. now I feel clean again.*

                    ***********************************

Personal Log: Entry 131, Year 20.

   Well, I seem to have developed a bit of a reputation in the weeks since
Sylvie and Anri discovered the truth about me. I've been out hunting muggers
at least three nights a week, and sometimes more. Heh. What can I say? It's
good, clean fun! And vastly entertaining.

   Needless to say, the number of muggings has dropped rather dramatically
in that time. I had to have Minerva snoop in the THP and ADP systems just so
I could find some more muggers to play with. They've been going into hiding,
lately. I _wonder_ why?! HA!

   I've had some close calls, though.. and that _DAMNED_ nickname stuck to
me like superglue! Everyone in Mega-Tokyo is calling the mysterious
vigilante `Goldeneyes', and that's got the THP, the ADPolice, Genom and the
Knight Sabers following me around like a pack of cybernetic bloodhounds. Not
that the first two are any real problem - with their budgetary restraints,
they can't catch me. They can barely catch a cold, poor fellows. Genom and
the Knight Sabers, however.. they're an different story.

   Genom's been filling the streets with undercover boomers, and has even
used some as fake muggers and fake victims to set traps for me. They've
managed to find me at least four times now. All they got for their troubles,
however, were several lessons in the practical difficulties involved in
successfully capturing and restraining a meta-human.
   
   Lucky they don't know my other identity, or they'd send me a bill for all
the boomers I've trashed. Going by the current market value for a new 55-C,
I've managed to run up quite a tab. Heh.

   As for the Sabers? Ouch. They _have_ been showing up close on my heels.
Faster than their advanced suits and technology can account for. I had
Minerva maintain a constant scan around my location the last time I went
out, and she noted four small energy signatures just before they appeared to
confront me. Signatures that were much weaker but otherwise identical to
that of Charcoal's. Could they be using something Darlene gave them to
_magically_ transport to my location? There _was_ something in the last
story about her giving the four of them a way to teleport to and from the
cavern she built.

   What's worse is that somehow, they seem to be anticipating my actions to
a certain degree. Could they have found out something about me?  They're
acting like professionals who've been given an intelligence profile of an
opponent.

   I have to do something about this. I can't keep evading them forever. I'm
just not skilled enough.

   Goddess, this is frustrating...

End Log Entry 131, Year 20

                    ***********************************

   "Come quietly or there will be... trouble."
      - Alex Murphy, "Robocop"

   Sylvie looked up as the door to "Flights of Fantasy" opened. "Oh.. hello,
Ed! Is there anything we can do for you?"

   "I'm going to be gone for a bit. I'm getting sick and tired of walking
around Mega-Tokyo, and riding public transportation is driving me around the
bend. So I'm heading down to Motor Vehicle Registration. They tell me it
takes a little more than the usual paperwork when you want to register an
imported vehicle, so I need to get an early start." He walked over to the
counter, carefully avoiding Charcoal, and handed her a duplicate set of keys
for his bookstore. "Could you watch over the book store for me? I've put up
the 'Closed' sign and Minerva's keeping an eye on things inside, so it won't
take much."

   "We'd be happy to." She thought for a minute, then leaned over the
counter and spoke quietly. "Are you going.. hunting.. tonight?"

   In the same tone he replied, "Yes.. is there a problem?"

   She looked at him, worried. "Maybe. Priss was just over, swearing up a
storm. She told me.."

   Ed sagged. "Let me guess.. tonight the Knight Sabers are DEFINITELY going
to capture the Mystery Vigilante, right?"

   Sylvie nodded. "That was all she would talk about. That, and how she was
going to get her revenge on him for making her look so foolish."

   Rasing his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb
and middle finger and began to massage it roughly. "Goddess. If it's not
one thing, it's another. I can't win for losing!"

   "Perhaps you shouldn't go out tonight?"

   "What? And disappoint Priss?" He laughed. "Don't worry, m'lady.. they
can't hurt me, and I think I know a way to avoid being captured. I promise.
I won't do _anything_ to risk either myself or the Sabers."

                                   * * *

   "I do not _BELIEVE_ how much paperwork I just had to go through for just
One. Bloody. CAR! What? Do they _live_ on paperwork down at the DMV?" raved
Ed quietly, as he got on a bus for the apartment. His fellow passengers gave
the gaijin odd looks, but left him alone for the most past.

   {Got to expect that, boss. It's just as bad anywhere else. Bureaucrats
hate things that disturb the red tape. The rare and unusual tends to do
that. And you've got to admit.. Christine is both rare and unusual.}

   He rolled his eyes, exasperated. {She isn't _that_ unusual a car, pretty
lady..}

   {Boss.. Do you _really_ believe what you just said? Don't you remember
_where_ you got her?}

   {You know I don't like thinking about that, m'dear.}

   {Exactly. And installing that extra circuitry was not a good idea.}

   He sighed. {Okay. You're right. But she was my favorite ride until you
came along, love.. I felt I owed her something for all the years of faithful
service.} He sent the mental equivalent of a shrug through the link. {Silly
of me, perhaps. And yet..} His mind drifted through memories, and Minerva
dropped her end of the conversation. He spent the rest of the bus ride in
quiet contemplation.

                                   * * *

   After picking the keys back up from Sylvie, he invited the two women over
to watch him get ready for a night on the town. As they walked over to `Rare
Books', Anri noted the car parked in front. She commented on it.

   "That's an antique car, isn't it?"

   Ed grinned. "Yes, and one of my favorites. It's nearly as old as I am. A
Mercury Capri, German-built in 1975. Which makes it 60 years old, in this
reality. It has a 2.8 litre engine, a five speed manual transmission, and a 
few little... extras I installed over the past twenty years." He chuckled. 
"Space travel isn't _nearly_ as glamorous as it's portrayed in the media. 
In fact, at times, it's downright dull. Trust me, I _know_. So, I'd work on
Christine as a hobby. It helped kill the time."

   "Christine?" asked Sylvie. "You named your car?"

   He nodded. "After the car in the Steven King novel. The first few years I
owned her, she gave me plenty of grief. Yet I loved her anyway. Hence the
name."

   Both women laughed. "Ed.. you have a strange sense of humor," Anri said.

   "That's what they tell me, m'lady."

   Sylvie just shook her head in exasperation.

   "Come on in. I want you to see this." He waved the two into the shop.
"You've asked about that piece of sculpture in my living room several times.
Now you'll see what it's there for!"

   When they reached the apartment, Ed pointed at the large round stone
piece. "Minerva, dear?"

   "Right, boss." As they watched, the sexaroids saw a small ripple develop
in the center of the 2 meter tall stone circle. It began to grow, and fill
the entire space. When it stopped, Sylvie and Anri could see something on
the other side that _wasn't_ the wall behind it.

   "What is that?!" asked Sylvie. She turned to see a self-satisfied smirk
on her friend's face.

   "It's a Thorens-P'wheet Probability broach. A little piece of time/space
skipping technology some friends gave me. That's the main cargo hold of the
Calypso on the other side. Take a single step, and you travel from this room
to my ship, which is currently in geosynchronious orbit over Mega-Tokyo."
The smirk threatened to overwhelm his face. "Nice for shortening travel time,
don't you think?"

   As he spoke, a small four-wheeled 'bot rolled through the hole and
deposited a small bundle on the floor. Then it rolled back into the ship,
and the broach rippled shut once more. Ed picked up the bundle and shook it
out, revealing a leather coat, a tremendously ugly cowboy hat, and a pair of
metal forearm bracers. Reaching into a pocket of the coat, he withdrew a
black silk handkerchief with two small eyeholes cut into it. He tied it
around his head, covering his scalp and the top of his face, knotting it in
the back. "What do you think?"

   Anri took one look, and began to whoop with laughter. Sylvie just grinned
and pointed a finger at him. "Zorro lives."

   He made a sour face at her. "Surely it isn't _that_ bad.."

   "It's worse. And don't call me Shirley."

   "Arrrgh! A touch! A touch! I'm cut to the quick!"

   He picked up the pair of armored braces. "Here's the real trick of it.
Minerva got the idea for these from an old comic book villain called
'Bloodsport'." He strapped them on. "I've been told I have a lot of powers,
but I can't seem to to get the hang of using any of them, aside from the
strength and the invulnerability. And you never really know when a weapon or
two might come in handy, so..." He made an odd motion with one hand and a
large pistol suddenly appeared in his fist. "Taaa-dahhh!"

   Anri clapped. "How'd you do that?"

   He smiled. "Aside from providing armor that I don't really need, each
bracer is a direct link to a transporter pad installed in the armory aboard
my ship." He made another movement, and the pistol vanished. "I can simply
`reach' into my arsenal for whatever weapon that best fits the situation.
And I don't have to worry about running out of ammunition. The `magazines'
of each gun are really very small Broaches, linked to _bins_ full of ammo in
the armory."

   Sylvie looked intrigued. "That could make a person almost unstoppable,
provided they had a wide enough assortment of weapons."

   Ed nodded. "Yup.. first time I tried these, I used a pair of Ingram
MAC-10's in .45 caliber. Unlike most folks, I could hold them on target in
spite of the recoil, and I never had to change magazines or ran out of ammo.
Bullets flying everywhere." He laughed. "I forgot one thing."

   "What's that?" she asked.

   "Gun barrels melt."

   Both women smiled at him. "Does Minerva ever tell you that you can be
just a little dense at times, Ed?" asked Anri.

   "All the bloody time."

   The ACI aforementioned made a rude noise. "That's because you _need_ a
woman to take care of you, b'wana. By the way, I installed the new circuitry
in the belt. So you won't have to worry about the Sabers getting hurt if
they jump you."

   "Ah! Thank you, pretty lady! That should solve the problem nicely."

   "What should?" Anri inquired.

   "_This_ should. A little something we stole from Stark Enterprises, when
we dropped by there." He put the belt on. "An old enemy of Anthony Stark's
invented this. He called himself the Ghost, for obvious reasons." He touched
a stud on the belt then, before either woman could react, threw a punch at
Sylvie. Both of their jaws dropped when his fist simply passed harmlessly
through her body. "Intangibility. A lesser version of the phasing cloak that
Minerva uses. If I wanted to, I could also be anything from translucent to
totally invisible." His voice sounded oddly hollow and faint. "As it is,
this should prevent the Sabers from taking me in."

   "Incredible," said Sylvie. "What Sylia wouldn't give for something like
that."

   Ed shrugged and passed a hand over the stud, returning to normal.
"Perhaps when I get to know her better. As it is, she'd likely take after me
in her suit, if she knew that her acquaintance from the book store was also
the `Mystery Vigilante'. As it is, we do have _one_ thing is common. We both
want to see Genom punished for it's crimes."

   He pulled on the leather duster, and tugging the Stetson over his head,
turned towards the stone circle. "Where are the muggers tonight, pretty
lady?"

   "Mostly near the Canyon, B'wana. They seemed to have cleared out of the
better parts of Mega-Tokyo after you took up that habit of breaking all the
fingers of every one of them you caught."

   "Heh.. there's nothing like positive motivation, eh m'dear?"

   "Works every time, boss!" Minerva's voice filled with humor. "'Port you
straight there?"

   "Yup." He turned and waved to Anri and Sylvie. "Don't bother waiting up
for me. I don't know when I'll get back. And don't worry. I won't get
caught, and I won't put the Sabers in any danger. You have my word of honor
on that."

   He waved. A column of light surrounded him. When it faded, so had he.

                                   * * *

   As he prowled the streets and alleys of the badlands near the Canyon, a
happy smile was on his lips. He never really understood why, but removing
the sort of human refuse that chose to prey on the weak just gave him a
warm, fuzzy feeling deep inside.

   He spotted a pusher trying to make a sale of some drug, and he quietly
drifted up behind the man. A moment later, he dropped a hand on the pusher's
shoulder.

   "So... what are you selling, eh? And more important, is it worth your
life?"

   The pusher, a rail-thin young man with greasy blond hair and an unhealthy
complexion, spun around with a humming vibro-switchblade in one hand. "You
gonna die, you motherfu..." His voice trailed off into silence.

   "Maybe I'm going to die, boy, but it won't be you that kills me. And it
_certainly_ won't be with a toy knife like that." Ed took the shiv from the
punk's non-resisting fingers, and snapped the blade in two. "Now.. what was
it you were saying, hmmmm?"

   "You HIM!" gasped the pusher. "You Goldeneyes!"

   Ed growled angrily, almost causing the punk to faint. "I Hate That Name!
Got that?"

   "Yessir, yessir," whimpered the pusher. There was a quiet trickling
sound, and they both looked down. The pusher in shame, Ed in disgust. "Jesus
X. Bushmaster! Don't you have _any_ pride? Control your bladder!" He shook
the man by his collar. "Listen up. You got a choice. You can take your
chances with the police, or you can take them with me. Remembering, of
course, that the cops have to play by the rules." He balled his fist in the
man's shirt, lifting him into the air. He shoved his face into the punk's.
"I, on the other hand, do _NOT_. Which do you want?"

   "P-p-p-p-police...."

   "Excellent choice. They don't tear your limbs off when they get pissed
with you. I _do_." He lowered the punk to the ground. "Now then. Go to jail.
Go DIRECTLY to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not mug someone for two hundred
dollars. Do you understand? I'll be checking to see if you get there. And if
I find out that you _didn't_ go straight to the cops and give them a full
confession... I'm going to break so many of your bones, you'll end up as a
training aid in a teaching hospital. Is that clear?"

   A second trickling sound answered him. He shook his head in mock sadness.
"Low caliber of scum, these days." He set the pusher on his feet, and
pointed him towards the street. "Get going."

   The pusher did a credible imitation of an Olympic sprinter as he raced
down the avenue to the nearest police station, making Ed smile. {That's one
more piece of trash cleaned up, baby.}

   {You're mean, boss.} He could sense the smile in her `voice'.

   {Only to garbage like that, m'lady. Only to vermin like that who attack
the innocent.}

   {Uh-oh..}

   His face went taut. {Uh-oh? You know I don't like it when you say uh-oh,
baby. What's the matter.. oh. Oh, hell. Cancel statement.} He didn't need to
ask, now. The blue hardsuit headed his way was all the answer he needed. He
surreptitiously brushed a palm over the stud on his belt.

   "Freeze, you bastard!" Ed almost broke out in laughter at the venom in
Priss' voice. "Make a move and you're going to get a railgun spike right in
the gut!"

   He spread his arms wide. "Hey, I don't want any trouble. Nice hardsuits.
I particularly like the high heels. They're a nice touch. They add a certain
something. The Knight Sabers, right?" *Yahright. As if I didn't know...*
"I've got no argument with you folks. I'm not a boomer, and I'm not Genom."
He shook his head and his voice echoed eerily in the street from the effect
the shield had on it. "So why don't we all just turn around and simply walk
away?"

   The white Saber came into view. "If that's the case, then you shouldn't
mind coming along quietly with us and satisfying our curiosity."

   "Errr... that's not quite _fair_, you know... I don't see _you_ four
answering the police's questions." He heard muffled laughter behind him.
*Must be Linna and Nene. They _would_ get a kick out of that,* he thought.
"Look, I'm not cutting in on _your_ turf, here. I mean, I'm not taking any
mercenary contracts, nor am I going after Genom, okay? I'm just cleaning up
the streets a bit. What's wrong with that?"

   He could practically _see_ the blood boiling in Priss' veins. Sylia began
to say something, but Priss' shout interrupted. "This isn't about a few
street scum, this is about your throwing me around like a piece of trash in
the bar! Yeah! That's right! I know it's you, you bastard. I can see those
eyes of yours glowing."

   *Ooops! Bloody hell. Hadn't thought she'd noticed that in the bar. And I
hadn't even _considered_ that she might watch the news. Stupid, stupid,
stupid. D'oh! If I had a brain I _might_ be dangerous.*

   "Uhhh... heh, heh... wasn't anything personal... "

   "Well, _I_ took it personal. And if you don't surrender, I'm going to
take it PERSONALLY out on _you_!"

   He looked over to the white Knight Saber. "Is she _always_ like this? I
can just imagine what commanding her in battle must be like. You have my
heartfelt sympathies." The growls Priss let out at that comment lent a whole
new interpretation to the word `bloodthirsty'. And while he couldn't be
certain, he was willing to bet cold cash that the quickly smothered sounds
that came from the pink and green Sabers behind him was more quiet laughter.
Even the expressionless white armor facing him seemed to be somehow smiling.

   "That tore it. You're coming with _me_!" Priss snarled. She charged him.
His back was to a building, and he winced at what he knew was about to
happen. Sure enough, the blue suit moved to tackle him. It passed completely
through him, slamming violently into the brick wall behind him.
   
   Ed flinched at the impact. "Owch. Did that hurt? It looked real painful."
He stepped to one side so the other three Sabers could see Priss clearly. He
didn't want them to think she was seriously injured. "Look... I _knew_ you
were going to try to bring me in tonight, so I took some precautions. I'm
intangible right now, and I intend to stay that way whenever you four are
around." He shrugged expressively. "So can't we come to some sort of truce?"
   
   Ed moved away from the wall as Priss rose to her feet. Then the white
Saber approached him slowly, then arm outstretched, passed a hand slowly
through his body. "Interesting." She nodded thoughtfully inside the
hardsuit, and stepped back. "For now, then. Obviously, there is nothing we
can do to you while you are like this. However, while we may not be able to
capture or restrain you, neither can you continue with your.. `cleaning of
the streets' while we are present. I assume, of course, that you are unable
to take any offensive action, while in that state."

   All four women watched with varying degrees of amusement as the Vigilante
slapped himself across the forehead, dragging his hand down across his face.
*D'OH! I never even thought of that!* "Uhhh... Would you believe that I have
this horrible, terrible superweapon hidden inside my coat that will disable
every hardsuit in the city?"

   "No."

   "How about a mediocre, average weapon that will shut down powered suits
for 100 meters in every direction?"

   "I don't think so."

   "Would you believe two Girl Scouts and a rabid beagle?"

   "Unlikely, at best."

   "I should maybe go back to the drawing board and start over?"

   The white Saber finally nodded. "That I'd believe."

   The Sabers could see the lower half of his face flaming scarlet with
embarrassment. "I'd really be rather grateful if you could possibly see your
way clear to keeping this little error on my part just between the five of
us? It's not exactly the sort of thing that makes a hero look very heroic,
if you know what I mean."

   "I don't really see as that will matter, Mr.. Mr.. "

   "Heh. I'm not _that_ foolish, Saber Prime. Call me Legion, if you need a
name. Like it or not, I always seem to get tagged with that."

   Inside the armor, Sylia raised an eyebrow and continued. "Well, Legion,"
she asked, "What is there to prevent us from simply following you back to
your headquarters and apprehending you there?"

   "Mmmmm... good question. You mean, in _addition_ to the fact that I could
simply start walking through walls, buildings, and even Mount Fuji in order
to leave you behind?"

   The white Saber nodded at him. "In addition to that, yes."

   "Well, as someone _else_ once said.. 'My armor can be invisible. It's not
hard to find out things when you can't be seen.'" That quote elicited a gasp
from from the pink armor standing behind him. "The same shield that renders
me intangible can make me invisible as well. While I'm unable to engage in
combat in such a condition - as you so _conveniently_ pointed out, thank you
SO very much - it does tend to make trying to track me down and/or capture
me an exercise in frustration."

   "Stalemate then. But from what little we know of you, you seem to be a
person of honor, Legion."

   Ed nodded carefully, turning the statement over and over in his mind,
looking for the trap he knew had to be hidden in it. "It's true I've been
accused of that particular failing, now and again."

   "Good. I'd like your word of honor that you will do nothing to endanger
Mega-Tokyo, or it's people. I want your word that you will take all due
precautions during your.. `hunting' and will give it up rather than cause
any harm. In return, we will.. `let this lie', for now."

   The Sabers watched as the Vigilante visibly winced. "Ouch. You are.. a
formidable opponent, dear lady. Not all battles are fought with blade and
beam. Now and again, I forget that. And then someone like you will come 
along to remind me." He bowed elaborately. "You have my word, m'lady. I will
take _no_ actions that might possibly endanger Mega-Tokyo or it's law-abiding
citizens. Additionally, I will not interfere with the Knight Sabers. In the
event that my little hobby presents a threat to the city, I'll give it up
immediately. My word upon it, Saber Prime."

   Inside her suit, Sylia smiled. "I'm told you've used this phrase several
times, and I find it peculiarly appropriate." The helmet nodded to Ed. "Well
bargained, and done."

   Ed laughed. "More appropriate than you probably realize, m'lady." He
doffed his hat with a flourish. "Well, if all's been said and done, I have
generic street trash to clean up, and you, no doubt, have both boomers to
eliminate and contracts to fulfill." He smiled. "I bid you all a good
evening, and good hunting!"

   With those words, he simply vanished. Priss swore furiously. "You let him
get away, dammit!!"

   "Only for now," replied Sylia. "Legion will be meeting the Knight Sabers
again. And next time, we will be better prepared."

   Sudden laughter filled the street. "Perhaps, Saber Prime.. But then, so
will I!"

   The Sabers all heard the now-receding footsteps fade. Sylia smiled,
wondering if it was somehow her destiny to run into every eccentric
superhuman on the planet. *It certainly seems so, after Twister...*

                                   * * *

   Back at `Rare Books'...

   "Do you think that will keep them off my back, pretty lady?" asked Ed as
he peeled off his gear, dropping it on the floor. The broach rippled open,
and another small 'bot emerged to pick it up and take it back to the
Calypso.

   "Sylia, and the Sabers.. yes. But Priss is still going to try and find
you in her civilian identity, lover. Sylia can't ride herd on her 24 hours a
day. And even without her armor, she's a handful."

   Ed grimaced. "Too true. Between her bike, and that little take-down pop
gun of hers, she could prove a major irritant. But I can't afford to touch
her.. she's too important to this reality. As are _all_ the Knight Sabers.
Besides, Leon would never forgive me." He laughed. "You'd think the man
would have given up by now. Priss wants him about as much as she wants a
high colonic."

   Minerva quietly brrrr'ed in his ear. "The simplest solution is to track
her, boss. I can maintain a sensor lock on her when you're out having fun,
and when she gets too close, let you know. You'll be able to stay out of her
way."

   He tilted his head, thinking. "Not an ideal solution... but it works for
me. Make it so."

   "Already taken care of, b'wana."

   "You're a smart lady, Minerva."

   "Awww... I bet you say that to all the computers, boss."

   "Only the cute ones, pretty lady. Only the cute ones."

                                   * * *

Barry Cadwgan ( BCADWGAN@FL.NET.AU )
"The end does not justify the means.  
 The end is the sum of the means,
 as the road travelled determines the destination." 
Valijon Starbringer (Hellflower Trilogy, Eluki bes Shahar)