"I wield the flail of the lashing hail/and whiten the green plains
under/and then
again I dissolve it in rain/and laugh as I pass in thunder."
--Percy Bysshe Shelly
NOW:
He stood, as ever, in the eye of the storm.
Lei Kung was several thousand feet in the air, in the midst boiling
clouds shot
through with scarlet lightening. The smile which creased his face was
anything but
friendly, and his eyes glowed a scarlet which matched the jagged streaks
rending the
air. Projecting the lightning into his open hands, he uttered a battle cry
which
was one with the very thunder and threw the crackling bolt of energy earthward.
Lei Kung laughed as he saw the flash and heard his target scream.
<Puny worm,> he thought. <You can run from the Godless Red
"authorities," but
not from me.>
The seven foot tall Asian man, armored in blue Chinese mail,
descended gently
to the ground, his glowing blue and white eyes focused on the writhing figure
sprawled before him: a convicted child murderer who had escaped prison just
yesterday. He had thought he was safe, here in these highands, but he
thought wrong,
for he had reconed without Lei King, ancient god of thunder and vengeance
in the
Chinese Pantheon.
"You still live," said Lei Kung in a rich baritone, "by my
sufference. Only to
serve as a reminder, foolish mortal."
Lei Kung extended a hand toward the half-dead man, manipulating the
winds so
as to blow away some of the burnt-pork stench and draw him towards the
thunder god.
Seizing him by the neck, Lei Kung scowled.
"Mortal I may be now, but I am still omnipotent in my power over
the elements,"
he said coldly. "Remember this, miscreant, as you recover or pass on. It
makes no
difference to me."
The comm-symbol in his breastplate suddenly tolled.
"Yes, System?" Lei Kung answered.
"Your presence is required at the Forseti Tower's war room, Lei Kung."
"Understood." Lei Kung unceremoniously dropped the dying criminal
to the ground.
"Teleport by one, homeward bound."
As Lei Kung vanished in a flash of light, the turbulent storm above
abruptly ceased.
"Murder considered as one of the fine arts."
--Thomas De Quincey
"Weak. . .weak." Shampoo was winded, panting, her rage spent.
Kneeling, she picked up the shattered body of the duck, then walked over to
Ranma.
Gazing into his eyes, she held it out to him.
"See, Ranma-husband?" she pleaded. "See? Shampoo no like Mousse,
no like
half-blind weakling fool. Shampoo loves Ranma, only Ranma. Here, Shampoo
give darling
Ranma-husband love sacrifice, show him. . ."--She swallowed, fought back
tears--
"...Show him Ranma have Shampoo's heart."
As Ranma smiled, reaching out with his left hand to lovingly caress
the side of
her face, WyldKatt watched on, unseen by the holographic characters.
"Ooooh--bad, *bad* choice of words, girlfriend," WyldKatt whispered
in a growling
metallic voice. Her eyes, the pupils in her green irises glowing blood red,
quickly
focused in Ranma's right hand.
"Here it comes. . ."
"Sweet Shampoo," the digitized Ranma replied. "I know I do."
A sudden movement, a liquid sound and Shampoo's body jerked as
though from
electrical shock.
Still grinning, Ranma held up his right hand so that the Chinese
woman's dying
eyes could look upon her still-pulsing heart within its grip.
"See?" he laughed. WyldKatt nearly had an orgasm.
"Oh man oh MAN that's sweet!! she giggled, turning away from the
graphic
scene for a moment. "Oh--and here comes the best part!" WyldKatt quickly
swiveled
back to Ranma and Shampoo.
Making a fist, Ranma squashed Shampoo's heart, rich scarlet and
blue-red spurting
between his fingers. With a soft release of breath, Shampoo collapsed in a heap.
"YES!!" WyldKatt gloated. "System, freeze program!"
Abruptly, all the action in the room ceased movement. Cologne was a
split
second from death as several Chinese Amazon warriors were frozen in action
while
attacking the ribbon-wielding Kodachi.
Smirking, WyldKatt dropped down next to Shampoo's body, looking
into her lifeless
eyes, wide with disbelief.
"Aww, poor Shampoo," cooed WyldKatt in mock-sympathy. "You shoulda
known. . .
one of these days, ol' Ranma-husband was bound to break--er, take your heart.
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA--"
"WyldKatt. . ." spoke a voice behind her.
WyldKatt turned to see a woman clad in a white bodysuit with a
black strip
stretching from her mask to her fingers and toes. Added was a gray hooded cloak
glowing bright yellow on the inside, with the red Clan Justice symbol prominent
as both a brooch and a belt buckle.
WyldKatt, grinning, rose from Shampoo's "corpse."
"System," she said, "look around you. The death, thegore, the
destruction, the
needless suffering. . ."
WyldKatt spread out her arms and raised her head upward, as if to
absorb the
gruesome ambiance around her.
"It's all so. . .*beautiful.*" she moaned, then added, "I'd have
loved to
have been a part of this!"
"The events depicted here in the HoloRoom occurred over two months
ago," System
stated. "During that time we were engaged against OMNI and his Death Squadron."
"Yeah, well, can't have everything! But still. . .!"
WyldKatt reached down and grabbed Shampoo's body by her neck,
showing her off
to System as if she were a fresh T-bone steak.
"A scene like this. . .just tugs at your heartstrings, don't it?"
WyldKatt stopped herself for a moment.
"Oh, wait--you don't got a physical heart! How silly of me! I guess
you and
Shampoo here's got something in common!!"
Laughing again, WyldKatt threw "Shampoo" up against the invisible
HoloRoom wall,
causing digitized ripples to occur in the background.
"You presence is required in the war room, WyldKatt," System said.
"Okay, then," WyldKatt nodded her head. "Save and end program, System."
"*Thankfully* acknowledged." Within moments, Ranma, Kodochi,
Shampoo, and the
battlefield surrounding them melted into the sterile chrome walls of the
HoloRoom.
Brushing her long brown hair back, WyldKatt exited the HoloRoom
merrily whistling
something by Metallica as System vanished out of existence.
"All things, oh priests, are on fire--The eye is on fire; forms are
on fire;
eye-consciousness is on fire; impressions received by the eye are on fire. . ."
-- Buddha
"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth,
give I
unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."
--Bible: John 14:27
As Firestrike stared down into the waters of the Tower's indoor
swimming pool,
one thought ran through his brain.
<Why in God's name am I doing this?>
Simple answer. <Brett, you need to learn how to swim. But the
water. . .my
mother drowned in a pool just like this one. . .>
"Well, Brett, are you ready?"
Firestrike turned around and stood agape with a mixture of pleasure and
surprise.
Before him stood Miracle, looking as beautiful as she always does.
Her long
blond hair tied in a braided ponytail, she was wearing a white one-piece
bathing
suit as her gentle, blue eyes seemed to gaze into Firestrike's soul.
The large, fully feathered white wings attached to her shoulder
blades only
added to her angelic beauty.
"This--um--isn't too revealing, is it?" Miracle asked.
"N-no. . ." answered Firestrike. "You look. . .beautiful. . ."
Miracle couldn't help but blush.
"I. . .Ah, I'm ready to try to swim," Firestrike quickly changed
the subject.
"Okay," Miracle said, "Let's do it!"
Abruptly, System appeared before the two Clansmen, startling
Miracle and
causing Firestrike to jump half a foot into the pool.
Miracle gasped, raising her hands to her mouth. "Brett!!"
"I'm okay, I'm okay," Firestrike stood in the pool, the water up to
his navel.
"Criminey, system! How about warning us before popping up like that!"
"My apologies," replied System, "But your presence are required in
the war
room."
"All right," said Miracle as Firestrike climbed out of the pool.
We'll be there."
She turned to Firestrike. "Sorry, Brett. I guess we won't be doing swimming
lessons
today."
"That's okay, Cyndia," Firestrike said. <But at least I got to see
you in a
swimsuit> he silently added.
"Nature never did betray the heart that loved her."
-- William Wordworth
Warhunter, a large wolf-like creature, stared into the morning sky,
admiring the
bounty. An alien mystwulf from the fantasy world of Lirot II, he sometimes
missed his
home planet and the company of other mystwulves. But luckily for him, he
wasn't the
only one from Lirot II.
Warhunter plodded over to a nearby lake, turning his head to notice
a small pile
of gray, red and black clothes on the ground, a sword, long bow, two
daggers and
a bladed, disc-like weapon placed next to the clothes. Sounds of splashing
alerted
Warhunter to the lake.
Moonhowl emerged from the water's surface, her long red hair
whipping away as she
threw her head back. Her light brown fur made darker by the water in the
lake, she
looked toward Warhunter with a smile on her face.
"Warhunter," spoke Moonhowl, "Why don't you come in with me? The
lake is nice and
cool."
The mystwulf rocked his head, whining in denial.
"Suit yourself, but you don't know what you're missing!" Moonhowl
swam away
from the shore in a backstroke, enjoying herself completely.
Her comm-symbol, lying in the pile of Moonhowl's clothes, sounded
the twin
synthesized bells. Moonhowl's enhanced hearing easily picked up the comm-symbol
signals. Quickly, she breaststoked back to the lake shore and walked toward
her clothes as Warhunter looked on, staring at her naked curves.
Moonhowl took hold of the comm-symbol and tapped the center.
"Moonhowl here," said the Clan's Second in Command.
"Moonhowl, Your presence is required at the Forseti Tower's war room,"
System said.
"Me and Warhunter are on our way," Moonhowl said. "Just give me
some time to
get dried off and dressed."
As she tapped her comm-symbol once more, Moonhowl turned to see
Warhunter.
The mystwulf was sitting quietly, staring at Moonhowl's nakedness,
his snout
bleeding.
"Hunter, get your mind out of the gutter!" she playfully adminished.
"Who dare, Wins!"
--Anonymous
Arsenal stood in the middle of his Senshijitsudojo, his feet together and
his arms outstretched, palms up.
"Sonshi no shikara," he shouted, then clapped his hands together,
honorably bowing toward a non-existent foe. Drawing himself into a fighting
stance, his blue eyes grew stone cold, concentrating only on one thing:
Concentration itself.
Without warning, Arsenal launched himself into action, pirouetting
a full
180 degrees backward and swinging an outstretched backfist. He performed three
back fist punches, then leapt up, delivering a spinning jump kick. He then
leapt
from his first position--
"Misairu Keru!!"
--and then dove downward, his foot outstretched in a kick. Landing,
he rolled
forward, snapping into his fighting stance and flipping backwards in a
flipkick.
Touching down on the floor--
"Sueitokaiten Keru!!"
Arsenal suddenly spun around on the tip of his left foot, his right
foot
outstretched as he threatened to strike his non-existent opponent numerous
times
with every rotation.
Dropping back down into his battle stance, his focus toward a
punching bag.
Arsenal then began hitting the bag, administering numerous blows to his target.
Suddenly, Arsenal froze into an attack position, bluish chi energy crackling and
drawing toward his claw drawn hands--
"Supideyo Kogehi!!"
--Arsenal began raining blows after blow, punching and kicking the
bag, his
movements growing superhuman as chi energy rippled about his arms and legs,
giving
him increadible speed.
"Arsenal?"
System was unheard as Arsenal continued the assault, beginning to
cause damage
to the punching bag, his movements speeding as chi energy rippled about his
arms
and legs, giving him that superhuman speed.
Suddenly--
"Chosenshi Hokyn!!"
--a burst of chi energy erupted from Arsenal's palms, projected
towards the
punching bag. The bag exploded in a cascade of leather stuffing and wood as
Arsenal
remained in his post-fireball stance.
"Arsenal?" System spoke once more.
Arsenal clapped has hands together, bowing his head honorably. He
then looked up,
standing at ease.
"I'm on my way," Arsenal said to System as of he knew what she was
going to say.
"Her body dissected by fiendish men, her bones anatomized, her
soul, we trust,
has risen to God."
--Epitaph of Ruth Serague
"You realize, of course, I *let* you win," MercyKiller said as she hung
upside-down over a large piranha tank, her hands bound behind her back and her
feet held fast. "I just wanted to see who your goons worked for. And lo and
behold,
much to my surprise, it's someone--"
The weaselly crime boss looked on with an interest as his two
brick-like
operatives stood still.
"--who I have never seen before in my life."
The boss just smirked as he walked towards MercyKiller, caressing
her well-toned
stomach.
"Well, I suggest you get a good look at this face, super-hero," he
said, "Cause
once we dunk your pretty little head in this tank, it'll will be the last thing
you'll ever see."
"You know nothing about me, don't you?" MercyKiller asked.
"I know you're about to die," he answered. "A shame, really. A
pretty girl like
you. . .dying in such a gruesome manner as this. . .no one deserves your fate."
The boss brought his other hand up as he proceeded to firmly massage
MercyKiller's breasts.
"You. . .are going to LOSE those hands if you don't let go!!" she
thundered.
"Oh?" he said, his hands still on her breasts. "What, prey tell,
will you do
about it?"
MercyKiller exerted but a fraction her strength to shatter the
bonds holding
her. Seizing the boss's wrists--
"Oh, something like THIS!!"
--She then plunged his hands into the piranha tank.
The boss screamed as the flesh-eating fish swarmed around his hands
while they
avoided MercyKiller's METAL limbs, and the water turned very quickly from
clear to
red.
One of the bricks yanked the boss from the piranha tank, but it was
too late;
the boss quivered in shock as he stared the bloody stumps of his wrists. He
then looked toward MercyKiller, who was bending toward the bonds holding her
ankles, trying to get free.
"K--Kill her--Kill her *now*!!" he growled.
The other brick reached into his trench coat, whipped out a remote
control,
pointed it at MercyKiller and pressing the single red button. Instantly, she
dropped down, her head, shoulders, and chest plunging into the tank.
"Yeah--yeah," the boss muttered as he watched the piranhas swarm around
MercyKiller's body, feasting on her flesh.
"Die, you bitch. Die!"
MercyKiller exploded from the piranha tank, leaping at one of the
bricks
and punching him hard in the chest, momentarily stopping his heart and taking
him out of the fight.
The boss and the remaining brick were shocked as they got a good
look at
MercyKiller.
Most of the flesh covering her skull and ribcage was all but eaten
away.
The boss and the brick could see gears, wires and circuits wrapped around her
bones.
MercyKiller looked toward the two men, one of her green eyes eaten
out of
right socket. Then her damaged organs began to repair themselves, her flesh
beginning to re-ravel around her bones.
The boss, partly under the shock of witnessing MercyKiller's
ghastly wounds
and the loss of blood passed out. As her muscles completed their regeneration,
MercyKiller lashed into the dumbfounded brick, landing a kick into his chest,
shattering several of his ribs. The brick was still standing, however, drawing
a knife from his coat and jamming it deep into her skinless right breast.
MercyKiller seized the brick's throat, lifting the three-hundred
fifty plus
pounder up off the ground. As her skin and hair grew back, she pulled the knife
from her bosom. In seconds, the stab wound closed up not ever leaving a scar.
"You haven't learned ANYTHING from your boss, have you?"
MercyKiller said,
her vocal cords completely reconstructed.
Her comm-symbol suddenly sounded twin synthesized bells. Keeping
the brick
in the air with her right hand, she tapped on her comm-symbol with her left.
"MercyKiller here," she said.
"Your presence is required at the Forseti Tower's war room," System
said.
"All right. Just about done here. . ." MercyKiller tossed the brick
through a nearby wall made out of stone overlaid with oak.
"Teleport by one, homeward bound."
MercyKiller vanished in a flash of light, leaving the carnage
behind her.
"A broom is dreaily sweeping
the broken pieces of yesterday's life
Somewhere a Queen is weeping
Somewhere a King has no wife"
--Jimi Hendrix
"The Wind Cries Mary"
THEN:
Seven days.
Seven days, and six nights. Six nights of little or no sleep.
Saotome Genma sat at his desk in his room, staring listlessly
at absolutly nothing. His eyelids felt like lead weights on his head,
and he fairly shook with the caffene carousing through his system.
He hadn't slept at all for the past two nights straight, but that was
O.K., because it kept the horrors away. The horrors, the death, the
blood, the dreams.
The dreams.
He laughed soundlessly. "Dreams;" more like nightmares sent
from Jigoku itself. Every one of them promising slaughter and disaster
if he stayed here, if he went Tokyo, if he. . .if he. . .
. . .kept on living. . .
He closed his eyes for a moment, stifling a sob. <What's happening?>
he thought. <Kami, someone, please tell me why am I tortured so.> Every
night it was the same thing--visions of himself and his wonderful future
as either a monster or a victim of same. Sometimes both. The last one
had been particularly appalling: he'd opened some sort of box or something
after everyone warned him not to, and released a demon. It had possessed
one of the Tendo daughters--Kasumi, he thought her name was--and she had
gone on to sacrifice everyone in the Dojo to some ghastly entity which
called itself Cthulhu. The screams and the blood and her maniacal laughter
echoed in his mind still. In the dream before that, he had been a thief,
and had stolen the dowery of a girl to whom he'd promised to marry his son.
As he watched his older self stealing off into the night with the money,
he'd wept with shame and rage, wondering how in all the world he had
turned out that way, what had corrupted his soul.
<I'm doomed,> he thought, <I'm doomed. As long as I stay here, as
long as I meet these people>--he'd been keeping a list of the names in
his dreams; he glanced at it now--<my life will be blighted. Perhaps even
the lives of everyone on earth. He knew now that there was no question of
weather or not the dreams were an omen. Radical change in the course of
his life, and *now,* was absolutly essential, starting with Tendou-kun.
His head sank down to rest on the desk. <But first,> he thought,
<a little nap. . .just a short one, too short to dream in. . .>
The bed chamber was opulanet and richly appointed, with a huge
four-poster bed in the center. Everything was bathed in a scarlet light,
especially the figures lying on the bed--three men. . .
--and little Ranma.
Genma moaned, fell to his knees and fought to keep from vomiting.
The figures on the bed were nude, and ingaging in activites which in
some nations would have earned the adults the death penalty. Genma
wanted badly to inflict it on them himself, to save the child from
the horrors being inflicted upon him, but he knew it was useless--
that he was, as always, intangible in these danmnable visions.
"Daddy--" cried Ranma, reaching for him as the men pulled him
down. "You sold me to them--sold me for booze money. Why? Why? Dadd--"
Genma could only moan like a wounded animal. <Kill me,> he thought.
<Oh, God, kill me now.> He covered his ears to drown out the sounds.
"Kill you? Why, my dear father, I already have." It was
Ranma's voice again, once more as a young man. Genma looked up--
--and opened his eyes upon Hell.
It was a battlefield. It was. . .the worst, most terrifying
battlefield Genma had ever seen or heard of. The grey/red sky boiled
and rolled as if lashed by the Kami themselves. Screams and moans
rent the air, Warriors ran to and fro in a confused dance of death,
and the ground was positively carpeted with bodies. One of them, he could see,
was his own, sliced right down the middle by Nodoka's katana. Nodoka herself
lay a short distance away, ripped and gutted and missing and arm. Soun. . .
that Ukyou girl. . .
But not Ranma. Ranma and his bride, that woman in black with the
gore-streaked razor-ribbon. . .
"Kodachi," said Ranma, placing his arm around her, "her name is
Kodachi. We will be married, soon, father--and I suppose in a way, I should
thank you. Without you bringing me to Nerima with the intention of marrying
me to Tendou Akane, we would never have met."
"T-tha. . .that's good, Ranma," said Genma, his voice cracking
with stress and fear. "I-I'm truly glad you've found happiness, with
whomever you desire. Your whole lives are ahead of you--"
"Indeed," said Ranma and Kodachi in unison.
Suddenly the vision changed, jumping forward nine years.
Ranma was 25, and now ruled the Japanese Empire. There was a
parade down the huge main center throughfare leading to the new
Imperial Palace. Crowds lining the streets cheered themselves horse
as thousands upon thousands of troops marched in iron formation before
them, all dressed in the midnight livery of the Order Of The Black Rose.
Flags and banners snapped in the breeze and the air throbbed with the
rumble of the low, streamlined shapes of the tanks, resplandant in
their parade paint. And that wasn't all. Reclining upon huge tracked
launchers, giant missles rolled past, followed by beam weapon guns and
some machines Genma couldn't even recognize. On the Palace's main balcony,
taking the salute, stood Ranma and his wife. The uniforms they wore were
modified somewhat, dark, savage--they remined him of old photo's he had
seen of that Mussolini guy--but the symbols and medals upon them made
their rank clear enough:
Emperor and Empress.
". . .no. . ." Genma whispered.
The scene switched once more. It was a battle again, but no tiny Clan
War this time; the missles were flying, from their silos or from the subs
prowling the seas. Thermonuclear fire flared and blossomed upon cities all
around the world; huge armies clashed in welters of blood in jungles and
deserts, at sea and in the air. In space above, navies of gigantic warships
blew each other to pieces as they fought over planets and colonies. It was
an endless parade of slaughter and death, of sack and massacre, and over it
all boomed the voice of Ranma, ranting and exhorting like an Old Testiment
Prophet, while Kodachi's mad laughter entwined itself around it like a
poisonous snake.
This time, when Genma awoke, he couldn't stop screaming, even when his
lungs ran out of air. His parents burst into the room to find him wild-eyed,
raving; alternately weeping and shouting hysterically. Then he collapsed.
When he awoke in the hospital three days later from a dreamless sleep,
Saotome Genma found that all his hair had turned bleach white.
NOW:
"Have all the Clansmen been assembled?" Silver asked System as he and
Aeon walked
to the Tower's War Room.
"Yes," System answered.
"If The Threat are involved, we will need to contact The Tribunal
reserves."
"I'm afraid that will not be possible, Silver."
"Indeed?"
"The reserve forces are currently dealing with The Empire at the
Kennedy Center.
They have yet to defeat them."
Silver sighed in annoyance. "This could not have come at a worse
time. It
looked like we will have to find a way to replace The Tribunal for this
venture."
Large doors slid open as Silver and Aeon entered the war room.
The War Room was spacious, with thirty-inch monitors on three of
the walls.
In the center was a large round table carved from reflective chrome,
bearing the
Clan Justice symbol.
All eleven Clansmen, each in their individual uniforms, were seated
around
the table. Quietly, Silver strode to the twelfth empty chair.
"Clansmen, this is Aeon--" he began.
"Hiiii, Aeon!" said everyone in unison.
"--he is a Chronomancer who has some dire information to report. Aeon?"
"Okay! Hello, boys and girls!" Aeon said. "We have one big crapload
of a mess in
this wild and wacky multiverse we live in, so I'll just up and say it--there's a
good possibility that three distinct realities are merging!"
"Merging?" Transformer asked. "Is that *possible?*"
"Yes," Silver said. "It is very unusual, though. An example is the
'Amalgam Incident' that occurred between Mainstream's DC and M."
"Well, how is *this* happening?" Firestrike asked.
"Ah, that's the confusing part," Aeon explained. With a snap of his
fingers, a
transparent image of a young man appeared, his long black hair braided in a
pigtail and his blue eyes showing confidence.
"Hmmm--he's kinda cute!" MercyKiller remarked. "Who is he?"
"His name WAS supposed to be Saotome Ranma--unfortunately, he no
longer exists--"
Almost as an example, the image of Ranma vanished. "-- all thanks to this
individual."
An image of a maroon haired, tan-eyed girl dressed in black materialized
in place of
Ranma.
"Whoa, babe alert," Rocker said.
"Watch it, Rocker," Roar warned. "I'm the only one that turns you
on, remember?"
"This is Epoch," Aeon continued. "She's a renegade Chronomancer who
sided with
The Threat because she was expelled from the OmegaSpan."
"Why?" Technique asked.
"Ahh. . .sorry, that's classified. Suffice it to say, she was in
trouble BEFORE
contacting this man--" The image of Epoch disappeared, replaced with that of a
middle-aged man dressed in white gi, glasses and a bandanna appeared in its
place.
"--Saotome Genma, and scaring him into effectively crapping all over his
timeline."
"That does not explain why two other dimensions are merging with
his reality,"
Moonhowl said. Warhunter, sitting beside Moonhowl's chair, nodded in agreement.
"Ranma's non-existence isn't causing the merging," Aeon said. "The
Threat is--
somehow. . .I think. . ."
"You *think*?" rumbled WyldKatt.
"Justice must be served," Silver said as Aeon began to massage his
temples. "The
Threat is involved, so we must act fast." Silver turned to Aeon. "Aeon, how
much time
do we have until the three dimensions merge?"
"Oh--about a week, but you can't worry about that. The dimension
merging is a
side effect caused by The Threat meddling--I'm very sure about that. The Threat
will arrive in half that time. . .oh really, I don't know *how* those worlds are
merging--my head hurts. . ."
"System, set coordinates to Mainstream LV and engage."
"Acknowledged."
Outside, the Foresti Tower begun to spin slowly in place. The speed
of it's
rotations then began to speed up, other-dimensional energies rippling about
it chrome hull. The whirling grew faster. Faster. Faster.
The spinning abruptly stopped, the buildup of energies reaching
it's peak.
Suddenly, The Tower shot down into the ground, leaving the Earth
intact as the
interdimensional craft left it's home reality.
***********************************************
Well wasn't that just special?! Now that Genma-kun's been *gently* prodded
by our
girl Epoch to make a few. . .modifications to his entire life, how do you think
things will go for him? Heh, heh, heh. . .with the guys who blessed the
world with
"Paint It Black" and "Scream at your own Avacadoes" doing this, how do you
think?!
Part 2 in a week or two. . .