"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, the gore, 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's 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 Wordsworth
Warhunter, a large wolf-like creature, stared into the morning sky,
admiring the bounty of nature surrounding him. 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. Sounds of splashing
alerted Warhunter to the lake.
Moonhowl broke 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 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.
"Senshi 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 fist. He performed
three back fist punches, then leapt up, delivering a spinning jump kick.
Leaping from his first position--
"Misairu Keru!!"
--he then dove downward, his foot outstretched in a kick. Upon 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 turned towards 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 hands--
"Supideyo Kogeki!!"
--Arsenal began raining blow 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, causing maximum
damage to the punching bag, his movements speeding as chi energy rippled
about his arms and legs, giving him that superhuman speed.
Suddenly--
"Chosenshi Hokyu!!"
--a burst of blue/white light 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 if 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, that I *let* your goons win," MercyKiller. She
was hanging upside-down over a large piranha tank, her hands bound behind her
back with chains and her feet held fast. "I just wanted to see who they worked
for. And lo and behold, much to my surprise, it's someone--"
The weaselly crime boss looked on with interest. His two brick-like
operatives stood behind him at parade rest.
"--who I have never seen before in my life."
The Mafioso 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. He shrugged.
"I know you're about to die," he replied. "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 ample breasts.
"You coulda brought in a pretty penny for me on the street, now that I
think of it."
"You. . .are going to LOSE those hands if you don't let go!!" she
thundered.
"Oh?" he asked, 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. As pieces of metal flew, she siezed the boss's wrists--
"Oh, something like THIS!!"
--and plunged them into the piranha tank.
The boss screamed as the flesh-eating fish swarmed and feasted while
avoiding MercyKiller's METAL limbs. The water turned very quickly from clear
to quite a lovely shade of red.
One of the bricks yanked his Boss from the piranha tank, but it was
too late; from now on he would be known as "stubby." The Mafioso quivered in
shock as he stared the bloody stumps of his wrists. When he turned toward
MercyKiller, who was freeing her ankles, his face reflected a dazed sort of
rage.
"K--Kill her--Kill her *now*!!" he shrieked.
The other brick reached into his trench coat, whipped out a remote
control, pointed it at MercyKiller and pressed the single red button.
Instantly, she dropped down, her head, shoulders, and chest plunging into the
tank.
"Yeah--yeah," the boss muttered as one of the brick's tied a tuniquet
around his wrists. He watched the piranhas swarm around MercyKiller's body,
feasting on her flesh.
"Die, bitch! Die! 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
exactly what they were faced with.
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
it's socket. Then her damaged organs began to repair themselves, the flesh
beginning to re-ravel around her bones.
The boss, partly due to the shock of witnessing MercyKiller's ghastly
wounds and partly due to 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 even leaving a scar.
"You haven't learned ANYTHING from your boss, have you?"
MercyKiller asked,
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. <Kamisama, 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 Tendo's as yet unborn 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 impose 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 off 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 ten years. Ranma was
26, 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
goose-stepped 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 four 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. The soles of their boots clacked upon
the white tiled floor.
"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 do without The Tribunal
for this venture."
Large doors slid apart as Silver and Aeon passed through.
The War Room was airy, spacious; with thirty-inch monitors on three
of the walls. Bright, recessed florecent lighting shone down from above.
In the center was a large round table carved from reflective chrome,
bearing in the center the scarlet Clan Justice symbol.
All eleven Clansmen, each in their individual uniforms, were seated
around it. 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, 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 radiating 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 vanished "-- all thanks
to this individual."
An image of a maroon haired, tan-eyed girl dressed in black now
materialized.
"Whoa, babe alert," Rocker said.
"Watch it, honey," 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 was she expelled?" asked Technique.
"Ahh. . .sorry, that's classified," replied Aeon sheepihsly.
"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 "--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. "The Threat is involved, so
we must act fast to untangle all this." 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," said Aeon as
he began to massage his temples. "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 world's 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's 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.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------
Maa! Ii desu ne? C+C everyone, Pt. 2 arrives next Saturday, if not
earlier.
--Paul + Kenny