Uh, hi. This is our first post to this mailing list, but 
we've been lurking for a long time... well, pretty much since we 
convinced Nabiki to let us use her email account.

    Anyway, we're a bunch of students from a high school in 
Japan called Furinkan, and we really like the fanfics. Well, 
some of them. That Oscar guy... brr. They have institutions for 
people like him, you know.

    So we wanted to write one of our own, but, uh, you know, 
it's kinda hard to stick to writing a whole long story. So we 
decided to make it a round robin deal. I mean, hey, it sounds 
fun.

    Nabiki's gonna start it off, since she's the best at sneaky, 
elaborate plots and stuff like that. 

    Anyway, enjoy the fanfic! I mean, if you don't that's okay 
too, but at least make an effort, okay? We're sorta new at all 
this.

Bubblegum Crisis - The Tesla Agenda
A Work of Fanfiction By:
Saotome Ranma       Hibiki Ryouga       Kuno Kodachi
Tendo Akane         Kuonji Ukyou        Unryuu Akari
Tendo Nabiki        Shan Pu
Tendo Kasumi        Kuno Tatewaki


*******

Nabiki Section # 1

       Nadoko Tenbiki, personal secretary to Quincy, looked 
up from reading the Wall Street Journal when her 
computer pinged, indicating she had new mail.  After 
quickly scanning it, she pressed a buzzer.  "Mr. Quincy, 
we've got an update on the progress of the TESLA project.  
I'm forwarding it to you, as per your orders."

        "Very good, Ms. Tenbiki.  Mr. J. is on his way up to 
see me.  Make him wait five minutes and glare at him 
ominously the entire time as if he's about to be 
executed."  Quincy's voice was smooth and mellow.  It 
thrilled Nadoko to listen to it.  Working for the richest, 
most powerful man on Earth thrilled her tremendously, 
and if she hadn't been quite certain that this was only 
another boomer body and that the real Quincy was 
probably hidden in a bunker somewhere, she would have 
tried to seduce him.  

          Of course, with her salary, she could buy all the 
boyfriends she wanted.  Some heads of state got paid 
less than Quincy's executive secretary.  Indeed, she held 
more power than about half of the rulers of the world.  
"Yes, sir.  How long should I make him wait for you?"

         "About three minutes.  Use the vital signs scanner 
in your desk.  Once his heartbeat rate stops going up, let 
him in."

         "Understood, sir."  She went back to reading the 
Wall Street Journal.

        Mr. J. arrived about three minutes later.  Only his 
nervous twitches marked him off from the typical GENOM 
middle-ranking executive with high ambitions.  He wore 
the usual black suit and power tie, hand tailored with a 
cost higher than the average yearly salary of a low-
ranking executive.  Not higher than Ms. Tenbiki's salary, 
however.  Indeed, she could have bought and sold him on 
the open market.  But she wouldn't have made a profit, so 
why bother?

         Ms. Tenbiki didn't like him, partly because he was 
oily, and partly because Mr. J. usually seemed to be only 
inches away from spontaneous combustion.  As usual, he 
was patting his hair into place and arranging his suit so 
that his Genom Regional Director pin would shine 
brightly in the office lights, along with several older 
pins of ranks he had attained in his climb to the middle.  
Glancing at the vital signs indicator, she ignored him 
completely for the first thirty seconds, hiding behind her 
newspaper.

         He waited expectantly.  She glanced at the 
indicator.  Heartbeat was up three beats a minute.  
Breathing a tiny bit faster.  Time to turn up the pressure.  
She lowered the Journal and put on her unhappy face.  
"It's about time you got here.  Mr. Quincy was expecting 
you five minutes ago."

        "It's all M's fault!"  Mr. J. said.  "He asked me what 
time it was and..."  His voice was starting to rise, 
becoming more whiny as it did so.

        "It took you over five minutes to tell him the time?"  
She put a hint of acid in her voice.  The monitor indicated 
his heartbeat was starting to rise.  More pressure.  "You 
remember what happened when Mr. Anderson was late to 
a meeting with the Chairman?"  Of course he didn't.  Her 
eighth grade biology teacher had never met Quincy.  

         Mr. J. twitched and shuffled about nervously.  "Yes, 
of course I do.  I didn't MEAN to be late!  It was all Mr. M's 
fault!"

        She shook her head in mock sadness.  "You know 
Chairman Quincy gets very angry with people who blame 
others for their own failings."

         Mr. J's heartbeat and breathing had reached an 
acceptable level.  Indeed, they soon went on to reach an 
even higher level.  "But...but...it's not fair."

        "I don't remember a fairness clause in your 
contract."  She punched F3, which she had configured to 
call up fake, but plausible looking documents which 
appeared to be contracts.  Running a finger along the 
screen, she paused on a line.  "Look here."

        The words [Chairman Quincy doesn't have to be fair 
with you.]  were emblazoned across the screen, 
highlighted in red.  Mr. J. almost jumped out of his flesh.  
While he was freaking out, Ms. Tenbiki punched F8, which 
activated her headset buzzer, faking an incoming call.  
"Ahh, Chairman Quincy will see you now."

        The look of terror on Mr. J's face when the doors 
slid open and he went in to see Quincy was as much 
reward as Ms. Tenbiki really needed for doing her job.  
But the huge salary she earned daily, somewhere around 
four times the income of the CEO of Mitsubishi, didn't 
hurt either.  

***

         The CEO of SCHAFT, who made only half the salary 
of Ms. Tenbiki, by the way, pounded his fist on the table.  
"THIS CANNOT BE ALLOWED TO CONTINUE!  GENOM is 
crushing us, and it's only gotten worse since Quincy hired 
his new executive secretary!  Now, what are we going to 
do about this?"

        "I say we rub him out,"  Thomas Johanneson, said.  
He was a tall, handsome man, clearly of Nordic ancestry, 
with short blonde hair and a thick moustache.  His blue 
eyes shone with anger.  "Quincy's been in our way for too 
long."

         "I say we bribe that new secretary of his,"  Richard 
Svenson said.  Richard was dark haired and dark eyed, but 
with a pale complexion that stood out against his dark 
navy suit.  Where Thomas was well muscled, he was 
rather puny, but still impressive from the dignity of his 
bearing.  "Secretaries are always poorly paid."

         "Not this one.  She's making five times your salary, 
Dick,"  Harold Erikson said.  His bright red hair made a 
nice contrast to his dark blue pinstriped suit.  Sparkling 
green eyes shone over his wide smile.  "You don't mind if 
I call you that, do you?"

        "Hell yes, I mind!"  Richard stood up and shook a 
finger at Harold.  "We don't have time for your jokes!  
This is serious!"

        "Then I have a serious solution,"  Manami Fukuyama 
said.  Her short hair was the color of honey, her eyes a 
soft brown, her face somewhat angular.  Wearing a 
sensible light blue suit-dress, she was seated at the far 
end of the chairman of the board, because she was the 
most junior of the high executives.  On the other hand, 
she was also half their age.  "I understand that GENOM 
has started a new and important project called the 
TESLA project.  I suggest that we disrupt it.  I know a 
way to do so at little risk or expense to ourselves."

      "Oh really?"  The CEO, a huge black man dressed in a 
well-tailored black suit, said.  The rest of the executives 
often spent their spare time speculating where he had 
come from; his Japanese was impeccable, but he clearly 
hadn't originated in Nippon.  His skin was quite dark, 
likely indicating a fairly pure African origin, and he had 
deeply serious brown eyes.  "Why don't you tell us your 
plan?"

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

Ukyou's Section #1:  

<   > indicates thoughts, okay?  Oh, I guess you can't 
respond, can you.  Umm, anyway, here's my first part, okay?

        Fukuyama explained her plan, they discussed it, and 
decided to adopt it.  Afterwards, Mr. Schaft sat alone in 
the boardroom, staring out the huge glass windows that 
gave him a view of the city.  <Sometimes, I wonder why I 
ever left New York to go to business school and become 
the president of my own company,> he thought.  <Maybe I 
should have stayed a private investigator.  After all, I did 
get a lot of women that way.  Not that chasing women is 
a good thing.  I could have ended up a perverted old man, 
stealing underwear.  I really should find a good woman 
and settle down.  Well, maybe after I destroy Quincy.>

         This wasn't just business for Mr. Schaft.  His father 
had been a chuck wagon chef, riding the range in the 
western United States, following the cowboys as they 
followed the herds.  When Mr. Schaft was only six, Quincy 
had traded some deeds to beachfront property in Arizona 
to Mr. Schaft's father, Frank Schaft, in return for the 
family chuck wagon.  When they arrived in Arizona and 
couldn't find the beach, they tried to find Quincy and get 
the chuck wagon back, but their money ran out, and they 
had to move to New York, where Frank became a 
construction worker and saved his money to send his son 
to private eye school, where Mr. Schaft learned 'Martial 
Arts Private Investigations' among other things.  

        He had been happy as a private eye until one day he 
saw a story about Quincy in the New York Times, which 
talked about how Quincy had built up GENOM from almost 
nothing, starting with only a chuck wagon to his name.  
When he heard that, Mr. Schaft had dropped everything 
and sworn an oath of eternal vengeance.  Business school 
had been the next logical step, and from there, the road 
to being CEO of SCHAFT Enterprises was only a series of 
logical moves.

        Leaping to his feet, he shouted, "A CURSE ON YOU, 
QUINCY!  I WILL DESTROY YOU!  FOR I AM...SCHAFT!"  He 
couldn't hear his theme song playing over the sound of 
thunder from the lightning bolt that stabbed down 
dramatically in the distance to highlight his oath.

---

        "Wow, this is GREAT okonomiyaki!"  Nene shouted as 
she stuffed her third one, a beef and sukiyaki 
okonomiyaki with special pink sweet sauce, into her 
mouth.  

         The Knight Sabres didn't have any jobs today, so 
they had decided to go out to an okonomiyaki shop.  A sort 
of girls' night out.  It was a very nice, high-class 
okonomiyaki shop, with a nicely tiled floor and 
everything spotless.  The long low tables with grills and 
firepits in the middle were crammed with customers, but 
the Sabres had been fortunate enough to get one to 
themselves.  

         Macky laughed.  "You're gonna gain a thousand 
pounds if you keep this up, Nene."  He stuffed a second 
one into his mouth; he just couldn't get enough of this 
mouthwatering food himself.  The delicate tang of the 
sweet and sour sauce made him drool more than looking 
at his sister in her underwear.  

         Throwing back her head, Priss laughed.  "Ya got that 
right, Macky.  Of course, Nene will likely gain weight no 
matter what she eats.  Not enough exercise!"

        Nene stuck out her tongue and Linna laughed.  "You 
should come exercise with me, Nene."

        Sylia nodded, and hailed the waiter.  "Excuse me."

         The waiter, who was the cook's husband, was a 
handsome man of medium height, with long black hair in 
a pig-tail.  It was hard to tell his age, for his face 
showed signs of middle age, but his body was taut and 
firm.  Even Sylia the ice queen found it hard to resist 
making a pass at him, while Priss, Linna, and Nene simply 
swooned at the sight.  They had done this every other 
time that Sylia had called him over.  

          The main thing restraining them from hitting on 
him was neither his age, nor the proximity of friends 
with the same idea, but rather his wife, who he kissed 
every time he came near her.  She was the main cook, 
working hard on three griddles at once.  She wore a 
purple wraparound and black tights, and her body belied 
the age stated by her face as well.  Her long black silky 
hair flowed down in a great cascading sheet along her 
back, making them all a little envious of how beautiful it 
was.  

         "What can I do for you, Miss Stingray?"  the waiter 
asked.

         Take me away from all this, she thought, but since 
she never said things like that in public, she replied, "Can 
we have three more okonomiyakis and some more garlic 
sauce?"

        "Certainly."  With a single motion of his legs, he 
sprang across the room, right over three intervening 
tables of customers, kissed his wife, and told her of the 
orders.  Seconds later, they got three more okonomiyakis 
and the sauce, then he ran off to help more customers.  

         As the Sabres munched out, Nene noticed the 
karaoke machine in the corner.  "Hey, Priss, ya gotta 
come sing a song with me!"

         Priss blushed.  "I remember what happened the 
LAST time you talked me into that."

         "Pleasepleasepleaseplease!"  Nene begged, tugging 
on Priss' arm.

        "If you don't, I will."  Linna said, starting to get up.

       Priss remembered the last time Linna had done 
karaoke.  She didn't think she'd ever get the memory of 
Linna slaughtering "Step by Step" out of her mind.  Not 
that the greatest singer on Earth could help that song.  
Three seconds later, she was up on the stage with Nene, 
searching for a good song.

***********

Shampoo's Section #1

    The four Sabers, strong female warriors much like the 
Amazons of old, stood upon the stage of the grungy little 
okonomiyaki hole.

    "Aiyah, what we sing?" inquired Linna.

    Priss shrugged. "Not know that."

    There was a moment of silence as they mulled the matter 
over, broken only by the crazed babblings of the grease-
spattered chef.

    "Never eat here again!" Nene said, wincing. "Is bad food! 
Next time, we get too-to delicious Ramen dish at Maohanten.

    "Yes, Maohanten food much better," concurred Sylia.

    "That it! Not put up with this any more!" cried the waiter 
in righteous anger. "Will go get new job, new wife! Had enough 
of okonomiyaki!"

    He rushed out as the Sabers nodded approvingly.

    "Is good idea," Linna said, smiling. "We sing 'YMCA'?"

    "Yes," said Sylia, grinning enthusiastically. "YMCA!"

    And they would have sung it beautifully, if the four 
boomers hadn't charged into the filthy little restaurant.

    "AIYAH-YOU-WE-KILL!" snarled the machines, spraying 
chaingun fire across the room. The haglike okonomiyaki chef 
was blown in half by the deadly fusillade, dying almost 
instantly.

    "Aiyah!" screamed Priss, leaping for cover. "Is angry 
boomers!"

    "Yes!" Nene agreed, drawing a bead on the nearest one. "Is 
angry boomers!"

    "Y-M-C-A!" sang Sylia, reaching for her gun. "Is fun to 
stay at the Y-M-C-A!"

    "Is angry boomers!" Linna pointed out. "Linna teach them!" 
With a fierce battle cry, she leaped into the fray, twin bonbori 
in hand.

*********


Kuno's Section #1

    With lusty cries of abandon did the four spirited women 
engage the foul mechanical miscreants! Verily, t'was a 
fearsome struggle! All four of the fiends were clothed head to 
steel-sheathed toe in a most puissant armour, and the exotic 
maces wielded by Linna did bounce from its surface like rain 
falling gently upon a most unyielding rock.

    "Oh, woe!" cried Linna in maidenly dismay. "My weapons 
cannot prevail against their armoured carapace!"

    Then didst Nene proceed to discharge her sidearm into 
the nearest boomer with reckless abandon! Well were the fire-
haired goddess' shots placed, yet her demure, dainty pistol, 
elegant and ladylike, did aught to slow the hulking brutes.

    "Alas!" she gasped, her bosom heaving. "I fear we are 
undone!"

    "Alas!" echoed the radiant Sylia. "To be cut down in the 
flower of young womanhood, our healthy, enchanting beauty 
spoiled! Will no-one save us?"

    "HO HO HO!" chortled the metal rogue that didst lead the 
devilish pack. "NONE SHALL SAVE YOU! YOU ARE OURS! SO HAS 
PROMISED OUR MASTER, THE WAITER!"

    Gasps of dismay arose from the beautiful Sabers as they 
realized that the loutish waiter had actually been a foul GENOM 
operative, one who coveted their womanly charms and sought 
to enslave them.

    "Woe!" screamed Priss as the boomers did advance. "Shall 
no-one aid me, a poor, defenseless maiden?"

    "I SHALL!" boomed a noble voice from the door. Behind 
him, the heavens darkly echoed his bold claim.

    "Hurrah!" cheered Linna, "Tis Mackie Stingray!"

    "Indeed, it is I," quoth the noble youth, brandishing his 
deadly blade. "Disperse, ye curs!"

    "FAUGH, TIS THE CURSED MACKIE!" the lead boomer did 
timorously shriek. "WE ART UNDONE!"

    Then did the noble Mackie Stingray leap forward, with a 
mighty cry, and did smite the lead rascal a mighty wallop that 
did cleave his metal form in half. The other three didst make 
fumbling, cowardly attempts at defending themselves - to no 
avail! Laughing,  his death-dealing blade flashed out again and 
again, hewing the craven boomers with the skill and control of 
a true Samurai! Verily, the Sabers and attendant lowerclass 
patrons did gasp in astonishment at his manly prowess!

    When the last robotic knave had fallen, Mackie did bow 
most courteously to the fair ladies. "I have delivered you from 
the unspeakable clutches of the foul waiter's minions, dear 
ones."

    "Oh," sighed Nene, "how heroic! Mackie, make me your 
woman!"

    "NO!" cried Sylia, clutching the brave samurai's sleeve 
protectively. "I who have known him longest shall be his wife, 
and no other!"

    "Ladies!" cried Mackie, "Tis most unseemly to quarrel so!"

    "Then which of us shall you have?" the flame-haired 
goddess did ask him, her eyes shining.

    "Yes, which?" beseeched Sylia.

    Mackie did ponder full long, his mind sore troubled. For 
each of them was the most lovely, most desirous woman on 
earth!

    "I cannot decide," cried he, making his judgement. "I shall 
date them both!"


Akane's Section #1

Sylia shook her head groggily. That hit to the head had been harder than
she thought. Now, what was her idiot brother saying? She blinked, and
replayed the tape from her helmet recorder. "He said WHAT!?! I don't care
if you *are* my little brother, you're a hentai pervert! MACKIE NO BAKA!"
With a growl, the leader of the Knight Sabers pulled out a mallet and
smacked Mackie through the roof! The other Sabers applauded her for
getting rid of the pervert. 

"Now, I say we go find the baka who sent those boomers, and POUND HIM!"
[Huh? Wha... oh, all right, Sis, sheesh.] "Oh, yeah -- we also have to
find
out if they had anything to do with this Tesla project thingy Fargo was
telling me about last night." She stopped and rubbed her tummy. "But
first, after all that really bad garbage we just ate, we need to get our
strength back with some real food! Come on over to my place, and I'll cook
us some real food -- better than what that baka cook tried to kill us
with!"

"Right!" said Nene, who had just finished off the boomers that Mackie had
left to pull themselves together again. "No wonder you were singing so
bad, with that yucky okonomiyaki in you! Come on, let's go!" She grabbed
the other three Sabers and raced off to Sylia's place, towing them along
behind her.

After they got there, Sylia fixed them a meal that made them all forget
about the bad food they'd just had. And everyone got enough to eat, even
the redheaded vacuum cleaner.

Now full and strong, Sylia led the Sabers out to find the bakas who'd
tried to kill them.


*********

Ranma's Section #1

        The search of the Knight Sabres for their enemies 
came to a rather abrupt end when suddenly, their 
stomachs churned as one.  After their fit of madness in 
the Okonomiyaki restaurant, they had forgotten one 
crucial fact.  Celia was the worst cook in the universe.  
When her father had sent her the tape with his knowledge 
of boomers, it had driven every last drop of knowledge of 
feminine skills out of her head, and she was the worst 
cook who had ever lived.  

        It also didn't help that none of them could drive very 
well and they'd punted Mackie into the atmosphere.  As a 
result, Priss threw up while driving and she crashed the 
Silky Doll van into a telephone pole.  They then all lay 
there, moaning in agony as their intestines churned and 
the meal came back up.  

         We'll leave them in a puddle of their own vomit and 
move on to someone WORTH reading about.  Namely, Leon.

                                  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

        Leon was down at Smokey's Bar, sipping some beer. 
Daley sat nearby, drinking as well and listening to the music.  
A jazz band played softly in the background and the light 
>from the fireplace glinted off of Leon's sunglasses and 
the huge boomer-killer revolver that hung from his belt.  
"This is the life, eh, Leon?"  Daley said.

        "Naah.  We haven't had a good fight in days."  Leon 
tossed back his fifth shot of whiskey of the night.  He 
was too tough for it to do anything to him, although the 
two girls he had been having a drinking contest with were 
fairly sloshed.  They just couldn't hold their liquor like 
a real man.  "What would make my day would be if twenty boomers 
just broke through the wall right now."

         Leon got only half his wish.  Ten boomers crashed 
through the wall, charged over to the bartender, and said, 
"This is a stickup!  Give us all your motor oil!"

         Leon pulled out his pistol and fired off six shots.  
Every shot struck home, blowing off a boomer's head.  The 
four remaining turned and began to grow, bursting out of 
their skin.  By that point, Daley had downed two more of 
them, but then one of them clipped him with an energy 
blast from its mouth to his chest.  Sure, Daley was too 
tough to die from a wimpy little energy blast that wasn't 
even as strong as the Roaring Lion Bullet, let alone the 
much superior Moko Takabisha, but it did knock him down 
and stun him.

          Not having time to reload, Leon dropped his gun and 
leaped foot first at one of the three remaining boomers.  
"TENSHIN AMAGURIKEN!"  Unleashing a hundred kicks in 
ten seconds, he knocked the head right off the boomer, 
then landed on the wall behind the counter and grabbed 
two bottles of vodka as he bounced off the mirror in the 
midst of the bottle racks.  He landed on the shoulders of 
the second boomer, shattering one bottle on its front, and 
the other on its back.  

          The third boomer was turning to face him, its 
mouth glowing.  He leaped off the second boomer as the 
third one fired at him, and the beam struck the alcohol-
soaked boomer.  Alcohol burns.  While the now flaming 
boomer staggered around, Leon hefted Daley and slid him 
down the bar to safety, then ducked under another energy 
blast and swept the third boomer off its feet.  

          Next, he picked up the third boomer and tossed it 
into the largest rack of alcoholic drinks.  Once it was 
soaked with alcohol, he pulled out his cigarette lighter 
and applied open flame.  Soon, it was burning, running 
about and screaming.  

          He mixed himself a screwdriver, then ambled over 
to the phone to call in to headquarters and report the 
successful defeat of that bar-robbing band of boomers 
they had been looking for.  Chief Todo told him, "Take the 
rest of the day off, Leon.  There will be a 50 million yen 
bonus in your box tomorrow.  Oh, this supermodel, Kathy 
Ireland, is here looking for you.  You want to talk to her?"

         The answer was yes, of course.  Sure, Leon dated 
supermodels all the time, but he hadn't dated this 
one... Yet.

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

Kasumi's Section #1

         Luckily, none of the Knight Sabres had been injured 
by the crash because they had been sensible enough to 
wear their seatbelts, even Priss, who might get violent 
at times, but knew all about road safety from riding 
motorcycles.   The Silky Doll van was well equipped with 
cleansers, and the four, working together, soon cleaned 
up the mess.  Sylia got some stomach medicine from the 
first aid cabinet, and soon, they were ready to go.  
Luckily, the fender, built of reinforced adamantium, had 
absorbed the shock of the crash, and soon they were on 
the move again.

        Having had time to calm down from the first rush of 
adrenalin after the boomer attack at the okonomiyaki 
restaurant, Sylia said, "We must have been exposed to 
some sort of mind-altering chemicals by those boomers.   
We need to sit down and carefully plan this out, rather 
than rush madly around town.  Also, we need to find 
Macky.  Nene, go to AD Police Headquarters and see what 
they know.  Linna, talk to your contacts in the financial 
community and see if you hear anything about any 
investments GENOM has made lately.  Priss, we're going 
to go back to Ladysmith 633 and take the KnightWing out 
for a flight and look for Mackie."

         Sylia sat and meditated while Priss drove.  She 
found it to be almost as soothing as cooking and cleaning, 
which she rarely had time for anymore, even though that 
was what really enabled her to keep her sanity.  Instead, 
she had to spend all her time repairing Ladysmith 633 
after Priss and her boyfriend wrecked the place, or 
looking for all the underwear that Mackie kept stealing 
>from the Silky Doll, or trying to convince Linna to not 
take photos of the other Sabres in their underwear and 
sell them to people.  At least Nene was somewhat sane.  

          She felt like she was the mother of the Knight 
Sabres, rather than their boss, with the way they all 
carried on so crazily.  But she did her best, just as her 
mother would have done in her place.  Sometimes it was 
hard to go on, but things got better.  There were good 
times as well as bad.  

         Being a genius, Sylia could think about several 
things at once.  While part of her brain worked out how to 
find Mackie, a second part was trying to deduce GENOM's 
latest plan, and a third part was listening to the fifty 
thousand music selections that her father's legacy had 
recorded in her brain along with all the scientific, 
financial, and household management knowledge.  The 
fourth part was designing a personal construction 
boomer to follow Priss around and fix all her messes, and 
the fifth part was planning tonight's dinner.  The sixth 
part was doing the actual meditating.  

        "Can I cook dinner for everyone tonight?"  Priss 
asked eagerly.  Sylia knew from past experience that 
Priss couldn't cook.  In fact, Sylia had patented five new 
lifeforms that had resulted from efforts of Priss to cook.  

        "I need you to field test a new motorcycle for me 
tonight,"  Sylia said.  "Although you can cook if you'd 
rather do that than try it out."

         Priss' eyes lit up.  "A new bike!  Cool!  I think I'll do 
that instead."

        Sylia wasn't content to be smart; she always 
applied it.

-----------------------Section Break---------------------

         Soon, the KnightWing was in the air.  Finding Mackie 
was easy; Sylia had sewn tracking devices into every 
article of clothing he owned when she was taking up the 
hems and making other necessary adjustments on them.  
While Priss flew the plane, she bungeed down to where 
Mackie had landed in a nice soft dumpster, then sprang 
back up into the plane.  "Now, Mackie, have you learned 
your lesson?"  she asked.

         "I promise I won't ask you to marry me again or 
grope you or hide your underwear,"  Mackie said.  "Can I 
fly the plane now?"

         She shook her head.  "Maybe next time.  Priss is 
flying the plane right now."

          He pouted until the radio began to beep.  Mackie ran 
over and put on the headphones.  "We're getting an 
important message, sis!  I'll put it on the intercom."  

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


Kodachi's Section #1

    "HAHahaHAhahAHaHAha!," Sylia laughed demurely. 
"Whoever can be calling? Do hand me the radio, brother 
dearest."

    Mackie passed his gracious sister the handset, his 
loutish face furrowing in bovine incomprehension. Sylia 
inwardly sighed. He was a _dear_ brother, but far too 
preoccupied with his silly kendo practice and chasing for the 
other, lesser Knight Sabers. It was quite sad, really.

    "Hello?" she said politely into the receiver.

    "*Sylia-sama?*" came a strong voice, manly and warm.

    "Largo-sama?" she gasped, her heart pounding. "Oh, but 
you are bold to call me here!"

    "What was that?" Linna snarled suspiciously, her tiny 
brow furrowing. Beside her, Nene and Priss made noises of 
oafish inquiry.

    "Oh, ah, I was just telling Fargo not to call me such 
things!" Sylia said sweetly.

    "Oh. Okay," Linna said, her dim brain relaxing back into 
dull torpor. Next to her, Priss and Nene capered and fought over 
scraps of okonomiyaki takeout.

    Lowering her voice, Sylia returned her attention to the 
radio. "Oh, Largo-sama, it is dangerous of you to call me here! 
My companion Sabers, jealous over our love, would no doubt 
seek to kill me if they knew I was in communication with you!"

    "*I am sorry, my love," Largo replied, his voice sending a 
secret thrill through her. "But I had to speak with you! Oh, if 
only I could hold you in my arms now!*"

    "If only," sighed Sylia.

    "*Still, I have other, less personal news. But dire all the 
same. It involves the Tesla Project.*"

    "Ah, the Tesla Project. Yes, I have heard much of it. But 
what could it be?"

    "*I will tell you, my love. There is a hideous plot 
underfoot within GENOM, one masterminded by the infamous 
Red Harridan!*"

    Sylia sucked in her breath, recognizing the name of one 
of the most ruthless, underhanded, cunning hatchetmen in the 
employ of GENOM. "Her. Ah yes, her I have faced before."

    "*I recall.*" Largo's voice was heavy with concern. "*She 
defeated you through trickery and underhanded methods.*"

    "Yet I prevailed in the end," Sylia reminded him. "What 
wickedness does she plan now?"

    "*She has teamed up with the noted biological poison 
specialist, Akemi Tando. Together, they plan on creating a new 
sort of 'Organic Boomer', one which will replace all those 
currently in operation.*"

    "How horrible!" gasped Sylia, her mind racing.

    "*Indeed,*" Largo replied grimly. "*It would severely hurt 
our plans to destroy humanity and reign as Emperor and 
Empress over a world of loyal boomer subjects.*"

    "It certainly would," Sylia said, frowning. Such a vexing 
development! "We must stop them!"

    "*I knew you would help, Sylia-sama. The Scarlet 
Harridan has set up her base of operations in a shoddy little 
dojo on the outskirts of the city. I'm uploading the location to 
you now. Do what you can, and remember, I shall be watching 
you.*"

    "Oh, Largo-sama!" she purred throatily, feeling a wetness 
in her loins.

    "Wha waazat?" slurred the oafish Priss, who had been 
swilling cheap wine.

    "Nothing!" Sylia cheerfully told her.

    She still remembered the night she had met Largo-sama. 
He had saved her from falling into a pack of boomers, and she 
had shot him with a paralysis beam and taken him home for a 
night of mad, passionate lovemaking. With whips. And plugs. 
And electrical devices of the most cunning nature. And 
fruitbats. And inflatable pool toys.

    Sadly, her subhuman brother was convinced that Largo-
sama was evil. The other Sabers thought so too, even as they 
secretly desired him, the traitorous little hussys. Largo-sama 
wasn't evil! He was just misunderstood. Everything would be 
better once they had scoured the earth of all other organic life. 
Except roses. Sylia liked roses.

    "I received a tip from Fargo," she sweetly told the other 
Sabers. "The Red Harridan is making some new sort of boomer, 
and it's up to us to stop her."

    The other three Sabers made various crudely belligerent 
noises.

    "She is holed up in a shoddy little dojo," Sylia continued, 
a long-suffering look on her sharply sculpted features. "I've set 
the KnightWing to head there."

    Priss made a grunting noise and scratched at her armpit.

    "In fact, we should be almost..."

    {ALERT! ALERT!} blared the navigation computer. 
{INCOMING GROUND-TO-AIR WEAPON!}

***********

Ryoga's Section #1:







[Naw, look, I'm tellin' ya, I can't find it! I've looked and looked, and
it ain't anywhere I can see, Na... wait a minute, here's something! Well,
it ain't what we're lookin' for, but it's some-- alright, alright,
sheesh.]

Akari's Section #1:

"Wow!" Nene said. "I can't believe how you saved us all, Linna!"

"Oh, it was easy," Linna said, blushing modestly. "It just took a little
bit of special knowledge."

"But... pigs?" Sylia shook her head in disbelief. "I didn't know pigs
could fly."

Linna gestured out the window, where two galloping sumo pigs were carrying
the Knightwing along, like reindeer at Christmas. "All it takes is the
right kinds. And you have to know how to call them, of course."

"Of course." Priss looked at the pigs again, blinked, and took a large
swig of apple brandy. 

Sylia nodded slowly. "All right... now all we need to do is find out who
shot those bacon balls at us."

"I've got a couple more pigs sniffing them out. They're great hunters, you
know." She peered out the window at the ground, where a couple of giant
sumo pigs were rooting through the ground below. "Unfortunately, they're
sometimes too enthusiastic about it." She held her hands up to her mouth
like a megaphone. "SHINSUMO! HEEL!" One of the pigs turned away from the
garden he was digging up, grunted sheepishly, then stopped, sniffing the
air. With a loud bwee!, he charged off into the nearby house, then trotted
out carrying a man in a pinstripe suit. The man struggled briefly, then
dropped the smoking launcher he held. With a satisfied snort, the pig sat
back on its haunches and waved the man up at the Knightwing.

"So... who do you think he was?"


TO BE CONTINUED IN ROUND 2


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