Bubblegum Chakram

                               Chapter Three

	Something was horribly wrong.

	It had been surprisingly easy to adapt to divinity.  She wasn't 
quite sure why that was; before she'd died, she'd never given a damn about
the gods, and was quite convinced that they had felt the same about her.
She had certainly never aspired to godhood.  Her first steps in that 
direction had been a simple matter of self-preservation, not any belief
that taking on immortality would make it any easier for her to accomplish
her task.

	And so, the ease with which she took up the powers of a god might
have startled her, if she'd had any time to be startled.  But there had not 
been time, and soon she had found herself wrestling with an opponent with 
equal powers.

	Fortunately, she'd had the advantage of insanity.

	Perhaps that was the secret.

	And so, buried beneath the river of lava, she grappled with the 
bitch.  The irony of the situation was unbelievable -- in order to keep
Velasca from stealing her vengeance, she had to remain down here, placing 
it out of her own reach.  She might have laughed, if she'd had lungs, a
voice box, and a breathable medium to make doing so possible.

	But lately ... something was horribly wrong.  The urge to laugh 
wasn't there anymore.

	Ares had taken it on himself to explain a few of the finer points
of divinity to both of them, lecturing even as they wrestled ceaselessly.
And one of the more salient points had been how to read the ambience, so 
that they'd know if a situation ever arose which might give them cause to
end their strife.  (Neither had found the possibility likely, but the idea
was sound.)

	And the flow of the ambience was strange, lately.  It was almost as 
though ...

	<No.>

	... as though the most important person in the universe was gone. 
The only other being that truly mattered, to her.

	<No.  Xena, you *cannot* have died while I am stuck down here!>

	The ambience seemed to be indicating just that.

	<IT'S NOT FAIR!> Callisto shrieked the thought.

				*    *    *

	"I still don't know what you were thinking, introducing her to 
those two," Leon fumed as he drove the car into the almost vacant lot where 
Priss' trailer was parked.

	"That she was looking at Harlan and Ellison with interest, and that 
she knew that I knew them, and that I wanted to keep my lungs," Daley 
replied calmly.

	Leon hmphed as he parked the car a few meters away from the 
trailer's front door.  "She's not that bad."

	"Forgive me, Leon-chan, for not having the guts to deal with macho
women with guns --"  <And powered armor,> he carefully did not say, since
he wasn't a hundred percent sure that the car wasn't bugged.  "-- when I 
lack any hormonally driven reason to do so."

	"Right, whatever," Leon said as he hopped out of the car and headed 
for the trailer.  He felt a bit badly about being so rough on Daley, but 
Priss' non-appearance for her new band's first gig last night had him 
*greatly* concerned.  He'd overheard one of the guitarists complaining that 
she hadn't given them any indication of what was going on.  Combining that 
with her recent choice of companions -- and Leon was honest enough to admit 
to himself that there *might* be a bit of jealousy in there -- gave him a 
great deal to be concerned about.

	"Oi!  Priss!" he yelled, thumping on the door.  "Are you in?"

	No response.  Not even a "Leon, you putz, I'm *BUSY*!" followed by 
masculine or feminine moans.  Leon's worries intensified.  He thumped 
harder on the door.  "Priss!  Are you okay?  Come on, talk to --"

	The door was yanked open.

	The woman who was standing in the doorframe was considerably taller 
than Priss, and only stood a head shorter than Leon himself.  The fact that 
she was taller than Priss was born out by the fact that she was wearing a 
nightgown that Leon had been fortunate enough to see Priss in at one point, 
and it had gone down to her knees.  It hovered at mid-thigh on this strange 
woman.  Her raven black hair was in a bit of a mess, and her arctic blue 
eyes glared daggers at him.  "What do you want?" she bit out.

	Leon stared at her for an eternity, before he finally opened his
mouth.

	Which was suddenly blocked by a hand reaching up from behind him to 
cover his mouth.  Daley smiled nervously as he wrestled Leon back to the
car. "Sorry 'bout this!" he said.  "Go back to ... whatever!"

	The woman rolled her eyes, and closed the door.

	"Daley, what the hell are you doing?" Leon shouted as he finally
twisted his head free of Daley's grip.  His partner still managed to get 
him into the passenger's seat.

	"Okay," Daley said with a calm he didn't feel.  "Now, let's 
consider the situation.  Priss doesn't answer the door of *her* trailer,
instead some other woman does, wearing skimpy negligee.  What does this
suggest to you, Inspector?"

	Leon's eyes bugged out.  "You mean ... that woman ... and ..."

	The temptation to say `No shit, Sherlock,' almost overwhelmed
Daley, but he nodded instead.

	Leon's face took on a determined expression.  "Okay.  Then there's
only one thing to do about this."

	Daley slammed the brakes as the patrol car started to pull back 
from the trailer.  "If you say, `I'll have to lure her back to the 
*straight* and narrow path', you're walking the rest of the way, buster."

	"Of course not!" Leon said, looking hurt.  "Come on, you know me
better than that."

	"Yeah," Daley said, ashamedly.

	"I'll just have to date with them both."

	The ominous clouds that had gathered that morning chose that moment 
to begin to rumble with thunder.

				*   *   *

	Xena watched the vehicle pull out of the lot.  Whoever that strange 
fellow had been, it was pretty obvious that he had noticed that the woman 
who normally lived in this place -- the woman who had been "exchanged" for 
Xena -- wasn't following her normal routine.
	
	The plan that Stingray had concocted the previous night -- to have
her stay at Priss' trailer, so as to prevent vagabonds from making off from 
any of the absent woman's property -- was not really working out.  Xena had 
also developed a suspicion that the real purpose of the plan was to have 
her in a place where she could be easily observed -- either by magical 
means or by more conventional ones.  The sensation that she was being 
watched was almost overpowering.

	It would be nice if she could figure out which of the many 
incomprehensible devices that she'd found in the -- building? -- was
responsible for her feeling of being watched.  Unfortunately, all of them
were equally incomprehensible, except for the vibrating phallus.  That,
she understood completely.

	There was a sudden bell-like noise.  It paused, then repeated.  The 
tone seemed designed to be annoying.  After a moment, the warrior figured 
out the source of the noise -- it was coming from a black oblong-shaped 
object that was near the bed.

	After five repetitions, there was a clicking noise, and a woman's
voice could be heard.  "This is Priss, you know the drill.  And Leon?  Be
sure and tell Daley thanks so much for introducing me to those two 
`friends' of his.  I'm sure the three of us will have many laughs ... and
other things."

	There followed a beep, then a different woman's voice.  "Um ...
hello?  If anyone's there, could you *please* pick up?"

	Xena frowned, but decided to take the chance.  She reached out and
lifted the object.  She was surprised to note that it was modular, and
part of it slipped out of her hands, although it remained connected to the
other part by a cord of the same material.

	"Hello?" she said.

	"Um ... hi.  Is this ... uh, Sena?"

	"Maybe," Xena replied.

	"Right.  Uh, this is Linna Yamazaki ... I'm with the people who set 
you up in the place where you're at now."

	"The roof leaks.  Pretty rainy day, isn't it?" Xena said casually,
using the code phrase that Stingray had given her earlier.

	"Won't rain all the time," the other woman said, just as casually
giving the countersign.

	Xena nodded to herself.  "All right, enough small talk ... what
is it?"

	"I'm coming by to pick you up in about five minutes -- the chief
wants to talk to you.  Acceptable?"

	Xena considered asking if she actually had a choice in the matter,
then decided that sarcasm wouldn't get her anywhere.  "Sure.  I'll be
ready."

	"Glad to hear it.  See you then!"  There was a clicking noise, and
then a humming.  Xena dropped the object -- obviously, it was some kind of
far-speaking device -- back onto the other part of it.

	"Now," she muttered to herself, "about clothes ..."

				*   *   *

	"... and so, the Warrior Princess did save the bard from the 
embrace of Bacchus, and all was set to rights once more," Gabrielle
concluded, to mixed applause.  Most of the tavern audience weren't really
comfortable with the story -- the mere thought of the Lord of the Bacchae
tended make `normal' people anxious -- but she'd stayed away from most of
the gross and gory bits.

	"Cute story," the woman named Priss opined as the bard made her way 
back to their table.

	"Thanks!" Gabrielle replied, sifting through the collection of 
coins that the listeners had deposited in her bag of donations.  "I really
like to tell that kind of story, but Xena doesn't like me to do that when
she's around ... I don't really understand why not, I mean, why shouldn't
she be proud of her accomplishments, after all?"

	Priss stared at her for a second.  "You're trying to tell me that
happened?"

	Gabrielle stared right back.  "You think I'd make something like
that *up*?  I was the bard!  It was *frightening*!  I --"  She paused, then 
went on in a slightly accusatory manner.  "You still think this is all some 
vision you dreamed up after eating BLANK, don't you?"

	The other woman shrugged.

	"Aargh.  Come on!  Don't you think it would have worn off by now,
if it was like that?  Yes, I know that your sense of time can go funny 
after doing that, but -- really, is your world that much more unbelievable
than mine?  You haven't even said what it's like."

	Priss hefted her drink.  "The air isn't as clean," she commented
before she started to swallow.

	"Okay, that's a good start.  There's a lot of dust storms, then?
Do you live in a desert?"

	Priss let out a sigh and looked away.

	Gabrielle was actually used to this level of unresponsiveness.  
Xena had been *almost* this bad when they'd first met.  The problem was
that Xena had also gotten better as time had passed and the two of them
had grown closer.  So Gabrielle was a bit out of practice.

	"What do you *do*, there?"

	<Let's see ... do I tell her that I'm an obsessed seeker of
vengeance or that I'm a singer?>  "I sing," Priss replied.

	Gabrielle's eyes widened.  "You're a *bard*?"  Priss opened her
mouth to loudly reply in the negative, when Gabrielle rushed onward.  "Oh
Gods!  Why didn't you say so before?!  You're probably missing a
performance right now!"

	Well, that was true.  `Priss and the Nexus-7' *had* had a booking
for -- last night?  Sometime today? -- which had been a while in the 
making.  The guys were probably gonna be pissed off, and for a moment,
Priss worried that when she got back, she'd be the veteran of *two* band
breakups.  It had been hard enough getting a few of the Replicants back
together with some new talent to make the new one ... if she blew this --

	<Well, on the upside, I could wind up dying because I've been in
this dimension too long -- or never waking up from whatever drug somebody
slipped me -- and so not have to worry about it,> Priss thought cheerfully.

	"Listen," Gabrielle interrupted her musings.  "Would you like to
do something here, instead?  Would that make it up to you?"

	Priss blinked.  "Whaddayamean, here?  I don't have my --"  She
briefly wondered how to explain electrically amplified and tuned musical
instruments to someone whose idea of amplification was lifting your voice,
then gave up.  "-- my tools, or --"

	"You use tools to tell your stories?"

	"Well, yeah."

	Gabrielle nodded, decisively.  "Listen -- there was this one guy at 
the Athens Academy of the Performing Bards --"

	"You're shitting me."

	The bard pressed on, ignoring the comment.  "-- who did the same
thing.  Whenever he went up to tell a story, he always had to have these
little blocks of wood with him, which he clapped together when there was a
really dramatic scene happening.  Do you know what he was told by the
professor?"

	"Try cymbals?"

	"No," Gabrielle replied seriously.  "When he did that, the 
attention of the people who were listening to the story went to the blocks, 
not to what he was saying.  They were a crutch to this guy, but instead of 
helping him to walk, they kept him standing still.  What matters is the
heart ... the soul of the bard.  Do you understand what I'm saying?"

	Priss blinked.  "Oddly enough ... yes."

	"So?  Do you have a story to tell?"

	She opened her mouth to reply, 'Nope', shoot the little idiot 
down, and get on with business ... and then the story came to her.

	She rejected it angrily ... and found that it wouldn't go away.

	"Yeah," Priss said, at last.  "I've got a faerie tale for these
guys.  You won't like it.  They won't like it.  But if you're insisting,
I'll tell it."

	Gabrielle grinned, and stood up.  "Um," she announced.  "I don't
know if I mentioned this or not, but my colleague, here, is a bard in
training -- and she'd really like it if she could tell her first story to
such a friendly bunch as you."

	<The woman has no shame,> Priss thought, looking over the village
toughs who'd congregated in the taproom.  Still the response seemed fairly
positive -- in a 'heh, fresh meat' sort of way -- so Priss shrugged, got
up, and walked to where Gabrielle had stood, to tell her story.

	She took a deep breath and began.

	"Once upon a time, in a city far away ... there were wizards.
Evil wizards.  And one day, they decided that they weren't happy ruling
over only mere mortals, oh no.  Mortals have oh so many disadvantages ...
they get sick, they get hungry, they get dead.

	"They get dead real easy.  Maybe you've noticed.

	"So these wizards hired one of their smarter but stupider brethren
to make them some better slaves.  And sure enough, he did.  He made --
let's call them robots -- that wouldn't get sick, wouldn't get hungry, and
wouldn't get dead nearly as easily.  And the wizards used the robots to
make their city even better.  For them.

	"But one day one of the robots went crazy and killed the wizard
who'd created them, and his daughter ... his daughter realized that
something had to be done about the other wizards.  So she started a
revolution.  A small, quiet revolution -- just five people against all the
wizards in the city."

	And then Priss smiled.  "And it came out pretty much even."

	The smile died.  "One of ... these revolutionaries was a warrior.
No one could touch her when it came to fighting the robots -- and she
wouldn't let anyone touch her any other way."

	There was a low rumble of amusement from the crowd.

	"Because she'd cut anyone who tried.

	"But ...

	"One day ... she met someone.  A person ... whom she wanted to let
a little closer.  And she saw that this person ... wanted to get closer to
her, too.

	"Isn't it a shame she didn't know that the person was really a
robot?"

	Sudden confusion.

	"Oh, didn't I tell you?  Even though the wizard who'd actually
gone and made the robots was dead, his brethren were still making
improvements.  Most of the robots ... you could tell that they weren't
human.  But some of them were so close ... you could look at them, and
you'd never know.  You could touch them, and you'd never know.  You could
l-- you would never know ... and maybe they wouldn't either.

	"But this robot did.  And it ... didn't want to serve the wizards
anymore.
 
	"It wanted to be free.

	"But ... in order to get to be free, the robot had to steal a ...
magical item from the wizards.  And to do that, the robot had to use a
magical chariot, pulled by a firey horse.

	"And on the night that she stole the item, the horse went mad.
The chariot ran wild -- and a bunch of warriors came out to stop it.  Any
way they could.

	"And one of them was the warrior who loved the robot.

	"'Kill me,' the robot screamed when sh-- it saw the warrior.
'Kill me or the chariot will destroy the city!'"

	And Priss drew a deep breath.

	"And the warrior wanted to scream back, 'To hell with the city, it
deserves to die, who cares about it, I'm gonna save you or die trying and
maybe both!'"

	Dead silence.

	"But she didn't.  She took up her javelin ... waited for the right
moment ... and plunged it into the robot's heart.

	"Because that was the weakness of the robots.  The more human they
were, the easier they died.

	"And the robot died.

	"And since this is a true story, not a faerie tale, nobody lived 
happily ever after."

	Dead silence greeted the conclusion of the story.  Priss looked
out over the audience for a moment, then snorted and got the hell off the
stage.  As she walked towards the table where Gabrielle sat, the younger
bard snapped out of whatever trance she'd fallen into, and for a moment it
looked as though she was about to start clapping -- but then thought
better of it.

	Priss dropped into the seat, not meeting Gabrielle's eyes.

	"Um ..." the bard began.  "That was a nice story!"

	"You suck at lying," Priss replied mildly.

	"I liked it!  Really!  Um.  It was a little unbelievable, though.
That's okay though, most of the myths are ... but you always know that
there's a tiny kernel of truth, covered by ages of retellings --"

	"It happened a year ago."

	"Oh.  You know the person who -- uh ... never mind."

	<I'm gonna tear Nene's liver out with a spoon.  Just for
starters.>

				*   *   *

	"And this," Sylia explained as she guided their "guest" into the
simulation chamber, "is where we undergo our training."

	Linna Yamazaki didn't understand the situation one bit.  First
this person had shown up in Nene's apartment, and Linna'd been called in
to do sniper duty -- a job Sylia usually either took for herself, or
delegated to Priss.  Then her fearless leader had stated that the woman --
Xena -- was going to be staying at Priss' trailer `for the duration'.
(Sylia didn't specify which duration, let alone speculate on how long that
meant.)

	And now, Sylia was giving her a guided tour of their facilities in
Raven's Garage.  True, she was mixing quite a few bald-faced lies about
the Sabres' operations into what she revealed, but it was completely out
of character for her to be telling *anything* to *anyone* from outside.

	`Xena', if that was in fact her real name, grunted in response as
she surveyed the simulation chamber.  "So who do you fight?"

	"I believe that I discussed that earlier --" Sylia began.

	"No, I mean, who do you fight in *there*?"

	Sylia pursed her lips, apparently considering something.  After a
moment, she nodded.  "We train ourselves against holographic opponents --
a sort of illusionary image, which cannot actually cause direct injury."

	Linna stared at Sylia.  <Why did she just go into that much detail
explaining what a hologram is?>

	`Xena' snorted.  "That's pretty dumb.  What's the point in
training for a fight and not training to deal with injury?"

	"The armour we wear provides protection against the majority of
our adversaries use," Sylia said mildly.  Someone who didn't know her
would never recognize the frost in her tone.  "As for the rest -- well,
one can hardly train someone to deal with a potentially lethal injury.
And I believe that the training program is rather effective."  She paused.
"Would you care to try a run?"

	Linna believed that she understood.  Everything -- the tour, the
revealed secrets -- had led up to this; an opportunity for Sylia to
evaluate `Xena's' abilities.  On the other hand ...

	The woman shrugged.  "Sounds interesting."  She sounded *far* too
blase.

	Sylia directed `Xena' over to the changing room, and settled
herself down at the control console.  Linna watched as her leader
carefully adjusted the settings, putting the challenge of the holographic
opponent at the eighth level -- the same level that Linna and Priss had
worked their way up to over the last four years.

	Linna gulped as she caught a glimpse of the grim smile on Sylia's
face.  `Xena's' comments on the lack of danger involved in the training
program weren't quite accurate.  At level eight, the skin suits delivered 
a mild electric shock to parts of the body `struck' by the holographic
opponent.  It didn't compare to actually being hit in combat, but it did
hurt.

	A few moments later, `Xena' emerged wearing a spare skinsuit --
and causing its `one-size-fits-all' fabric stretch alarmingly over her
frame.  Unlike any of the Knight Sabres, she didn't deign to tie her hair
back -- it hung down past her shoulders in disarray.  "Any time you're
ready," she announced.

	Sylia silently flicked the switch, and a trio of holographic
`blobs' appeared around `Xena'.

	And then the woman began to move, and the bottom dropped out of
Linna's stomach.  She had never witnessed a comparable display of prowess,
not even when she'd seen the Grand Master of the Reformed Shaolin Temple
give a brief demonstration at some half-forgotten festival years before.
That man had moved like mercury -- none of the dozen bravos who had
volunteered to "assist" him could touch him, but he had been just as hard-
pressed to score damaging blows on them.

	`Xena' moved like *molten* quicksilver.  What she struck, died.

	Roughly ten seconds after the beginning of the simulation, she
finished level eight and moved onto level nine -- something that Linna
didn't anticipate doing for another year or so.  More blobs attacked, and
they operated with even greater levels of tactics.  And the shock
potential of any hit increased as well.

	It took `Xena' four and a half minutes to clear the level.  

	For some strange reason, Linna felt as though a soundtrack should
be playing.  "Sylia --"

	"Quiet."

	"But --"

	"I'm aware that she has moved onto the level *I* train on, Linna,
now be quiet."

	The simulation chamber resembled a blizzard of blobs.  As far as
Linna knew, Sylia had only ever survived three minutes on this level.

	Four minutes later, `Xena' showed no sign of slackening her pace.

	"Sylia, who the *hell* is she?"

	"Obviously, she's Xena the Warrior Princess."

	"Be serious!"

	Sylia restrained her impulse to snarl, `I *am*,' at the child.

	"What happens when if she clears level ten?" Linna demanded.

	"I don't know," Sylia replied quietly.

	"What do you mean, you don't know?!  You designed this --"

	"No, actually, I didn't.  Doctor Raven did.  I'm not even certain
if it goes to eleven."

	Linna slowly began to edge back from the console, as visions of
explosions electric discharges leaping from the controls danced through
her head.  She jumped two feet when she heard a sudden beeping noise --
then realized that it was only the intercom on the board.

	"Yes?" Sylia snapped.

	<Sylia is on edge,> Linna realized.  <We're all going to die,
aren't we?  *Sylia* is on edge!>

	"Sylia, I believe that we may have a situation on our hands.
According to your surveillance units, there are a number of large vans
parking in strategic locations around the shop."  Dr. Raven's voice seemed
tense but controlled.

	All the blood ran out of Sylia's face.  "No," she whispered.  "No,
they *can't* ..."  At once, her hand darted out and stabbed the shutdown
switch for the training lab.

	The holograms faded instantly, and `Xena' paused where she stood.
"Is that the best you can do?" she sneered.  "I've hardly even worked up a
sweat!"  She lied -- a faint sheen of perspiration could be seen on her
face and neck.

	"Dr. Raven, get down here at once!" Sylia called into the
intercom.

	"I can slow them down --"

	"NO."

	"All right then," the old man soothed.  "Just a moment."

	It only took him a few minutes to get down into the basement
chambers, time that Sylia used to call up her surveillance displays on the
practice chambers computers.  Her heart sank as she noted the absence of
license plates on the vans in question -- and the oddly uniform appearance
of the men who stepped out of them, an element that went beyond the
men-in-black attire they sported.

	<Boomers.  Genom SpecOp boomers -->

	And then the last passenger stepped out of one of the vans, and
Sylia frowned.  There was something disturbingly familiar about the woman
with magenta coloured hair --

	<Father, no.  She's supposed to be dead.>

	Sylia pushed herself back from the console and stood quickly
enough to cause vertigo in a frail human.  "This facility is compromised,"
she announced.  "We are leaving, now!"

	"Uh -- hold it," Xena interrupted.  "I --

	Sylia turned to glare at the dimensionally displaced woman.  "Our
adversaries have apparently tracked us to this location because of your
presence in this dimension," she all but roared.  "I do not care who you
may be in your own place and time, but right now you are a liability and I
am suffering your presence only because you are essential to the continued
survival of one of my operatives.  We are leaving!  NOW!"

	Xena took a single step back.

	<Dimension?  Your own place and time?  Continued survival?  Huh?>
Linna thought confusedly.

	Sylia whirled and headed towards a blank wall, tapping a button on
her blouse as she did.  The wall opened up to reveal an elevator shaft.
"Go," she snapped.  "I will follow you."

	Dr. Raven beat Linna into the shaft only by seconds.  It was 
a short drop to a firmly padded bottom, and they half-stepped/half-rolled
out into a small room with metal walls, dominated by a large, black
streamlined oblong artifact.

	Xena looked briefly at Stingray.  "You're making a mistake," she
said shortly.

	"Yes," Sylia agreed.  "I did.  Move."

	Without another word, Xena stepped into the shaft.  Sylia paused
for a brief check of the surveillance -- the boomers had only entered the
outermost areas of the building -- before heading into it herself.

	In the room below, she tapped on a certain section of the
capsule's skin and the side silently opened up.  "Get in," she ordered,
and entered it herself.  The others followed, sitting on the cramped seats
in the interior while Sylia examined the control panel.  One switch
activated a dull green internal light, while another sealed the door --
and pressurized the cabin.

	She then took a deep breath, and tapped a much larger switch over
her head.

	The metal wall that the capsule faced began to bend backwards and
up -- and sewer water flooded the chamber.  Another button caused a low
whining noise, and the capsule began to move forward slowly.

	Sylia closed her eyes.  "I'm sorry, uncle," she whispered in
English.

	She felt his hand rest gently on her shoulder.  "Do what you have
to do," Dr. Raven murmured in the same language.

	She yanked back on the steering mechanism while twisting a button
on her blouse sleeve.

	The tiny submarine barely outraced the explosion that engulfed
Raven's Garage.

	After a long moment, Sylia spoke up again.  "I apologize, Ms.
Amphipoli.  I shouldn't have become angry with you for my own mistake in
bringing you to one of our facilities."

	"The mistake *I* was referring to," Xena said slowly, "was not
letting me go back for my clothes.  Or at the very least, the butter knife
I brought with me."

				*   *   *

	Madigan knew that it was wrong to take such joy in pointless
destruction ... but she couldn't help it.  <Fear me, *apprentice*.  I am
*coming* for you,> she thought as she surveyed the wreckage of the
building.

	"Madigan-sama," called one of the boomers who had avoided being
blown up.  "Sensors indicate an anomaly in this sector of the ruins."

	She carefully walked through the rubble to where the boomer was
excavating.  "What sort of an anomaly?"

	The boomer stood, and handed her a butterknife.

	She stared at it a moment ... and then, on an impulse, cast a
simple spell.

	And then Katherine Madigan smiled for the first time in nearly a
year.

				To Be Continued

Author's Notes

	Let me be forthright.  Xena could kick *any* anime character's
ass.  She wouldn't have been in serious trouble until the trainer went up
to fifteen.

	But Sylia can be a hell of a lot scarier.

	To a certain degree, I am paralleling characters, but this isn't a
Xena "uber-fic" (one inspired by the episode "The Xena Scrolls", setting
later incarnations of Xena and Gabrielle in other settings.)  Leon is,
natuarally, paralleling Joxer.  No points for guessing who Madigan's
paralleling.

	"Bubblegum Crisis" was created by Toshimichi Suzuki and others,
and brought to North America by AnimEigo.  "Xena:  Warrior Princess" was
created by Robert Tapert and Sam Raimi, and distributed worldwide by
Universal/MCA.  This story, while incorporating elements of motion
pictures held under copyright by others, is copyright 1998 of Chris
Davies.

	Nobody sue me, okay?

Chris Davies, Advocate for Darkness, Part-Time Champion of Light.
"It is a sad thing when the designation one has known most of one's
existence becomes nothing more than a toll of doom." -- Seven of Nine,
"Just Between Species", by Gina L. Dartt
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