Shifti - User contributions [en]

Talk:Ami's Song

2009-09-03T06:25:32Z

75.41.112.111:

I hate to be That Guy, but since the original poster said "I don't own this, wish I did", shouldn't it be removed per [[Shifti:Copyrights]]? [[User:Phaedrus|Phaedrus]] 05:30, 3 September 2009 (UTC)

:Indeed, quite right. Alex, do you know the original author and/or can you contact him for permission? If not, this will quite sadly have to be removed (it's an old favorite of mine too so I don't say that with any eagerness, sigh). If it's up somewhere else on the 'net feel free to put external links to it anywhere on Shifti that they might reasonably go, links are fine. But we can't copy without permission. [[User:Bryan|Bryan]] 05:58, 3 September 2009 (UTC)
::Putting a link on the Xanadu category page would make a lot of sense; that way people interested in the setting would still find the story. [[User:Phaedrus|Phaedrus]] 06:03, 3 September 2009 (UTC)

The original author of this story is a mystery person even on the website it was on. I'm hoping that whoever wrote this story WILL appear and come foreword so they can be credited for their work!!! And the website this story was on was destroyed by some hacker who left a obscene gesture in it's place. If I hadn't downloaded these stories YEARS ago back when the website was still up BECAUSE something like that could happen, this story would no longer exist at all! I WANT to talk to whoever wrote this story, so I can finally tell'em how fantastic it is!!! -- Alex Warlorn Sept 3 2009

User talk:Alex Warlorn

2009-09-03T06:21:37Z

75.41.112.111:

Welcome aboard. You may have noticed we're fixing a few things. We'll make sure your story posts are neat and tidy as you learn how the wiki works. --[[User:JonBuck|Buck]] 17:01, 20 May 2008 (EDT)

Normally I don't edit user pages without explicit permission, but since yours didn't exist yet I hope you didn't mind me moving the text from your category to [[User:Alex Warlorn]]. That page is your "home" page on Shifti where you can put descriptive stuff like that. [[User:Bryan|Bryan]] 17:46, 20 May 2008 (EDT)

I actually only joined because those two stories of mine got rejected for reasons I felt were both absurd, and other reasons that weren't explained to me until -after- the door was closed. And the profile owner the story is on has a grudge with me over me getting him to remove a line from a chapter of his that completely destroyed the character development of a character he hates, I wrote a chapter where said character evolved as a person, and his one line reverted her back to a delusional obsessive compulsive. So I had to basically use harsh methods to get him to remove the line, and he's never forgiven me it seems. So I felt I had to post them somewhere. 21 May 2008 [[User:Alex Warlorn]]

== Copyright Concerns ==

The people who run Shifti do not have the money to face a copyright suit and your recent uploads of numerous Xanadu stories that you could not find the authors of is worrying. I do know that 'Liquid Courage' was written by Ed Beccerra (I hope I got his name spelled correctly) but beyond that I am in the dark as much as anyone. When it comes to copyrights we are very particular and if any complaints arrive the stories will be pulled without any hesitation. In the future please be even more careful about things like copyright. -- [[User:ShadowWolf|ShadowWolf]] 16:14, 22 August 2009 (UTC)

" 'Liquid Courage' was written by Ed Beccerra" just going by the by-line that included in the story. -Warlorn, August 22 09

:Would it be possible for you to contact the original authors for permission to post these here? If they're up on the net elsewhere, perhaps consider using external links instead of posting the content here if you can't get permission. [[User:Bryan|Bryan]] 06:03, 3 September 2009 (UTC)

I posted these stories here BECAUSE the websites they were on no longer exist! They were deleted by a hacker who left a comic book character showing the finger. And I contacted what authors I could and indeed got their permission. -- Warlorn Sept 3 2009

Could Have Been Real

2009-09-03T02:13:35Z

75.41.112.111:

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xanadu]] {{universe|Xanadu}}

We've heard a bit about those affected by the curse at Kublai Con.
Here's a tale about one who wasn't affected...

[Xanadu] It could have been real

By Albedo.

Billy hit the remote, killing yet another glossy-haired talking
head yammering on about the strange happenings in Orlando. Magic was
loose, fantasy was reality... and he had missed it. Missed it!

He punched the sofa cushions in frustration. He had spent months
building his costume. Costumes. The first version was waaaay to heavy
to move in, the second one broke up when it was put on for the first
time. The third one, ah, that was just right. He could move in it,
but it would withstand some rough handling. He could even get it on
and off without extra help. And then...

Charlie had phoned a week before Kublai Con to give him the bad
news.

"Uh, Billy?" Charlie's voice was low. Billy's heart sank. Trouble.

"Yeah?"

"Uh, my van, it's, uh, it's gonna need work." Charlie's voice sank
even lower. "Transmission."

"Shi-!" Billy covered the mouthpiece and glanced around to see if
his parents were within earshot. Nope. He took a deep breath.

"How long to fix it and how much?"

Too long and too much, it transpired. Billy had been depending
on Charlie and his van to transport him and his costume down to
Orlando. Now he had the costume all ready to blow their socks off,
and he couldn't get it there. Aargh!

He called a couple of freighting agencies, but once he told them how
big the costume was, the prices they quoted made his eyes pop. All
his spare cash for a year had gone into the Mk III, and then some.
He checked the truck rental places, but when they found out he was
only seventeen, they refused him a rental outright. Too young, no
insurance yadda yadda. He *could* rent a Neon, but there was now way
the costume was going to fit into one of those shoeboxes. By Thursday
he was a nervous wreck. A burned-out nervous wreck. On the Friday
morning, it was too late, and he gave up trying.

His parents were heading off that weekend for a family affair in
Colorado, so they couldn't help, even if they wanted to. His dad had
taken an interest in the costume's construction, even giving him one
bay of the garage as a construction yard, and helping out on a couple
of weekends with some of the trickier engineering problems. Mom had
never understood his fascination with SF and fantasy, but she put up
with it, figuring it was a phase he was going through. They gave him
last-minute instructions and emergency telephone numbers before
driving off, leaving him with a cheery wave that did nothing to lift
his spirits.

He was stuck at home with a prize-winning costume. Gods, it had to
have been in contention for some of those big money prizes the con
flyers talked about. The money would have been neat, sure, but he
wanted to show off his creation, especially in front of other
costumers. He wanted to make them go Wow! He wanted the satisfaction.
He consoled himself with the thought that there'd be other
conventions, and Charlie would get his van fixed, eventually.
He took a quick look at one of the convention calendars on the Web,
trying to spot a likely candidate for the costume's debut, but there
was nothing until next year, an eternity away. Ah well. He wanted
to do more work on the costume anyway. Clean up the wiring harnesses,
for one thing. Dress the skin a bit better. He'd had an idea or
two...

He was sketching on his big yellow pad when the first news of the
"disaster" at Kublai Con came on the teevee. The pictures were not
very clear; the police and city authorities had established
some sort of quarantine zone, and the cameramen were working at the
limits of their zoom lenses, but there were people *flying* around
down there! There were lions and tigers and bears, and Barney...
Barney? The shots were poor, yeah, but he watched, dry- mouthed
as several cops man-handled a large struggling purple dinosaur
wrapped in tape into a city truck. Barney's mouth was moving as he
(it?) fought against its restraints, and Billy reckoned that he
wasn't singing his signature theme song.

By evening, the news had confirmed what had happened, and the
professional speculators were trying to come up with some sort of
explanation. They were failing. The simple answer was magic, but for
those people, magic wasn't real. Hey guys! Billy thought furiously.
Wake up and smell the potions!

He fell asleep in front of the goggle-box, and woke the next morning
with cramps and stiffness in his joints. The news channel had
reverted to traffic and weather reports. He flicked desultorily
through some other channels, but there was nothing new, nothing
he hadn't seen the night before. He dragged himself into the shower
and made himself something to eat, before going out to the garage,
to console himself again with what he had achieved, and what could
have been. He shivered at the thought. It might be irrevocable.
The quick snippets on the morning news had informed him that the
strange events in Orlando were still going on, unabated. Nobody else
had changed, it seemed, but nobody had changed back, either. If he
had been there, he'd be stuck. Forever? Still...

He went into the garage, and lifted the dustsheets from his
creation. Fifteen feet long, it unhinged in the middle to allow him
to get into it. With an ease that came from long familiarity,
he dropped the black skirt that hid his legs and hoisted the carrying
frame onto his shoulders. A couple of adjustments to the straps,
and the seventy-odd pounds of styrofoam and aluminum tubing came
alive around him. He thumbed on the electronics suite; motors
whirred quietly as he looked out through the vision ports in the
superstructure. He checked his appearance in the mirrors propped
up against the wall, watching the turrets traverse, and the neon
light in the Wave Motion Gun started to glow as it prepared to fire,
and he let out one little sob, before he raked the battery switches
and the costume died around him. He let it drop almost carelessly
onto the supporting trestles, and wriggled back out of the harness
and the costume.

At the garage door he looked back, bitterly, at a years work, and
every buck he had, and triumph and disappointment in equal measure
(but the triumph was *sooo* good...)

Space Battleship Yamato. One fiftieth scale. Turrets that traversed
and elevated, and a Wave Motion Gun with a neon flash firing effect.
So much work...

"It could have been real..." he sobbed again, before he reached
over and switched out the light.

_______________________________________________________________________

* * * Copyright 2001 by the author of this message . If you want to
post this anywhere else, please ask the author for permission
first.
Thank you

Could Have Been Real

2009-09-03T02:13:16Z

75.41.112.111:

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xanadu]]

We've heard a bit about those affected by the curse at Kublai Con.
Here's a tale about one who wasn't affected...

[Xanadu] It could have been real

By Albedo.

Billy hit the remote, killing yet another glossy-haired talking
head yammering on about the strange happenings in Orlando. Magic was
loose, fantasy was reality... and he had missed it. Missed it!

He punched the sofa cushions in frustration. He had spent months
building his costume. Costumes. The first version was waaaay to heavy
to move in, the second one broke up when it was put on for the first
time. The third one, ah, that was just right. He could move in it,
but it would withstand some rough handling. He could even get it on
and off without extra help. And then...

Charlie had phoned a week before Kublai Con to give him the bad
news.

"Uh, Billy?" Charlie's voice was low. Billy's heart sank. Trouble.

"Yeah?"

"Uh, my van, it's, uh, it's gonna need work." Charlie's voice sank
even lower. "Transmission."

"Shi-!" Billy covered the mouthpiece and glanced around to see if
his parents were within earshot. Nope. He took a deep breath.

"How long to fix it and how much?"

Too long and too much, it transpired. Billy had been depending
on Charlie and his van to transport him and his costume down to
Orlando. Now he had the costume all ready to blow their socks off,
and he couldn't get it there. Aargh!

He called a couple of freighting agencies, but once he told them how
big the costume was, the prices they quoted made his eyes pop. All
his spare cash for a year had gone into the Mk III, and then some.
He checked the truck rental places, but when they found out he was
only seventeen, they refused him a rental outright. Too young, no
insurance yadda yadda. He *could* rent a Neon, but there was now way
the costume was going to fit into one of those shoeboxes. By Thursday
he was a nervous wreck. A burned-out nervous wreck. On the Friday
morning, it was too late, and he gave up trying.

His parents were heading off that weekend for a family affair in
Colorado, so they couldn't help, even if they wanted to. His dad had
taken an interest in the costume's construction, even giving him one
bay of the garage as a construction yard, and helping out on a couple
of weekends with some of the trickier engineering problems. Mom had
never understood his fascination with SF and fantasy, but she put up
with it, figuring it was a phase he was going through. They gave him
last-minute instructions and emergency telephone numbers before
driving off, leaving him with a cheery wave that did nothing to lift
his spirits.

He was stuck at home with a prize-winning costume. Gods, it had to
have been in contention for some of those big money prizes the con
flyers talked about. The money would have been neat, sure, but he
wanted to show off his creation, especially in front of other
costumers. He wanted to make them go Wow! He wanted the satisfaction.
He consoled himself with the thought that there'd be other
conventions, and Charlie would get his van fixed, eventually.
He took a quick look at one of the convention calendars on the Web,
trying to spot a likely candidate for the costume's debut, but there
was nothing until next year, an eternity away. Ah well. He wanted
to do more work on the costume anyway. Clean up the wiring harnesses,
for one thing. Dress the skin a bit better. He'd had an idea or
two...

He was sketching on his big yellow pad when the first news of the
"disaster" at Kublai Con came on the teevee. The pictures were not
very clear; the police and city authorities had established
some sort of quarantine zone, and the cameramen were working at the
limits of their zoom lenses, but there were people *flying* around
down there! There were lions and tigers and bears, and Barney...
Barney? The shots were poor, yeah, but he watched, dry- mouthed
as several cops man-handled a large struggling purple dinosaur
wrapped in tape into a city truck. Barney's mouth was moving as he
(it?) fought against its restraints, and Billy reckoned that he
wasn't singing his signature theme song.

By evening, the news had confirmed what had happened, and the
professional speculators were trying to come up with some sort of
explanation. They were failing. The simple answer was magic, but for
those people, magic wasn't real. Hey guys! Billy thought furiously.
Wake up and smell the potions!

He fell asleep in front of the goggle-box, and woke the next morning
with cramps and stiffness in his joints. The news channel had
reverted to traffic and weather reports. He flicked desultorily
through some other channels, but there was nothing new, nothing
he hadn't seen the night before. He dragged himself into the shower
and made himself something to eat, before going out to the garage,
to console himself again with what he had achieved, and what could
have been. He shivered at the thought. It might be irrevocable.
The quick snippets on the morning news had informed him that the
strange events in Orlando were still going on, unabated. Nobody else
had changed, it seemed, but nobody had changed back, either. If he
had been there, he'd be stuck. Forever? Still...

He went into the garage, and lifted the dustsheets from his
creation. Fifteen feet long, it unhinged in the middle to allow him
to get into it. With an ease that came from long familiarity,
he dropped the black skirt that hid his legs and hoisted the carrying
frame onto his shoulders. A couple of adjustments to the straps,
and the seventy-odd pounds of styrofoam and aluminum tubing came
alive around him. He thumbed on the electronics suite; motors
whirred quietly as he looked out through the vision ports in the
superstructure. He checked his appearance in the mirrors propped
up against the wall, watching the turrets traverse, and the neon
light in the Wave Motion Gun started to glow as it prepared to fire,
and he let out one little sob, before he raked the battery switches
and the costume died around him. He let it drop almost carelessly
onto the supporting trestles, and wriggled back out of the harness
and the costume.

At the garage door he looked back, bitterly, at a years work, and
every buck he had, and triumph and disappointment in equal measure
(but the triumph was *sooo* good...)

Space Battleship Yamato. One fiftieth scale. Turrets that traversed
and elevated, and a Wave Motion Gun with a neon flash firing effect.
So much work...

"It could have been real..." he sobbed again, before he reached
over and switched out the light.

_______________________________________________________________________

* * * Copyright 2001 by the author of this message . If you want to
post this anywhere else, please ask the author for permission
first.
Thank you

The Prince of All Sayajin

2009-09-03T02:13:02Z

75.41.112.111:

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Mental_change]] {{universe|Xanadu}} [[Category:Magic]]
[[Category: Alien]] [[Category:Xanadu]]

The Prince of All Sayajin

By Robert Haynie.

A Liquid Courage sidestory.

####

"I am the Prince of all Sayajin, once again!"

-- Vegita, Dragon Ball Z, the Cell Games

####

Maybe it was fate.

Win a little lottery prize-- only five hundred bucks, but enough to
go to a con.

Meet a few people all excited about Xanadu.

Agree to accompany them on the drive to Florida... hey, this was
supposed to be a BIG one. Besides, in IRC, I had learned that a more
than a few fellow fan-authors were going to be there-- some I hadn't met
yet.

That Breck guy twisting his ankle at the last moment, and bemoaning
the fact that he wasn't going to be able to enter his carefully crafted
Vegita costume into the contest because he just plain couldn't WALK.

Everyone else in the damn room noting that I was about his size,
and anyway, I did a better Vegita than HE did.

Maybe it was fate.

Personally, if I ever MEET fate face to face, fate is going to be
on the receiving end of a Gatling Burst.

####

Breck is a total otaku. I don't mean that in the US application, I
mean that in the Japanese sense. The man is OBSESSED with cosplaying.
He makes costumes that are insanely accurate. He puts almost all his
money into the damn things from his day job at K-Mart.

And he's about my size.

And he's clumsy as hell.

By now you see where this is going.

Now, everyone was telling me I looked fine in the costume. And
everyone was telling me that Breck deserved to have it in the contests.
And everyone was telling me that I was just being silly about it. A
TRUE cosplayer knows how to deal with a bit of discomfort, you see.

What everyone was ignoring was that I was NOT a true cosplayer, but
a fanfiction writer, that I wasn't in the best of health anyway, that I
had always had problems with heat, and that I was sweltering in layered
foam faux muscles and that damn ludicrous foam wig. And I couldn't see
clearly more than three feet in front of my face.

Only Breck's promise to buy me a few Lovecraft paperbacks and some
Ranma manga volumes and a case of Anchor Steam if the damn thing won
kept me in the heat-sealing gear. He owed me at least one Ranma and a
sixpack regardless.

Then it happened.

I figured at first that I was going to have a nice little case of
heatstroke-- the sudden dizziness, the uncertain wobbling in my knees,
and the not quite describable feeling of something wrong inside. Then I
remembered the time I HAD had heatstroke, and realized that this was
nothing like that.

And then... I felt great.

For the first time in years, I felt completely healthy.

And that SCARED me.

About then I started to realize I was hearing better than I was
used to. And for a second I wondered when I had put my glasses on. And
then I remembered... I hadn't.

That's when the chaos began to happen. Screaming. Yelling. Stuff
like that.

I didn't know WHAT to do. So I went to my room. Whatever was
going on, I was going to take the damn costume off before I tried to
figure it out...

And a few minutes later, Breck was staring at me as the only thing
I peeled off was what looked like spandex and I realized that I had
somehow gained muscles that just plain did NOT make any sense.

"what... what happened... to..."

"Man, I don't know. This is--"

"What happened to my costume? I spent almost a YEAR on that!"

I sighed. Damn otaku.

Uncertainly, I reached upwards. Hair. Not wig. Very STRANGE
hair, but hair. Almost but not quite shaking, I turned to the mirror.

I had been dreading that I was somehow an living cartoon. That
wasn't the case. Rather, I looked like Vegita if he had been a real
person, and Toriyama had based the characters design on me-- the
animated version being a caricature of the reality (or surreality) that
was me.

"Nothing happened to your costume. Your costume happened to me."

"Hunh?"

"Never mind." Why bother to explain anything to this insect--
Whoa. Where had THAT thought come from?

Somewhere deep inside, I knew I should be panicking. But I wasn't.
It was as though panic was no longer on my mental list of things to do.
In fact, I had never felt more calm in my life.

No, calm wasn't the right word.

Self-assured. That was it. A strange confidence. I looked at
myself--I'd lost about nine inches of height, and now barely hit five
feet, but balanced that with what looked to be an added hundred pounds,
apparently entirely muscle. The pine-cone like 'do somehow looked right
on me, where on anyone else it would have looked completely silly.

Breck was slowly beginning to take it all in. "O.K. So, somehow
you turned into my costume?"

"No, Breck." Exasperating human. "Somehow I turned into Vegita.
There is no costume."

"Vegita?"

"Or at least I look like him. And I think it's happening to other
people too."

"But... but what about my costume?"

I felt a sudden flare of anger. "Damn it, Breck, can't you see
anything other than your pathetic cosplay obsession?" For a moment
thoughts of erasing him from existence bounced around enticingly in my
mind. This was all his fault, after all. The idiotic human would
deserve anything I chose to deal him--

Whoa. Calm down, Rob. That's not like you. I looked up, to see
Breck cowering in the corner of the room, his face white, his eyes
nearly as wide as mine were now.

"Breck? Look, I didn't mean to yell at you--"

"You... you were glowing..."

Oh, SHIT.

####

Jenny staggered into the room a bit later, about as confused as
confused could be. After all, she hadn't been expecting her cheap cat
ears and tail to become real ones. And trust me... considering how her
tail was bristling, I knew she was major upset.

"I have whiskers. I didn't even put whiskers on. Why do I have
whiskers?"

"Search me. Whatever it was, it's why I can do this," I replied as
I tossed a just finished beer can up in the air and vaporized it with
what I could only call a very very very tiny chi-burst.

"Eeeep." Her new whiskers were twitching.

Breck had finally calmed down-- well, he'd more gone into a state
of minor catatonia-- and wordlessly passed me another beer. I opened it
by poking my finger through the top instead of the pull ring. Yeah,
showing off, but only in little ways. I wasn't sure how far this had
gone yet. One thing was for sure, I was glad the costume was based on
the Freeza Saga-- you know, the cooler one without the silly shoulder
flaps-- which meant I had no tail. Somehow I didn't want to experience
the joys of turning into a hundred foot tall monkey during the next full
moon.

"I expect that it's something of a madhouse out there, girl. I
mean, Jenny."

"Um... yeah, but not like you'd think. I mean, I think some of
those people really think they ARE who they... um... are."

"At times I have similar... impulses. Fortunately, I'm strong
enough not to fall prey to them." I couldn't keep a strange note of
pride out of my voice at that.

"Anyway, I'm going to change clothes. Mine feel funny."

"Tail's in the way of your jeans."

"And it pinches." She grabbed her bag, and stepped into the
bathroom... and a moment later poked her head out, face paling. "My...
my figure's changing. I think I'm losing weight. And gained a cup
size."

"Hmmph. Never saw a catgirl who didn't have perfect proportions
unless they were exaggerated."

"You're not helping."

I replied by going back to my beer.

It wasn't that I wasn't concerned for these guys. It was rather
that any concern I had was an abstract. And somewhere inside me was a
strange longing... one I, quite frankly have never had personally since
I grew out of adolescence.

I wanted a fight.

A good one.

And I was painfully aware that there probably wasn't anyone alive
who could give me one. I knew how to compare the various costumes I'd
seen, and...

Breck had no idea how the gods must have smiled on him and his
ankle.

####

Things had begun to calm down, and I was hungry. In fact, I was
hungrier than I had ever been in my life. I decided to get a sandwich.

Things had BEGUN. But stuff was still happening. Some kid ran
past me screaming, "Alice, cut it out!" Alice, apparently, had green
hair, dressed in a tiger bikini, was flying erratically, and was
screaming back, "I'm sorry, Darling, I can't figure out how to stop!"

Sigh.

I passed by a few Playboy Bunnies, who were serving sodas to some
cops, nodded at what I guessed to be a Pern fan from the living
firelizard on his shoulder (There had been a dealer selling plush ones,
I guess they took) and ignored-- pointedly-- Dan Hibiki. (Why anyone
would dress as THAT loser was beyond me.)

Then I felt it. A familiar energy. Something I had never felt
before, and yet it was as if I had felt it a million times.

(Kakarott.)

I looked about, half in anticipation, half in a not-exactly panic.
And I saw him. Well, I saw his absurd hair across the hall.

And I approached. Part of me wanted to meet this guy and start
swapping stories. Another part wanted to start plowing into him without
further ado. And a VERY BIG part said, "Even if you can't seem to get
drunk, you REALLY need a drink anyway for the timing."

I decided to go with impulses one and three. Approaching, I
overheard the subject of Kakarott's conversation.

Anime.

A series that we held quite different opinions on.

"She's a complete and total maniac. Violent, uncute, flatchested--
and the way she treats him--"

"Aw, Kakarott, Lina's nowhere near as bad as you make her out to
be."

He spun, staring. "What-- WHAT THE HELL?"

"Besides, Grey, you always exaggerated her bad points, in my not so
humble opinion."

"How... how do you know my name--"

I sighed. "Because you're still wearing your con badge. It's so
damn symmetrical. Rob Chaynie, at your service... Kakarott."

He sighed. "Please don't call me that."

"Son Grey, then?"

"Arrrgh."

"Anyhow, I was going to get a drink and a sandwich. Looks like we
have a lot to talk about."

"Food sounds good."

It was lucky for me that I had a fair amount of cash when I went to
the concession stand, one of many dotting the convention. I'd intended
to buy a single hotdog and a beer. Instead I found myself ordering a
dozen dogs with everything possible on them and a sixpack. Stranger, I
ate them in less than ten minutes, and still didn't feel sated.

Grey did the same, except he chose sodas, and was, well, messier
than I was about eating. "I'm going to have to get more food somehow,
but I can't afford these darn hotel prices."

"Same here. I suggest we head to a supermarket-- there's one
across the street-- and stock up on food."

We chose just the right time to do so. Just after we came back,
the police sealed the hotel.

####

"So. WHY did you buy two cases of ramen, one of Spam, all that
bread and a rice cooker?" asked Jenny.

"Because my appetite seems to be hitting Sayajin levels as well,
you can cook ANYTHING in a rice cooker if you know how, it was cheap,
and no WAY am I going hungry." Paper bowls for ramen, check. Spam to
add for protein, check. Rice cooker to cook all the rice I had bought,
check. Pickles, spices, vegetables and tons of other cheap and easy
foods, check. Two for one on cup noodles is a GOOD deal when you are
starting to eat like a Sayajin. I would have been out of petty cash
except for an ATM at the store.

Before, carrying all this stuff would have been impossible. Now?
Even the three cases of beer and six of soda meant nothing. If
anything, I was STRONG. Then again, so was Grey, who had bought much
the same mix, except where I had got beer, he'd gone for a ton of sports
drinks. We'd just asked for a few large boxes instead of bags and
carried them manually.

So in a cheap five-cup (makes ten cups cooked) rice cooker, I was
prepping six packets of ramen, with three cans of Spam that I'd shredded
with my bare fingers and a bag of frozen peas. The rice cooker wasn't
designed for this, and in less than a month would burn out under the
abuse, but then I wasn't planning to keep it around. This was an
emergency measure.

"You're really going to eat all that?"

"And I probably won't be really satisfied either. But until we are
released, this is the best I can do."

Later I ran into Tony. And realized that release would be...
problematic.

####

I remember the meeting very well. I'd mentioned that apparently
every physical ailment I had had vanished. This prompted Grey, who had
apparently been lactose intolerant, to dash downstairs and reappear in
three minutes with a half dozen huge milkshakes.

I wasn't sure why I was at a so-called superhero meeting-- if
anything, I was more of an antihero. Lord knows, the scraps of memories
I was beginning to filter said that. It was like remembering a dream,
but not a good one. Vegita had been a strange cross between noble and
honorable warrior and total rat bastard. I wasn't either. But I was
uncomfortably aware I easily could be.

There's a phrase that started to percolate... Personality Death.
It seemed to be a matter of, well, the more you "got into" your
character, the more like you were going to become that character
totally.

I suppose I hadn't been trying enough. Yet another advantage to
not being a real cosplayer.

I'll admit, things were a bit surreal. June, who I had first had
the pleasure to meet in person last night was a cabbit. An honest to
god cabbit. And Captain America, and Captain Marvel, and... Okay.
Maybe being a Sayajin wasn't THAT strange. Comparatively speaking.

Earlier, Tony had suggested that I find out if I could fly. Kak--
I mean, Grey and I had managed to sneak up to the hotel roof to check.
Yep. Pretty wobbly, as though we were exercising a totally new muscle,
but we could at least levitate and maneuver. What we'd need to really
practice, to perfect, would be wide open spaces.

Which, I suppose, is how we both agreed to the Larkspur idea.

####

The place where we set up was desolate, barren, hardly habitable.
And a tiny part of me felt pleased. It was a lot like Vegitasei, the
Sayajin homeworld-- but without the heavy gravity, radical extremes of
temperatures, and vicious animal life-- that is, other Sayajin.

I liked it.

Time passed. We built up the place. There were conflicts, there
were adventures... I was able to attend my father's funeral incognito,
to let my family know I was alive... Michael, my eldest nephew, calls me
Uncle Vegita. Heh.

It's as good a life as I can ask. Somehow I speak perfect
Japanese, and read it too. And about a dozen other languages... I think
it's either those that DBZ was translated to, or maybe it's because on
the show EVERYONE spoke the same language, irrespective of race, nation,
species or planet of origin.

There have been some fights that were worth it. Grey and I spar
daily, in the mountains. We're learning a lot from the Saotome twins
about techniques, and we're getting their power up to decent levels--
nowhere near ours, true, but they are likely to be the most powerful
humans alive.

And right now I'm sitting here with a laptop that Ami and Brain
made for me, on a mountain peak, typing this for no reason I can think
of. Except as, perhaps, a record to future generations about out
changed world.

And a silly impulse overcomes me...

I stand, hair waving in the wind as much as it ever does, and I
raise one fist to the sky. For a moment, I allow the power to truly
sink into my soul. For a moment, I indulge myself, to be TRULY
Vegita...

And I howl into that wind the words I have held in my changed heart
since whatever had happened happened.

"I am the Prince of All Sayajin-- for the first time!"

And this time... it's the truth.

Perhaps I'll let fate off easy if we do meet.

####

FIN

Robert Haynie, who really really wants to find a working technique
for making beer out of cheese. Why? Why ask why? I just want to...

Pokemon Master

2009-09-03T02:12:43Z

75.41.112.111:

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Alex Warlorn]] [[Category:Mental_change]] {{universe|Xanadu}}
[[Category:Magic]] [[Category:Xanadu]]

Ok a Xanadu story I've had on the back burner for a while. I just
couldn't seem to finish it. If you've never seen Pokemon then you'll
likely be lost. And incase somone asks faceplaming is when you put
your hand palm down on part of your face, though it should be pretty
easy to figureout, but can't be too sure.

Xanadu: Pokemon Master

by James Cole.

I stare blankly up at the ceiling. I'm deep in thought, I'm
thinking about who I am. Doesn't seem to be something you need to
think about really, but it is for me. My Name is Ash Ketchum,
but it really isn't, but it is. Not much makes sense any more.
Anthony Jones, that's me, I'm Anthony Jones and Ash Ketchum, I'm both
and I'm neither. I'd still be sure who I was if it wasn't for the
Kublacon.

I was confused when I found my self in the middle of the packed
room. Last thing I could remember was getting on the ferrie to go
back to Pallet Town, then suddenly I am in a crowded room filled
with people, weird people. Pikachu is really nervous, I have to
leave before she shocks anyone. I see Misty, she's standing right
next to me.

"Misty what's going on?" I ask her.

"I dunno Ash, where did all these people come from?" Misty responds.
"And where's Tracy?"

"Lets get out of here." I say and take Misty's hand.

I take Misty and we end up in a parking lot. I've never seem so many
cars, not once. As we wander around I see a failure face. Brock,
but he's with professor Ivy isn't he?

"Hey Brock!" I call out and he turns around.

Then I see something impossible. I'm standing next to him! The
other me even has Pikachu on his shoulder. It makes no sense. Brock
and I are both standing their but I'm with Misty.

"Don't look now Fred." Brock says to the other me. "But it's another
Ash."

"Wow cool!" the other me, Fred, says. "I bet we can have a pokemon
battle!"

"What's going on?" Misty shouts. "How are their 2 of you Ash?"

"Come on lets have a match!" "Fred" says.

"Are you sure we should be having a match here and now?" I ask.

"Fred come on, this isn't the time." Brock says to him.

"Brock stop calling me Fred!" the other me says.

"Their you are!" I hear another voice, and I see a second Misty!

"Oh man! June it's you!" Brock says to the 2nd Misty. "Better keep
close don't want to confuse you with that other Misty."

"Brock have you gone..." the 2nd Misty starts before she sees us.

"Tarous I choose you!" the other me says as he throws a pokeball.

I react on instinct and throw Charizard's pokeball. The match is
quick and unfortunately causes a lot of damage. Tarous bashes into
several parked cars, and no matter how I try Charizard still
accidently burns others. Then the police come. I am surprised
not to see any Jenny's, the other Ash gets arrested for instigating
a pokemon match, why I dunno.
When the other Ash is taken away the other Misty goes too. My
double beings to spew something about "gotta catch em all". I feel
a bit embarrassed, after all I get like that too. Brock then comes
over to us.

"Sorry about my friend he's lost in the character." Brock says. "I'm
Tim."

"Brock what's going on here?" Misty asks.

"Oh no, not you too!" Brock says faceplaming. "Please "Ash" tell me
you know who you are!"

"I'm Ash Ketchum of course." I say.

"You better come with me, you really need help!" Brock says.

That was when I was first told about the "Real World" that I was now
in. No Pokemon trainers, no pokemon, no Pokemon League. Though the
first two now existed the Pokemon League and with it my dreams of
being a Pokemon Master where gone. At first I didn't believe it, it
seemed too crazy, too bizarre.

Two days after the battle with myself I still wasn't allowed
to leave the convention center. Slowly I was starting to wonder
if maybe Brock's crazy story was true. I was watching TV in my room,
well mine and Misty's, when I saw something horrible. People hurting
pokemon! Some of the escaped pokemon had been caught and where being
tortured by an angry mob, and no one was doing anything to stop them.
They where saying pokemon where evil demons and they where just
sending them back to hell, how could anyone think that way!? I had
to stop them. I rushed out of my room and let out Charizard.
Then Pikachu and I rode Charizard to the parking lot where the mob
had cornered a group of pokemon. I saw them throwing rocks at a poor
hurt Pikachu chanting "Die Demon, Die." Over and over.

"STOP IT!" I shouted. "Leave it alone!"

My arrival got their attention. I had Charizard use it's flame
thrower to scare them off. This got them to leave the Pikachu alone
but they didn't leave.

"How could you people do that to an innocent pokemon!" I shouted.
"What did it ever do to you?"

"Pokmon are tools of Satan!" An old priest said. "And where you not
possessed by Satan yourself you'd see it! We must destroy all
pokmon!"

"For starters they are POKEMON no Pokmon!" I shouted. "And second
off they are not tools for Satan, their good and decent creatures
and your hurting them for no reason!"

"The boy is a demon too! We must destroy him!" Someone shouted.

Then I heard the shot. I heard a loud bang then Charizard roaring.
I turned to see a plume of red burst from Charizard's chest. Then
another, and another.

"CHARIZARD!!!!" I screamed. "NOOOOOO!!!!"

The crowd was silent as Charizard fell down and began to trash on the
ground. I rushed over only to be knocked back by it's lashing tail
as it thrashed and rolled on the ground over and over. Then suddenly
it stopped, and a pool of blood formed under it's unmoving body.

"CHARIZARD!!!!" I screamed, crying as I rushed to my pokemon.

I'll never forget that day, as I tried over and over to rouse
Charizard. All my hopes sank as it's tail flame sputtered and died.
I knew what that meant, when a Charizard's tail flame when out it was
dead, my Charizard was dead.

"Charizard... Charizard... get up... please get up.." I don't
remember saying it, I just know that's what I told I kept saying.
After Charizard died the mob vanished, maybe they realized what they
had done or maybe it was the police. I don't know, and at that point
I didn't care. One of my pokemon had been shot and killed, that was
all I knew, one of my pokemon died. I wish I could say Charizard
was the last pokemon to die, but it wasn't. Pokemon spread across
Florida and people seemed to go out of their way to kill them. Mobs
formed when pokemon where sighted and hunted them down and killed
them. It wasn't till a year later that some pokemon where put on the
endangered species list, but of the 10 types that had spread already
7 had been wiped out before the laws came into effect, and people
still illegally hunt Pikachus, Nidorans, and Charmanders.

It took weeks before I got out of the funk I fell into after
Charizard's death. But once I got out of that depression a new one
griped me. My life was gone, my dreams of being a Pokemon master
where shattered, everything I knew was gone. Anthony's parents
also got hit hard, Anthony was gone, and I was in his place. They
still find it hard to look at me, and some of their relatives
openly hate me. Anthony had a funeral, it was creepy, like everyone
was staring at me, blaming me for a death that really never happened.

Bulbasaur, Squritle, and Pikachu are still with me, and Misty
turned out to be my next door neighbor, but I'm still lonely. Tarous
was taken from me, something about it being dangerous. I found out
later that my Tarous and the other Ash's Tarous had been killed by
some religious group. Life for Misty and me is very hard, we both
had to go to school after a whole year of tutoring. Going to school
was rough, for the first few months I got beaten up daily, lucky me
Anthony when to a Catholic School, so not only where the beatings
not reported some of the teachers encouraged it. Only the principal
understood, he knew pokemon weren't evil, and that I hadn't done
anything wrong. It took him quite a bit of time to convince the
congregation that Misty and I where not evil, some still are not
convinced. Now hear I lay on my bed thinking.

"Ash? Ash are you up here?" Anthony's mom says as she enters my room.

"Leave me alone." I mutter.

"Ash... it's time for dinner." she says. "Come on down."

"I'm not hungry." I mutter. "Leave me alone."

"Ash you need to eat.." she says, genuinely concerned.

"I'm not hungry." I mutter, but my stomach growls.

"Yes you are now come on time to eat." she says as she touches my
shoulder.

"Do you hate me?" I ask.

"What do you mean?" She asks me.

"Do you hate me?" I say. "Do you think I killed Anthony?"

"Please Ash.." she starts.

"No tell me!" I say sitting up. "Do you hate me?"

"Ash I.." she mumbles.

"Just tell me if you hate me." I say.

"I.... used to.." she says sighing.

"Why don't you now?" I ask her.

"Because I realized your not at fault for what happened to Anthony."
She says, starting to cry. "And your just as much a victim of this
as he was."

Then she hugs me tightly, something she's never done before.

"Ash, I can't hate you, your just a little boy who's lost his whole
world." she says between sobs. "How can I blame you for something
you can't control? And, and I know Anthony wouldn't hate you. And
maybe somewhere inside you he's still their."

"What if he's not?" I ask.

"It doesn't matter, your a good boy Ash, you deserve a life and a
mother." she says. "I know I'm not your real mother but..."

"My "real" mother." I choke. "Is a fictitious character, your more
real than she is. I'm sorry about Anthony, I'm sorry I'm not your
real son."

"Parents love adopted children as their own, why should you be
different?" she asks me.

I go with Anthony's mother, hoping that perhaps together we can get
though these tough times.
________________________________________________________________

* * * Copyright 2001 by the author of this message . If you want to
post this anywhere else, please ask the author for permission
first.

Thank you

Liquid Courage

2009-09-03T02:12:28Z

75.41.112.111:

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Mental_change]] {{universe|Xanadu}} [[Category:Magic]]
[[Category: Alien]] [[Category: Reptile]] [[Category:Xanadu]]

"Liquid Courage"

I never traveled much, but the temptation of the Xanadu
convention was just too much to resist. Besides, I thought I might
get lucky and win one of the prizes that Mr. Winters was offering.

The idea for the costume was so damn obvious, in hindsight, that
I nearly beat my head on the wall. We shared the same first name, we
shared mustaches, and like him, I'd gotten torn up by idiots who should
have NEVER been military officers at all.

So, I was going as Anthony Stark. Head of Stark Industries, and
secretly, Iron Man, the Golden Avenger. Heh. Besides, I thought it
might make Mr. Winters laugh to meet a fellow "mega-tycoon" at the
con. And a laugh could easily become a winning nod in the costume
contest.

But what suit to build?

I had a treasured copy of the famous one-issue "Iron Manual",
printed some years ago by Marvel Comics. It detailed every one of his
suits up to the War Machine, so I began to pick and choose. An
original suit, yet one that combined details of all his previous
designs. One that was new, yet would still say "Tony Stark designed
me!" to the contest judges.

Eventually, I created the NeuroMimetic Telepresence Unit, Model
155. Based on the remotely controlled Iron Man robot that Stark had
used when he was paralyzed, but a good five generations of technology
past the original Model 150. My way of explaining away any errors
I'd made in the design.

Yeah, it was a cheap excuse, but it was all I could think of at
the time.

I even went to the trouble of making a mockup of the controlling
helmet that Stark used to remotely operate the NTU. Why'd I bother?
Wish I knew. I sort of regret that now.

Fiberglass and aluminum slipped together as easily as a dream.
Even the helmet wasn't that hard to do, and when I ran into troubles,
a call to the Denver chapter of the Society for Creative Anachronism
solved things right away. They'd spent years building their own
armor, after all. Albeit medieval armor.

I smiled and packed it into an old steamer trunk that had
belonged to my grandfather, train tickets in my hand. I knew it was
going to be the time of my life.

*****

The Xanadu convention was all I could dream of, and more. (Aside
from the fact that my wallet was deflating faster than the Russian
national economy...) I took the costume out, assembling it and
leaving the mockup of the controller helmet on the hotel bed. I'd set
my watch alarm to beep before the contests, with plenty of time to
spare.

Competition was rough. There were a lot of people with a lot of
creativity, and many more who'd taken the easier way of just buying
a costume with a boatload of cash. I had the sinking (but not
unexpected) feeling that I wasn't going to win. But I held on
nervously as Mr Winters approached the stage to announce the winners.

That's when the confusion hit. I don't know about anyone else,
but I felt this odd S-T-R-E-T-C-H-I-N-G sensation, as if I were the
world's largest rubber band, and one end of me was in the main events
hall and the other was nailed down in my hotel room. It made my head
spin, and the entire world seemed to go out of focus for an eternity
that lasted a single heartbeat.

When things came _back_ into focus, I could see the chaos around
me. I was lying face down, with people running and jumping over me,
and in some cases running ON me. Yet it didn't hurt.

I paid a LOT less attention to being trampled, and a lot MORE
to the fact that I now had alpha-numeric graphics scrolling across
my field of vision. They seemed to be system reports and tactical
analysis of the current situation. And frankly, they scared the piss
out of me.

When I stumbled to my feet, I could see people panicking
around me, and what APPEARED to be folks who were either trapped
in their costumes, or if the reports scrolling up my vision were to
be trusted, weren't even people at all. (If people equaled human,
that is.) The man I'd seen in the minotaur costume, for example.
The damned reports floating before my eyes insisted that he was a
non-human bovine-variant life form. They also insisted on defining
his threat value/combat potential according to some scale I didn't
understand.

I tried to ignore all that and remove my costume. But it didn't
remove. The fittings and connectors I'd used to hold the various
parts of the suit together were missing. I swore, and headed for my
hotel room as fast as I could. My tools were still in the trunk I'd
used to carry the costume. I was certain they'd make short work of
it, and once I'd got it off, I'd get the hell OUT of here and THEN
discover just exactly what the fuck had happened here.

*****

Making my way through the halls wasn't easy. People were
terrified, fighting for a way out, or just struggling, period. It was
like watching a badly made disaster movie (complete with the
obligatory 'cast of thousands'.). Fortunately for me, I'd hung the
key-card to my room on a cord around my neck, as I hadn't wanted
to strip off the costume in public. When I made it there, I swiped
the card, the light on the door lock blinked green and I stepped
inside. That's when I got the shock of my life.

There was someone lying on my bed. In MY clothes! I stomped
over, pissed as hell that someone would have the gall not only to rob
someone in the middle of a.. a.. well, whatever the hell had just
happened, but they actually fell asleep on the job!

I grabbed him by the shoulders, noting the steel-gray helmet
that covered his face, I slapped at it, tearing it from his head as
everything suddenly went black...

*****

...everything went bright, so painful, I couldn't see. And some
asshole was squeezing my shoulders so hard, my bones ached. I blinked
gritty tears from my eyes and tried to focus.

Then I decided I'd gone mad. Yup. Genuine, authentic, 200 proof
insanity. Because I was lying on my bed, with my own damn costume
standing over me, its gauntlets damn near crushing my shoulders
in its grip. Which in itself was impossible. They were fiberglass
and tin! When I squirmed in pain, the fingers opened, and the suit
actually took a step back. A synthesized voice intoned "Stand-by
Mode engaged, System Power Down in progress."

I stared. And stared.

I did a LOT of staring.

The only thing that came to mind was something my grandfather
had told me over thirty years ago. He'd said, "Boy, there's just some
times when there's nothing you can do and no other words will
suffice. So use these."

So I used them.

"Oh, Fuck."

*****

Stumbling into the bathroom wasn't much help either, although
a splash of cold water across my face did help to bring me back down
to earth.

The mirror was something of a shock, however.

If you were to believe my drivers license, I was five foot eight
inches tall with (thinning, damn it!) black hair and brown eyes. The
fictional (?) Anthony Stark was six foot one. Now, standing there
in my stocking feet, I seemed to be five foot eleven. My hair was
still black (although it had the strangest blue sheen in the bright
bathroom lights), but my eyes were blue!

I ran my fingers through my hair with a shell-shocked grin.
"No more male pattern baldness for me, you bet!" I giggled. The
jagged edge of incipient hysteria in my own voice shocked me.

Fortunately, the hotel had those little "make-it-yourself"
two-cup coffee machines in every room. So I tried to concentrate
on the mundane task of fixing myself a hot cup of java. Strange,
how such a simple thing can help people to focus.

I stepped out of the bathroom and sat down heavily in one of the
over-stuffed armchairs, warming my hands with the coffee cup. The
light glittered off the dark surface of the coffee as the cup
trembled in my hands. I hadn't been this scared since the Berlin
Wall.

I could still hear scared, frantic sounds coming from the
hallway outside my room. Okay, that _was_ something I knew how to
deal with. A distant corner of my mind blessed a long dead drill
sergeant and the training he'd beaten into my head as I set the
coffee aside, and locked, then dead-bolted, the door. I braced a
spare desk chair against it for extra measure.

Then I sat there, slowly drinking my coffee and staring at the
new 'roommate' I'd somehow acquired. Slowly finishing the first cup,
I started a second.

"Either I've gone totally insane - in which case the boys in the
white coats will be showing up soon - or I'm not," I muttered.
"If I'm NOT insane, I need to find out what just happened and why I
look like Tony Stark." Then a grim thought hit me and I did a slow
walk- around of what had been my costume and NOW seemed to be a fully
functioning NTU-155.

I'd spent a lifetime in the military. I *WAS* military, so much
so that a close friend had jokingly told me that when I was cut, I
bled olive drab. And that part of my soul was telling me something
I really didn't want to hear.

"If this thing is for real, Uncle Sam's going to want it. The
perfect fighting tool. The perfect weapon." Scenes from the very
first issue of "Iron Man" flashed through my mind -- or were they
memories now? -- of how Stark had built his very first suit at
gunpoint for a Chinese Communist war lord named Wong Chu. "Oh gods..
this could get very ugly. Fast."

That's what decided things for me. If this... thing, could be
reproduced, governments all over the world would go to war for the
technology it represented. And there wasn't any way for one man to
stop them. I needed help, and I needed resources. I might look (and
from the current clarity of my mind, probably think) like Anthony
Stark, but I didn't have the backing he did. He had his father's
company to start with. He had the tools to build the tools to build
the tools. Me? I had a retirement pension. Not quite the same.

I couldn't allow them to get their hands on this. Running away
wasn't an option.

I reached for the helmet, and took a deep breath. Then I put it
on.

And my world suddenly exploded into an entirely new universe.

*****

SE Iron Man NTU Model 155

STANDBY MODE
Reactor Nominal
All systems 100%

*Request Diagnostics*

SE Iron Man NTU Model 155

DIAGNOSTIC MODE
All Weapons Secured
All Targeting Links Secured
All Power Couplings Secured
ALL SYSTEMS 100% OPERATIONAL

*List Available Weapon Systems*

SE Iron Man NTU Model 155

Repulsor Rays - Utility Arms
PULSE Bolts - Utility Arms
Flamethrower - Utility Arms
Taser- Utility Arms
Tear Gas Jets - Utility Arms

Disrupter Beam - Torso Mount
Micro Missiles - Torso Mount
Decoy/Sensor
Probes - Torso Mount

No Modular Weapons Are Currently
Mounted At This Time.

*Bring Taser and Teargas Jets on line*

Taser and Teargas Jets Are On Line.

*****

I carefully tucked a light cover around my body, an eerie
feeling to say the least. Then I headed out to try to find out what
had happened to Eric Winters. Like it or not, I was about to apply
for a new job. As a bodyguard.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

The clamor in the hallway had subsided, thankfully. Most of it,
anyway. When I stepped out, locking the door behind me, the hallway
was empty. Signs of what had happened were clearly evident. There
were deep gouges on some of the walls, while the carpet was littered
with a scattering of leaves (leaves?). One doorway was webbed shut by
what the NTU's sensors kept insisting was spider silk! That wasn't
exactly the most comforting information it had given me. But it wasn't
the worst, either.

As I turned one corner, there was what appeared to be a Klingon
warrior, slumped drunkenly on the carpet. In what felt like an almost
instinctive action, a twitch of thought caused the NTU to give him a
thorough sensor scan. The information scrolling up the screen told me
that he definitely was NOT a human in a costume. His physiology was
completely non-human, yet quite humanoid.

It also gave me another bit of unpleasant information. I wasn't
the only one that this.. event.. had affected. I'd seen over thirty
Klingons of various types at the costume competition, along with
Michael Dorn himself. (Someone had talked him into attending the
contest in costume and in character, as it were.)

Did it mean that EVERYONE in costume had changed? If so, I wasn't
the only person who'd be on Uncle Sam's Christmas shopping list. I'd
seen superheroes - both generic and specific - and aliens of all
sorts at the contest, many of whom might prove useful to a person if
they happened to be the sort of hard-assed super-patriot who firmly
believed that America's Manifest Destiny was to Rule The World.

I know. I've met far too damn many of them.

I decided to head for the center of the Xanadu dome, and towards
the food courts. People always needed to eat. Well, USUALLY they
needed to eat. And habit is everything. With luck, I'd find someone
there I could talk to.

A young woman with slitted eyes and a now quite real coating
of snake scales on her skin was seated at a table in the otherwise
empty restaurant. Her deep auburn hair seemed naggingly familiar.
When I stepped up to her table, she began to giggle hysterically.

"Iron Man, right?" she managed to get out between boughts of
uncontrolled laugher. "Now isn't THIS ironic!" She held out a hand.
"Princess Python. At least, that's what half of me thinks I am."

The NTU couldn't blink, at least I hadn't designed it to. Then
I caught myself. *Damn it, STARK designed it. Not ME!* I took her
hand and bowed politely to the young lady. "Do I know you?"

She giggled some more, then with what I could tell was a supreme
effort, choked it down and smiled at me in a much more rational way.

"Indirectly, yes. I'm one of Iron Man's lesser known enemies,"
she said in a somewhat calmer voice. "I .. I mean SHE, kidnapped
Anthony Stark once, asking for a million dollar ransom."

"You too, eh?" I cursed myself as my voice literally boomed
across the eatery, causing her to flinch. The NTU was set for combat
mode, and its synthetic voice was designed to intimidate opponents.
A quick dive into the on-line menus showed me there was a setting
for - of all things! - a voice made for comforting and consoling
hostages and victims. So I set it to that and tried again.

"I'm sorry, I forget how harsh the speakers sound. Are you all
right?"

She nodded, a slow shudder rippling through her. "I'll be all
right. I'm just a little confused as to who I really am."

"Join the club," I inclined my head. "I'm having moments when
I can't decide if I'm me, or if I'm Stark." I took a quick look
around. "Seems like there's no one here at the moment. Would you like
me to get you a drink, as there aren't any waiters available?"

She smiled. "Thank you. A soft drink would be nice."

I stepped behind the counter and got her a ginger ale. Then I
chuckled as I automatically reached for a wallet in a pair of pants
that I wasn't wearing. She saw the motion of my gauntlet and laughed
along with me.

"Ah, well, they can charge it to my room, eh?" That broke her up
completely. Bringing the drink over, I handed it to her.

"Aren't you going to have anything?" she asked.

I darted a quick look over towards the racked wine bottles that
lined the counter behind the cash register. She noticed and followed
my gaze, confused. Then her face lit up, and she winced. "I'm terribly
sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Not your fault. And I don't want to risk it, you know?"

"I don't blame you. A friend of mine is in the AA chapter at
home. You think you got the addiction with the suit?"

I shrugged. "It's not really something you want to test for, is
it? After all, the only real way to test it is to take a drink, and
if you ARE an alcoholic, that's not too bright an idea. Anyway-- HEY!
Look out!"

A long, green, and very muscular looking shape had just
slithered up to the table and wound its way around one of her ankles.
I raised a palm, about to take a shot at it when she caught my hand
in hers.

"No! It's my friend!"

The faceplate of the NTU didn't have very much in the way of
expression, but I think my voice served to display the doubt I was
feeling at the moment. "Interesting.. choice of friends, Miss. That
IS a full grown rock python, isn't it?"

"It is." She paused for a moment, a confused look on her face.
"At least I think it is..."

"And they let you bring that into the hotel? Wow, I'm surprised.
I thought they had a strict no-pets policy. Where did you get him
from?"

"I don't know where he came from, really. I.. just don't."

"Ex-Squeeze Me?" I said in my best Steve Martin voice. (And a
darn good one, too, given that I now had a voice synthesis unit to
work with.)

She tittered, a happier sound than her earlier nervous laughter.
"Please, I'll spill my drink."

"Oh, we can't have that now, can we? But what DID you mean?"

Her smile faded slightly. "He was.. part of my costume. I didn't
have a live snake to work with. And rock pythons are almost impossible
to buy these days, thanks to the laws regarding exotic pets. So I made
a fake one to go with my costume. I bought eight meters of flexible
tubing from a hardware store and decorated it as best I could, making
it into a snake. Then that.. that _thing_ happened." A shiver ran down
her back, sending an *ahem* interesting ripple down her front.

Hey, I might have been using what amounted to a remotely
controlled robot at the time, but that didn't mean I lacked
testosterone. No matter how you looked at it, she was a beauty.

"And now he's alive," she continued, gently stroking the
ophidian head that gazed so trustingly back at her.

"Strange," I mused. "So it isn't just costumes and the people
who wear them, it's inanimate objects as well."

"I guess," she offered. "He's certainly not air vent tubing any
more." She stroked him under the chin, while his tongue flickered in
and out. "Isn't that right, my beauty."

"Well, far be it from me to come between a woman and her snake,"
I grinned, and waited a moment for her to take a deep sip from her
ginger ale. "Shall I get him an apple?"

As expected, the NTU was showered with her drink. She gave me a
pointed glare, then smiled as she reached for a napkin. "That was the
worst joke I've heard in days."

"It's the worst joke I've _told_ in days, so that makes us even,
I hope. Besides, it made you smile. And you look much happier when
you smile, Miss.. Miss.. Oh, bother! Introductions are in order,
right?" I stood, and gave her a florid bow. "Anthony Edwards, at your
service."

"_Anthony_?" she snarfed.

I shrugged expressively. "The first names matched, and that gave
me the idea for the costume. And you are?"

"Zelda-- NO!" She shook her head _hard_, like a thoroughbred
trying to dislodge a persistent and very painful fly. "I'm _not_
Zelda DuBois."

"And I'm not Tony Stark. I understand. Give it a moment. Rest
if you need to."

That earned me a grateful smile.

"My name is Dominique. Dominique Simone. From Louisiana."
She sighed deeply. "Funny, it's the first time in a long time that
I'm NOT upset with my given name."

That threw me. "Pardon? Did I miss something there?"

She cocked an eyebrow at me. "You don't watch adult videos,
I take it."

A lightbulb went on over my head. "Oh!"

"Yeah," she nodded ruefully. "Just my bad luck that one of the
most popular black actresses in the adult movie industry picks MY
name as her stage name."

"I can see where the jokes and crude comments would get old very
fast," I agreed. I stood and offered her my arm. "I was exploring the
dome in the probably vain hope of discovering just what on Earth has
happened to us, Miss Simone. If you're not too terribly busy at the
moment, would you and your rather lengthy friend there care to
accompany me?"

Her eyes lit up. "I'd be delighted, sir." She stood, and the
python, almost appearing to understand our words, coiled itself up in
several undulating loops and followed close behind her, its
unblinking eyes somehow seeming to stand watch over its mistress.

I took a look around the otherwise empty restaurant. "It's a
shame."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Well, the carpet's a nice shade of yellow you see."

"I beg your pardon?"

I wished the faceplate of the NTU could smile. "All we need to
find is a Scarecrow and a Cowardly Lion, Miss Simone." I pointed
at her python. "There's Toto, and I'm _obviously_ a Tin Man."

She completely lost it and collapsed to the floor in breathless,
helpless laughter. Even the python looked like it was groaning.

*****

As we stepped out of the restaurant, I noticed a bit of
abandoned kipple on the floor, Curious, I touched Dominique on the
arm. "One moment. I want to test something." I bent over and picked
it up.

"What's that?" she asked.

"One of those knives the Klingons are always carrying around,"
I frowned. "Interesting. Dominique, have you ever heard the old
saying that once is chance, twice is happenstance, but three times
is enemy action?"

She nodded. "I remember hearing it once in a movie. Why?"

"Well, these things," I brandished the knife, "are usually
made of foil-wrapped cardboard, or aluminum. Sometimes cheap steel.
But this one isn't."

She gave me a questioning look.

I rapped 'myself' on the chestplate. "The built-in sensors in
this thing are telling me that this blade is an alloy of titanium,
tungsten, and a VERY rare element called rhenium. One that's denser
than uranium, harder than the best steel, and so rare it makes gold
seem as cheap as copper." I held the blade up before her eyes. "The
amount of rhenium that went into this blade is only a few grams,
yet it could probably buy a new car."

"Ahhh," she breathed. "Transformations. Your suit, my snake,
and this knife. One, two, three."

"Ayup. I think we just got an answer of sorts. Can't say how far
it spread, but it probably nailed everyone in a costume."

She went a little pale under the fine scales on her face. "The
MASKS!"

I blanked. "I don't understand."

She tried to shake me by the shoulder, then ouched as she
bruised her hand on the metal. "Didn't you see? They were selling
cheap animal face masks for people who wanted to attend the
costumes-only events but didn't bring a costume of their own!"

It took me a second to work out the implications of that, then
I felt my body, still back in my room, begin to sweat. "Oh, Hell."

She nodded, still rather pale. "And most of them were mundanes,"
she said, using a rather derogatory term for people who weren't
truly devoted fans.

"Which means that they're probably even more likely to panic,"
I noted. "And that means cops. And trouble."

We stared at each other. "The main desk!" we chorused.

We didn't run. Running headfirst into a situation that you don't
know or understand is _stupid_. I'd had that pounded into my head
more than once by drill sergeants. But we _did_ hurry. I dived into
the NTU's on-line menus again, looking for the sensor and alarm
settings.

Whoever had done the programming on this machine had a nasty
sense of humor. I found a menu for "Defense Condition Level".
Def-con. Arrg.

I immediately reset it from DefCon 4 (the apparent default)
to DefCon 3. The system immediately threw a tactical diagram of the
Xanadu dome in front of my eyes, with all potential opponents
in scan range highlighted. Their combat abilities were listed as well
as suggested methods for dealing with them.

It occurred to me that if *I* was the person responsible for the
suit's programming, I REALLY needed to cut down on my daily dose of
paranoia. And that if Stark had done the programming, the man should
have seen a good shrink years ago.

The display wasn't too worrying otherwise. Most of the blips
seemed to be of low threat value to the suit, though it did note that
they could be dangerous to an unarmed civilian. (Trust the Golden
Avenger to always worry about innocent bystanders. At times Stark
could be as annoyingly noble as Captain America.)

What _did_ concern me were the several blips that the suit had
painted bright red, signifying a serious threat. One was
uncomfortably close by. I double checked the location. It was
airborne?

Princess Python, Dominique, stopped and pointed at a window.
"Look! Up in the sky!"

I resisted making the obvious smart-alec comment and looked
in the direction she was pointing. In the sky beyond the window was
a man in a red union suit, apparently flying under his own power.
Before he flew out of my line of sight, I zoomed in on the emblem
on his chest. To my surprise, I recognized it.

"Did someone come as Superman?" Dominique breathed softly,
awe in her voice.

"Maybe, but that wasn't the Last Son of Krypton," I frowned.
"The emblem on his chest was a rectangular shield with a torch
superimposed upon it. The Greatest American Hero, I think. Seems I'm
not the only schmuck who ended up with a super suit."

"You sound upset," she said curiously.

"With myself. I should have realized there'd be more... well,
meta-humans as a result of this, Dominique."

Her eyes widened as she came to the same conclusions I had. "You
think maybe more people are having trouble remembering who they are?"

"I think we'd better hurry to the main desk and find out."

She nodded, and we both picked up the pace.

*****

The hallways weren't as congested as they had been earlier
when I had struggled to reach my own room, and when we did reach the
main concourse, I could see the flashing lights of police cruisers
and rescue vehicles.

They weren't much better off than we were. The police, the
paramedics, and the fire fighters seemed to be in as much a state
of disbelief as we were. I could see a stunned EMT bandaging the
bloody ear of a woman dressed as a Playboy Bunny. Trouble was, it was
one of her _rabbit_ ears that was bleeding, and the EMT was having
a little trouble with the concept.

Not that I blamed him.

Dominique clutched at me, and her python eased up behind her in
a defensive posture. "My god, it's EVERYWHERE!"

I zoomed out with the optical sensors. I was quickly becoming
enchanted with the capabilities of the NTU. "No, I don't think so. It
looks like it began and ended with the hotel and the rest of Xanadu."
I looked over the scrolling text carefully. "People in the nearby
office buildings appear to be unaffected and totally human. But it
looks like there's at least two hundred emergency workers out there
in the parking lots. Probably more. This is bad." Something else
caught my attention, and I pointed. "They're trying to herd people
back towards the hotel. Not a good sign."

"Do you think we should..." Her voice trailed off, uncertain.

"I'm a bloody walking arsenal, and you have a snake that looks
like he could probably eat a entire police car if he's hungry enough.
You think a nervous cop is going to stop to think before he shoots?"

She looked at the python, and her jaw tightened. At that moment
she looked less like a terrified partygoer and a LOT more like Zelda
DuBois, former member of the Serpent Society and a stone cold
criminal. "They hurt my baby, and I'll feed them to him in little
bloody CHUNKS!" she hissed.

I could see another set of vehicles rapidly approaching.
"Then we'd better get back to your room. That's the Department
of Animal Control headed this way. They'll probably want to take him
away from you."

"No, I don't have anything in my room that I need, and you
should get out of that suit. I can help. Please?"

Oh hell, I thought. I should have seen this coming. I came to a
quick decision.

"All right, but you'll to have to try to hang on. You're going
to be in for a bit of a rude surprise."

"I've got slit-pupil eyes, scales, and a giant python that was
a length of hardware store tubing just the day before. What more's
left to surprise me?"

"Just remember you said that, okay? And speaking of which..."

We slipped back into the main entrance, trying to avoid notice.
Not that a six foot two inch combat telepresence unit is exactly
a low profile sort of thing. Fortunately most of the people were in
emergency mode, concentrating on treating the injured and restraining
the panicked. As we didn't seem to be either, most of the police
and medics gave us a glance, then ignored us as just another couple
who fortunately weren't contributing anything to the immediate
problem.

Things were quieting down now that the authorities had arrived.
Not that they knew anything more than we did, but people seemed to
respond to the uniforms and the implied sense of order that went with
them. Looking around, I could see that the people around me who
hadn't been injured or transformed TOO far from their normal selves
were beginning to calm down and co-operate with the cops and medics.

Heading down the damaged hallways, we stopped at my room and I
swiped the cardkey through the slot. When the light blinked green
I turned the handle, but didn't open the door.

"Hope you can deal with this," I said. "I'm not entirely sure
*I* am." Then I opened the door and waved her and her python inside.

She stepped in, then gasped. "There's someone already here,"
she said, backing up against me.

"That's me, I'm afraid." I pushed past her gently, shutting
the door behind us and seating the NTU on the bed, which creaked
in protest. Then I tried to open my OWN eyes. A mistake, as the
stereo images I was seeing made me _very_ dizzy. The NTU collapsed
across the bed, and I slumped deeper in the chair. I managed to wave
at her.

"Hi, I'm Tony."

In retrospect, it wasn't my brightest moment.

*****

Dominique helped me get the headset off and had brought me a
glass of water from the bathroom. In the comics, Stark had been able
to control both his own body and the NTU at the same time with
seeming ease. All I could assume was that he'd gotten a LOT of
practice off screen that Marvel had never shown us. I made a personal
note to send Stan Lee a nasty (but safely anonymous) poison pen
letter when I had the time to spare.

"Why didn't you freak?" I asked when the dizziness had passed.

She laughed lightly. "I might not be a fan of Iron Man in
particular, but I'm still a Marvel fan. It took a moment, but when
I saw the headset, I realized what was going on. It's an Iron Man
robot, right?"

"It is now," I nodded. "It was a costume the other day, though.
Speaking of which, how about you? I don't recall Princess Python
as having those eyes or that skin."

She began to twiddle her fingers nervously, and the python,
sensing her unease, wrapped itself around her comfortingly.
"I.. ahh.." she blushed. "Well, you see, she doesn't wear glasses,
either."

"Glasses?"

"I'm near-sighted. I didn't want to spoil the costume, and since
I wear contacts anyway, on occasion, I thought I'd have some fun and
order some custom contacts from a firm that supplies them to
Hollywood. And then I decided to add a scaled skin to go with them.
I was going to tell everyone that as Princess Python, I'd visited
Dr. Malus."

I snapped my fingers. "Dr. Karl Malus, right? Unethical
scientist who illegally experimented on humans, and once worked for
Power Broker, Incorporated, a business that offered to augment
anybody for the right price. I remember that." I raised an eyebrow.
"Get anything else?"

She blushed, then sat on the floor, her python uncoiling
and looping itself around the legs of the bed. Once it was out of her
way, Dominique proceeded to assume a position that made ME blush,
and would have put a professional Yoga master into traction for
weeks.

"I seem to be triple jointed, and very flexible," she said, as
she dislocated both shoulders, then popped them back into place
without a single sign of pain. I tried to control my own flaming
face.

"Ahh.. yeah. Could you, you know.. not do that?" She looked
up at the quaver in my voice and giggled as she saw the ruddy flush
I was sporting.

"Aww, how sweet! A gentleman in this day and age," she smiled.

"Whatever. Could you please..?" I sweated.

"Oh, poo." She gave me a wicked grin, then unfolded herself
and stood back up. "Spoilsport."

I took a deep breath and popped the joints in my spine. "Would
you like me to walk you back to your room?"

She looked down for a moment, then attacked me with that EVIL
lost puppy-dog eye look that I honestly believe all women are issued
just as soon as they're born. "Can't I just stay with you tonight?"

I _knew_ that this was one fight I wasn't going to win. When it
comes to some females, I have all the backbone of an overcooked
jellyfish. But I DID manage to get her to agree that she'd take the
bed and I'd sleep on the floor.

We spent most of that night comparing various memories before
we went to sleep, trying to match up who and what we'd seen, making
guesses as to what they might have turned into given what they'd
been wearing.

Her most vivid memory was that of a woman who'd come as the
human version of Demona from the Disney cartoon, "Gargoyles",
complete with blood-red hair and tiara, dressed in an appropriately
ragged loincloth and halter-top combination. I told her of a cosplay
group of eight players I'd spotted who were dressed as Men In Black,
complete with neuralizers.

"Do you suppose they actually work now?" she wondered.

"I have NO idea," I frowned. "But I plan on buying a gross of
Ray-Ban sunglasses, first thing tomorrow morning."

"I don't blame you," she snickered. "I wonder if they'll try to
set themselves up just like the movie?"

"If they do, Washington will become a MUCH more interesting
place. And probably for the better." I smirked. "At least they'll
have a job watching all the new Klingons and other aliens we have
now."

She nodded, then sighed sadly. "I feel sorry for 'Demona',
though."

"Why?"

"She came as the Demona from the episode 'The Mirror'."
Dominique winced. "That's the one where Puck bespells her so that she
changes to human by day, not stone."

"So? That sounds like a good thing to me," I puzzled. "Better
a human than a statue."

"Yes," she agreed, "But the change is horribly painful, if you
go by the cartoon. She's going to be in agony with every sunrise
and sunset."

"Urrrgh. I hadn't thought of that. Going to be a LOT of people
hurting something fierce come morning."

"And even more confused folks when the word gets out," she
sighed.

"Well, as a wiser man than I'll ever be once said, 'sufficient
unto the day is the evil thereof'."

Dominique gave me a confused look.

"Short version: No need to go looking for trouble, trouble
will come looking for _you_, soon enough."

With that, we both rolled into our blankets and went to sleep.

*****

I woke the next morning to a sharp rap at the door. The python,
which had twined itself defensively around Dominique during the
night, raised its head and glared in the direction of the sound.

Stepping quietly across the floor, I carefully looked out of the
small bulls-eye peephole the hotel had provided. Then I raised an
eyebrow. A clean convention hotel was to be expected. A convention
hotel that supplied French maids to do that cleaning was a bit much,
I felt.

Had to be one of the convention attendees, I thought.

"Bon jour, M'seur. I 'ave come to clean ze room."

"We're busy at the moment, but if you come back in an hour or
so, we'll be ready for you."

"Merci, M'seur. I weel return zhen."

She continued on down the hall while I mused over some of the
less pleasant implications of magically-induced compulsive behavior
patterns. The word 'geas' took on a whole new meaning for me.

Dominique yawned and stretched right about then. "What's up?"

"Well, I am, at the moment. And you should be too." I looked
to her python. "I'm after thinking we all need food. Question is,
what do you feed a 25 foot python?"

"Anything it wants?" she giggled.

I blew a raspberry in her general direction. "Seriously.
I think it's time to see what we can do and what we can't." Looking
up, I pointed at the lights. "Power's still on, so's the water, and
the air conditioning. So things haven't fallen apart completely."

She nodded. "The hotel must still be running at some level.
Do you suppose it's Mr. Winters? He's got enough money to buy a small
Central American country. Taking over a convention center would be
pretty small by comparison."

"I don't know, but it seems likely." I donned the control unit,
woke the NTU up and put 'myself' into the steamer trunk. With its
knees brought up to its chest, it just fit. Then I shut it back down,
put the helmet in with it, and locked the trunk shut. "That should
be safe enough for now. Time for breakfast."

A quick cleanup in the bathroom, and we headed to Dominique's
room so she could change to something a little less obvious. The
python still got plenty of stares from the few people in the halls.
The occasional hotel employee we encountered seemed a little shell-
shocked still, though a few had a calculating, greedy look in their
eyes. I was suddenly glad that Grandpa's old steamer trunk was built
in the old-fashioned - and very solid - style. I'd put a Master lock
on it, so now the only way a thief could get into it would be with
a fire-ax.

Sure enough, a few of the restaurants were still working,
though the waiters and cashiers looked like they'd woke up on the
other side of the looking glass and desperately wanted to find the
way out.

Breakfast was a surreal affair. No menus, no ordering. They'd
laid on a simple buffet, and that was all. Though simple might not be
the right word. I saw the young woman from the day before, the one
who'd been transformed into a living Playboy bunny, shoveling
her platter full of carrot sticks. Her face was a story in
contradiction as she ate them. Part of her was obviously enjoying
them, the rest rather confused. A plate of bacon and eggs had been
pushed to one side after a few determined nibbles on them had
evidently nauseated her.

I'd just finished a stack of pancakes when the shouting started
from the front desk. Without thinking, I rose from my seat, and
started towards my room. I caught myself, wondering what the hell I
was thinking.

Damn it, I'm NOT Anthony Stark. I don't have to ride to the
rescue every moment an emergency arises, I berated myself.

The police officer who came cartwheeling through the air to
strike the wall with a sickening thud changed my mind. Dominique's,
too. "Go!" she hissed, and I _went_.

I wasn't the only one, and a tiny corner of my mind wanted to
burst out in broad, inappropriate laughter as it placed a face or two
in the small group of men and women who'd risen from their seats and
charged towards their rooms.

One I noticed clearly was the William Katt look-alike who'd been
flying around in the "Greatest American Hero" suit the previous
day.

We're going to have to start a Superheroes Anonymous Support
Group if this keeps up, I thought.

Moments later, I had the NTU up and running. Literally running,
in this case, headed towards the front desk. What I saw next threw
me for a loop. I wasn't the only one, either. At least four or five
other 'heroes' were standing there, dumbstruck at the sight of a
highly belligerent Barney.

Yeah, Barney. Purple skin, goofy voice and all.

The poor bastard was shrieking at the top of his voice that he
hated EVERYONE. "I hate you, You hate me, I want to DIE!" he sang
dementedly. From the clutter on the floor, the police had tried to
stop him with a variety of non-lethal projectiles (I could see some
crushed pepper-spray paintballs and a few foam rubber bullets
scattered around the carpet) to little effect. The room reeked of
propellant and capsaicin.

I could see two bruised and battered officers who were trying
to pull back from the enraged dino, who'd just thrown an hotel
armchair at them as if it were no heavier than a feather.

The guy in the GAH suit (I was beginning to think of it as that
now; Greatest American Hero was just too damn big a mouthful to
constantly repeat) caught my eye, and silently mouthed *You take his
right arm, I'll get the left.*

I nodded, and we made our move. GAH-man grabbed Barney's left
arm, I got his right, and some guy wearing bright blue spandex made
a heroic dive (what else would he do?) across the carpet, tackling
the faux dinosaur's legs while shouting "Never fear, Captain
Convention is here!"

Now THAT was embarrassing. I mean, damn, couldn't he have
thought up a better name? _Really_.

'Barney' thrashed pretty hard, but the NTU was several hundred
pounds of iron, titanium, and polycarbonates. Even a human-sized
dinosaur had a little trouble with that much weight on one arm.
GAH-man wasn't exactly a midget, either. Captain Convention was doing
pretty good himself. He had an armlock around Barney's ankles that
the purple creature didn't seem able to break.

About that point, a woman in a jumpsuit with a dizzying,
Escher-like pattern printed on it stepped up in front of 'Barney'
and stared him directly in the eyes. From the corner of MY 'eyes',
I saw hers. I was almost pulled into their mesmeric blue depths.
Barney WAS pulled in, and he went limp in our arms almost instantly.

And DAMN, he was heavy. When he collapsed, the unexpected
weight threatened to pull GAH-guy and I over for a second.

"Thanks, Miss," GAH got out, while we held Barney up, waiting
for the police, who were running over with BIG restraints.

"I second that," I added. "This could have been bad."

The restraints were big, but they weren't big enough. So the
cops tied 'Barney' up with wet sheets and duct tape, a harsh way to
restrain someone, but they just didn't make handcuffs or straight-
jackets in his size. As Captain Convention assisted the police in
carrying the unconscious dinosaur away, I knew they had to do that,
but it gave me the uneasy feeling that the concept of Civil Rights
was going to take on a new and unpleasant flexibility from now on.

Well, I thought, deal with it later. First things first. There
was no sense in borrowing trouble from tomorrow.

I made a mental note to call the ACLU sometime soon, though.

"So what do we do now?" GAH asked. "Look for phone booths and
start changing?"

I let out a laugh, and slapped one knee with a loud clang.
"Don't you think we're just a little bit pregnant in that respect?
The hotel DOES have a guest register with all of our names and home
addresses in it," I pointed out. "Twenty bucks says that's the very
first thing the government going to grab when they start dealing
with this situation in a less than stunned frame of mind."

"Mmm.. good point," added the woman. "Maybe we should arrange
for the guest book to have a little.. accident?"

GAH shook his head. "It's all in the computer these days, and
this hotel chain makes off-site backups. I know, I used to work for
a company that did computer maintenance for them."

"Oh, joy," muttered the woman.

"I think introductions are in order?" I asked, sticking out a
gauntlet. "Hi, I'm not Iron Man. Who aren't you?"

GAH grinned boyishly and shook my hand as the woman laughed.
"I guess I'm not the Greatest American Hero. Hmm, I really need to
shorten that, don't I?"

"And I'm not Hypnotica," added the woman. "I know it's not very
original," she laughed, "but it was all I could think of at the
time." She frowned then, a worried look on her face. "Deep Purple
there wasn't the first to snap, and he likely won't be the last,"
she stated baldly. "Look."

She pointed down the hall, where another set of paramedics
were carrying the first injured officer out to a waiting ambulance.

GAH nodded somberly. "But what can we do about it?"

Hypnotica tapped him on the chest with a slender finger, dead
center of his emblem. "We do what we've already done. We start
hanging together, or we'll end up hanging separately."

"You mangled Ben Franklin there a bit, but I get the idea,"
I replied. "She's right, Hero. I think we need to borrow the hotel's
public address system for a few minutes."

The desk clerk was unwilling at first, but a few minutes spent
explaining things to the day shift manager (who must have been a
TOWER of emotional strength - he hadn't fallen apart in the middle
of all this chaos) got us to the microphone.

"*cough, cough* This thing on? Oh. Okay, people, listen up. Will
all persons who were wearing hero or superhero costumes come to the
Aspen conference room in about thirty minutes? This is.. Ahem.. Iron
Man, sort of, and we'd like to get all the heroes together for a
quick briefing and an important message you should all hear. This
isn't something we can make you do, but it IS important that we do
it. Thank you."

*****

The Aspen room was one of those rooms set up like a theater,
with a low stage down forward and rows of seats rising gradually
as they marched back towards the rear of the room. The table and
chairs set up on the stage for the moderating panel of a discussion
group hadn't been removed. A small bit of luck that I hoped was a
good omen.

Dominique, GAH, Hypnotica and I were standing behind the table
as we waited for people to arrive. We had some luck. I could count
at least twenty people in various brightly colored costumes (Or were
they? If the powers were real, _were_ they just costumes any more?)
in the theater type seating. There were others dressed in street
clothing, but who held an indefinable look in their faces. More were
filing in.

When it looked like there were no more coming, I tapped on the
table for attention, and began.

"Folks, we have a problem. I don't know if any of you have heard
yet, but another victim of whatever's happened to us just had a
mental breakdown. Unfortunately, he attacked some police officers,
and he was _winning_." I shook my head. "This isn't good."

GAH took it up. "Frightened policemen are dangerous policemen.
And triggerhappy ones. You all remember the Rodney King riots. If the
police think we're a threat, they'll panic, then call in the SWAT
teams. And if that's not enough, the National Guard, then the Army."

"So what's that got to do with us?" asked a voice from the back
row.

"If we can control _ourselves_, they won't have to," pointed
out Hypnotica. "And for those of us who aren't... well, rational
at the moment, we have to come between them and the police before
either side gets hurt."

"But why us?" insisted the voice. I finally spotted the speaker,
what appeared to be a living metal statue of a woman.

"Who else?" I asked. "Look, we all know that there's bound to be
some idiots in the world who'll see us as things to be used, weapons,
tools. Right now, the only real advantages we have are the powers we
seem to have gained, and _TIME_. Everyone out there is stunned and
confused-"

"They ain't the only ones," heckled a rubbery-looking man
wearing a red leotard and a set of dark-tinted goggles.

"Point taken. We aren't exactly paragons of mental stability
ourselves. But do YOU want to end up in some government or corporate
lab, being poked and prodded or even _dissected_ in order to discover
what makes you tick? Or worse, having some fat-assed general tell you
that you've just been drafted into the US Army, to help Uncle Sam
'remove' some petty dictator from office the 'easy way'?"

The room went painfully silent.

"Look," I pleaded. "I'm not asking you to save the world. We
just need a little crowd control for a few days. We need to buy some
time. A few days. Just enough that we can figure out a _peaceful_
way of dealing with this."

"And just who chose YOU to lead us, eh?" This from a darkly
dressed man with a square-cut goatee, his black hair pulled back in a
thin ponytail. He raised an eyebrow, his sardonic smile somehow
increasing his resemblance to an elegant satyr. There was something
very familiar about him, but I couldn't quite make the connection.
I brushed the thought aside, thinking that I could worry about it
later.

"No one. I don't _want_ to lead. If someone can do it better
than I can, I'll step down right away."

A tall young man in a red sweater and khaki slacks stood up at
the back of the room. "I've heard enough."

Ah, shit, I thought in despair. He's going to walk out, and
they'll all follow him. But to my surprise, he started down the steps
towards the stage.

He smiled at the four of us. "I think you're right, and I'd like
to be the first to volunteer."

I gave him a closer look. "You look _very_ familiar. Do I know
you?"

"Maybe," he smiled. "Most people do."

"I'm afraid I-"

He grinned then, a cocky, confident grin, and said one word.
And when he spoke...

Seven thunders answered him.

"SHAZAM!"

*****

Fear is an interesting word. You can open up a thesaurus and
find at least half a dozen synonyms for it. Terror, horror, dread,
dismay, alarm.. yet there's one very special word for it that is
unique among them all.

Awe.

The dictionary also defines it as a feeling of overwhelming
respect or reverence.

I'd seen many things this past day. Heroes, villains, people
who'd become animals, and things that had crossed the line from
unliving matter to living beings. I thought I'd seen it all. But
nothing affected me like the man standing before me.

Captain Marvel.

The purest, most noble hero of a more innocent age. A man, a
_hero_, who personified the chivalrous ideal that every Boy Scout
aspired to. Everything I once wanted to believe in, and no longer
could.

I stepped towards him, resisting the urge to drop to one knee.
"I.. Captain Marvel. Thank you. Thank you very much."

"I'm glad to be of service, sir," he smiled.

"I'm no sir, Captain, I'm just-"

"Just the first person to ACT, instead of reacting, Iron Man."

God, he even sounded as noble as the Captain I'd known from my
childhood comics. "That's not saying much, Captain."

He grinned, a smile full of self-confidence and cheer. "You
under-rate yourself. Besides, don't we have work to do?"

"Yes." I inhaled deeply and stepped back. "Okay, people, the
idea is simple. Those who want to help, step forward. We take your
_new_ name, not your real one, and your room number. Then we'll take
turns spending two hours each sitting in the main lobby looking
sufficiently foreboding in an attempt to discourage people from
running amok. The rest of the time, we stay where we can be reached,
in the case that more than one of us is needed to help quell a
disturbance."

Marvel cocked his head, then nodded thoughtfully. "A good plan.
It's flexible and doesn't try to be everything at once. Where do I
sign up?"

I gestured at a clipboard and pen that the day manager had
helpfully provided. Marvel looked back at the rest of the room. "Line
forms to the right. Let's do our duty." Then he picked up the
clipboard, filling in his name and room number.

People rushed the stage in their eagerness to line up behind
him.

*****

Nearly thirty people signed up after they realized that Captain
Marvel approved of the idea. There was simply something special
about him. You could feel it in his presence, like a hot desert sun.
He radiated a nobility the world hadn't seen in a painfully long
time. In another person, it would have seemed outdated, laughable,
even ludicrous.

But not from him. Never from him.

A tiny, ugly little corner of my heart wanted to hate him. Envy
him for being what he was, what I'd always wanted to be, and had
failed to be. There was an old Christian prayer that asked God to
forgive you not only for the wrongs you'd done, but also for those
things you'd left undone. Captain Marvel brought all that rushing
painfully back to me.

I pushed that aside. There were more important things to do than
picking at old wounds. We'd arranged two hour shifts for everyone,
which was easier than we thought. After all, it wasn't like we were
going anywhere right away. The next thing was the phones. The room
phones were still working, but by now, the police had already spoken
to the hotel switchboard, and calls outside the hotel were being
diverted to the police dispatch.

That wasn't the best of news. It meant that sooner or later,
we'd be facing angry people who wanted to let their loved ones know
they were alive and safe. Well, safe in a flexible sense of the word,
anyway. And at least a few of those angry people would be capable
of taking that anger out on the police they held responsible.

Worse, some people were more lost in their costumes than others.
'Barney' was apparently rather fortunate. HE could remember who he
was, and his rage sprang from that. Others seemed to have totally
forgotten who they'd been, and could only remember those things that
the person (or being) they'd come dressed as could be expected to
remember. And now we'd have to DEAL with them, with people who
hadn't done anything wrong, people whose only crime was being lost
in their own minds.

I could sympathize. Stark's memories seemed almost brighter,
almost more REAL, than my own at times. I could look around the room,
and a portion of my mind would begin to catalog how 'I' would
redesign and improve it with 'my' inventions. Frightening.

And of course, there would be people who hadn't been villains
before, but would come to the sudden realization that as they now
held powers and abilities beyond those of mortal men.. hey, why MAKE
money when you can simply TAKE it?

I wanted to rub my aching temples, then thought, why not? I
carefully considered what I was doing, and then, slowly, awkwardly,
managed to raise my OWN hands to my head without the NTU aping those
actions. Success! A small one, perhaps, but I'd take my victories
wherever I could get them.

That's when the bloody comic relief arrived. Right on time. I
could hear a hammering at the door of the conference room. Oddly
enough, it seemed to be coming from low on the door.

"I DEMAND to be heard! It is my DESTINY!" came a shout in
curiously cultured tones from the hall outside.

"NARF! You tell 'em, Brain!"

I wanted to cry.

*****

Captain Marvel very kindly dealt with the pair of would-be
world conquering mice for me. I think the wisdom of Solomon was
telling him that I was pretty close to the edge of insanity myself.
I honestly think that if those two were anything like the cartoon,
I'd have ended up feeding them to Dominique's python out of sheer
frustration.

Much later, we were to discover that a young, and rather short,
woman decided to capitalize on her lack of height, and had come
dressed as that animated horror, Elmyra, from Tiny Toons. Part of her
costume included a small cage with two stuffed mice inside that she'd
pet, pat, fondle and otherwise pretend to torment, reinforcing
her act.

It reinforced the act, all right. She was now the same age,
mentally and physically, as the cartoon character. And the mice, of
course, were now quite real.

I later hired Brain myself. But that's getting ahead of the
story.

Besides, we had other worries far more important than a deluded
mouse with an itch to prove his self-worth. About thirty people had
signed up, but even MORE had walked out. Some didn't want to take
part, some were afraid, some insisted that we should just sit tight
and trust the government to solve things out.

On top of that were the uncounted numbers who hadn't appeared
at the meeting at all. Most weren't dangerous - the woman who'd been
turned into a living Playboy bunny came to mind - but the number
of people who _did_ have enough power to be (or become) serious
threats was uncomfortably high.

There were even a few (a VERY few, thankfully) who insisted
that the Golden Rule should be applied. That is, them as has the
Gold, makes the Rules. Or in this case, those who have the Powers,
rule the commoners.

I was beginning to worry more about some of the convention
attendees than I was about my government.

It was fortunately that Hypnotica had come to the realization
of what we needed to do as fast as she did, as the next serious
challenge was already taking place.

We were headed back to the main lobby when a shout went up. GAH
rolled his eyes. "Already it begins." He dashed down the hallway
ahead of me, only to come staggering back. He hit the wall, bent over
and began to retch.

I looked on in shock and wondered just what the hell he'd seen
that affected him so strongly, then charged ahead to confront..
whatever.

What I saw next was _seriously_ disgusting. People around the
lobby were crawling on the floor, gagging, vomiting, and desperately
trying to get away from the young man in the green spandex leotards
and "Lone Ranger" style mask, also in bright kelly green.

Not that a costume was unusual, not here and now. But the fact
that he'd cut out the seat of the costume so that both of his rear
cheeks might hang out, was. Bleah.

He was cleaning out the cash drawer and gloating over the take
when I held up a gauntlet and shouted "Stop where you are!"

He turned, spotted me, then to my surprise, turned his back on
me and bent over! That's when I found out why GAH was busy upchucking
in the hall. The next thing I heard was a terrifically loud ripping
noise, and realized what he was doing.

"There!" he shouted as he stood upright and returned to looting
the register. "That'll take care of YOU, tin man! No one can stop
Mister Methane!"

Mister Methane?! And I thought Captain Convention was bad.

He didn't even bother to check to see if I'd fallen. His
mistake. My body was still in my room, nowhere near Flatulence
Boy. I couldn't smell a thing. So I smirked to myself and advanced
on him. Grabbing him by one arm, I threw him to the floor, hard.

"Get a clue, windbag. You want to be stupid, do it on your own
time, and your own nickel. Return the cash and _maybe_ I won't play
the xylophone with your rib cage." A crass way of putting it, but I
was a little angry at that moment.

But I suppose it's a union rule for supervillains that they
refuse to go quietly. Maybe there's something in their contracts
about dramatic confrontational scenes. Maybe they're terminally
stubborn. Or stupid. Who knows?

As it was, instead of surrendering quietly, this rather
disgusting supervillain wannabe spread his legs and passed a five
foot long jet of flame from his rear!

Now _I_ wanted to go somewhere and upchuck. This was REALLY
gross. And I didn't blame GAH in the slightest.

The overhead fire sprinklers hadn't gone off yet, but if he kept
this up, they would at any moment. I fired some flame-supressant
foam at.. well, at his ass, hoping that it would keep things from
getting worse. Right about then a ripple of stealthy movement across
the carpet caught my eye, and backtracking the motion, I grinned.
One of my new friends wanted to join in the fun. Why not?

I stepped into "Mr. Methane"'s line of sight and aimed a boot
at his head. He quickly rolled out of the way of my kick, as
expected. Unfortunately for him, rolling out of my way, rolled him
INTO the path of a rather irritated (and very large) rock python.

He screeched in terror, and began to thrash wildly as the python
wrapped itself around him. A mistake on his part, as that's what a
python's natural prey usually does, and pythons expect it. Big Green
threw two loops around his chest and a third set around his legs for
an anchor. Then he slowly began to apply pressure.

I walked over and looked down at the thief. "Looks like you're
in a bit of a spot, fella."

"..hlp muhhh.."

"Well, now, I'd LIKE to help you, but this isn't MY pet snake.
He belongs to someone else, prolly won't listen to me, you know."

"..pls.."

"Of course, if you happened to feel like surrendering
yourself and going peacefully, I might have a chat with the lovely
young lady who IS the owner of the critter that's currently mashing
you to a pulp. I might even catch her in a good mood."

From across the room, out of range of the stench, Dominique
smiled over at her pet. "Oh, I don't know. Sssaaahh hasn't been fed
lately. I was thinking about buying him a live pig, but long pork
will do just as well. And it's cheaper, too!"

For a guy in a kelly green costume, he went bone-white with
remarkable speed. Sssaaahh added to the effect by coiling his head
around and opening his mouth. It's amazing just how wide a python's
jaws can spread. And rather terrifying, if you're the one who's
looking directly into them, expecting to take a one-way trip inside.

"..."

"Now, now, Princess Python. We can't kill them if they surrender
first. Rules, you know," I said in dry tones. "We MUST uphold the
standards of civilized behavior. If we don't, who will?"

Sssaaahh - a rather fitting name if ever I'd heard one - paused
to adjust his coils slightly, and our thief got enough of his wind
back to gasp out "I surrender!" in a strangled squawk.

Dominique smiled nastily, and Sssaaahh loosened his coils just
enough that Flatulence Boy wouldn't suffocate. But no looser than
that.

That's when a pair of police officers came in wearing gas masks
and carrying riot shields. They spotted the idiot on the floor and
the large snake wrapped around said idiot, and the younger officer
reached for his service pistol. Fortunately, the older officer had a
better head on her shoulders and grabbed at his hand before anything
serious happened. She stepped forward cautiously.

"Pardon me..." She paused, not quite certain how to address
us. "Sir? This individual is under arrest for armed robbery and
assault with a deadly weapon. Are you going to ... contest this?"

I snorted at the thought that a person's bodily functions
could now be considered a deadly weapon, but I got her point. "No,
Officer," - a quick look at her nameplate - "Officer Ross. We're just
seeing to it that our fragrant friend doesn't try to scurry off
before you take appropriate steps." I nodded to Dominique, she nodded
back, and Sssaaahh slithered off Mr. Methane.

Officer Ross's eyes lit up behind the gas mask and she cuffed
the green-clad idiot before he could get his wits back. She looked
over at her partner. "Call for a wagon, Jimmy. I don't want this..
thing.. in our unit. He might go off again!"

Her partner turned a little green at the thought.

"Might I suggest a call to the city's Hazardous Materials
team, Officer?" I interjected. "They've more experience in dealing
with toxic fumes, and they have the gear to deal with this putz in a
safe manner."

Ross brightened at the thought, and nodded to her partner.
"Give 'em a call, Jimmy. Let's let THEM haul this pervert to the
station." She turned back towards me and inclined her head. "Thank
you."

"For what?" I asked.

"For a helping hand when we needed it," replied Ross.

"Just common sense, Officer." I looked at her a little more
closely. "I don't know what's going to happen, but I know this,
Officer Ross. The world's just been turned upside down and given a
hard shake. And unlike a snow globe, it won't just settle down
peacefully."

Her eyes sharpened, and she looked back, as if she were trying
to see through the metal mask that (she thought) must cover my face.
"You sound like you've put a lot of thought into it.. Mr?"

"Iron Man, for now. Yes, I have." I paused for a moment, trying
to understand her thoughts. "You have too, I'd wager."

She nodded, then reached into a pocket. Withdrawing a small
card, she scribbled quickly on the back and handed it to me.

"My private cell phone number. You might find it useful."

I quickly tucked the card inside a storage compartment.
"Don't mistake me, I'm grateful, but why?"

"I'm no Commissioner Gordon, Iron Man, just a beat cop. But I've
seen enough corruption to know that ugly things are going to start
happening soon. You could use a friend inside the Department."
She grinned. "But if you use that number, do me a favor. Don't call
collect."

Her partner returned at that point, his voice cheerful.
"Hazmat's on the way, and they're bringing one of their transport
trucks to handle the Ass Master here."

"..tha'zz mither methane do yuu coppuh..." mumbled said would
be robber.

"Hmm.. maybe Sssaaahh cut off the oxygen to his brain for just
a bit TOO long," I mused out loud.

In an odd way, I was almost grateful to this idiot. After all
you almost always need a loudmouthed fool to make the hero look good
by comparison.

Officer Ross laughed. "If that's the case, three cheers for the
snake!" She tugged at her mask uncomfortably. "Is it safe to take
these things off yet, Jimmy?"

Her partner shook his head. "I don't know, and you _ain't_
getting me to guinea-pig for you."

I held up a gauntlet. "One second." A moment later, the heads-up
display gave me a bio-toxin scan of the surrounding air. "I wouldn't.
He's still pretty whiffy." I looked at Ross, then grinned to myself.
"You know, officer, this hotel DOES have some emergency fire hoses."

"What's that got to do.. OH!" I could hear the evil grin in her
voice, even through the gas mask. "Jimmy, let's drag him outside.
And while we wait for the HazMat team, we might consider giving the
poor gentleman a quick bath, Marine Corp style."

A few moments later, you could hear Mr. Methane screaming
from half the hotel away. "CCCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLD!"

That's the trouble with spandex, you know.. no insulation
value. None at all. Heh.

*****

Everyone who'd signed up were taking two hour shifts sitting
around and looking menacing. Or at least implacable. It seemed to be
working, too.

The combinations were hilarious, at times.

For example, at the moment, Master Qui-Gon Jinn and a young Luke
Skywalker were giving a demonstration of swordsmanship with their
light sabers. And not so incidentally, illustrating how if anyone
got foolish, they too could be reduced to barbecue pork should the
need arise.

Heh. It did cut down on gratuitous episodes of stupidity.

At the moment, I was grabbing a bite to eat at the main
restaurant. I, at least, had the option of not looking like my
alter-ego. Others weren't so fortunate.

I'd already spotted a tall and painfully thin man dressed in a
stereotypical 1950's labcoat (complete with mandatory briar pipe
clenched tightly between his teeth) shepherding a trio of color-coded
young girls. I recognized them and shuddered slightly. Then made a
mental note to start investing in construction and contracting
companies. We were going to need it.

You know, I've always wondered.. Why does every mad (or at least
dangerously brilliant) scientist wear a white lab coat everywhere
they go? Is it some sort of bizarre fashion statement?

Feh. Probably one of those questions that will never be
answered. Oh, well.

Dominique was in her own room again, feeding her snake. The
expression on the face of the day manager when he was asked to obtain
a live pig for Sssaaahh's consumption was a real Kodak moment. Still,
I had to credit him for his self-possession. He just carried on and
got the job done. The man deserved a medal for holding himself
together the way he did.

Meanwhile, I was eating with one hand, and writing with the
other. I'd discovered that I wasn't as immune to being subsumed
by my character as I thought. Stark, or at least that part of myself
that _thought_ it was Stark kept trying to rise to the surface.
But I'd found that inventing (or at least TRYING to invent) was
enough to keep it happy.

At the moment, my left hand was busy scribbling down a formula
for an optical fiber based not on the usual glass, but on a type of
rubber. It looked as if it should work, too. The range was limited
to about 500 meters, but if I could somehow bring it to market, it
would solve the so-called 'last mile' problem most optical fiber
networks were facing. The TROUBLE was, how the hell was I supposed
to produce samples and test them without any damn tools or even a
laboratory?!

About that point, I saw a cat-man walk past, recognizing him
from the initial chaos of the first transformation. Eric Winter's
personal assistant. And again, the lightbulb went on over my head.

Rising from the table, I intercepted him. "Excuse me, Mr.."

"Felix, Felix Hendrickson."

"I'm sorry. I hadn't caught your name before," I nodded. "I have
something for Mr. Winters." I handed him the paper I'd been writing
on. "Would you please give this to him? I think he might find it of
some use."

The cat/man frowned at the formulas on the paper. "Please?"
I asked. "All that I ask is that he see it. My room number's on the
back."

"What is this?"

"Hopefully, it's a way for Mr. Winters to recoup his expenses,
Mr. Hendrickson." I shrugged. "Or maybe not. Nothing ventured,
nothing gained. Besides, your boss is a good man."

A number of sailor-suited warriors for Love and Justice (seems
we ended up with quite a few of them, thanks to the Event) entered
the restaurant at that moment. Felix and I waited a bit for the noise
to subside.

I rolled my eyes. "Japanese anime," I sighed.

Felix's whiskers twitched with suppressed humor. "You should
see the people who came dressed as Pokemon Masters."

"Urgh. No, thanks." I winced, realizing that their Pokeballs
probably worked now.

"Wise of you," commented the cat. "I'm sorry, I can't stay. I
have work to do."

"De nada, Mr. Hendrickson. And thank you for your time."

I turned back to my meal. As I ate, I opened my copy of "Pocket
Ref", by Tom Glover. A small 500 page manual of all sorts of useful
information in the fields of general science, it fit nicely in a hip
pocket. I'd taken to carrying a copy around with me some years ago to
help settle bar bets and other arguments. Now, it was serving to help
me in a new way. One chapter had a listing of most of the major
natural constants in mathematics and physics. I _hoped_ that
comparing those numbers to the constants 'Stark' remembered would
help me to tell what inventions I... he... well, whatever. Anyway,
what inventions we could make that would still work in this reality
without the help of magic.

Because it HAD to be magic. I knew that now. The changes were
too great and had come too fast for it to be anything else.

And wouldn't THAT put the cat among the pigeons. I could see the
President ordering an immediate crash research program into magic,
and attempts to turn it to the 'defense of our noble nation'.

God save me from politicians.

*****

I'd just finished my meal and was considering trying to sneak
into the smoking section to have a cigar (my one remaining vice was
a good Cuban cigar) and try to relax when a woman came over and sat
down across the table from me.

"Hello, 'Mr. Stark'."

I started to automatically deny it when she tossed a small
pasteboard card onto the table. I winced as I saw it. I had one just
like it in my own wallet.

FOOM. Friends Of Ol' Marvel. An old club for Marvel Comic fans
who wanted a little more than the ordinary 'Rah-rah for my favorite
comic' fandom. FOOM'ers didn't read Marvel comics, they LIVED Marvel
comics. She could probably recognize any major Marvel comic character
by face alone. Including the face that was now mine.

I spotted the name scrawled on the card. That's when I saw past
the civilian clothing and recognized the officer I'd seen before.

"Officer Ross. What a... pleasure, meeting you again."

She grinned, the cold, toothy smile of a predator. "Cards on the
table, no?"

"That's a TERRIBLE joke," I groaned.

"I suppose," she said. "Mind if I order a soft drink while we
talk?"

"And what makes you think we're going to talk?"

Her face tightened and her eyes bored into me. "I didn't give
you my number on a whim. And unless you're totally stupid, which I
don't think you are, you already KNOW why I gave it to you. So cut
the crap."

"It's happening already, isn't it?"

"It is," she nodded. "Some of the brighter ones are already
slipping out of Xanadu. Not that it takes much effort. The
'quarantine' around here is about as tight as a greased slip-knot."

"That bad?"

"Worse," she shrugged. "But it's going to get a lot tighter,
very soon. The Federales are finally getting their act together.
They STILL think it's some sort of hoax, or bizarre publicity
stunt, but they're beginning to take it seriously."

"You're suggesting it might be a good idea to pull a vanishing
act of my own before the goverment decides to do it for me?"

She raised an eyebrow at me. "Of course not! As a duly sworn
and authorized officer of the law, advocating the commission
of such an obviously criminal act would be against my oath of
office."

If her tongue had been any further in her cheek, she probably
would have strangled on it. As it was, you could cut the sarcasm
with a chainsaw.

I fiddled with my cigar, an old nervous habit. "Why you?"

She laughed humorlessly. "Everyone at the precinct house knows
about my little hobby. That's why I was assigned to be on duty during
the con. A round peg in a round hole sort of thing. I wasn't able to
trade shifts, either. If it hadn't been for that, I'd be on your side
of the mirror right this minute."

The admission surprised me, and it showed. She glared at me.
"What, cops can't dream?"

I held up a hand in a placating guesture. "I didn't say that.
It just caught me by surprise, is all." I gave her a measuring
look. "Who?"

She didn't pretend to misunderstand, Reaching into her purse,
she pulled out a black leather mask that would have started just
under her eyes, and stopped at the crown of her head. A small icon
was molded into the leather right between and slightly above the
eyes.

"A police officer who feels that sometimes you do have to step
beyond the reach of the law, eh?" I nodded thoughtfully. "You'd have
made an excellent Black Scorpion."

The hopeless hunger in her eyes made me wince. I changed the
subject immediately.

"How long do you think we have?" I asked.

"Three days more. Four at the most. By then, they're going to
start getting professionals in here and setting up investigations,
medical testing, the whole nine yards. Give them five days, and
they'll probably start insisting on 'protective custody' for all the
people who look like they might be of interest to them."

"Yeargh," I grunted. "Fuck me HARD. With a rusty chainsaw.
It's the Army's experiments with LSD all over again. And this time,
they don't even have the feeble excuse of an Evil Empire to blame
things on."

Right about then, a three-foot tall Yoda toddled past our table,
and we both went bug-eyed at the coincidence. Ross began to laugh
so hard tears started from her eyes. I couldn't help but join her.

We both calmed after a minute or two, and wiped our eyes. I
grinned at her.

"You really needed that. And so did I," I snickered.

"Yup," she nodded.

"So, assuming I'm such an selfish, unpatriotic bastard that I
run away before my country's duly elected representatives can tell
me how it's my God-given duty to help them establish a world-wide
Pax Americana, complete with Amerika Uber Alles..." I let my voice
trail away.

"Take others with you, Mr. Clueless." Her eyes bored into mine.
"They'll need help. And so will you. There's safety in numbers."

"Done. Got any suggestions?" She looked surprised at my instant
acceptance. "Dear lady, I was a GI for a great many years. As many
years as you've been a cop, I'll wager. And along the way, I've
learned that there are some battles you can't win. That sometimes,
all you can do is sound the retreat, regroup, and hope that you can
win the next battle."

She shook her head. "Just that you might want to take a hero or
two along, if you can manage it. God's usually on the side of the big
battalions, it seems."

I nodded. "Point taken. Will it be safe to call you, if we find
a spot to hole up in?"

"It should be. But ask for Marion Ross. If I answer to that
name, the call's a trap."

"Okay." I stuck out a hand. "For what it's worth, Officer Ross,
you've got big ones. Great big brass ones."

"Gee, thanks a LOT!" she snorted. "There's an image I'll carry
with me." Rising from the table, she picked up her membership card,
tucking it back into her purse. "Watch your six, 'Mr. Stark'. Be
safe."

I watched her walk away, hoping she was wrong. But knowing
she was right.

*****

The rest of that evening was quiet. I wandered from room to room
in the hotel, looking up certain people, quietly sounding out their
feelings on things, searching for folks who might feel the way I did
about things.

Dominique was a given. She wasn't about to let ANYTHING come
between her and her snake, and if anyone did, they'd probably end up
having to kill her, or the python, or both.

And to my surprise, while I was busy approaching others, I was
approached myself, by the Brain. He might have been an annoyingly
arrogant, over-confident little megalomaniac of a rodent, but he
wasn't stupid. After being ejected from the conference room by
Captain Marvel, he'd taken the time to educate himself on what had
just happened here at Xanadu. He learned the facts (what few there
were), and had come to a number of conclusions. Foremost among them
was that he had NO intention of returning to a cage. Even if his
memories of the cage back at Acme Labs weren't quite.. real.

I didn't blame him one bit.

But I made ONE thing _perfectly_ clear to the would-be world
ruler.

"You're welcome to come along. But you touch the suit, rat-boy,
and I feed you to Princess Python's snake for an appetizer. You got
that?"

I had to admire his courage. He merely sniffed in that stuck-up
way he had from the show, and told me that he'd NEVER bother with
such _primitive_ technology. Heh.

"And one last thing."

The mouse raised an eyebrow at me. "What now?"

"The goofball coming with you?" That actually caused him to
pause for a moment.

"I.. am not certain. Would it be a problem?"

"Up to you, Brain. He's your problem. You bring him, you're
responsible for him, and for anything he does. But I won't ask a man
to abandon a buddy, and I won't ask it of you. Your choice."

"I see. May I give you my answer later?"

"Yes. But we only have a few days. Keep in mind time is
something we're short of."

"Indeed."

*****

"To be able to fly? To be smoke, or a wolf...
to know the night, and live in it forever?
That's not so bad.
You call us monsters.
But when you dream it's of flying,
and changing, and living without death."

- Rachel in "Nightbreed"

"It's said reality hangs by the thinnest of threads...."

- "Nightbreed"

When I got up the next morning, I heard the news. The first
suicide had taken place that night. It hit me harder than I thought
it would. A young woman had come as a comely vampire. And when she
realized what it would mean, she quietly vanished into her room,
broke a leg from a table, and fell forward onto the makeshift
wooden stake she'd created.

The note by her body begged that she be cremated with the stake
still in place. The stake was left in her chest as she'd requested.
The police weren't taking any chances.

I remembered another time, another place, and wept.

But crying wouldn't help me, and it wouldn't help the others.
So I forced myself to eat breakfast, and started making plans. There
were four people who'd chosen to go along already. Dominique, the
Greatest American Hero, Captain Marvel, and the Brain. Transportation
wouldn't be a problem, I'd driven here myself, as had GAH. That meant
one car (mine) and one pickup truck with a camper top (GAH's). Room
for about eight people, if we squeezed tight. Maybe more, if need be,
and neither the Brain nor his rather dim-witted companion would take
up much space.

The camper was a bonus I hadn't expected. We could take turns
sleeping and driving, without having to stop for anything other than
gasoline or food (and the occasional restroom break). I suspected
speed was going to be important, even if only to stay ahead of the
reporters.

GAH intended to head for home. Los Angeles, in his case. That
made things a little easier. Dominique wanted to return home too.
Lousiana, which meant that if we took the southern coastal route,
she could ride all the way there with GAH. As for the Brain, well,
he had nowhere to go. This wasn't the world he knew, ACME Labs didn't
exist here, and returning to his old job as a lab rat lacked a
certain appeal, as it were.

So, what the hell. I decided to offer him a place to stay until
we could figure something out.

But before we arrived, I'd really have to do something about
my cat.

Captain Marvel, however..

His case was almost as painful a blow to the gut as the young
woman's suicide.

When I'd gone to see him the night before, I'd asked him if he
had any family to return to. I figured, unlike most of us, his
magical word made resuming a (semi)normal life possible. I was
mistaken.

I felt like such a total fool.

The boy brought out a small case, showing me the contents.
Syringes, needles, vials with hospital lables, and bottle upon bottle
of pills. I was no doctor. But I recognized several of the names from
that dreadful year when my mother had fought her desperate battle
with cancer. And lost.

Steroids, some of them. Others were drugs to promote and
increase the production of T-cells. Several powerful anti-nausea
drugs. And AZT.

I looked at him.

"I don't have many memories left, sir. I think it's because
I didn't want to." He fished in a suitcase and showed me a letter
with the logo of one of the minor "Make A Wish" groups. "I think I
was dying."

Juvenile HIV, inherited at birth from a mother long since dead.
The letter was a little sparse with the details, but it was easy
enough to read between the lines. He had no one left, and nowhere
to go.

"Any symptoms?" I asked.

"No, sir," he replied. "I seem to be entirely healthy now, if
you discount the fact that I can only remember a life as Billy
Batson. But I seem to have been given a second chance at life. And I
want to make the very best of this chance."

"I suppose having the wisdom of Solomon helps." I tried to shake
off the depressing feelings the letter had brought on. "You sure you
want to make a total break with your past, kiddo? It won't be easy,
and I can guarentee it'll be damn painful."

"Yes, sir. I can build a new life, and maybe I can help give
back some of what people gave me in my previous life."

"Okay, you're in. I'll let you know when we're ready to make our
break for it."

Billy beamed. "Thank you, sir!"

"And one last thing.."

"What's that, sir?"

"Don't call me _sir_!"

*****

I was headed away from breakfast when Mr. Hendrickson found me.

"Mr. Edwards? Do you have a moment? Mr. Winters would like to
speak with you."

"It would be my pleasure," I replied. "And it's not like I have
to hurry off somewhere."

We both laughed at the inside joke.

Soon, we were in Mr. Winter's suite, and I was trying to deal
with the very odd sight of a large raven busily rattling the keys of
a laptop. It nodded politely to me.

"Good morning, Mr. Edwards. I'd like to ask you about this."
One talon pointed at the sheet of paper I'd given to Felix the day
before.

"It's a formula for an inexpensive substitute for glass-based
optical fiber, Mr. Winters."

"Please, call me Eric." The raven cocked his head at me. "Why
do you think this would interest me?"

I shrugged. "If it works - and it should - it's worth a tidy
sum. I think we both are aware of the costs of what's happened here.
Insurance companies are going to scream 'Act Of God' and refuse to
pay off claims, lawyers and judges will argue if we're really human
or not, governments are going to see us as things to be studied and
used.. we've all landed at the bottom of a VERY deep pile of shit,
and we just haven't realized it yet." I waved at the paper. "I can't
sell that, but you probably can. You have the business contacts I
don't."

"And how much of the profit would you want?"

"None."

"None?" A raven's head wasn't built to express human emotions,
but it was clear that he was quite skeptical of that.

"Money's a weapon, Mr. Winters. You know that better than I do.
Like I said, we've all landed at the bottom of a deep pile of shit,
and a buttload of money can go a long way towards getting us all out
of it."

The raven laughed, a harsh caw. "A remarkably pragmatic
attitude."

"Pragmatic, hell. Selfish." I dug through my wallet, looking
for one special card, one I hadn't used in years. I set it on the
desk where he could read it easily.

"They used to give those to the troops stationed along the East
German border, Eric. The Russians had a right to have a military
liason group in West Germany. A fancy way of saying 'spies'. Heh."
I paused from a dry throat, and asked if I might have some water.
Felix got me a glass, and after a few swallows, I continued.

"We all got copies of that card, instructions on what to do and
how to handle them.. spies who had the advantage of diplomatic
immunity. It was rather eye-opening, in its own way."

"And it made you a little cynical, didn't it?" said the raven.

"Yeah, I suppose it did. But it also taught me that Ben Franklin
was right. If we don't hang together, we're gonna hang seperately. At
the ends of government-supplied nooses. Anything I can do to help
everyone is going to eventually help me. Only common sense."

I scratched at my mustache. "Anyway, originally, I was going
to see if you needed a bodyguard and gofer." I nodded over towards
Felix. "But you already have a loyal and efficient dog-robber."
The cat-man looked mildly offended at the term, while Mr. Winters
laughed again. "So, I thought I'd give you that. And maybe ask you
for a way to contact you in the event that I can invent something
else that you can turn into cash to help all of us."

"Are you headed home, Mr. Edwards?"

The sudden change in subject threw me. "I.. ah.. what makes you
think I'm leaving?"

"I'm a raven, not brain-dead."

"Okay, stupid question. Yeah, I was planning on doing a quiet
vanishing act along with some others. I don't fancy ending up in Area
51 as an experiment, or becoming a goverment-controlled 'asset'."

"So where is home?"

I eyed him suspiciously. "Somewhere between the East and West
Coasts."

He shook his head. "I'm not trying to pin you down. I'm simply
wondering if you could do a better job if you had better tools."

"Excuse me?"

"I've invested in small start-ups before." The raven eyed me.
"And this time, I was able to get inside your head, so to speak.
You signed the paper 'Anthony Stark'. It didn't take me long to look
that up on the Internet."

Suddenly I knew EXACTLY how Homer Simpson felt when he went
"DOH!".

"I have to admit that Iron Man is an interesting character, and
Mr. Stark seems like a rather fascinating fellow, someone with whom
I'd enjoy discussing business strategies. But while you seem to have
some of his gift for invention," Winters poked the formula with his
beak, "You don't have any of the assets he inherited from his
father."

"The tools to build the tools to do the job," I nodded.

"If you have even half of his fictional gift for invention,
then any money I invest in you will return many times over. A risk,
perhaps, but worth the gamble. Now, where do you live?"

I took a deep breath and rolled the dice. "Colorado."

Eric nodded to Felix, who moved over to the laptop and began
to rattle the keyboard at a rate the raven couldn't match.

"I'm not as rich as your fictional counterpart, or even Bill
Gates, but I do have some liquid assets. And more important, a
few businesses that I scooped up when they failed and folded."
Felix' flying fingers paused for a moment, and the raven looked at
the screen, letting out a satisfied sound.

"A small piece of property near Larkspur, Colorado that's been
abandoned for several years now. It was once a private boarding
school for women, then later a failed reform school. It's remote,
yet has power, water, and phone access. There's no one there at the
moment but a caretaker. Would that do?"

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Frontier Boys Village?"

"Why, yes. How did you.." The raven paused, and then gave me an
avian sort of smirk. "You're an alumnus, eh?"

"I was a bit of a hellraiser in my youth," I ground out,
embarrassed.

Even Felix laughed at that.

"I'll need equipment," I cautioned.

They both nodded, and Felix went back to rattling keys. Eric
watched the screen closely. "PC's won't be a problem, but laboratory
gear.. wait.. go back, Felix. One more page.. there! A laboratory
supply company that's going under. It probably doesn't have
everything you'll need, but what it does have, I can get below cost."

"You're GOOD," I said admiringly.

"Oh, you're going to pay for it, and no mistake," the raven
warned me.

"I'd rather be working for you and paying off a debt, than end
up building robot super-soldiers for Uncle Sam, Mr. Winters. I love
my country, but that doesn't mean I'll blindly obey some of the folks
trying to run it."

"Fair enough. Come back in a few hours, and we'll have the
papers ready to sign."

I grinned at him. "This could be the beginning of a beautiful
friendship, shweetheart."

"Oooo... bad Bogey impressions," groaned Eric. "Get a stick,
kill it, kill it."

*****

I left while Eric proceeded to write up a gentleman's contract.
I supposed I should have watched him to make certain he wasn't trying
to screw me over in a legal fashion, but I didn't see any point to
it. It's not as if I'd understand most of the legal jargon, anyway.

Or would I? I'd begun to notice that the financial pages of the
newspapers the hotel supplied as a courtesy were holding more and
more meaning for me. Anthony Stark wasn't just an inventive genius,
he was a businesman's businesman who'd fought off more corporate
raids than I could remember. At least, that I could remember at the
moment. I suspected that as I had time - or maybe if WE had time -
I'd find myself something of a corporate shark whether I liked it or
not.

In the meantime, I headed back to my room to check on the Brain.
He had no place to go after they'd grabbed and sedated the little
horror show his former 'owner' had become, and I very reluctantly
offered him and his 'partner' a place to stay, provided he could keep
Pinky under some sort of control. I hoped I wouldn't regret it.

When I swiped my cardkey and opened the door, I got something
of a surprise. There on the floor was Pinky, in a mouse-sized
straightjacket, rolling around on the floor in an animated way (no
pun intended), trying to escape the restraint. I heard a small
"Hisst" from down near my feet. There was the Brain, nodding towards
the door. We both stepped back out into the hallway.

"Just what is going ON in there, Brain?" I asked.

The mouse had the audacity to grin at me. "You asked that I keep
him out of trouble, correct?"

"True, but I didn't think you were into bondage."

The Brain bridled at that. "I am NOT a sexual deviant. I simply
tried to use my intellect." He frowned slightly. "From what I'm told,
I'm merely a character from a cartoon, that the life I remember is
nothing more than a fantasy created from whatever did all of THIS to
all of you."

"Your point?"

"I seem to be thinking more clearly NOW than I ever have before,
Mr. Edwards. I can remember all the times I've tried to deal with
Pinky, and how miserably I've failed each and every time. It's as if
I am viewing my lifetime from an outsider's perspective. Such an
unusual sensation." He shook his head. "So, I tried something
different." A slightly superior smile lightened his features. It
looked oddly out of place on a face that had seen mostly frowns. "This
time, I asked Pinky to HELP me."

"Help you?" I boggled.

He laughed. "I told him the truth, of a sort. That I was trying
to invent an escape-proof restraint system for the mentally deranged,
and that I needed someone to test it to see if it was truly escape
proof. Pinky immediately volunteered to test it for me.

"I remember all the times I tried to exclude him from my plans,
and each time I failed. Somehow, I never managed to see that I was
repeating the same error over and over again. Now, I can. And this
time, I'm actively including him in what I do."

"In the hopes that if you reverse everything, you'll also
reverse his habit of ruining things," I nodded.

"That, yes. But it's also quite true. I _am_ trying to design
a better straightjacket. And if Pinky can get out of this one, then
obviously I need to rethink the design. Thusly, I make him an asset,
instead of a liability."

Right about then, we heard a faint, triumphant "Narf!"

The Brain shook his head and sighed. "Would you please open the
door for me? I fear my room-mate has found a way to free himself.
It's back to the drawing board, I suppose."

"All right. Be ready to leave at a moment's notice, though.
I think I've found us a way out of this." I rubbed my chin
thoughtfully. "And pick yourself a new name, why don't you? 'The
Brain' is descriptive, but it's rather awkward."

He nodded. "And one for Pinky, I think. Though I doubt he'd use
it."

I shook my head, and let him back into the room, hearing a faint
yet happy cry of "BRAIN!" before the door swang shut. I hoped Brain
had found the right way of dealing with his friend. Pinky had the
potential to be a very large monkey-wrench, and we did NOT need him
throwing himself into the proverbial gears.

As for me, I went on my way. There were a few last people I
wanted to talk to before we made our getaway, and time was running
painfully short.

*****

I'd found Hypnotica again and fortunately learned that she lived
in San Francisco. She'd flown in to attend the con, and was without
a car at the moment. When I offered her a ride to Los Angeles with
GAH, she accepted eagerly. She'd been having her own worrisome
thoughts about our current situation, and didn't much trust the
government either.

I was happy because she gave us a non-lethal weapon, just in
case the police stopped us. Like my grandfather often said, you NEVER
attacked cops if there was any possible way to avoid it. Police had
long arms, longer memories, and they knew how to carry a grudge. The
ability to cause a cop to simply forget we'd ever been pulled over
would be a godsend.

These aren't the 'droids you're looking for. Heh.

Checking my watch, I noticed that it was almost time to go back
and see Mr. Winters about the contract. I hurried down the hallway,
not looking where I was going. A moment later, I ran into someone.
And BOUNCED.

I didn't see anything at first, until I looked down slightly.
Then I saw the spikey hair, the black jumpsuit with the white chest
plate, and the arrogant sneer to go with the short stature. It wasn't
as if a Saiyan warrior was hard to recognize. Particularly THIS one.

I'mgonnadieI'mgonnadieI'mgonnadie, was all I could think. I'd
just run into Vegita, Prince of the Saiyan people, villain/anti-hero
from the Japanese martial arts action-adventure cartoon Dragonball Z,
and a seriously DANGEROUS hardass.

To my surprise, he extended his hand in friendship. "Heya, Tony!
Long time no see!"

Being the elegant, suave and self-possessed person that I am,
I immediately replied, "Bwah?"

Okay, so it wasn't very classy. YOU try being classy when you're
confronted with a warrior from a warrior race, capable of destroying
an entire _planet_ when he's at the height of his powers.

It isn't easy.

"Uhh.. do I know you?" I got out.

"Vegita" slapped himself on the forehead. "ACK! I forgot. We
never met face to face, did we?" He grinned at me. "Rob Chaynie."

"Rob? ROB CHAYNIE?" I shook my head. "You.. uhh.. got a little
shorter, bud."

He laughed. "Well, everyone looks taller in a 'net chat room."
He looked me over closely. "You've _gained_ a little height, I see.
But you still look a lot like your photo. Including that scar on your
forehead."

I'd met Rob some years ago, when he'd been a furry artist. And a
damn good artist. I'd collected his works. Later, he'd been hit by a
progressive and little understood neurological disorder that had
robbed him of the fine muscle control he needed to draw. So he turned
to writing as an outlet for his creative energies. His stories "Ghoul
Days" and "Dedheads" were considered classics in their field.

"Jeeze, Rob.. you came as VEGITA?! What the hell were you
THINKING?"

"Well, I certainly wasn't thinking I'd be TURNED into a Saiyan,
Tony." He blinked and grinned. "Although I think I got the better
part of the bargain. You should see Gray."

Gray was another author I knew, who'd invented a HUGE (and slightly infamous) story concept that he'd called "The Bet". I
swallowed. "Please.. don't tell me..."

Rob nodded. "Ayup. He came as Son Goku."

I held my head and promised myself an aspirin for later. "He
didn't."

"He did," grinned Rob.

"At least tell me that you didn't come as Super-Saiyans.."

"Nope."

"Thank God for small favors," I groaned. Then my brain kicked
in. "Do you have the chi powers from the cartoon?"

"What do YOU think?" smirked Rob. He concentrated for a second,
and a aura of golden flames snapped into existence around him. It was
identical to what I'd seen in the Dragonball episodes.

"What about Gray?"

"Him too, though right now he's busy trading techniques with
someone who came as Ranma Saotome. He's swapping the Kamehameha
and the Kaio-ken for the Hiryuu shouten-ha and the Moko Takabisha."

"That's not good," I muttered.

"Could be worse."

"Just HOW could it be worse? Please tell me that."

"They're discussing it over a table full of food," he shrugged.
"You know what THAT means."

"Oh, wonderful. That's ALL we need. An Anything Goes School of
Martial Arts Eating Contest. Saotome Ranma AND Son Goku. The
restaurant will never know what hit it."

A pair of overjoyed squeals interrupted us.

"An eating contest?!" "Where?!"

Rob and I looked to one side with a certain degree of Looming
Horror. There, a Sailor Moon and a Lina Inverse stood, practically
drooling on the carpet.

"Let's go!" "In the name of the moon, I'm hungry!"

The two girls dashed away with incredible speed.

"Tony?"

"Yes?"

"I think that might have been a mistake on our part."

"Yeah."

"Should we...?"

I shook my head HARD. "Pfeh. Worry about it later. Anyway, what
I was getting at is, can you _fly_?"

For the first time he looked uncertain. "I.. don't know. I
haven't tried."

"You'd better try, and I mean NOW, Rob." My voice was harsh. I
gave him the condensed version of the same info that Officer Ross
had given me. "I'm almost GONE, buddy. I'm picking up a piece of
paper in a few minutes, then I'm in the car with a few friends and
vanishing. You should do the same, as fast as you can."

"And a flying human body wouldn't have much of a radar image,
would it?" he mused.

"Well, I wouldn't call it a HUMAN body anymore..."

"Hey!"

"Just kidding," I smirked. Then I went serious again. "Rob, you
need to get going while the going's good. It won't stay that way for
long."

"What for?" he countered, flexing a muscle and effortlessly
summoning a small ball of chi in the palm of one hand. "I could
probably take out the entire US Army by myself. The real Vegita did."

"Yup. And a whole lot of innocent bystanders at the same time."

He gave me a dirty look. "You sure know how to take all the fun
out of this, you rat."

"And you're surprised?"

"Nah," he laughed. "You always were funny that way. Say, guess
who else came?"

"Besides you and Gray?" I began to get that old familiar sinking
feeling again.

"Mage and his wife, as well as Kara and a few others."

"Did the entire damn Anime Fan Fiction Mailing List decide to
take a vacation?!" I groaned.

"Seems like it."

"Okay. Here's my room number. Meet me in one hour. I won't leave
before then, but that's all I can promise." I chewed on my mustache
(an old annoying nervous habit I really needed to break). "Rob...
trust me on this one. I have a funny feeling, and it isn't coming
from the change."

*****

I'd made it back to Mr. Winter's suite without any further
incident, and the contract was ready. I moved to sign it without
reading it, but the raven prevented me.

"I want you to understand what you're getting into, Mr. Edwards.
I've added an item that we hadn't discussed." He hopped over and
poked his beak at one page. "Paragraph 28."

I read it through and began to laugh helplessly. It was a clause
that required me to offer succor and sanctuary at the Larkspur
compound to any victim of the Xanadu Event.

"What's so hilarious?" queried Felix.

"The fact that I'd planned on helping out some other folks here
at the con with or without Eric's approval, and was busy racking my
brains to find some way to hide it from him!"

This got a laugh from both of them. When it ended, Eric gave me
a look of measured regard. "Not many people in our situation would
be worrying about what might happen to total strangers, Mr. Edwards."

"Call me Tony. And I did it for years while in the Army. Why
should I change at this late date?"

"Point," agreed the raven.

"All right, I'm about to vanish." I scribbled a number on a
notepad and handed it to Felix. "I have one of those pre-paid cell
phones. I'll leave it turned on until I reach Larkspur."

"You expect something to happen?" asked Eric.

"No, I expect EVERYTHING to happen." I looked around the room.
"Wouldn't even surprise me if Rod Serling stepped out and went into
his old routine."

Felix began to whistle the old "Twilight Zone" theme, causing
Eric and I to break up laughing. It was nervous laughter, but better
than none at all. And it shattered the tension, thank Goodness.

"I do have one more question to ask of you, Tony," Eric noted.

"Fire away."

"You seem more anxious than anyone else about the possibility
of government.. 'intervention'. Why?'

I frowned. I really hadn't wanted to get into this so early,
but I owed him. "May I borrow the laptop for a second?"

"Certainly. Felix?"

Felix turned the laptop towards me, and I quickly skipped to a
web page I knew well. "Take a look at this."

He hopped closer and examined at the picture I was pointing at.
It looked like a walking 55-gallon drum with stovepipe arms and legs,
a rounded bucket on top with eye and mouth-slits for a head."And this
is?"

"Stark's first suit. It would take me years, probably decades,
to reproduce the NTU, Eric. But THIS suit, his very first, was built
while he was a prisoner of the Chinese Communist warlord Wong Chu.
And he did it with nothing more than a second rate laboratory full of
inferior ChiCom equipment. Granted, he had the able assistance of
Professor Ho Yin-Sen, an imprisoned dissident and world famous
physicist, but still.."

Shrugging, I continued on. "The original suit was built during
the mid-1960's, you see. I admit, at the time, technology was more
advanced in the Marvel universe than it was here. And that suit is
a piece of _crap_ compared to the NTU. Its weapons are pathetic, its
power is low, and its endurance is pitiful. But I CAN build _that_
suit, and I can build it _today_. In fact, aside from some parts that
were proprietary Stark technology, I could build 90% of it from off
the shelf components. That's mostly due to the tremendous advances
made in microchip technology the past forty years. And I could have
a working prototype done in less than a year. As little as nine
months, perhaps, if the military treated it as a crash priority
project, as they did with the first atomic bomb."

Winters' head bobbed thoughtfully. "An unsettling thought.
And it could start another international arms race."

"Then you see why I'm uneasy."

"That I do. I agree, it would be to the best interests of all
concerned if you were to vanish for a time." He clacked his beak once
or twice. "I'd offer you my hand in farewell, but I seem to be a
trifle short of arms at the moment. But I do wish you good luck and
godspeed."

"Thank you, sir. And good luck to you. I don't envy you the
media hell you're about to go through. You or your friend Felix."
I turned and threw a quick salute to the cat-man. "You have my deep
respect, Mr. Hendricksen. Eric's very fortunate to have a friend
like you."

With that, I signed the contract, accepted the papers I'd need,
and took my leave.

*****

Hurrying through the main lobby on my way to my room, I ran
into Officer Ross and her young partner again. They each had an
armful of squirming, squalling child.

"What the--"

"You IDIOT! Now you got us arrested! And you STILL owe me a new
bike, Ash!" shrieked the girl.

"But MISTY--" whined the boy.

Ross flashed me a quick glance that her partner missed. "Excuse
us, Mr..?"

"Edwards, Officer. I'm sorry to be in your way."

She nodded politely. "We're looking for their parents. They're
in a little trouble, I'm afraid."

"It's not my FAULT!" sniveled the boy. "I just wanna be the
greatest Master! I gotta catch--"

"Say it again and I'll wash your mouth out with soap, brat!"
snarled Ross's thoroughly frazzled partner.

"But--"

"NOT ANOTHER WORD!" he glared. "God, I hate that game."

Ross nodded. "These two tried to hold a 'match' in the parking
lot, sir. I'm afraid that a few cars were damaged. You might want to
check to see if your car is safe." She flashed me a quick wink.

"Thank you. Officer. I'll do that right now." I turned to head
for the parking lot for a quick inspection, leaving just as the boy
whimpered "..but I just wanna be the greatest.."

Working Pokeballs. I wanted to pound my head on a wall. Well,
the holidays would never be the same again. I knew EXACTLY what kids
would demand for Christmas.

(Mommy! Daddy! I wanna Pikachu! I wanna Pikachu! NOW!)

God help us all.

*****

"ROAD TR-IIIIIP!"

- Any college student, any college, when Spring Break starts.

Ross hadn't been kidding about the cars. Several had their paint
burnt off, and one poor SUV was now a metal pancake. From the ripples
in the metal, I guessed it had been flattened by an Onyx.

I didn't even want to THINK about how the owners would try to
explain this one to their insurance agent.

(Dammit, I'm telling you the TRUTH! It was crushed by a giant
snake made of stone!)

Yeah, THAT would be fun. Not.

But my battered old Merc was unharmed, as was GAH's equally
shabby pickup/camper combination. Our luck was still holding. Now,
all we had to do was get the hell OUT of here.

I hustled back into the hotel, heading for my room. As I did, I
noticed someone else quietly leaving. His thick red hair had an ashen
streak running down the center. It rang alarm bells deep inside my mind
and when I placed the face, I suddenly realized that it wasn't just the
good guys who'd started to jump ship.

That thought unsettled me. But I told myself to deal with it
later.

When I got to my room, there was a surprise waiting for me. Rob
was there, as was Gray. That Gray had brought along "Ranma Saotome"
wasn't TOO surprising.. but that he'd brought along a PAIR of Ranma's
was. One of each gender, to boot. And that wasn't the least of it.
There was a small crowd in the hallway clustered around the door to my
room. At least half a dozen people in addition to the ones I knew.

GAH, Dominique, Marvel and the others were looking curiously
at the newcomers, while I was beginning to get another headache.
At this rate, I was going to single-handedly improve Bayer's profit
and loss statement for the year.

"Uhh.. I suppose you're wondering why I called you all here
tonight?" I joked, trying to lighten the mood. Then opening the door,
I started waving everyone into the room.

We all found seats on chairs, bed or table and I passed around
some glasses of ice water. Turning to Rob, I got things started.

"Okay, Kenk, who's who and what's what? Am I gonna need a score
card?"

"Well, you already know Gray," he nodded towards the tall Saiyan
who was doing his level best to drink six thick milk-shakes at the same
time. "The tall and rather grumpy blond here is Andrew Morris, and the
lovely red-head is his wife Kimiko. You know them both from the #ffirc
chatroom on IRC."

Kimiko was muttering something about how her family would NEVER
recognize her now, and what had she done to offend the gods so? I
could relate. Drew had told me his wife was ethnic Japanese. Now she
looked positively Celtic.

I looked at the next two, short, furry, and just SO darn cute they
could give you cavities just from looking. Cabbits from Tenchi Muyo in
the semi-humanoid form they could assume, looking like two adorable, if
slightly fuzzy, children. "June?"

"Miya! Grrr.. MIYA! Miya miya miYA!"

Thinking quickly, I tossed her one of the courtesy notepads from
beside the hotel phone, along with a pen. Her face lit up, and she
began to scribble quickly.

[It's me, Tony! And that's my brother, Tom. But we can't seem to
say anything but miya!]

"Oh, bother." I shook my head. "Well, it could be worse, June.
You probably don't have your diabetes anymore. I know my arthritis is
gone."

That caused her face to light up. [You think so?]

"I don't have proof, but from what my friends and I have seen,
yeah, I think so. There seems to be a pattern to it." I jerked a thumb
in Gray's direction. He was still wrapping himself around his six
milkshakes with a single-minded determination that verged on the awe-
inspiring. "Didn't he used to be lactose-intolerant?" Then I slapped
my forehead. "Oh! Damn, I'm sorry. Introductions all around, right?"

I introduced GAH, Dominique, Hypnotica and Captain Marvel to the
others, noting to June that Cap also had a physical problem vanish,
though I didn't specify. (It was his life, and his privacy. I
respected that.)

"Ahem!"

"Oh, yeah. I'd also like to introduce the Brain and his friend
Pinky."

"About time," huffed the indignant mouse. "I was beginning to feel
rather short with you."

The still a little out-of-it Kimiko murmured something in Japanese
that made Drew laugh and the Brain 'humph' irritably.

"What'd she say?"

Andrew sniggered. "That given his height, he probably feels pretty
short with _everybody_."

"Hey, don't tease, Drew. We're all in the same lifeboat here." I
chewed on my mustache again. (I REALLY needed to break that habit.)
"Who's the guy with his hands over his ears?"

"It's Bob Doors, you know, DA? He's still having a little trouble
with the new ears."

I ouched in sympathy, and grabbed my shaving kit. Rummaging around
inside it, I pulled out a small plastic pill-bottle with an attatched
chain. "Ah! I knew I still had these!"

Drew grinned as he recognized the black-painted bottle. "Still got
the service-issue earplugs, eh?"

I tossed them to Drew as an answer. "Give 'em to DA. They might
help."

Bob Doors was someone else I knew from IRC chat and the anime fan
fiction mailing list. He'd been born deaf and it was easy to see that
he was finding his rudely swift introduction to the world of sound
painful, to say the least. As Drew helped him with the plugs, I could
see the tension ease from him.

"Who'd he come as?"

"Tenchi, from _Tenchi Muyo_," replied Rob.

"Oh, joy. And these two?" I nodded towards the Saotome twins.

The pair bowed. "Watashi wa Saotome Ranma desu," said the boy.
"Watashi wa Saotome Ranko desu," added the girl.

"Oy vay iz mir," I groaned. "Another two stuck in character? Can't
they speak English at all?"

"Just what little you'd expect from a class in high school
English," replied Kimiko. "But I can translate for them."

"Thank you, dear lady. Nice jumpsuit, by the way. Black leather
becomes you." She blushed, and Drew growled slightly. I frowned back
at him. "Who'd you two come as?"

"Can't you guess?" he smirked. Then he reached behind his back and
hauled out a metal shield that nearly any Westerner born since World War
II would automatically recognize.

"Jesus X. Bushmaster! You came as Captain America?"

"And Kim-chan as the Black Widow. Got a problem with that?"

"Only with the fact that you're gonna have the same recognition
level as a bottle of Coke, Drew." I shook my head. "Deal with it
later. And the little girl?"

To my surprise, both Drew and Kim suddenly looked nervous.
Something I'd never known either of them to be. If fact, if ANY words
could describe Andrew Morris, they would be blunt ones.

"Okay, you're thinking about hiding something. Fork it over," I
told them.

"Ahh.. yeah. Kim-chan?" This got him an elbow to the gut, and
a sotto-voice comment in Japanese that had the Saotome twins laughing.
(I later found out she'd told him to suck it up and take his lumps
like a man among men.)

"Look, can't it wait until later, Tony? We really should be
thinking about getting OUT of here if the situation's as grim as
you're painting it."

I wanted to grind my teeth, but he was right. Worse yet, with
this many people we lacked enough transportation. "Not enough cars,
and I have the funny feeling that the airport might just object
to some of us. We're not exactly Joe Average any more."

"That's true, but some of us can still pass," pointed out
Dominique. "All Mr. Morris and his wife need are a change of clothing,
and if we can do something about their hair, the same is true of
Rob and Gray."

Hypnotica (I discovered her real name was Ria Forester) grinned.
"I have an idea. A couple of them, actually. And I think they just
might work."

*****

I didn't believe it would work, but Ria was right. I'd used my
credit card in the hotel's ATM machine for some ready cash and we'd
crept quietly to our vehicles.

Ross wasn't on duty (she was exhausted, the idiot in charge of
her precinct had tried to keep her going til she dropped). So the
escape itself was laughably easy. We were approached by a pair of
local officers who tried to politely turn us back to the hotel.

A moment later, they were commenting on how nice the weather was,
and escorting us out to the parking lot. Then they forgot they'd ever
seen us.

"These aren't the 'droids you're looking for." Heh.

It was tight. Damned near impossible. If it weren't for the
fact that June and her brother were now cabbits, it would have been
impossible. Fortunately, with a great deal of concentration, they
were both able to reduce themselves to the cat/rabbit base form that
was now a part of them. Considerably smaller, they fit nicely in the
space just below my rear windshield.

Brain and Pinky grabbed the glove compartment for themselves,
while Gray, Bob, and Rob took the backseat. Ria took the passenger seat
next to me.

GAH and Dominique took the front seat of his old pickup while the
othes piled into the camper along with Dominique's python.

About fifteen minutes later, we'd arrived at an 24 hour drug
store. Ria and I went in, and came right back out with a pair of two
pound tubs of "Dippity-Doo!" and some combs.

I still remembered Dippity-Doo from my childhood.. my mother
loved it. It was a thick, gooey hair gel that you had to experience
to believe. It had the same holding power as a tube of super-glue.

It took the sacrifice of both combs and the use of half a tub a
piece, but when we were done, the newly Saiyan hairdos that Rob and
Gray sported were lying down in a semi-normal fashion.

A rather quiet Goodwill store got Andrew, Rob, Gray and myself
clothing that was a little closer to our new sizes and didn't deflate
our wallets entirely. We raided the children's section to get some
that would fit June and her brother.

That helped a lot. GAH still fit his own clothing, as did Ria,
Bob, Dominique, and young Billy. A pair of inexpensive sunglasses hid
Dominique's new eyes, but there wasn't much we could do for the scales.
She decided to pass it off as an exotic skin condition.

When you think about it, isn't that exactly what it was?

Thirty minutes later, we were at the bus station. Funny that
it hadn't occurred to me, but Greyhound had NO security checks. None.
Ria pointed that out, as well as the fact that you didn't need to
present any ID at all to buy a bus ticket. When she said THAT, I felt
about as smart as a garden slug. Even Brain looked astonished. We'd
all missed the totally obvious.

The stupidity wasn't entirely on our side, however. The police
hadn't considered the bus station either. The only security there was
a single Greyhound rent-a-cop whose sole purpose was to keep the peace.

We just walked right up and got bus tickets for nearly everyone.
Rob decided to head to Arizona with Gray, and the Saotome twins wanted
to tag along. Arizona was full of nice empty deserts and a number of
abandoned ghost towns from the days of the Old West. Rob pointed out
that it would be the perfect place to practice all-out martial arts
techniques, as well as experimenting with chi blasts.

"After all, if we blow up a few square miles of desert, who's
gonna care?" he commented cheerfully.

"The US Air Force, if you're not careful," I retorted, but he had
a valid point.

Needless to say, after Gray had explained things to "Ranma" and
"Ranko" in his fractured Japanese, they were all for it. You could see
them drooling at the thought of learning new attacks and new uses for
chi.

Rumiko Takahashi would have a LOT to be held accountable for in
the weeks to come.

Drew and his wife decided to return to California in the hopes of
retrieving their most personal belongings before heading to Colorado.
Andrew had heard my plans and the description of the old campus, and
thought it would be an excellent place to raise a child. (Though the
paranoid old bugger STILL wouldn't tell me who the child they'd found
was. "Need to know basis, old buddy," he said. It made me want to brain
him with a lamp.)

Bob went with them. His mother apparently lived in Phoenix, and
he wanted to visit her first, in case he had to vanish in a more long
term way. Also, Drew planned on working with him, and maybe learning a
little American Sign Language along the way. Pen and paper could take
you only so far, and the communication gap was annoying on both sides.

After we saw them on their way, Hero and I loaded everyone else
up in the cars, heading for Interstate 10 and as far away from Orlando
as fast as we could drive.

*****

We'd taken the state highway 408 that connected Orlando to I-75
when I noticed Ria giving me odd looks. She brushed her hair (that
couldn't seem to make up its mind what color it wanted to be) out of
her eyes, cocking her head in my direction.

"Mind if I ask a question or two?"

"Fire away," I told her, concentrating on the road.

"What have you got against magic?"

The question, coming from left field the way it did, almost blew
me away. I didn't know what to say. Or even if I should say anything
at all.

She waited patiently while I considered the question for a mile
or three. I sighed, and decided that when in doubt, honesty wasn't
THAT bad a choice.

"Whatever the hell happened to us wasn't my _first_ run-in with
it, Ria. I _HATE_ magic. And I promised myself a long, long time ago
that I wasn't going to be sucked back in to a world of bibbity-
bobbity-boo shit."

I could hear the rising fury in my voice and throttled it back,
HARD. I had no right to vomit my personal rage on her, or anyone else
for that matter.

"'Once burned, twice shy'?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "Something like that. Everybody's got a
story, Ria. Mine's just a little weirder than the usual."

She nodded slowly. "I see. And a woman was involved."

I whipped my head around, and damn near ran us off the road as
my hands jerked spastically on the wheel. Everybody clutched their
seats and squawked loudly. I yanked the wheel back around and got us
in the right lane again. "How the FUCK do you know that?" I hissed at
her.

She released her deathgrip on the arm rest. "Maybe that wasn't
the best idea I've every had. Personal note... psychoanalysis is best
done when one is NOT traveling at sixty-five miles per hour."

"You're a _shrink_?!" My tone made the word sound like an
obscenity.

"I prefer the term 'licenced therapist', actually," she replied
dryly. "Care to talk about it?"

"No."

"Come now, it can't hurt to-"

I cut her off right there. "It can't hurt? How many deaths do YOU
have on your hands, Doctor?"

"Deaths?! What? I-"

"When you can count your own dead in the dozens, Ms. Forrest, feel
free to shrink my head for me. Until then, kindly stay out of my mind."
I turned my eyes to the long black ribbon in front of me and pointedly
ignored her presence in the next seat. My jaw was so tightly clenched,
my teeth ached.

I could feel Brain looking at me curiously, but thankfully he held
his tongue. We'd grabbed some doll-house furniture while we were at the
Goodwill's, along with a hot glue gun. I'd merely cleaned out the glove
compartment and hot-glued a pair of doll-sized armchairs inside of it,
giving the pair of genengineered mice a reasonably safe and comfortable
place to sit.

"Narf! Are you upset, Mr. Tony?"

It figured. I wanted to beat my head on the steering wheel.

"Welcome to my world," murmured Brain quietly.

I drove on, gradually calming down. Then a thought occured and I
glanced over at Brain. "Have you chosen a new name for yourself yet?"

The mouse raised an eyebrow. "I was considering Mr. The Brain, but
it lacks a certain something. Besides, it's been done to death, as I
recall. So I believe I will go with Theodore Edward Brain."

"Teddy Brain?" I blinked.

"I prefer Theo, myself."

"Theo Brain.. The O' Brain," I winced. "You've got a wicked sense
of humor, my friend."

"I like to think so," he grinned.

His smile helped, but I was still angry at Ria for reminding me
of what might have been. Maybe that's why my hand fumbled, reaching
for a tape to put in the stereo, grabbing the worst possible choice.
Emmylou Harris' smooth, sad voice filled the car with "1917".

~The strange young man who comes to me
~A soldier on a three day spree
~Who needs one night's cheap ecstasy
~And a woman's arms to hide him
~He greets me with a courtly bow
~And hides his pain by acting proud
~He drinks too much and he laughs too loud
~How can I deny him?

~Old world glory, old world fame
~The old world's gone, gone up in flames
~Nothing will ever be the same
~And nothing lasts forever.

I ripped the tape from the player, throwing it out the window.

Pinky's voice somehow surprised me when he spoke again. "Why are
you crying, Mr. Tony?" Odd, how gentle he sounded.

"Just have a speck in my eye, Pinky. That's all."

Strange how old wounds can bleed as brightly as new ones.

And nothing lasts forever.

*****

The Merc was deathly quiet for some time after that. We cruised
up I-75 until we reached Lake City and the intersection of I-75 and
I-10. Turning east, we headed for the Alabama border. The silence was
beginning to prey on us all, and this time I put the radio on.

By the time we reached Chattahoochee, the first news reports were
begining to hit the air. I'd been right in what I thought when I'd seen
Jason Blood slipping out of the hotel. The villains, or at least those
who were lost in the character of the villains they'd came as, had
begun bailing out long before I'd even thought of the idea.

The first news - or at least the first _we_ heard - was about a
bank robbery in Tampa, with a take of just under a million dollars.

What confused everyone was that the two thieves, both women, had
actually POSED in front of the security cameras and given their names.
The police thought it was just a feeble attempt to throw false clues
into the investigation. But when we heard the names, we knew better.
With the names they gave, I didn't even need to know that they were
wearing costumes. Hell, everyone in the car, aside from Billy and the
mice, knew them.

"When the reporters ask you all what happened," the blond with
the twin pony-tails had instructed one of the tellers, "Tell them
Harlene Quinzelle and Pamela Isley robbed this bank. And that they'll
NEVER be able to catch us!" Then the chestnut redhead threw down a
bag full of a fine powder that had everyone in the bank unconscious
in seconds. When they came to moments later, the pair had vanished.

June tapped the back of my seat and passed a note forward to me.
[Harlequin and Poison Ivy, right?]

I nodded. "From the descriptions, I'd say they came as the pair
from 'Batman: The Animated Series'. If memory serves, in the cartoon
version, they happened to meet and become sisters in crime, because
they were both equally pissed at finding male chauvinism at work in
the criminal world, too. The cartoon Ivy had greenish skin and the
reporter did mention something about the redhead wearing what he
thought was some sort of body makeup."

[Looks like maybe you're going to get a chance to be a real
hero after all, Tony.]

"No," I snapped. Then immediately regretted it as June looked
hurt. "I'm sorry, June. I'm just not going back. I have a second chance
now, a chance to make a PEACEFUL difference in the world. And I don't
want to lose it."

Billy, who'd been mostly quiet all these miles, spoke up then.
"But I will. I've got a second chance too. And this is what I was
_meant_ to do. I know. I can feel it. Captain Marvel WILL make a
difference in the world."

I grinned crookedly. "I envy you that faith, Billy. Never had that
much of it myself."

"It's become a new world, sir. Perhaps we've all gotten a second
chance." His face took on a thoughtful cast. "Even if we don't have to
deal with metahuman criminals, there are many powerful dangerous types
who haven't any powers, and don't really need any."

"Uhm," I grunted. "Well, we can't change the world, but you're
right. Just because we can't, doesn't mean we shouldn't try."

"And we can change our own small corners of it," pointed out
Brain. "The lad is right. The world's about to experience a new dawn.
And I, for one, am grateful to be here to see it happen."

*****

We pulled over at a truck stop in Alabama, just short of Mobile.
I suppose we all felt a little safer having crossed a state line. It
would mean, at the very least, that if we were arrested, we'd have the
right to an extradition hearing.

Not that it would help much, but even the smallest advantage is
not to be scorned.

The truckers were discussing the news about Xanadu, with those
from Florida standing up for the news and others holding out that it
was just another damn fool publicity stunt of some sort.

Hero (who'd taken off his super suit before we'd left) and I
ordered some takeout so that the others could eat inside of his
camper. We took the opportunity to have a cup of coffee while we
waited for the food, and watched the television hanging over the
counter from our booth.

The news stations were showing the convention center and this
morning's arrival of doctors, scientists, and a number of anonymous
'goverment experts' who refused to be interviewed. Looking at their
black suits and generic appearance, I frowned. "Looks like we got out
just in time," I muttered.

"Anyone ever tell you that you're just a tad paranoid?" Hero
asked with a grin.

"I could write a book," I replied prophetically. "So what are
_your_ plans, once you reach California?"

He looked thoughtful. "Well, I have to admit you're probably
right about our lives. Won't surprise me in the least to find a horde
of reporters camped out on my doorstep in hopes of an interview." He
toyed with his coffee mug. "I don't think it's as black as you do;
I don't really expect to wake up some morning to find secret agents
kicking in my door, ordering me to become some sort of superhuman
enforcer for Washington. But..."

"But?" I prompted.

He took a long pull from his cup. "But I've been wrong before."

"I know the feeling," I sighed. "So, any plans yet?"

"I've got a friend who lives in a remote desert town. Perfection,
Nevada. If things get a little too crazy, I'll stay with him for a
while." He grinned at me. "Bert's a survivalist. If the reporters annoy
him _too_ much, they'll end up as next day's dinner."

"Ewwww. Thanks a LOT. Just what I needed to hear before a meal,"
I grimaced. "Well, if you need any help, remember I promised Eric I'd
be there for anyone who needs it."

"Thanks," he smiled. "So, how do we do this? Follow Interstate 10
to El Paso, and go our seperate ways from there?"

"Sounds like a plan. Dominique will need a way to get home from
Baton Rouge, though. Unless we swing off the highway for a bit to take
her home," I pointed out. "It's not like she can take a bus, what with
the snake."

"If we're not in a hurry, that's not a problem for me. I'm
carrying my home on the back of my truck, so to speak," Hero replied.

"Then it's a deal." Then the food arrived and we paid up, finished
our coffee, and left.

*****

Turned out that many of the smaller, "unimportant" characteristics
tended to creep over into our personalities more easily than the more
blatant ones could. Cabbits LOVE carrots, and June and her brother tore
into their carrot salads like a pair of furry shredding machines. June
even had the audacity to wonder if I couldn't have gotten her some
chocolate-coated carrots so that she might indulge BOTH of her favorite
tastes at once.

Her brother just sighed and held up a note... [She's hopeless.]

I swallowed a bite of chicken salad sandwich and grinned. "Hey,
she's YOUR sister, kiddo. Don't drag me into it."

[No fair! You're ganging up on me!]

"So what else is new? That's part of what being a younger brother
is all about, Tom. Getting picked on by his elders."

He pouted, and gnawed on a carrot stick while June and I laughed.

Dominique giggled as she kept a watchful eye on her python, who
was nosing around a few burrows in the ground of the rest stop we were
at. We'd pulled over to have a sit-down meal, having changed our minds
about eating inside the camper. It was simply too cramped.

Sssaaahh was idly teasing the small rodent now cowering deep
within the hole. He didn't seem to have any real intention of
snacking on it, he'd simply classified it as "edible, rodent, one
each", and took a predator's simple pleasure in stalking it.

Listening to the radio while we ate was ... educational. By now
various religious groups had joined in to add their view to the
rapidly growing situation. Some hailed it as a sign of the Second
Coming, others denounced it as a sign of Satan. Televangelists were
ranting and raving (not that this was anything unusual), reporters
were flocking, goverment officials were busy "No comment!"-ing...
in short, they were pretty much behaving like any group of highly
confused and utterly clueless human beings in a state of semi-panic.

Oddly enough, it rather reinforced my (cynical) faith in human
nature. Heh.

Corporations were weighing in, too. DC Comics read a prepared
statement that, when stripped of the legal-ese, was nothing more
than "We don't know WHAT the hell is going on down there, but if
anyone's wearing a costume that WE own the copyrights to, they'd
better be ready to be sued for every penny they've ever earned, or
ever will!"

Marvel Comics, on the other hand, seemed split. The corporation
that owned it was busy issuing threats, but Stan "The Man" Lee, the
founder of Marvel, said during an interview that if the rumors of
REAL superheros coming to life down in Florida was true, he didn't
give a damn about trademarks or copyrights. Sadly, though Stan Lee
had founded Marvel, he didn't own it any more, and the holding
corporation that did was trying to quash his statements with all the
legal force it could muster.

Stan's statement when told that? "Bring it on, boys!"

Heh. Gotta love the man.

Paramount Studios was taking a neutral line. When their spokesman
was asked to comment on the rumors that their star, Michael Dorn, had
been transformed into a _real_ Klingon, they refused to comment. When
asked about the large number of what appeared to be real Klingons in
the Xanadu convention center, they refused to comment. In fact, they
refused to comment, period. With one exception.

When one extremely persistant reporter tried to bully an answer,
ANY answer, out of the Paramount representative, the spokesman glared
at the member of the Fourth Estate, and snapped, "We've had ENOUGH
trouble from irate Star Trek fans, and we don't intend to do ANYTHING
until we know exactly what's going on down there."

Maybe they'd finally learned a lesson in Hollywood.

Naaaah.

Larry Flynt and Hugh Hefner had both been spotted in Orlando as
well. Rumor had it that they planned on offering appearance contracts to
some of the people who'd attended the Adults Only, 18 and above costume
contests. June looked a little disgusted when she heard the reporter
mention that. She was a Witness, and while I wouldn't exactly call her
a prude, she had strong feelings about some of the more extreme costumes
we'd seen. And she hit me over the head with a carrot when I simply
shrugged at the report.

"June, people will be people. The world's oldest profession is
just that, and Soddom had it's reputation for a reason." I quirked an
eyebrow at my friend of so many years. "People are going to indulge in
their sexual kinks no matter WHAT roadblocks the world throws in their
way, and this just...well, it just ups the ante a little."

She bapped me again with the carrot stick, pouting.

"An... interesting outlook, Mr. Edwards." Ria had set down her
sandwich and was looking at me in the oddest fashion.

"I said I didn't want to have my head shrunk," I growled. "And I
meant it. Stay OUT of my head."

The therapist shrank back from the anger in my voice, as did June
and her brother. I hadn't meant to scare _them_, and now I felt pretty
damn small.

"I'm sorry, June." I took a couple of long, slow breaths. "It's
just..." I made small circles in the air with one hand, unable to
articulate what I felt. I turned towards Ms. Forrest. "And I'm sorry
to have snapped at you. It was.. uncalled for."

Ria nodded. "Force of habit on my part. I've spent a lifetime
observing human behavior. What the alterations Xanadu has wrought will
do to the human psyche..." She shook her head. "I could spend a lifetime
merely _recording_ them, let alone analyzing them. The professional
temptation.."

Now THAT I could understand, and even relate to. A small chuckle
escaped me. "Been there, done that, Ms. Forrest. I've spent an entire
lifetime studying the future of warfare. Now I _AM_ the future of
warfare."

Hero, whose name turned out to be Steve Nichols, nodded. "No
matter how hard we try, this is going to change the world. The simple
fact that magic is real, and not a delusion is more than enough to
rock the world's foundations, you know."

He pointed at Billy, who was playing a game of catch with Pinky.
(Using a VERY small ball) "After all, HIS powers are _entirely_
magical. Straight from the gods and heros of legend and myth, you
know."

I chewed on my mustache. "I'd been trying NOT to think about
that, thank you. Thinking about it leads me to conclusions I'd
rather not confront right now."

Ria looked nervous. "That they might be real, you mean?"

I shrugged. "SOMETHING did this to us, you know. Or someone.
Unless of course, I'm merely drugged out of my mind in a hospital
bed somewhere after a tramatic car accident, hallucinating all of
this and all of you."

That made her smile. "Solpsism. Of course, in that case, you're
not dreaming me, I'm dreaming you."

We all laughed and the tension eased. Finishing our meal, Steve
and I piled into the back of his camper to get some rest while Ria and
Dominique took their turn driving for a few hours.

Meanwhile, though I didn't learn of it for quite some time, Officer
Ross was having a few adventures of her own. Adventures that would land
her right on my doorstep, eventually.

*****

Ross's captain was NOT having a good day. There were werewolves
on the damn streets of his town, for Christ's sake! What was he supposed
to do, get Animal Control some silver bullets?

And now he was being harrassed by a group of lawyers for the ACLU.
That bunch of bleeding heart liberals (as he thought of them in the
privacy of his own mind) was complaining about how some of the Xanadu
"victims" were being treated.

Victims?! HAH! Some crazy woman had tried to destroy DISNEYLAND,
damnit! Did that sound like a _victim_? He resisted the urge to tear at
his hair and stomped over to his office door. Yanking it open, he yelled
for Ross and her partner.

"ROSS! OLSEN! Get your asses IN here NOW!"

He glared at the two as they stood before his desk. "We got some
nutter from Xanadu trying to rob fast food joints downtown. I want the
two of you to pick him up and throw him in a cell so hard he BOUNCES,
you got that?!"

"Are you sure he's from Xanadu, Captain?" asked Ross

"He just stuck up a Burger King with a mustard gun, Ross," snapped
her irate superior. "That doesn't sound like the run-of-the-mill robber
to me. Or maybe YOU don't find that unusual?" he added with thick
sarcasm.

"A mustard gun?! You've got to be--" Captain Convy glared at the
younger officer, who immediately shut up.

Olsen, the captain thought resentfully. Jimmy Olsen. What kind of
fool name was that for a cop? Would have served _him_ right to get
caught up in this Xanadu mess. Then he noticed the thoughtful expression
on Ross's face, and sighed.

"You know this one?" he groaned.

"Maybe," she replied. "It sounds like the Condiment King. He's from
an episode of--"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Not important. Just get
out there and bring him in. Today. NOW."

"Yessir!"

The two scurried out of his office to escape his glare. Convy
returned to his desk and carefully opened a bottle of Pepto Bismol.
Looking at the pink liquid balefully, he reluctantly drank a large
mouthful of it. Sighing with relief as it reached his stomache, he
shook his head and reached for another report.

"Why me?"

*****

"Why me?"

Ross fought off the urge to mallet her partner flat. Besides,
where would I find a mallet this time of day?, she asked herself.
Shaking her head, she made a mental note to watch fewer Japanese
cartoons.

"Don't be stupid, Jimmy. We signed up to serve and protect. NOT
just when it's convienient for us."

"Yeah, but--" whined the younger man.

"You whine one more time, kid, and I'll reach down your throat and
remove your tonsils for you. Bare-handed, got that?"

Olsen gave her a resentful look, but kept his mouth shut as
requested.

Getting in to the patrol car, she tapped a foot thoughtfully.
"Now, if I were convinced that I was a villain from a Batman comic,
where would I strike next... Hmm... Jimmy? Hand me that list of
places he's hit."

She ran her finger down the list, noting they were, without
exception, fast food franchises. "What, no elegant restaurants?"
she muttered. "Something's not right here."

"What do you mean?" Olsen asked.

A thought struck her, and she grinned evilly. "Jimmy, get us to
Chez Menu. NOW."

The rookie shrugged, and pulled out of the lot, tires squealing
slightly. "Chez Menu, coming up. But why _there_?"

Ross grinned. "Trust me on this one. I have a feeling."

*****

Two hours later, a triumphant Ross and Olsen were delivering a
cowed and cuffed "Condiment King" to the desk sergeant for booking.

"Howd'ya figger this one, Ross?" Sgt. Helman was desperately trying
to keep a straight face as he looked over the "weapons" the suspect had
carried. It was hard to take high-pressure squirt guns filled with
catsup and mustard very seriously.

"Easy," she shrugged. "He thinks he's the Condiment King. A former
comedian, before he turned to crime. And I KNEW that a stand-up comic
couldn't pass up the chance to try to rob a place called Chez Menu." She
repeated the name, using the French pronunciation and slurring the words
together. "Shay men you."

Helman groaned. "Shame on you? That's _terrible_. We oughta put
him on bread and water for that one. And you too."

"Try it, and I'll tell your wife about your little visits to
Krispy Kreme, Helman. She'll LOVE to know you've been cheating on the
diet she put you on."

The hefty desk sergeant blanched. "You fight _dirty_, Ross."

She snickered. "Learned it from the best."

"Yeah. Oh, you gotta fill out some more crap after you finish
with nut-boy here." Helman handed her a sheaf of paper. "Seems the Feds
want a word or two with you. Something about one of the folks who helped
you bust the Ass Master. They wanna interview him, and he went and
vanished on them."

She looked up from the papers, an icy cold tremor working its way
down her back. "Oh?" she replied calmly. "Who?"

"Steel Guy, or Tin Man, or something like that. I forget. Anyway
you're supposed to add 'your personal impressions' of him to the
arrest report and I gotta turn a copy of it over to the Captain, who's
gonna give it to the Feds. Could'ya get it done today?" Helman's face
crinkled up in an aggrieved frown. "I know yer almost off-shift, but the
friggin' suits from Washington want it yesterday, ya know?"

She nodded, keeping her expression carefully neutral. "Got it.
I'll get it to you ASAP."

"Thanks," Helman said gratefully. "Them suits is a pain, ya know?"

"Oh, yeah, Sarge.. I know. I know."

"Then they wanna talk to ya, personal like. The Captain sez he'll
cut you some time off duty for an interview tomorrow. They wanna spend
most'a the day goin' over your report with you fer some reason."

She nodded. "I'll be back with the papers in an hour, Helman,
maybe two. I'll grab you a doughnut on the way back." She turned and
walked out.

Three hours later, Officer Ross was nowhere to be found.
Unnoticed, a woman who bore only a passing resemblance to her was
busy driving north on Highway 95 to a safe house in Jacksonville,
Florida.

*****

We'd reached Baton Rouge, and started the swing off the highway
to take Dominique home to her family. She was part of a HUGE damn
Cajun French clan that lived in the bayous and made their money
fishing, hunting, and selling natural gas from a deposit that just
happened to be right under the swamp they owned.

And to think they'd bought it cheap because it was 'worthless'.
Heheh.

I was still worried about how her family would react to the
changes. Particularly to her eyes and skin, but the fact that she was
coming home with one BIG damn snake also concerned me. Someone might
panic and shoot first, appologize later. And that would get nasty.

But Dominique had taken a few moments at the last rest stop we'd
pulled over at - hey, we might not be entirely human any more, but
nature STILL called, you know! - and hit a pay phone, calling her folks.
We gave her some privacy, of course.

When she'd finished the call, she came back grinning and wouldn't
say a word, except that Sssaaahh wouldn't be a problem. Not at all.

I _really_ hate it when people do that to me.

Captain's Tale

2009-09-03T02:11:58Z

75.41.112.111:

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Mental_change]] {{universe|Xanadu}} [[Category:Magic]] [[Category: Alien]] [[Category:Xanadu]]

I had talked Kimiko into attending a con with me, and pointed out we
might even win some money for our costumes. She did agree, but
disagreed with my choices. I suggested a theme. We'd flip to see if
we did my theme, or if we did hers. I really hoped I won. After
all, Leon while cool, and had nice shades, had spent WAY too much
time in the hospital. Reminded me too much of my past. No matter
what, I had planned to blow my entire signing bonus with AMD away on
this con. First class all the way. Who knew that AMD really wanted
a Asian studies/comp sci double major, for liaison and duties in the
main office, and would pay very nicely for it, and then when they
found out about my history knowledge and military career, they
literally offered me a very nice deal, I was amused, but not a fool.
Here I was planning to use any means to get hired by them, and
they're begging me, and throwing money at me. My only non negotiable
deal was a 2 week vacation around the Con time. They, to my
surprise, looked at their planned schedule, and said that would
actually be the best time for 6 months, and that they'd be happy to
do it. After all, I later found out, they had expected me to ask for
at LEAST 50% more signing bonus, bigger stock options, and a bigger
base paycheck. Kimiko had hit me with her bokken when she figured
it out. I shrugged and pointed out, that I didn't know about their
new contract with the JSDF and Mitusubi. I was beyond perfect for
it. Ooops, Live and learn, I guess.

Anyways, with 100,000 dollars, and after Kimiko accepted I wanted
to live it up for ONCE, she agreed to let me spend 20,000 of it for
the vacation, the rest went into a Treasury bond, so we could begin
to build up money.

Anyways, while she was on summer break, we had our coin flip. I won.
Thank god. Kimiko's normally quite sane, and respectable, and normal.
But, give her a chance to let her otaku side out... and, well...
Like I said, Leon's nice, and all that, but... still.

So, the coin toss lead to a fun argument. We ended up agreeing
that I would be Captain America, and her the Black widow. We'd use
wash out dye in our hair, and pay to have professional costumes
made. Kimiko actually was excited about this, even though she still
twitted me about MY otauku behavior. My usual reply was to ask where
my life sized Saber Blue Plushy was.

Since Kimiko was a intern, her hospital agreed to give her a week
off. I figured, after the Con, we'd spend some enjoyable days at the
parks in the area, maybe a day sail or two. Possibly visit
Grandfather in New orleans. Whatever.

I went to pick up the costumes, a day before we'd fly out there.
I had left Emails for my friends from FFIRC, and #abyss to meet after
the awards, and look for a matching role, that I'd fit. Did warn
them about the dye job. Said I'd be holding down the bar. Wonder
if any of them would guess, that in a way, I missed the innocence
that Captain America had, and wish that I had what he did? Nah.
They all thought of me as a cynical old grunt. Never would it occur
to them, on first sight, that I still had a part of me, wanting
to be a true hero, a person who always fought the good fight, and had
faith in his own government. Still, they did look VERY nice,
considering what I was paying for them, they dammed well better,
I had thought. I had suggested to Kimiko that we'd wear them under
our street clothing, to get a feel for the "roles" because while I
had no real expectations of winning best costume, I thought we'd have
a good shot at winning best acting, or at least a honorable mention.
She shook her head, but agreed. I drove to San Jose General, and
picked her up as her last 24 hour shift ended, and we'd go straight
to the airport.

As I parked the car, I noted her drifting off already. I was
glad the Untied flight was a straight though. While it'd be no
smoking, she'd at least get a solid 6 hours sleep. One of the reasons
why I was leery of going to the grandparents, was they'd start on
"When will you start your own family, Drew?" stuff. Didn't they
realize that Kimiko still had a year or more of internship left,
followed by residency? I know they knew that, but not what it meant.
She wanted to be a Pediatric expert, with a side of surgery in that
field. That required serious post schooling time, and not a lot of
time to start a family. She had begged off from her own parents,
for a while, getting them to accept til she was within the end of her
residency, but my folks, but my mom, who had a better clue, were not
as... accepting. They wanted Great grand babies running around.
I always dreaded their calls. Didn't help that they loved her hobby
of matchmaking for her and my friends, a hobby she was hoping to
pursue at the con, with a few hapless males. I gently shook her
awake, until she responded, and she slowly walked to the terminal
doors, with her passport in hand, while I got our luggage, and
laptops. Not that I expected her to use hers on the plane.

We finally boarded the plane, and even before the door had closed,
she had gone to sleep. I gently smiled, and set up my laptop with
headphones, to watch a movie, while she slept the way there.

Getting to the Con from the airport in Orlando was a fun time.
Seemed like about 3 dozen cabs alone were doing round about shuttles.
Seems like ANYONE who wanted to attend any type of "convention"
of a comic, anime, or sci fi type was going to this one, since Mr.
Winters was in essence throwing a free one, and even had the biggest
hotel to do it in, at incredibly cheap rates, so this was a dammed
good one. I had heard that they'd be MORE dealers at this one event,
than at any con to date. I grinned. 6000 dollars to waste in the
dealer's room, plus a chance to get some autographs. I was in
heaven. Even Kimiko had some ideas about getting one seyiuu's
signature if she had come, like the rumor said.

We got to the hotel, and I checked us in. Even a day early, and the
place was packed. I was impressed. This was to be a fun one, I
hoped, and there were "pre" con events for us early arrivals.
I'd heard a rumor, from a friend that went, that other hotels nearby
were also packed because of this, and that it was shaping up to be a
SRO con all the way. Kimiko begged off on the precon events, wanting
more sleep, and pointing out if she slept now, we could party all
weekend. I had to agree, but I had already caught up on my sleep,
and decided to wander. Had a few drinks, saw a friend or two from
real life, even had a very late dinner with June Geraci a dammed
nice lady, who deserved better than what life handed to her.
Finally got back to our suite at around 2 in the morning and Kimiko
woke up slightly, and just muttered "You're a idiot, anata." As I
climbed back into bed.

We woke up just in the nick of time to get a late buffet, before
the Con opened. Kimiko was a bit grumpy til the aspirin kicked in,
due to her basically sleeping 15 hours straight, and I had to cluck
at her. She almost bit my head off, but thankfully, the hotel's
best restaurant served good green tea, so she was mollified.
Mostly.

We attended the opening ceremonies, and ransacked the dealer's
room. To my amused surprise, and gleeful spending, I got a lot of
rare anime art books, at well, while not cheap prices, low enough
to make me not pass up the offer. Plus I had picked up some nice
toys. And computer games, and... well, let's just say, I had ran
though 2/3rds of the cash I had slated for "spending" on toys in
under three hours, and Kimiko's share wasn't much better. We did
love our toys. I was even beginning to wonder if she'd agree to
less fancier restaurants, aka cheaper, for the rest of the week, so I
could spend more, or maybe I could talk her into letting some of that
"saved" money loose. Doubtful. Like her looks, she was a very
typical Japanese woman. She truly believed I didn't know how to
control money, and if she let me, I'd spend any I had earned in under
a second. Well... she did have a point.

We were one of the first people at the ceremonies to award the
best of costume, acting, and all that. We had received some pleasing
nods, and a few satisfied smiles, from marvel fans who thought that
the match we portrayed was right. I had seen better consumes,
and some better acting, but, I still had hope for the couples award.
After all, we're JAPANESE cosplayers. We're genetically programmed
to be better. Though Kimiko had to admit, the little japanese
girl, who she had found out was from a Make a wish group, in Japan,
was a sure fire bet to win both awards for children. She had a sad
look in her eye when she admitted it, so, I didn't inquire.
Something, I had to admit, weren't good to know. The child was
happy, but I suspected that she didn't have much time left,
especially with the way her nurse looked at her, sadly. That told
me all I needed, or wanted to know.

I looked around as people came in. I saw someone who looked a lot
like a Mutsumi, and someone who Kimiko swore was Nene Romanova.
Saw a few more Knight sabers, and thanked GOD that Kimiko didn't
win the flip. They had the act AND the consumes letter perfect.
Even saw a Iron Man. I thought about going up to him, afterwards,
and joking about doing some "avenging" Kimiko, once again, just gave
the sigh of the long suffering wife. Hey, can you blame me? I do
have a sense of humor after all. One thing caught my eye. The
nurse of the little girl had put on a "Kasumi" costume from Pokemon,
in Japan, and I had to shake my head. While it was a easy one to do,
I wondered WHY a grown woman would pick that role to play.

I would swear later on that. And be thankful that we weren't as
affected by what happened as Eric came on stage.

As Eric Winters approached the stage, a weird feeling rushed though
me. I had the oddest sense of a major change hit me. When I
recovered from the split second (to me, later I'd learn others felt
it longer, but I had studied too much of the Ryuu my grandfather
taught, and was pretty well in tune with myself, as so was Kimiko...)
I felt... odd, different, and I noted that I was on one knee, but I
actually felt better than I had in a long time. All my old aches
and pains, from the years had gone away. Kimiko was lying next to
me, and she slowly pushed herself up, shaking her head. I hadn't
gotten a look at her face yet, but her hair had changed slightly,
and I had the Shield out, covering her. Almost on instinct, which
puzzled me. I knew it was fake, yet, it sat subtly different
now. Like, it was real, almost. A quick look around saw many people
panicking, and a general sense of confusion. I rose, and without
thinking about it, helped Kimiko up. <Anata, do you know what is
going on?> I asked her in Japanese. My voice had changed, and was a
marked difference, not too s uprising to me, I felt radically
different. Her reply was classic, and in Russian, which I had a
passing basic knowledge of. <No, idiot!> I blinked. That wasn't
her voice, and I looked, she now was a classic Russia beauty, and was
far taller than she should be. I blinked.

I remember, as I hustled her to the room, pretty sure she was my
wife, that something strange had happened. I remember one thought
that ran though my head... "Oh, boy."

Upon hitting the suite, I asked her a simple question, that she'd
likely only know the answer to, and requested that she'd reply in
Japanese. <Please answer this question, and in Japanese. What was
I wearing the day you decided I'd be your husband?> She replied
in Japanese, and with the right item. Only 5 people knew that, so,
I was assured this was my wife. Now, to figure out what the hell had
just happened. Kimiko was still dazed somewhat, and I sympathized,
but, to me the overwhelming instinct was to figure out what went
wrong, and fix the problem, by the means required. Normally,
I'd wonder about why I was thinking that, but, it didn't bother me at
the time. I took a stop to look in the mirror, and pull off my mask,
and that's when it hit me. I WAS the splitting image of Steve
Rogers, and Kimiko now looked like Natasha Romanova. I normally
would have cursed, but instead, I said, still summing up the
situation... "This is not what I expected."

Kimiko had walked into the bathroom, and also stopped, stunned.
She finally spoke... <What did we do to annoy the Kami this badly,
Anata? I knew letting you get your own way was a bad idea...>
she softly spoke in Japanese. I had to sigh. At least we were only
physically changed for the most part. Though I did detect some
changes in our behavior, even then. Later I'd add it up, and note,
while we remained basically the same, some aspects, especially
minor traits, such as Steve's absolute distaste for smoking or
drinking, had totally invaded our behavior. Still, all things
equal, we were some of the more fortunate ones. We didn't change
gender, we weren't lost in personality, and we retained all of our
old skills and knowledge.

I sighed, and pointed out, there were some hurt people likely
downstairs, and that since she was a doctor, and I had basic first
aid knowledge, we'd better get there to help. She nodded, and we
went looking for the hotel's medical supplies, and we lucked out, and
found them. If I remember right, we were the first two on the
scene, that had medical knowledge and were willing to use it, or at
least in the right frame of mind.

Getting back to the awards area, I stopped and scanned for threats,
both Steve's and my own personal experiences leading me to consider
the area hostile. Kimiko also scanned, both for threats, and people
really needing help. We had found a few already, by the look in her
eyes, then her eyes noted the young girl from Japan. She was sitting
down, with the Glavie next to her, looking totally dazed and
confused. Her nurse was no where in sight, to our surprise. Kimiko
moved fast to her side, with me right beside her.

<Hime-chan, are you alright?> Kimiko asked, her medical and motherly
instincts totally at the fore.

<No, I'm not, and who are you?> I blinked, realizing there was a
good chance that she was totally confused by the changes that had
taken place, and her own effects.

< I'm Morris Kimiko, Hikaru-chan.> Kimiko replied in a soft, calm
tone, adding. <You met me yesterday, with my husband, Morris Drew.>
she pointed at me with that addition. I nodded, while looking to
make sure the EMT personnel that had arrived were taking care of the
rest, and no serious need for a doctor was present.

<Who's Hikaru? I'm Tomoe Hotaru.> The child responded, and my blood
went ice cold. While I wasn't a die hard "moonie" as it's called
in the US, I knew that name, and what that meant. I began praying
to the kami that she HADN'T gotten the powers.

Kimiko blinked, and added it up just as quickly as I did. She didn't
let her voice betray what only someone who knew her would suspect,
however. <Well, Hotaru, where are your parents.>

<Papa-san is dead, and Momma-san died before that, I live with
Harkua-papa and Michiru-mama now.> the girl stood, and I looked her
over. She appeared in far better health than before, and I realized,
that perhaps this was in her case, a dammed good thing. I made a
mental note to ask Kimiko what the child had been suffering from,
and where her family was. Cause I know, they'd just LOVE this. At
least there wasn't that major of a facial change, or body change,
and adding in the fact that she had appeared to gain full health
back, her parents, might rightfully consider this the Kami's way of
giving a blessing. Getting her to remember who she really was, now,
that'd be fun.

Kimiko blinked, and asked me in English. "Dear, you think she had a
total mental change as well, along with the physical changes?"

"Yeah, I do. I need to ask, what was she suffering from, before
this. And why her mother or father wasn't here?" I asked, also
whispering back to her.

"Final stages of juvenile leukemia. And her father had died from a
car wreck, and from what the nurse said, her mother had died on
birthing her." I winced with that information. This was getting
worse, and worse. "Ah, so. Well, dang, I don't see Uranus or
Neptune anywhere... and there's no guarantee they're in the same
mental state, nor at a point in the series or post series, where
they'll be willing to take care of her. By the way, where IS her
nurse, I really need to get who she works for. Leaving your charge
like this, even in this situation... is not good." I said those last
words, with a tinge of anger lacing my voice, I didn't like the
thought of a child being left alone, before, and Steve very much
agreed with me, on this.

I thought fast. A Senshi of Saturn without anyone looking out for
her, was a bad idea. I was going to assume worst case situation,
and that she was at Super power level, with all the powers, until
I found out otherwise. First things first. We did have some extra
room in our suite, so, putting her up, wouldn't be hard.
<Hotaru-chan, Harkua-san and Michiru-san are ahh... unavailable
at the current time, and asked us to watch over you... it's risky
being here, and we should take you somewhere safer...> While saying
this, I was praying she'd buy it, after all, you don't force the
mistress of the Silence to do anything she really doesn't want to,
mind you. Kimiko nodded, backing me up on this. We'd likely explain
what happened, in reality later. Once we had a clue. Something
else occurred to me, like... who'd be waiting for her. And, more
importantly, where was her NURSE...

Hotaru narrowed her eyes a bit, but responded <And where is
Setsuna-mama?>

I mentally prayed there WASN'T a Setsuna running around. That would
be... not good either. <Ah, your guardians didn't tell me that
Firefly-chan...>

Hotaru nodded, accepting it, and allowed Kimiko to help her up. She
gestured slightly, and the Glave disappeared. I blinked, realizing
this confirmed that she had SOME powers, as she detransformed.
I blinked again, not trusting my voice, nor my first thoughts.
She spoke up... <Can we get some ice cream first?> I nodded, along
with Kimiko, what'd it hurt? Oh, would I come to regret that in the
later days.

I asked her for her room passcard, remembering it had the number
on it. She looked puzzled, until I pointed the thing around her
neck. I began to suspect why the Nurse wasn't here, and mentally
cursed whoever did this to all of us.

Lucky for me, it did have a note on what room she was in. As we left
the snack bar, where no one was, with a pitcher of coffee for me, and
tea for Kimiko, and Hotaru's ice cream, we made our way to her room,
to gather her stuff, HOPEFULLY, they'd be contact information,
and a way to track her nurse down. Failing that, I wasn't about to
let Hotaru (as I now thought of her, anyways) alone. Already I was
getting a very bad feeling about the whole situation. I'd later be
proven TOO right, but, at the time, the Steve part of me was saying
I was too paranoid. Well, I was, but then again, I knew the saying
all too well.

After we quickly packed her stuff up, and found the nurse's papers,
and medical supplies, which Kimiko had raised an eyebrow at, Hotaru
had already began falling asleep. I scooped her up, and she quickly
snuggled into my arms, and was fast asleep, before we reached the
suite.

As I covered Hotaru with a quilt from one of the beds, I looked at
Kimiko, and asked a question that I knew had no answer, but had to be
asked ANYWAYS... "Now what do we do?"

Kimiko's raised eyebrow said it all. We were in serious kimchi
and it was rising fast. Very fast indeed.

Over the next few days, I finally figured out a way to tell, well,
with Kimiko's help, that is, Hotaru what had happened. Oddly enough,
she seemed to accept it, and when we found out the Make a wish people
in Japan had no one to take care of her, we offered. Kimiko had her
transferred to our family's registry, and we were set. Before I
could make a few calls, to see about leaving, I hadn't quite equated
the situation totally, yet, too concerned about the Nurse, and others
who had suffered a complete reversion to their characters, to figure
out what this whole situation meant. Until I met Rob, who told me
about a meeting in Tony's room. I hadn't had met any of my online
friends yet, besides June, though I'd the feeling, I had, but didn't
realize it. Tony summed up the situation, firmly, and it was off we
went on a road trip. Why didn't I tell Tony, or anyone else in the
room who the child was? Well... these were all anime buffs. They
had a clue what she meant, and I didn't want my child, I had already
begun to think of her that way, feared by anyone, at least for her
powers. Fear of me, when boys tried to date her, now, of course,
that's a traditional thing, both in Japan and the US. Plus fun.

As I boarded the bus, I realized a lot of the situation had changed.
My job with AMD? Likely gone. Kimiko's internship? Also shot to hell
and gone, more than Likely. I had the itchy feeling Tony was right,
we'd be hunted and "pressed" into service. I made a mental note,
to get my DD-214 destroyed, and any records of my service misplaced
long enough for me to disappear. Once I was out of the known areas,
I was safe, and more importantly, my child was. Kimiko agreed fully
with this, and mentioned she had the same thoughts, on the situation.
This shook me for a second. More of the Black Widow, well, elements
of her had seeped into Kimiko's general personality. While I knew
Steve had an effect on me. I had to seriously think about the
government being a threat, while before this, I would have grasped
the situation quickly, and would have been gone within 24 hours of it
happening. Now? I had something I'd lost a long time ago. Faith
in the government. Somehow, though, I, the person, not the
character, knew better.

Footnote: For all you non Japanese aware people Kasumi is the
Japanese name for Misty in Pokemon (pokect monsters...)

Quest Moments

2009-09-03T02:11:37Z

75.41.112.111:

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Mental_change]] {{universe|Xanadu}} [[Category:Magic]] [[Category:Xanadu]]

[[Category: Reptile ]] [[Category: Mythical ]] [[Category: Animal ]] [[Category: Anthropomorphic ]]Quest Moments

by SKJAM!

Skyler Sands and John Drabney created by Scott K. Jamison.

Skyler Sands stroked his chin and idly noticed that the stubble
was indeed growing much faster than was natural.
The beard he'd shaven to be less conspicuously a Xanadu "victim" would be back to standard length within two days.

He returned his attention to the man behind the desk.
"But why me, Mr. Director?"

The FBI's head man swiveled a bit in his chair.
"It isn't you, specifically, Doctor Quest--"

"Sands," Skyler corrected, leaving the title in place.

"Sands. We're actually contacting and trying to recruit a
number of Xanadu survivors whose talents may be of use in this
situation. You're simply the first mad--er, genius scientist
to accept the invitation. Most of the others have vanished, or
refuse to meet with our agents."

Skyler smiled.
"A certain amount of paranoia is endemic to the
profession, Mr. Director. There's always someone out there trying
to steal our inventions, or the credit for them, or turn our
creations into weapons of mass destruction. Or on the flipside, they might fear being shut down because their research violates local ethical standards or costs too much."

The director shifted uncomfortably.
"At the moment, we're not
interested in stealing or misusing anything, including people's
civil rights.
I'll be frank, Mr. Sands.
With the election still
in doubt, no one knows what the next adminstration will be like.
Hell, it's taken almost two weeks from the incident for us to get
this far.

"And for all that Clinton hasn't been the ideal president,
he doesn't want Xanadu to go down on his record as another disaster.
If we can turn it into an opportunity, so much the better."
The
director leaned forward slightly.
"Some of the victims are extremely
dangerous, and others could be in danger from others.
That's why we
need people with special talents to be ready to respond to
Xanadu-related emergencies.
A 'hero team,' if you will."
The
director gave an involuntary shudder.

Skyler nodded.
"Not a comic book fan, I take it?
So, you need
me, or someone like me, to design this team's hardware, repair what
they already have, and possibly reverse-engineer some of it for
reproduction?"

"A fair summary.
Of course, we can't match the salary you'd
get from the private sector.
But you'll have the government's
full cooperation, and you'll be doing your country a great service."

"And if I don't keep an eye on what you people are up to, who
will?
Very well, Mr. Director, I'm on board."

The FBI man rose and extended his hand.
"I'm very pleased
to hear that, Doctor Sands.
Welcome to Project X."

*

*

*

It was a first for Skyler.
Every eye in the room turning to him
with what appeared to be respect.

Project X's headquarters was a rapidly-converted
office/laboratory building in Florida originally slated for the CDC.
Likewise, the support staff had been hastily assembled from whoever
could be spared from other departments.
However, it seemed that each
and every one of them had seen "Jonny Quest" as a child.

"Dr. Quest!"
"I can't believe--"
"For real--"
"I became a
scientist because of--"

Skyler cleared his throat.
"I'm very flattered, all of you.
However, I'd like to point out that I am not Dr. Benton C. Quest.
My name is Skyler Sands, and I'm only an incredible imitation.
That means I'm not perfect, and I'm going to need the help of each
and every one of you.
I'll be meeting privately with each of you,
and getting a briefing on your specialty.
We have a big job ahead
of us.
One that America is counting on.
I trust that you will live
up to the challenge."

It was also the first time he'd ever gotten a standing ovation.

*

*

*

"I'm Doctor Johanssen," said the attractive brunette, "and I'm
the team psychologist.
My degree is in abnormal psychology,
but I'm not sure that the word 'abnormal' even comes close to
describing some of the people here.
After all, if someone actually
is a fairy princess, you can hardly fault her for believing she's
a fairy princess.
It looks like my job will mostly be trying to keep
the team members relating to the real world."

Skyler sighed inwardly as he noted the doctor was married.
"Having been there when this all started, I can well imagine.
How's
'Barney'?"

"Still on suicide watch."

"Poor devil."
Skyler looked at the clipboard next to the door.
"And this is...Charles Drummond?"

Dr. Johanssen shrugged.
"He used to be, according to his
fingerprints.
Now, he's for all intents and purposes one Ash
Ketchum, from the Pokymun show, I think."

"Pokemon.
I'm familiar with it.
Why is he here?"

"Mr. Drummond was twenty-three years old.
His parents died
eight months ago in a car crash.
The police couldn't find his
paternal grandparents, and his maternal grandparents refused to take
custody.
No other close relatives, and we certainly can't let
someone who's mentally eleven go out on his own."

Skyler stroked his beard.
"A complete mental transformation?"

"He seems to retain almost none of his previous memories.
I've run several tests, and Mr. Drummond scores just like a child
of the age he appears to be; perhaps a little less than average
intelligence."
Dr. Johanssen paused.
"Though that may simply be a
rejection of his education."

"On the show, Ash is a little thickheaded.
I'll see him now."

The doctor nodded and unlocked the door.

Inside, Skyler found a boy who indeed looked exactly like Ash
Ketchum, right down to the messy hair, sitting on the edge of a cot,
playing with what appeared to be a Gameboy.
In the far corner of the
room, not one, but two Pikachus were animatedly chattering at each
other.
One appeared to be frowning, if Skyler was reading its
expression correctly.
There was an open laptop computer lying near
them.

"Charles?
Charles?
Ash?"
The last name seemed to get at least
a twitch, but the boy was clearly absorbed in the game.
Time to
resort to extreme measures.

"Look!
It's Articuno!" said Skyler, pointing at the ceiling.

Instantly, the boy was on his feet, a Pokeball in his hand.
"What?
Where?"
He looked around.
"Heyyy..."

"Sorry, Ash.
You were pretty far gone.
I'm Dr. Sands, the head
researcher for Project X."
Skyler held out his hand.

Ash laid down the Gameboy, which turned out to have the Pokemon
Silver cartridge in it, and shook the older man's hand.
"Er, hello,
Dr. Sands.
Can I get out of this place soon?
There's no windows,
and they lock the door all the time."

"Do you know why you're here?"

"'Cause I don't really exist.
Some Charlie guy really exists,
but I'm not him no more.
And Pokemon are only in cartoons and games,
'cept the ones that came with me and the other trainers...and
how come there's more than one of me, anyway?"

Skyler shrugged.
"We don't know yet.
It's part of my job to
find out."

"There's no Pallet Town, and I'm never gonna see my mom again.
It's not fair!"

Skyler felt strangely paternal towards the boy.
He had memories
of comforting his own son, Jonny--but Jonny wasn't real.
He pulled
Ash into a hug.
"No, it's not fair.
But you're a strong young man.
You can make it, with a little help."

Ash pulled back and wiped an arm across his eyes.
"Yeah.
I'm
gonna be a Pokemon master!
Even if there aren't that many Pokemon
around."

"I see you have two Pikachu."

"Nah, only one of them's mine," corrected Ash.
"That one's a
girl Pikachu."

Skyler cocked his head.
"They look identical to me."

Ash smirked.
"You can tell, 'cause girl Pikachus have longer
and thicker eyelashes."

Walking over to look closer, Skyler was able to determine
that Ash was correct.
The Pikachu noticed his presence, and the
female immediately ran up to him and climbed to his shoulder.
"Pika!"

The male also ran up, but the raised hackles on the female
seemed to discourage it a bit.

Female Pikachu started tugging on Skyler's beard.
"Chu!
Chu!"

"Hey, cut that out!"

It responded by pointing a paw at the laptop.
"Chuu!!"

Skyler picked it up, and saw that it was displaying a text
document, interspersing intelligible words with strings of nonsense
syllables.
He looked at the Pikachu again.

"You're a human, aren't you?"

It nodded vigorously, and pointed at the end table.
"Kapi!"

The computer was laid on the table, and the Pikachu hopped down
onto it.
She began tapping keys.

[My name is Kimberly.]

"Kimberly, eh?
I take it you were wearing a costume and
suddenly found yourself transformed?"

[Darn straight.
Man, I coulda been Supergirl.
But no, Carl,
that's my boyfriend, he thought me being Pikachu would be cute.
I
never even liked the show!]

Yes, Kimberly was definitely frowning.

"And where is Carl now?
Shouldn't he be here?"

[Jerk got really drunk on those little bottles the airlines
serve on the way down.
So he was passed out cold when it all went
down.
Pity, right now I'd dearly love to have him be a Jigglypuff.]

"I can fully understand.
So you wound up at Project X.
We'll
have to see if we can get you a voicebox, or at least a more portable
keyboard."

Kimberly jumped up and down.
[I want a cure, dammit!]

"If it's possible, you'll certainly be towards the front of the
line.
How are you getting along with Ash and Pikachu?"

[The kid's an idiot, he won't read my messages at all!
Just
keeps treating me like a pet.
And Pikachu, ooh!]

Skyler frowned.
"What's the problem?"

[It won't take no for an answer!
Keeps trying to put its paws
on me, and saying how nice I smell...You gotta get me out of this
body before I start actually thinking Pikachu looks good!]

"Erm." Skyler was rather taken aback. "I'll see what I can do."

He turned to Ash. "Ash, Kimberly is upset at Pikachu."

"Aww, they're just playing." The boy had gotten back into his game.

"It's rather more serious than that. You know how Brock is towards girls sometimes, coming on too strong and making them real nervous?"

"Uhh, yeah, I guess so."

Skyler pointed at Kimberly. "Well, that's how Pikachu's been acting towards Kimberly, so it'd be a good idea if you kept him on a shorter leash, okay?"

Ash put down the game. "Is this true, Pikachu?"

The electrical rodent had the good grace to at least look
ashamed....
*

*

*

*

Skyler woke up, as he had the three previous mornings, in the
lab.
At least this time someone had covered him with a blanket.
"I really need to start pacing myself."

Yawning, he walked to his rooms for a quick shower and a change
of clothes.

Naturally, Skyler was still in the shower when the videophone
rang.
He called out, "Telephone, audio only, patch to bathroom."
Voice command on the communications system had been surprisingly
easy to manage.
"Sands here."

"Good morning, Doctor.
Miss Quan here.
We have a visitor
in Reception.
An important visitor."

Skyler frowned.
'Important' was the codeword for 'government.'
Xanadu survivors got the codeword 'interesting.'
At least it wasn't
'urgent.'

"I'll be there in five, Miss Quan.
Sands out."

Project X's reception area had assumed the standard
characteristics of waiting rooms everywhere, if one ignored the
subject matter of the magazines scattered about.
The visitor
appeared to be doing just that.

He was a black man, approaching fifty, with short,
neatly-trimmed hair and a tailored grey suit.
The visitor sat
rigidly upright, a black briefcase placed precisely parallel to his
feet.
Very high-quality shoes, Skyler noticed.

"Good morning.
I'm Skyler Sands, head of research here at
Project X."

"The man stood and extended his hand with a thin smile. "Pleased
to meet you, I'm sure.
I am John Drabney.
I've been appointed
as the new acting project manager."

"I see.
I'm glad to see you; administration isn't the best use
of my time."
As they shook hands, Skyler noticed a look of
disapproval crossing Mr. Drabney's face as he faced Miss Quan's desk.
Skyler took a quick look, but didn't see anything out of the
ordinary.
Miss Quan did look quite fetching in red.

Skyler glanced at the clock.
"Why don't we go to the cafeteria
first?
Most of the staff will be eating breakfast now."

As they walked, Mr. Drabney took out a minirecorder.
"Memo to staff.
Effective immediately, there will be strict
enforcement of the dress code--"

Skyler had hit the 'stop' button on the recorder.
"I wouldn't
recommend that, Mr. Drabney.
It's better to let people wear what's
comfortable for them."

"But, but, didn't you see what that young woman was wearing?
It was inappro--"

"It was perfectly appropriated for a Classic Trek yeoman.
If
you overlook that she's wearing a Next Gen communicator pin with the
uniform."

Mr. Drabney looked confused.
"'Classic Trek'?
'Next Gen'? What
are you babbling about?"

"Star Trek, the television series.
The original series from the
Sixties is called 'Classic', the second series was 'The Next
Generation.'"

"Oh.
I never watched that show."

Skyler had a sinking feeling.
"Who's your favorite science
fiction author?"

"I have better things to do with my time than read children's
books.
And what does this have to do with proper office attire
anyway?"

"Mr. Drabney, you really don't have a clue what happened at
Xanadu, do you? Let me put this in the simplest possible terms.
For reasons we don't yet understand, a convention center full of
people in costumes was changed to *be* their costumes.
Women dressed
as ballerinas *became* ballerinas.
Men dressed as gorillas *became*
gorillas.
Children in Klingon costumes *became* Klingons.
Some of
them got off luckier than others, but no one escaped unscathed.
Many of them have absolutely no choice what clothing to wear, or even
to wear clothing at all.
That's why the rules are different here at
Project X."

The manager looked askance. "Rules are for everyone, Dr. Sands. Offices don't run properly if you don't follow the rules."

"New rules for new offices, Mr. Drabney.
But you'll see for yourself. Ah, here we are, the cafeteria."

They proceeded down the line of foodstuffs, similar to breakfast
selections everywhere.
Skyler saw the lunch lady bringing in more
oatmeal.

He waved, saying, "Good morning, Mrs. Goldblum."

She smiled, exposing three rows of serrated teeth.

Mr. Drabney stepped back against the wall.
"Wh-what is that thing?"

"This *person* is Mrs. Goldblum. She was a caterer at one of the Xanadu parties, who wore a shark mask to get into the spirit of the
convention. We're very lucky to have such a good cook on our staff."

Mrs. Goldblum smiled again.
"I don't look so hot, but I swim real goot now, and I don't need to sleep."

The manager didn't look very reassured, and kept to the far wall
until the hall opened up into the cafeteria proper.
The view didn't seem to calm his nerves.

Skyler could understand why.
It looked like the backlot at some particularly bizarre movie studio.
There were at least eight different species represented, and no three people were dressed identically.

Well, one table had similar outfits.
Skyler escorted Mr. Drabney towards it.

"Thank goodness you at least have the Army here to keep order
over these freaks."

Several of the uniformed men at the table shot angry glances
at Mr. Drabney, particularly one in a leather aviator's jacket.

Skyler cleared his throat.
"Mr. Drabney, I'd like you to meet Colonel Hogan, and the men of Baker Squad. They're the day shift security force."

"That reminds me. I didn't see any security on my way in here."

"If you saw the night staff, they wouldn't be doing their job."

Colonel Hogan smiled. "So now Sergeant Schultz is on duty?"

Skyler blinked, then remembered the reference.
"Colonel Klink will be in the office all day. By the by, Mr. Drabney, you might be interested to know that Baker Squad came to us complete with an
authentic World War Two vintage Jeep."

One of the soldiers, who had suspiciously delicate features,
said, "Actually, it was authentic when we went to the con in the
first place. Now, *we* were women at that point."

"No we wuzn't!"
protested another.
"Yer mind got scrambled by the Japanazis when they sent us inta the footure with that time machine!"

"It's true, I tell you!" retorted the first soldier.

"Can it, ladies," said Colonel Hogan, picking up his cap. "We're
on duty in ten, and I don't want to sit through that argument again.
Doc, Mister Drabney, good day to you."

The soldiers departed in good order, though a couple were still
muttering at each other.

Mr. Drabney asked, "Let me get this straight.
Those soldiers used to be women?"

Skyler nodded.

"And now they're men, all the way?"

"They have normal male anatomy, yes. Their mental state is another matter.
For reasons we don't fully comphrehend yet, the Xanadu Effect didn't change everyone equally. Some people's personalities were completely overwritten, others are a mix of original and costume, and quite a few were only mildly affected by mental changes."

Mr. Drabney stared blankly at Skyler.

"I'll have someone work up a Powerpoint (tm) presentation for you later."

The new manager looked relieved. "Yes, thank you."

Skyler looked around. "Ah, there's someone at that table I need
to talk to. Follow me."
He proceeded towards a table with three people seated at it.
One was a red-haired Japanese man with an 'X'-shaped scar on his left cheek. The second looked like a young(er) Sean Connery wearing a tuxedo.
And the third was a feral-seeming young woman wearing a tank top.

"Good morning, Himura-san, 007, Madamoiselle Nikita. Have you considered our offer?"

The Japanese man, clad in traditional (if pink) clothing,
stood.
"Ohayou gozaimasu, Sands-sensei.
Your salary offer is generous, that it is."
Himura's right eye twitched.
"But my previous occupation has soured me on working for the government.
So I must decline, that I do."
He twitched again.

The Connery look-alike was next.
"Good morning, Q. I can see you Yanks are in a sticky situation, so I'll be lending a hand here until MI-6 needs me elsewhere."

"Just as long as I never have to work for the *)%T) French government again," muttered the woman in French. "They're all a bunch of &)R&R(&%& pigs."

Skyler glanced at Mr. Drabney, who showed no signs of
understanding French. "I'm sorry to hear that, Himura-san,
but I fully understand. Welcome aboard, Commander, Madamoiselle."

"A red-haired Japanese man?" asked Mr. Drabney.

"Dutch ancestry, so it is speculated," explained the man in
question, twitching again.

"Let's visit the children's table," suggested Skyler.

This table was a bit shorter than the others, hence the
designation.

From eldest to youngest in appearance, the occupants included:
A green-haired girl in her mid-teens, wearing a brown-skirted
outfit that looked like a parody of a school uniform; Ash Ketchum
(accompanied by both Pikachu); a boy wearing a red t-shirt and blue
shorts, whose skin was so sallow that it was difficult to tell where
his spiked blonde hair began; a blue-haired girl in a knit
windbreaker; and a boy no older than five whose blue skin and moving
antennae marked him as an Andorian.

"Good morning, children," said Skyler.
"This is Mr. Drabney, our new project manager."

There was a general response of "Hi" and waves.

"Young man," said Mr. Drabney, "That's a violation of health
regulations. Remove your animals from the table."

Ash looked at Skyler for confirmation, while Kimberly protested,
"Pika pika chupi pii!"

"Kimberly would like to point out that she is *not* an animal, but in fact a human being."

"Doctor Sands, you can't seriously expect me to believe that
this is a human?" asked Mr. Drabney, poking a finger in Pikachu's
side.

"No, Pika--," said Skyler and Ash simultaneously, too late.

"CHUU!" The electric mouse demonstrated the mildest form of its
Thundershock attack.

"Oww! What was that?" asked Mr. Drabney, nursing his hand.

"That, sir, is Ash's prize Pikachu, which is indeed an animal,
so far as we know. Kimberly, the transformed human, is on your
right."

The Pokemon in question waved.

Skyler straightened his tie a bit.
"I'm working on a speech synthesizer for her. It will have to be small enough for Kimberly to carry, but have strong enough capacitors to avoid being fried by her bio-electric field."

"All very fascinating, I'm sure," muttered the visitor. Ash finally noticed the dark glower the man was giving Pikachu, and picked up his beloved pet.

"C'mon, Pikachu, we'll be late for class."
The pair beat a hasty retreat.

"Class?"

"That's correct. Once I realized that we were going to be housing several children on a full-time basis, I called Ringling Brothers about the cirriculum they use for circus kids. And Project X was lucky enough to secure a very qualified teacher."

Skyler thought it best not to mention that she'd been in the Over-18
hall at Xanadu, and now turned into an eight-foot tall and very naked
demon at will. Note to self, work on 'unstable molecules'.

"I'm glad you're doing some things responsibly," said Mr.
Drabney. "But isn't that skirt a bit short for a school uniform?"

"It's not for school," said the green-haired girl, standing
up and striking a pose. "It's my senshi uniform. I am the lovely warrior for love and justice, Sailor Terra!"

"Sailor Who?"

"Sailor Terra, she's not in the series, I made her up for a
self-insert story, mostly based on me, but I only got up to chapter
three before the convention, so I'm stuck with a lousy first-season
attack."

The blue-haired girl abruptly scooted away from the table.
"Sunrise at last!"

The blond boy's eyes widened.
"Cool! I love this part."

The girl's body was touched by the first rays of the sun coming
in a window, and her body was instantly coated in shimmering
light as she lifted off the floor. The light made it impossible
to make out details as she slowly rotated in mid-air, but it was
obvious that her body was getting larger and taller, as well as
considerably more curvy.

When the light faded, the girl was now a young woman with
somewhat longer lilac-colored hair, wearing an outfit Britney Spears
would have rejected as too cute, but otherwise suitable for a teen
singing idol.

The blond boy wolf-whistled. "Hey, Yvette, no fair growing up so you don't have to go to school!"

She ruffled his hair. "Tough noogies, Bart.
After all, I really am a grown-u--er, adult."
Yvette sashayed off.

"What just happened here, Dr. Sands?" asked Mr. Drabney.

"Yvette was dressed as Creamy Mami, a singer from a Japanese
cartoon. But the outfit she chose was from the sequel video, in
which Mami only appeared during the day, and her alternate form of
Yuu, a little girl appeared at night.

She realized that turning into a nine-year-old every night was not conducive to living alone. Most of the children here are wards of the state, either effective orphans, or whose relatives won't take responsibility for them"

"Like me," said Bart. "Homer and Mom won't even answer my phone
calls anymore."

The little blue boy piped up. "Not me, my mommy and daddy are
Andorians too."

"That's nice, Joe," offered Skyler. "But I see by the clock
that it really is almost classtime. Don't forget to bus your trays,
kids."

As they left the cafeteria, Skyler noticed Mr. Drabney still
favoring his hand. "Perhaps we should make the nurse's office our
next stop. Unless you smoke."

"Stopped ten years ago."

"Then we'll just look in through the window at the smoking lounge
on the way."

Said window had probably been put in so that managers of Mr.
Drabney's ilk could instantly check if goofing off was taking place.
They certainly wouldn't have approved of a pool table being
installed.

But this was Project X, so the smoking lounge had a billiards
game going. Playing were a well-dressed camel-headed man, a
weathered looking man in working cowboy gear (including Stetson
hat); a black bear with white face and belly wearing a fisherman's
hat, and a giant cigarette pack with female human arms and legs.
All of them were smoking; exactly how the cigarette pack was doing this
was a bit of a mystery.

"Joe Camel, the Marlboro Man, the Hamms Bear and a dancing
cigarette pack?" identified Mr. Drabney.
Skyler wasn't surprised he could do so.

"Quite a few people came to Xanadu as commercial characters.
Many have gotten job offers from the companies whose trademarks
they turned into, but these weren't able to get those deals, for one
reason or another."

Mr. Drabney frowned in tought. "But the Hamms Bear was a beer commercial, wasn't it?"

"Rashid was a chain smoker before he got transformed."
Skyler started moving down the hall.

He paused in front of a large empty room with a podium at the
other end.

"This is our non-denominational chapel. We don't have an official chaplain yet, but a couple of the local pastors have been helping out on an as-needed basis.
"I've contacted the Vatican about getting an exorcism specialist, but they haven't gotten back
to me yet."

"Isn't exorcism a bunch of hokum?" asked Mr. Drabney.

"Quite probably, but it's worth a try. Ah, here's the nurse's office."

The decor of the office was similar to normal first-aid stations, but the nurse herself was a touch unusual.
A dark-skinned woman with large, almost luminescent eyes, she had pointed ears and
stood less than four feet tall. A colorful, exotic-looking dress indicated a mature figure no child possessed.

"Good morning, Doctor Sands. How can I help you today?"
Her voice was surprisingly full-throated for her size.

Skyler indicated the man standing next to him.
"Good morning, Miss McMillan. Mr. Drabney, here, is our new manager.
He had a little run-in with Pikachu."

"That'll be electrical burns then. May I see where it hurts, Mr. Drabney?"

The visitor held out his hand, and Miss McMillan took it in
hers. There was a slight glow, and the burnt area turned back to its
normal color.

"The pain's gone! But you didn't put anything on it."

The "nurse" nodded. "Don't need to. I've got elfin healing powers, courtesy of being turned into Leetah. Which is a good thing, since I'm a math major, not pre-med."

"We've got an actual medical staff on site," explained Skyler,
"for major problems. But their primary efforts are diected towards finding a cure for those Xanadu survivors that need one."

Out in the hall, Mr. Drabney stopped Skyler.
"'Elfin healing powers'? Did you run background checks on *any* of these people?"

"Those are in progress. But quite frankly, most of the Xanadu survivors know as much about what's happened to them as the scientists studying the effects. It's not as though this is a secret agency, after all.
Plus, Project X had to be put together from scratch in a matter of weeks. We've allowed any Xanadu survivor who can fill a job slot here to do so.
After all, they're not sick, in the usual sense of the word--ah, here's someone who can speak better to that subject. Dr. Amelia Johanssen, the is our acting
manager, Mr. Drabney."

The psychologist stuck out her hand. "Pleased to meet you.

I've got a lot of supply requests just waiting for a signature.
We're going to need much more soundproofing for C Wing."

"'C Wing?' Should I ask?"

"It's where we keep the subjects whose behavioral problems prevent them from mixing with the general population.
Some of them are rather loud, especially when they're, er, exercising."

Mr. Drabney frowned at Skyler. "I thought you said these people weren't sick."

Dr. Johanssen cleared her throat. "They aren't, in the way you're thinking. From our perspective, many of the Xanadu survivors are delusional, and quite a few are obsessive-compulsive. But from their perspective, they're normal, and the rest of the world has inexplicably changed on them."

"But you are trying to cure them, aren't you?"

"'Cure' is a word that we don't bandy about lightly here, Mr.
Drabney. There's been some promising results with the Neuralizer,
but--"

"It's a device that induces partial amnesia," explained Skyler
at Mr. Drabney's blank look. "The new memories seem to cover the entire life, but they actually only date from the moment of
transformation. By removing all memories from that point forward,
the original personality is restored."

"However," Dr. Johanssen warned, "the results of waking up in a
transformed body with weeks of missing time can be worse for the
victim than the original transformation was.
Moreover, what little data we have suggests a long-term return of the oveerlay personality. So we're reserving Neuralizer therapy for only the most necessary cases."

"And instead?"

"My staff has been trying to help the survivors cope with the
world as it is. Alot of them have lost their families, their homes,
everything they know. It's tough work."

Skyler nodded. "But well worth it. We won't keep you any longer, Doctor."

They moved on down the hall.

After a bit, they came to a door labeled "Library."

"It's a bit understocked at the moment, but several of the
residents are having their collections shipped down."

Inside, the room was rather dark, since instead of electrical
lights, the room was lit by a few candles.
Surrounded by the half-empty shelves, a vision of loveliness stood reading.
She had golden hair flowing to the floor in gentle curves, sapphire eyes,
a shimmering white gown over impressive curves, and translucent,
iridescent wings. Skyler's breath caught in his throat, and he had
to bite his lip to remind himself that this was a glamour.

"So beautiful..." said Mr. Drabney.
Then he shook himself. "That's a fire hazard. Don't the lights work in here?"
He flipped the light switch.

The woman looked up as the overheads began to flicker.
"Orc dung!"

She began to sneeze, each time she sneezed shrinking a bit until
she was less than a foot tall, and her hair sticking out like a
poorly made haystack.

"Mr. Drabney, may I present Elisandra Melisande Blueleaf the
Eighth, Princess of the Willowand Fairys.
She's allergic to flourescent lights."

"I hade you," she sniffled.

"Princess, this is the new castellan, so please be polite.
Mr. Drabney, the princess is one of our two experts on magic."

"Magic? Humbug, you mean!"

The small woman buzzed angrily.
"I can durn you indo a doad, you know."

"I'd be careful, if I were you," advised a new voice.
An
ancient-looking man with a long beard, dressing in purple robes
decorated with golden stars and moons, as well as a pointed hat,
appeared from the depths of the library.
"The princess is very touchy."

"Am nod."

"And you would be?"

"Larry Gilcrist, of Fish and Wildlife. And now, wizard."

Mr. Drabney looked puzzled. "Fish and Wildlife? You're government?"

"Darn straight/ Eighteen years service. Suddenly, I'm retirement age."

"Actually, given the proportion of the American population
that works for the government in one way or another, it's not
surprising a few of the Xanadu survivors were among them.
There was a DEA agent who came as Kimball Kinnison, but he chose to stay on his
old job."

"Kimball Kinnison?"

"Basically an incorruptible super cop. Those Colombian drug lords won't know what hit them."
Skyler deliberately didn't mention the telepathy.

"The princess and I are the only two at the project so far who
'learned' our magic. The others with magical abilities all were gifted rather than educated," explained Larry.
"So we've been researching to see if we can undo what's been done."

"Sadly," said Elisandra, "Whadeber did dis is more powerful
dan eider of us, so my 'remobe curse' spell doesn'd work.
*sniff* And I neber learned de 'dransform do human' spell."

Larry produced a crystal ball.
"And my speciality is illusion and divination spells. By the way, Doctor, I have bad news. The Senator will be leading a filibuster against our funding next year."

"I'm not surprised."

Skyler straightened. "But as I told him before, we are not forcing our vampire to bite him."

"Why would anyone want to be bitten by a vampire, real or not?"
asked Mr. Drabney.

"It's an ersatz immortality." Larry wiggled his fingers, and an image of Christopher Lee as Dracula appeared in mid-air. "Surprisingly
enough, some people, including the Senator, are willing to accept the
drawbacks in exchange for a longer existence upon the Earth.
But our house vampire is semi-reformed, and he doesn't want to make any new
vampires."

"Sadly, the Senator isn't taking 'no' for an answer, and it looks
like he's going to carry out his threat about using his influence
against Project X."

Mr. Drabney asked, "Which senator is this, anyway?"

Skyler named a name.

"You must be joking! He's one of the most respected men in Washington!"

"And one of the oldest," replied Skyler.
"It's very unlikely he'd live through another term in office, and he's determined to stay in
power indefinitely."

Elisandra had located a handkerchief nearly as large as she was,
and blew her nose.
"From what I'm told, being a vampire's against his religion, too."

"On the lighter side," Larry said, "the next issue of the Weekly
World News will feature an interview with Elvis Presley, or rather
a fellow who came to Xanadu dressed as him."

Skyler sighed.
"No surprise there either. We'll leave you to your research now."
He flipped off the lights as he went.

As they came to the center of the building, Skyler turned left.
"Now, let's visit the operations center."

Through the double doors was a large room reminiscent of
pictures Skyler had seen of NASA control rooms.
Banks of computer monitors, and a huge world map projected on one wall.
All around the room, young women in a variety of figure-flattering uniforms
were typing, answering phones and delivering paperwork. Yvette was
in the third row, working her way through a particularly thick stack
of forms.

Skyler clapped his hands.
"Could I have everyone's attention,
please?"

The room suddenly quieted for just a moment, as the inhabitants
turned towards the raised platform at the back of the room where
Skyler and Mr. Drabney were standing.
Then there was a wave of greetings.

"Good morning, Dr. Sands!"

"Hiya!"

"I brought brownies today!"

"Ohayou!"

It did Skyler good to see so many smiling faces turned in his
direction.
But now was not the time to dwell on that.
"Good morning to all of you as well. I'd like to introduce Mr. John Drabney, our new acting manager. From now on, he'll be handling all administrative
duties, so it's in your best interests to give him some respect, okay?"

For the first time, a faint hint of humor touched Mr. Drabney's
voice. "Thank you for that stirring endorsement.
Everyone, back to work! We're not paying you to stand there!"

As the "bridge bunnies" returned to their tasks, Skyler said,
"Nene? Why don't you come up here for a moment?"

A red-headed young woman in what looked like a police uniform
came up to the back. "Yes, Doctor?"

"How are we doing on the shadow program?"

"I've just added all the major car rental companies to the
systems we've infiltrated. The minor ones should be finished by the end of business today."

Mr. Drabney's eyebrows drew closer together.
"What's this about infiltrating systems?"

"It's quite simple, really," said Nene, calling up a display
on her PDA.
"We have a list on all known attendees of the Xanadu
event, about fifteen thousand names all together.
Fortunately, some smart guy in the rescue squads got a printout of it shortly
after the event, or we might not have it at all.
Anyhow, what I've done is go into all the computer systems we can reach, and put on a
shadow tag on these names-slash-numbers.
If anyone makes a major change to one of the tagged data bits, it triggers a copy of that
change to be sent here. That way we can keep an eye on anyone trying
to make themselves or someone else disappear."

"Isn't that illegal?"

Skyler nodded. "I'll show you the executive order authorizing
us to do this later."

"But if you can do this, why not just protect those data bits
from being changed in the first place?"

Nene snorted. "Any script kiddie worth her salt would spot that
kind of protection and consider it a challenge.
This way, we have a chance of actually getting useful information from any attacks."

"And there may have already been successful attacks," added
Skyler. "There are a dozen names on the list that don't match any
records *anywhere*. Either they've been erased by a world-class
hacker, or these people lied to the convention registration staff.

The staff didn't have the world's most stringent fact-checkers."

Nene punched up another report. "We know there's at least one leet hacker out there; he put a high-school principal on the FBI's
Most Wanted List.
The Feds should have known better, really.
Whoever it was misspelled 'molestation' and 'assault' on the warrant.
Another failure of the American educational system."

Seeing a nasty glare from Mr. Drabney, Skyler pointed at the
map. "Up there is the way we keep track of the last known location
of important Xanadu survivors."

Tiny lights twinkled on the map; some green, most amber, and
some red (though more than green.)
The highest concentration of them was in Florida, with smaller clusters in California and New
York.
A few twinkled in other countries as well.

"What do the colors stand for?"

"Green lights represents survivors who have heroic personas,
or whose actions have shown that they're active 'good guys.'
Amber lights are those who have powers or talents that might prove
dangerous, but who haven't shown an indication one way or another.
Red lights are people who wore villainous costumes, or who have shown
themselves to be a danger to others or themselves.
Apparently harmless people aren't on the map."

"They're so scattered, even different countries?"

"Yes." Skyler began pointing to various parts of the map.

"Quite a few of the survivors have returned home, to try to continue
living their lives to the degree they can.
Some of those were foreign nationals to begin with. Amazingly, despite the Japanese ambassador's embarrassingly bad way of recruiting them, several
survivors took him up on his offer of asylum. Much joy may he have of Zen Team."

"Zen Team?"

"A color-coded hero team, kind of like the Power Rangers."

"Power Rangers?"

"Never mind. Nene, how's the G-search coming along?"

"Last confirmed Godzilla sighting was two days ago. Still headed west."

Mr. Drabney's attention perked up. "There's a Godzilla?"

Skyler and Nene both looked incredulously towards Mr. Drabney.
"You know who Godzilla is?"

"A girl I dated dragged me to one of those movies.
'Godzilla vs. Gilgamesh,' I think it was. Fell asleep halfway through." Mr. Drabney looked thoughtful. "But that thing was about three hundred feet tall, wasn't it? That should be no problem to track."

Nene giggled. "The entire JSDF couldn't find Godzilla
sometimes. But the good news is that this particular lizard started
out only five feet tall, according to the hotel security cameras."

"And the bad news?"

"He's growing." Skyler gripped the railing.
"At last report,he was 5'3".If he continues growing at this rate, Godzilla could be a serious menace by the end of next year."

Mr. Drabney looked pained. "I suppose you're going to tell me you have a plan to deal with this?"

"Yes. Among the other functions of Project X is creating an
emergency response team. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to recruit any of the iconic American superheroes.
If we could get Batman, Captain America or even Luke Skywalker, we'd be set.

Unfortunately, most of the masked hero types are in our 25%
'Unlocated' category."

"What do you mean, 'Unlocated?' You mean you don't know where these people are?"

Skyler pinched the bridge of his nose.
It didn't make the tension go away.
"No, sir. We have a general idea of where they might head, but being able to disappear is part of the whole 'secret
identity' schtick. More worrying is our 10% 'Unknown' category.
That's the people we can't find any record of which costume they wore
or any witnesses who will admit they know what the costume was.
We're
pretty sure, though, that there's some overlap with the animals,
monsters and Pokemon in custody that we haven't been able to identify.

By the way, we're still housing the larger specimens at the zoo, which
is going to be a human rights nightmare, you'll need to find a fix for
that."

Mr. Drabney looked thoughtful.
"Outside. Now."

Out in the hall, Mr. Drabney asked, "Why are we not locking
up every one of these freaks and lunatics?
Just put them somewhere where we don't have to worry about what they might do until a cure
can be found. I'm sure we can find a way within the rules and
regulations."

"We are not locking up 'freaks and lunatics', because until they
prove a danger to others or themselves, they are more valuable
to us free."

Skyler could barely contain his anger.

"With their cooperation, it's quite possible that we will have a cure for cancer, a cure for AIDS, maybe we will finally, at last, get into space
again! But if we make ourselves their enemy, these people could
destroy the world. I know which possibility I prefer."

"Wait a minute. You're one of *them*, aren't you? You were at Xanadu too!"

Skyler gave a tight smile. "It certainly took you long enough to figure that out. And no, you can't fire me.
The government needs someone who can decipher the technology the Xanadu effect left
behind. Plus, since you're a mundane, you're going to need me to run
interference for you with the people here who don't like mundanes,
tell you who they're supposed to be, and what's going on."

Mr. Drabney's face hardened. "Is there a phone I can use?"

"Your office-to-be is over here."

The door slammed behind Mr. Drabney, but the soundproofing had not been installed yet, so Skyler was easily able to hear one end
of the conversation.

"Sylvia? This is John Drabney. Connect me to your boss....Phil, this is John, how are the kids?....Fine, fine. Listen, Phil, I need out of this place....No, you don't understand.
They have freaks here, and the place is being run by crazy people! This is *not* the job I was promised!....Yes....Yes, I remember....Phil, that was eight years ago!....You can't do this to me....Phil, I'm sorry, I'm begging--"

Skyler was distracted from his eavesdropping by an intercom
beeping.
"Dr. Sands?"

"Yes, Miss Quan?"

"Good news, Doctor.
Colonel Steve Austin called, and he's willing to sign up on one condition."

"And that condition would be, now?"

"We find some way to mute that weird noise his bionics make when he stresses them."

"Sounds like a deal.
Sands out."

Yes, this was much more in his field.
A long night ahead in the lab again, and Skyler couldn't be happier.

FIN

Comments, questions? SKJAM!

Ami's Song

2009-09-03T02:11:03Z

75.41.112.111:

I don't own this, wish I did, but this was too good not to share with those who didn't read it on the original site. Had to edit the star symbol separator with a plus one due to shifti's formatting.

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Mental_change]] {{universe|Xanadu}} [[Category:Magic]] [[Category:Transgender]]
[[Category: Alien]] [[Category:Xanadu]]

Ami's Song

She gasped.

For some reason, she kept remarkably calm. On instinct, she reached
a hand up to her earring; goggles appeared on her face. She pulled
out her Mercury Computer without a second thought, and started taking
readings.

She didn't bother looking at them. She'd do that later. In the
meantime, she was in the greatest collection of beings the world had
ever known, and she was getting every possible reading under the sun.
Her eyes cast over the crowd, fascinated at the menagerie that had
popped up. For some reason, she was reminded of scenes from several
sci-fi shows, where humanity was clearly a minority - sometimes
even a minority of one.

It took her thirty-seven seconds before she realized that something
was wrong with her. She blinked for a moment, sorting out her
memories.

She was... she was... Nick. And Ami. She'd just fought Galaxia;
she gasped at the memory of her Star Seed leaving her - an
irreplacable part of her soul. She remembered getting ready for this
costume ball, getting the costume for Mercury just...

Costume. Everyone had been in costume. Everyone was now their
costume. Devils and angels, man and beast, all had been changed.
Including, it seemed, herself. Assuming, of course, that this wasn't
some torment of Galaxia's design... though somehow she couldn't
imagine Galaxia doing something this subtle.

She looked at the chaos surrounding her, and realized the safest
place possible - the stage. Everyone wanted out of the room; if she
waited long enough, the room would be sufficiently cleared to allow
her exit. So, she jumped up onto the stage and sat at its edge, her
legs swinging out over the ledge.

Everything was new. Her body felt new, her mind felt new... even
some of the burdens on her soul for so long had washed away in the
change - and both of them definitely had their share of weights.
She smiled; it was like Nick held the answers to Ami's problems,
and Ami held the answers to Nick's.

Yes... this was definitely for the best. She swung her feet out as
far as she could, watching her blue Senshi boots catch the light of
the stage, and landed a couple of feet in front of it. She admired
herself for a moment; definitely a real Senshi, definitely female,
definitely short hair... most definitely Ami.

And she had a world to go see. She continued viewing the mess of the
audience, waiting for them to calm down before sashaying out of the
auditorium.

+++

The mirror wasn't lying.

Good God, it wasn't lying.

Her gaze started at the floor, at shiny blue knee-length boots; the
material reminded her of some stuff she'd seen on wedding shoes,
but didn't scuff like those did. Flesh peeked out from the boots,
smooth, sexy legs that showed maturation almost at its completion,
as they led up to an attractive set of hips, currently covered by a
royal blue, flared-out miniskirt that just covered her more personal
areas. From here, the skirt met up with a white leotard-style
top, tight-fitting but protecting... and showing just how much those
curves of hers had changed, with a slim waist and perfectly perky
B-cup breasts. This led to the sailor top, one which showed the
tiniest amount of cleavage, leading up to a slim neck... and her
face.

Good heavens, her face... It wasn't what she'd call beautiful,
but it was cute. A soft, round, friendly Asian girl stared back at
her from the looking-glass, with a slightly turned-up nose, beautiful
almond-shaped sapphire eyes and the tiniest amount of baby fat still
in her cheeks, keeping her from beautiful high cheekbones. Framing
it all was a short mop of bluish-black hair, the kind of hairstyle
she could shake into place if need be.

Her vision started to mist over; tears started rolling down her
cheeks. She wasn't even sure why she was crying; for happiness,
or sorrow, or relief, or...

She'd wanted this. If someone had come up to Nick and offered him
womanhood in a bottle, he'd have drank it in a second. Now... now
she had it. All of the doubts, the self-loathing, the painful,
horrible desire... all done.

And with it came a whole new set of problems. She... well, Ami knew
how to live as a girl, so that helped a bit; however, both of them
had been less-than-perfect in terms of social interaction.
Also, she didn't have the slightest clue about what to do concerning
more private relationships. Urawa had just sort of happened;
Taiki had never really developed into anything. She'd always been
more focused on her professional future rather than her personal
future; the pressures of the upcoming armageddon had left Mizuno
Ami feverishly studying, hoping for some way to stop the coming ice
age...

And now she didn't have to worry about it - at least, she suspected
she didn't. Here, the Moon Kingdom had never existed; here, many of
Sailor Moon's great adversaries didn't exist. They were free, now,
free to protect the world in other ways, or pursue totally normal
lives.

Totally normal lives...

She sank to her knees, sobbing; she thought of a prayer, but even she
didn't know what she was saying.

***

She enjoyed life as a girl. It gave her a peace she hadn't known
as Nick; it gave her some freedom of expression long denied him.
However, such power always carries wrinkles...

She should have known to expect this. After all, she had some
interesting memories of Urawa and Taiki, of the warm feeling she got
whenever either would look her way. She knew what attraction
to a man was like.

She was getting awfully warm, now; he was so... so...

Doug had been her friend from their senior years in high school;
they'd roomed together in college and out in the real world. They
kept no secrets; he knew every detail about the struggles she'd
endured, as she knew his. He'd always been a fan of Slayers and Lost
Universe; as Nick had prepared her Sailor Mercury costume, he'd
prepared his Kain Blueriver costume...

... and now Kain Blueriver was in front of her. His 6'-2" height
hadn't really changed, though he'd gotten slimmer; her knees felt
weak at his unbelievably fluid movements. The unruly shock of red
hair on him looked simply adorable; she could get lost in those blue
eyes of his, and that cocky grin spoke of supreme confidence.
The black cloak put every expression of his into perspective,
somehow, though she thought the white shirt and slacks didn't do much
for him. She wondered for a moment what he looked like without
his shirt on...

Her gaze turned downward, hoping Doug - Kain - would take her blush
for something other than what it was.

"Well. You've changed..." She didn't dare look up; she didn't want
to see those blue eyes of his again. "You like the change, I take
it?"

"Un." She nodded affirmative, her knees locked together. "How about
you?"

He shrugged. "I can't complain, though I don't know what I'm going
to do from here." He shuffled his feet. "There's not much to it,
really; I exchanged one set of problems for another."

Ami smiled, her eyes turning to Kain's companions on the other end of
the room. Millie paced impatiently; the diminutive blonde clearly
wasn't comfortable with the world she'd found herself in, and wanted
to get back to the safety of the ship. Her thoughts, at least what
could be told from the eyes, told no sorrow - no longing. Canal,
on the other hand... Infinity reflected in Canal's dark eyes, and the
whole body language of the goddess Canal Vorfied spoke of revelation;
she tried to hide the pain in her eyes behind bangs of green hair,
but couldn't succeed. Canal clearly knew - just as Ami herself
now knew. "Such as companionship, I take it?"

Kain sighed. "Well... sorta... Millie is... but Canal-"

Ami touched a hand to his lips, a move she knew to be suggestive
of other things. She couldn't help herself; he was a man, and she
was... "Kain... Doug... I know. None of us can help how we feel,
can we? I learned that lesson long before I... long before I became
Ami."

Kain closed his eyes in frustration. "Oh, no... not-"

"None of us have choices, Doug," she interrupted, her whisper fierce.
"Just... make sure to minimize the damage." She swallowed. "I...
I have a girl's heart now, you know; you'd be surprised how...
fragile... it is."

Kain sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed. "What can I do,
Nick? Canal remembers everything from her past life. She remembers
what it's like to be a living, breathing human being - and now she's
a hologram *and* a goddess. She... she needs me. Millie, on the
other hand, doesn't remember a thing. We told her about what
happened... but she's still Millie." His voice lowered. "She...
she still loves me, and..." He stopped. "What do I do?"

Ami took a long, deep breath. "Tell the truth. Love them in their
own way. I know you love Millie; I've seen the way you look at her.
You - Doug - also love Canal; you see her in pain, and you can't help
but try to reach out to her." She shrugged. "Love them both - in
the only way you can, in the only way they need to be. And don't
lie about it even one iota."

Kain put his hands on her shoulders. "And what about you?"

Ami sighed. "Love me as you always have." She wrapped her arms
around herself, grabbing his hands in a fierce embrace. "As a
friend."

***

It wasn't easy being a Sailor Senshi.

Ami shot up from her bed, too terrified, too mortified to scream.
Her heart flew at a mile a minute; she clutched her neck, straining
to get her breathing under control. After a few painful seconds,
she began to settle down.

A dream. Only a dream. Not real; not happening. She pounded that
fact into her head, forcing her heart rate back down to normal.
She wiped the beads of sweat off of her forehead, and let out a shaky
sigh.

She'd returned. Galaxia stood in front of all of them, a terrible
goddess arrayed in gold. They'd tried to attack. Galaxia's response
matched her demeanor; they were struck before they realized what was
happening.

Her Star Seed was ripped from her violently, like her heart - no,
more than that, her soul - had been torn out. She couldn't even put
words to the agony she'd felt; her very existence dissolved as air
became her acid. Even through it, her thoughts weren't of death;
they were of her friends.

Her dying friends...

Their screams had awakened her; their agony she felt as though it was
her own. She rolled off of the bed and staggered to her feet,
careful not to disturb anyone.

5 o'clock. The sun hadn't even thought about rising yet. She
quietly cursed Galaxia, wherever she was, and made her way into the
bathroom. She desperately needed a bath, something to get her mind
off of her nightmare, and a nice, hot bath sounded like a good way to
do it. Fortunately, she'd had the presence of mind to go clothes
shopping the night before; the last thing she wanted was to wear
too-large men's jeans.

Her mind started to drift as she lowered herself into the hot water;
the conforting sensations around her body started the journey.
Everything felt new: the warm water, the sensations on her breasts
and nether regions... everything spoke of change, of difference.
She looked at the shape of her hand, at the disturbingly tiny hands
she'd inherited.

Everything really was new. Nick was gone, really; everything
but his wisdom, the lessons he'd learned in his life... nothing
physical mattered. And here she was, a teenaged girl, her entire
life ahead of her.

Somehow, unbelievably, she'd gotten a 'do over'.

She knew what she was capable of. Her IQ was still in the 250-300
range (a fact she'd confirmed last night); she had a working
knowledge of computers that he didn't have, though Nick's engineering
skills would prove an excellent compliment. Given where she was, if
she really wanted to do something in the way of academics, nobody
would stop her - and more than a few people would probably pay her
way.

Then the gentle voice came back to her. She remembered the Albert
Einstein school she'd gone to before Juuban; she hadn't been
challenged there at all. Usagi challenged her; Rei challenged
her; Makoto and Minako challenged her. Should she go back to college
- especially if she was going to be a Sailor Senshi?

Mizuno Ami - before this turn of events - hadn't considered it.
She'd had her life to live; Tokyo University loomed large, and she
had been on the fast track there. Now...

Where should she go?

Puzzles the will, she thought.

Eventually, a set of initials popped into her head; they said enough.

WWMD? What would Mizuno do?

Mizuno Ami would keep playing the game. She would get into MIT or
Caltech; the latter would provide more of a challenge, while the
former would provide a more stable living environment.

She smiled, and watched the water run down her leg. Yes... it was
time to start making plans. For once, she had a future to care
about.

***

They were idiots.

No, they were naive or incompetent. Minako was naive for calling
the thing; Wren was naive for believing that it could work. She
could forgive naivete. But greed, on the other hand...

Needless to say, the meeting was not going well. They'd spoken of
Crystal Tokyo, of fathering Chibi-Usas and making a new Utopia for
themselves. Barring that, they tossed ideas of building a moon base
- a new Moon Kingdom where they could rule.

She could see it from the totally-gone Senshi that they honestly
believed it; she had no complaint with them beyond their naivete.
The looks from some of the not-so-far-gone, on the other hand,
disgusted her more. Power corrupts, they had it, but they wanted
more. She could see the glow in their eyes; they wanted a world in
which *they* could rule.

She knew the adages far better than that. Power corrupts, and
absolute power corrupts absolutely. They had a half-donen Ginzuishou
at their disposal; she shuddered at the power that crew could pull
off. The road they were paving went straight to oblivion, and she
didn't want to be a part of it.

The menagerie of the convention stretched out before her upon opening
the doors; she didn't notice. All she knew was that she had to run,
get away, find -

*oof!* She was so upset that she didn't notice where she was going.
She ran straight into a wall of muscle, and stumbled back. After
a second, she started to mumble an apology. "I... I'm terribly
sorry..."

Then she got a good look at the blond-haired hunk she was apologizing
to, and took a gamble.

"Drew?"

Drew - Captain America - blinked for a moment at her. "Nick?"

She shrugged a bit self-consciously. "I see that you went through
the reality wringer, too." She twirled around. "Like the new me?"

Drew snorted; his muscles flexed unconsciously with each movement.
"Why am I not surprised..." He frowned at the direction she'd just
stomped from. "So where were you coming from?"

She groaned. "Senshi meeting. I'm not sure which kind of Senshi
scare me more: the ones with the total mental conversion without
a clue on reality, or the ones with their old marbles still in - who
also, by the way, don't have a clue on reality." She shook her head.
"They can try for their utopia; I just can't be a part of it."

Drew's eyebrows furrowed together. "You mean they're actually
going to try to do Crystal Tokyo?"

"Or a moon base to recreate the Moon Kingdom, or some other
silliness." She put her hands on her hips. "It'll never work - not
like how they want it. In order for the Senshi to function, they had
to be pure. Well, a few are - but a few aren't. Some of them...
they want the power too much."

Drew frowned at the closed doors - and what might be going on within.
"That could be trouble. After all, there's a government in Japan
that might be a bit upset at the revolution..."

"No kidding," Ami replied.

Another Senshi ran up to Ami, and put her hand on Ami's shoulder.
She looked like Sailor Jupiter... that is, if a Lodoss-type
dark elf had ever joined the Senshi Corps. Unlike most Senshi
Jupiter, this one barely reached five foot in height, with crimson
hair tied back into a thick braid, skin the color of smooth mocha,
and prominent pointed ears that stuck out several inches to the sides
of her head. Intense emerald cat-slit eyes narrowed in worry; her
lips turned downward into an almost pouting frown. Beyond that, the
uniform remained the same: rose earrings, white opera gloves with
green trim, a white sailor suit with green miniskirt, and green ankle
boots. "Nick, what's wrong?"

Ami shook her head. "I... I can't be a part of it, Wren. I'm
sorry."

"Why not?" Jupiter replied. "I mean, what choice do we -"

"Please... I can't explain why. I... it's not the same situation
as what we faced... before." Ami took a step away. "I... I'm sorry,
Wren. I'm probably going to leave here before I cause more trouble."

Tears started to well in Wren's eyes. "Was... was it something
I did? If it was, then -"

"No, Wren," Ami cut her off. She shook her head; what was she
feeling? "This is... more than what happened in there. I can't
explain it; I wish I could." She felt her knees start to give way;
she braced herself against Drew's chest. "Did you ever read Lawson's
'Urges'?"

Wren shook her head. "No..."

Ami took a deep breath. "Well... it's hard to explain, but there's
a lot more going on inside here than I let on. Nick... Ami... ME...
I can't stay here; I can't do this. There's always been a part of me
that needed to go out, to see what the world has to offer; when I
stay in one place, doing one set role in life... I learn nothing."
She shuddered. "And that... that is worse than death." She took a
deep breath. "Yes, I think what they're planning is idiotic. And
some of the not-quite-converted in there, the ones who want the
power... I can't be a part of what they want." She wiped the tears
from her eyes. "It's not forever, Wren. It can't be forever;
we know fate won't allow it. But... for now... I need to go."

"You... promise?" Jupiter burned her eyes into her.

Ami nodded, and gave a wry grin. "I promise. Besides, someone
needs to fix things when they start going haywire..." She hugged
Wren, and kissed her on the cheek. "Now go. They need as much
common sense in there as they can get."

Jupiter broke off slowly, waving before walking back to the meeting.
Drew looked downward - and was startled to see the torrent of tears
from Ami's eyes.

"Um... what's wrong?"

Ami fought for breath through her sobs. "I... I walked out that
door. I couldn't be a part of it... but... but I never thought
that it would be a part of me so much..." She leaned into Drew's
chest, quiet sobs punctuating the air.

Drew held on to her and rubbed her head softly. "You can still go
back there if you want. I'm sure they'll..."

"No." The sobs continued, but the force returned. "I... what
they're planning is wrong. I can't go back."

Drew sighed. "As you wish."

***

She looked off at the hotel from a discrete distance, her suitcase
and laptop bag in hand, her heart filled with all sorts of emotions.
Her soul had been scarred long before she'd entered the place; by the
time she'd left a few minutes ago, she'd healed some of them, but
gained a few others.

Her life was her own, now. She would not be a part of their Senshi
corps; to do so would go against her own beliefs. She couldn't
go back to her old life, nor would she want to. She had better
things to do.

She'd tested herself last night; she was ready. And, after some web
browsing this morning, she knew exactly what to do.

She looked at the bus ticket stub in her hand; the destination
read "Boston, MA". Once, many years ago, Nick had pondered going
to MIT or Caltech; the economics of the situation had ended such
dreams rather quickly. Now... well, she could far more easily find
money for school. Women in science and engineering could find their
scholarships far more easily; also, someone who could ace any test
thrown at her could also get any scholarship available. In short,
with her IQ and gift for academics, she could just about name her
price. It would probably take at least a year before she could get
in; fortunately, if her recollection of Senshi physiology was
correct, she had an eternity to wait.

An eternity of discovery... she licked her lips at the thought.
Oh, this was going to be good...

***

She found that she really, really liked hot chocolate.

She'd heard bits here and there about the aphrodisiac properties
of hot cocoa; it took getting in the right body to understand
why. Women (of which she was one) tended to live lives more insecure
than men; hot cocoa provided several forms of security that men
couldn't fully appreciate, the taste of which was only a part. The
other part was the warmth of the liquid; as she'd discovered
all too acutely in the week since coming to Cambridge, women tended
to lose heat more rapidly (higher surface-area-to-mass
ratio) and viewed the instant warmth of hot cocoa coursing through
them as a sort of security blanket.

Well, she really liked her security blanket, and would probably
have another, once she finished with this chapter.

She'd found a place to stay; essentially, a couple of students
needed help with their freshman engineering homework and, surprise,
surprise, she happened to have it down cold. It also helped that she
was a girl eventually planning on going to MIT; frankly, they were
a rare breed, and the 'Us girls have to stick together' mentality
kicked in.

Not to mention that she could more than hold her own against
anyone...

Smiling, she continued to study the history book. She'd wondered
if, like some of the others that had been to the con, she had a geas
forcing her to study; she'd tried it for one day, and had succeeded.
Problem was, she'd been so bored doing it that she'd found herself
reading about the Thirty Years' War within thirty minutes of waking
up the next day. She guessed she didn't have any sort of geas; she
just found a life without academics incredibly boring.

Yes, she should fit right in here...

The drone of the television suddenly got her attention; she stared
at it for a good minute. They were reporting on the state of the
Kublai Con hotel; the place was still sealed up as tight as a drum,
and additional personnel were going into it every day.

Unconsciously, she frowned. Pieces were starting to slide into
place.

Inside the hotel was, quite literally, a different world. Inside
lay angels and demons, lions and tigers and bears, satyrs and fairies
and superheroes and Klingons and every other creation of human
imagination. Humanity's greatest dreams and worst nightmares
came to life in that hotel...

...and, if they unsealed that hotel, all of those dreams and
nightmares would be unleashed on the world. Power would shift
inexorably... toward whoever controlled that power.

A flash of an image came to mind, of a burning compound filled with
women and children, and she shuddered.

She'd have to plan for contingencies, and soon.

***

It was remarkable, really, something she should have thought of
before now. She guessed it was due to Ami's way of thinking;
she viewed the Mercury Computer as another tool to fight against
the monster du jour. It wasn't until she and Nick had merged that
she thought of it as more than a laptop and sensory tool.

She looked at her Mercury Computer (an unbelievably powerful laptop
in and of itself), and smiled. Something she'd never thought of
during her time with the Senshi: turning the computer's sensory
equipment on herself. She hadn't realized that the key to finding
out her full potential was in her hands all along. She had the full
picture of the abilities she held, now, and what she had measured
frightened her.

She was, as expected, Sailor Mercury - though what that entailed
was more than she had initially thought. She had the magical energy
of an entire planet to call on, and effective dominion over water
in all its forms. Her effective range, however, was only about a
hundred meters or so; anything beyond that and her control over water
became shaky. Most importantly, though, her perception of her own
powers had changed. Mizuno Ami had always thought of water as a
passive weapon, as she was a more defensive fighter. Nick, as an
engineer, had seen water cut through steel; he had given her an edge,
and shown her some ideas on how to better use her abilities.

Now she knew how far those abilities would go. She stuck a hand out.

"Shabon Spray!" Instantly, a field of bubbles surrounded her, an
inpenetrable, cold fog designed to disorient any opponent. It came
easily; she'd done it a hundred times before.

"Aqua Rhapsody!" She'd aimed for a soda can on a nearby table; the
tendrils of water rushed at it from all sides, crushing it into an
impressively tiny ball of aluminum. That had taken more
concentration; she hadn't done that attack very often.

She looked around, curious for a moment; she could feel each molecule
of water vibrating in the air. A bit of inspiration hit as she
remembered a fight from long ago; she closed her eyes and focused
her power.

"Absolute.... zero."

The air around the aluminum ball coalesced, concentrated,
a white fog around it; she smiled, giving it little nudges here and
there. Then, with a flick of the mind, it flash-froze, instantly
becoming crystal.

She nodded, approvingly. She could definitely get used to this
Senshi thing...
***

The red dot appearing on her chest told her that time was up.

She switched into Senshi mode in a thought, hoping that the
ultra-tough seifuku could repel a bullet, and leapt for cover. She
felt a sort of thud on her backside as she dove, and frowned; it
seemed that her guess had been right, though she had thought a bullet
would have hit harder.

As she hid in the doorway, she saw why. Lying on the ground was a
yellow tranq dart. Her frown deepened; she didn't know whether
to take comfort in the fact that they wanted her alive or not.

Speed and deception would have to be her advantage. She looked at
the facade of the building, and a plan formed. While she'd practiced
some in her Senshi form, she hadn't yet been forced to use them in
combat; she would only be wrong once.

"Shabon spray!" Snarling, she kicked off of the ground, a second
after her blast blinded the street. Her hand pushed off against
the second-floor window ledge, then broke a third-floor window,
grabbing on and diving into the room before landing.

She frowned. She hated doing what she just did; she just hoped they
wouldn't notice. The corner apartment had a window on the other
side; she opened it - then stopped.

Protection. She needed protection. They probably had the floor plan
of the house done; knowing them, they had one sniper at each window.

Fortunately, she had her own protection. In their eyes, the powers
of Mercury were sadly limited; in her experiments, she'd found that
Mercury really had some dominion over her element - in this case,
water and ice. She could kick tail if she wanted; it's just that the
old Sailor Mercury preferred a more passive, strategic way of
winning.

Unfortunately for whoever was shooting at her, that was the old Ami's
way of thinking. This Ami was far more willing to kick tail. She
had a plan... but it was nothing these people would be expecting.

She pulled out her Mercury Computer, looking for potential hostiles,
and found two. Both were on the roof, one on her building, one on
the building immediately opposite.

Okay. She could play that. The bubbles had obscured her part of the
street; she let a blast go that took care of sniper #2's part of the
street, then exited the room.

She grinned ferally. Always keep them guessing. She found a window
on the opposite end of the hallway; she opened it, then leapt up, her
Mercury Goggles showing her true in the distorting fog. She focused
her power - this was what she'd practiced for - and gave a deadly
whisper.

"Absolute zero."

She'd done some hypothesizing after her practice session as to some
uses; it prved to be remarkably versatile. The effect, at mild
levels, was designed to immobilize. If she was sufficiently
angered, it could easily kill. She'd thought of it after remembering
her fight with Beruche; essentially, it did to her opponents what the
chess match had done to her.

If it was cold in Boston before, it was nothing compared to what it
was like on that rooftop. Water vapor gathered in Ami's hands, then
shot to her target - an instant before it flash-froze, locking him in
place.

One down. The view between the buildings was still obscured;
the bubbles wouldn't last much longer, though. She hadn't tried it
at this range; however, she didn't have much choice. Besides,
the first victim was starting to scream for help.

Again, the droplets came; he didn't even move from his hiding place,
much to her luck. By the time he realized what was going on, it was
too late; he was frozen right up to his chin.

She opened her Mercury Computer, searching for any possible threats,
then noticed none there.

"Ugh! goddamn icy bitch..."

The grumbles from the first sniper got her attention; she turned
around to him. He had the 'men in black' look about him, with
clean-cut black hair, nondescript black suit, and decent shoes -
totally unremarkable in every way of thinking. She crossed her arms,
and glared at him. "A question from the icy bitch: Who sent you?"

He clammed up.

"Fine." She willed another inch to his prison; his chin now sat
under the ice. "You want me to increase it?"

He just sneered. "You're no killer."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, an expression which morphed
into a smile. "Not yet. Fortunately, I don't have to be." She
kicked at the ice near where his tranq rifle was; that part
shattered, freeing part of his arm. Fortunately, due to the extreme
cold, he wasn't able to do anything. She picked up the rifle, and
smiled.

"Good night." She hit the sniper right on the temple with the rifle
butt, enough to give him one mother of a headache in the morning
- when he woke up, of course. She broke him out of his ice prison,
then rifled through his pockets in search of ID.

"FBI... damn." She scanned the IDs with her goggles and computer;
sure enough, they were genuine, which meant one of three things.
One possibility was that the FBI was after her. The second was that
two rogue agents wanted her - unlikely, but a possibility.
And the third... was that someone higher up than the FBI, a group
the American populace didn't know about, wanted her.

She doubted two agents would go rogue like this, which meant that
organizations within the government wanted her. The paranoid part
of her mind argued that even the FBI couldn't abuse their powers
like this, which meant the third option.

She nodded grimly, a decision made. She smiled, froze a message
on his forehead (frostbite would complete the tattoo), and leapt out
into the barren night.

***

"Pardon me, but why are you withdrawing all of your money from us?"

She smiled. "I'm moving."

True enough, of course; she was moving - from city to city, and
college to college. From MIT, she'd gone to UConn, where she'd
brushed up on her law enforcement procedures and performed the
hacktivism that had led to this windfall. From there she went down
to SUNY - and to this nice little bank in the heart of New York City.

A bank that had gotten eight thousand dollars richer seventeen
hours ago thanks to some funds redirected from child pornographers
through seventy-two different monetary institutions to here, and was
now back eight thousand dollars due to the creator of said
redirection wanting her money.

Hacking for fun, profit, and a cause. If she'd known what she could
do with God's Own Laptop earlier, she'd have brought the U.S.
Government to its knees after the stunt they pulled.

She walked out of the bank, trying to appear the college student
in her "Got DeCSS?" t-shirt, jeans, mirrorshades, and Doc Martens,
and made her way to the station. It was time for her to move on
again - a shame, as she had grown to like it in New York. The place
literally had everything; she might have to come here in the end,
once she felt secure enough to start a new life.

Not that settling down was likely to happen anytime soon.

"What are you doing, Nick?"

The question stopped her cold. She turned around carefully.
"Hello, Kain." She looked at the figure who'd spoken: black hair,
sunglasses, t-shirt, and jeans. Somehow, he'd resisted the urge to
wear his cloak. "Nice disguise, by the way."

The confusion in his eyes said it all. He knew what she'd done.
"Why'd you do it?"

Ami sighed. "Because the bastards I took it from didn't deserve
the money in the first place, and because I just got a whole lot less
respect for United States law enforcement." She started down the
street, then turned around. "If you want to talk, let's do it
elsewhere." She made her way to Central Park, a pleasantly anonymous
place, and sat down at a park bench.

Kain eyed her warily. "What happened, Nick? You wouldn't have done
this before..."

She let out a deep sigh. "I... I was attacked about a week ago by
some agents. FBI - or someone more secret than that." She sighed.
"I looked up their names in the files; their records were exemplary,
indicating that they were probably doctored by whoever wanted them
to look like FBI."

Kain blinked. "That doesn't make sense. Why would they want...
oh." Kain sighed as he saw the computer in Ami's hand. "Sneakers."

Ami nodded. "'There isn't a government in existence that wouldn't
kill us all for that thing.' Well, I've got 'that thing'; moreover,
I am 'that thing'." She sighed. "Seems the government has some
computers that they need software for; problem is, the computers
are so advanced that nobody can write capable software for them."
She let out a deep sigh. "Except me. And a few others from Kublai
Con, of course - though they already have them." Her smile came out
for a moment. "And I thought IT job recruiting was bad. At least
Linus has some stuff to stew over for the next couple of weeks..."

"I saw the results; I've never seen code that tight." He shook his
head. "Another of Ami's gifts?"

"Ami's gifts?" She couldn't help but chuckle. "Kain... I... I am
Ami, now, just as you're Kain. I can see it; you're acting
differently, you're talking differently... you've become someone
else. Just as I have." She closed her eyes. "I am neither purely
Nick or Ami; however, the body wins by default. I... I *feel* like
Ami."

Kain fixed a hard stare on her. "Okay... Ami." He sighed. "How did
you know I've changed that much?"

She snorted. "I'm not stupid, Kain. I've known Doug for about a
decade, after all..."

Kain ran a hand through his hair. "True." He looked out at the park
for a moment; Ami stared at his thoughtful blue eyes.

"Come back with me, Ami."

Ami blinked. "Huh?"

"It's not safe for you here," Kain replied. "Come with me back to
Swordbreaker; you'll be safe there. I know Canal won't like it...
but it'll only be until we finish the base, anyway."

Ami sat there for a moment. She wanted to go with him; she *really*
wanted to go with him. Unfortunately, she wanted to go for the wrong
reasons.

"Kain... I can't."

He crossed his arms. "Why not?"

She fought for the right words to say; in the end, only the truth
came out.

"Because... because I love you."

Kain stopped cold. Ami grabbed one of his arms, and pulled his hand
to her chest.

"Kain... I love you. I love you as Doug, I love you as Kain, I love
all of you. That's... that's why I can't go."

"Why? What's the problem? I mean..." Kain trailed off at the look
in Ami's eyes.

"Kain, we've had this discussion before, only with innuendo and fear
blocking what we needed to say. I love you. Millie loves you.
Canal loves you. You... you love Millie, in the way that the rest
of us would like to be." She shook her head. "Going with you could
only end bloody for me, Kain. I'm sorry."

Kain sighed in frustration. "But what about -"

"I'm a big girl, Kain, despite the fact that I look sixteen. I can
take care of myself." Kain glared at her; she just bit her lip.
"If... if it gets too hot, I'll call. Okay?"

"Okay." Kain looked out over the crowd. "Now... would you care to
join me for lunch?"

Ami gave her best coquettish smile. "Why, I'd love to, kind sir..."

***

Ami closed her eyes, her hands extended out. Her transformation
pen was in her hand; however, she refused to say the words. She
thought of the words, and the sensations she felt as she began the
transformation...

... there.

Sailor Mercury opened her eyes. It had worked like a charm. She'd
transformed with only the pen, and without saying a word.

This was war, she knew. She had an idea of what was happening
to those that had already been captured; their survival depended
on how well they could write code. If she allowed herself to be
captured, well... her fate would be theirs. She'd thought about
attacking the facility; however, after reviewing the layout for the
building, she thought it a difficult job at best, and suicidal
at worst. She wanted to help... but really couldn't.

In a way, this was uncharted territory for her. She'd studied
history in her spare time before the change; she had a decent idea
on how the United States really operated, and the claws that hid
beneath the velvet gloves. She'd considered possibly going to the
Project X being set up... but feared that even that couldn't protect
her. She was being hunted by members of her own government,
and she still didn't know how to take it.

Correction: she did, but didn't know how she would handle it.

She had to handle it with all of her beliefs. She would try not to
kill, though she would make no promises. She would not get innocents
involved in the fight; this was between her and them. However,
most importantly, she had to remain free. Power carried with it
responsibility. She could not let others take control of her power
away from her.

She mentally willed herself back to normal, letting the power fade
from her grip. She hoped to be able to transform one day without
holding it in her hand; that was the next step. Speaking the
transformation was a dangerous weakness; all someone would need to do
to keep her harmless would be to gag her. She needed to be able to
change purely at will; given some more practice, she should be able
to do so.

She put the transformation pen away in her pocket, and began to
concentrate...

***

She stepped back from the computer, a broad grin on her features.
It wasn't perfect; it never was the first draft through. But, it
showed promise - and it was original.

Moreover, it was hers - the first writing she'd done since... well...
since some oddball events had left her with no fears about male
pattern baldness or prostate cancer. Writing was like meeting an old
friend; the first few minutes had been awkward, but it was like
nothing had changed from then on.

Of course, some had changed. She could tell; her words had more of
an edge to them. Nick's words always carried an ache with them, a
quiet tear for the emotions she'd always carried. The sadness was
done. Anger, however, remained. She had always held her soul in
shadow; the only difference lay in the flavors.

She lived in a land that had gone totally mad, a country which
rejected her for her very existence. She lived in an existence
of paradox herself, with two lives' memories showing opposite views
of life. Truth had become lies, the lies truth, and all she knew
anymore was to trust her heart.

Perhaps that was why she had come to this life and home. Kerouak
had specialized in hearing the song of the asphalt; college life,
ironically, had its similarities. The normal rules didn't apply
here; not that they were any more or less valid, but that they were
different. There were moments when it could be just as cruel or
unjust; however, the cruelty and injustice were of a different
type than the ones that normal society offered. However, as with
real life, those rules came to be for a reason and a price. Each
place offered its own unique freedoms and dangers, all of which had
to be respected.

And, ultimately, she bled the college ivy onto the paper, just as
Kerouak spilled hot asphalt.

Smiling, she closed her computer and stored it away. The voice had
come back; good enough reason to feel good on her trip. Victories
came in small amounts in her life now; survival took up enough of her
good fortune. She picked up her bag and walked out of the coffee
shop, her eyes twinkling but careful for surprises.

Seven colleges down - the University of Michigan the most recent.
It was a nice, large campus, one where she could become safely
anonymous; thanks to the wonders of hiding in large groups, she'd
stayed here longer than any other college before - nearly a week.
She'd gotten a little paranoid last Saturday when all of Michigan
came down to see the game, but that, like anything else, had passed
uneventfully.

She sighed. Had she ever been that fanatical about anything?

Her memories, from both sides, reminded her. She gave a chuckle
at the personal joke and skipped down the street.

The bus station lay on the other side of town, a good hour's walk;
she let out a contented sigh, and started on her way. Kerouak's
Cram Session called her, and it was time to answer once more.

***

Ami walked into the room quietly, wishing not to disturb anyone,
and sat down.

She wasn't sure why she was there. She knew it was a bit of a
security risk; however, she also had a feeling that the people in the
room would respect her more than the U.S. Government.
Anti-establishment feelings tended to be unusually high among nerds;
after all, they tended to be a lot smarter than, say, the average
congressman, and they'd also felt its restrictive grip on more than
one occasion. Put simply, nerds couldn't understand why money made
the world go 'round.

The only thing she had to fear from these people, she felt, were the
occasional leers - and she'd experienced enough of those to not worry
about it anymore. She set her bag down next to her, and looked up at
the screen... as "Moonlight Denetsu" played through the speakers.

She'd needed to do this for a long time. Find an anime club, see if
they were twisted enough to play subtitled Sailor Moon (specifically,
the Sailor Moon S Movie), and attend. She needed to see herself,
so to speak, needed to look through the otaku's eyes at some moments
from her life.

Fifteen seconds in, she bit her lip. She should have expected
this; however, the act of watching her old self on the screen chilled
her more than she expected. Mizuno Ami, of course, had never seen
these events from the fly-on-the-wall perspective; she'd lived
through it, and had felt those ice dolls slamming into her.

She grimaced, though, when it came time for the transformations.
She didn't remember it taking that long... they took nearly two
minutes to get everyone changed. To her, it always seemed
instantaneous - one moment Ami Mizuno, the next Sailor Mercury.

The moment she heard the Shabon Spray called, she put a hand to her
throat. She'd forgotten; she had Aya Hisakawa's voice. That could
be... problematic.

"Hello! Are you new here?"

She fought back a smile. "Just visiting. I'm taking a tour of a few
campuses here and there, to see which one I like." She extended
her hand. "Hi. I'm Ami."

He smiled back. He was rather cute, come to think of it, with this
not-yet-hardened face, deep brown eyes, and disheveled brown hair.
"Hi. I'm Chris." He shrugged sheepishly. "I'm just a freshman
here, so..." He looked up at the screen. "How long have you been
a Moonie?"

"Oh, a couple of years now." 'Such as a millenium', she thought
privately. "I started watching the DIC dubs, and... well... I got
hooked." She blushed. "Embarassing, I know, considering how it
compares to the original, but..."

"Well, every fan has to start somewhere." He shrugged. "A friend
of mine showed me some anime when I was in high school. It's
addicting; drugs really would be cheaper."

"But not as much fun," Ami offered. She turned back to the screen;
she hadn't really thought about what had gone on with the others,
especially Luna. The Moon Cat had gone through hell during this
fight, nearly losing someone she loved before finding her place with
Artemis.

"Um... pardon me..."

Here it came...

"... but we usually go out to Pizza Hut once this is done. Do you
want to come?"

She blinked. Repeatedly.

"Um... sure."

***

"You're one of them, aren't you?"

Ami paused in mid-chew, then completed her swallow. "One of what?"

Chris ran his fingers through his dark hair, a move Ami had seen from
too many anime playboys. "Ami. Mizuno Ami, I take it?"

She blushed. Lying was useless; she'd never been good at it, anyway.
"Um... well... sort of, anyway. Yes, I am - at least partly - Sailor
Mercury."

"Really? Cool!" The rest of the group quickly scooted closer;
an older fellow with stark-blond hair started talking. "So what was
it like at Kublai Con?"

Ami took a deep breath. "It was... well... I don't think I really
have the words to be accurate." She thought for a minute. "Did any
of you ever read the "Wild Cards" series of books?"

Two nodded; Ami smiled. "Take what happened there - where part of
the world ended up blessed, part cursed - and put it into one
building. Some people changed into superheroes, some into
supervillains. And some poor souls changed into creatures such as
Barney the Dinosaur, or Brain from Pinky and the Brain." She
swallowed. "I'm not sure if I agree with how they've handled the
situation; yes, they were scared, and rightly so, but that was no
reason to lock everyone up for so long." She drummed her fingers
together. "I escaped from the hotel after a day and a half; I had to
go out and find my life - and I did."

Chris touched her on the shoulder. "So. You said you were looking
at a few colleges. Which ones?"

Ami swallowed. "Well... I'd like to go to MIT or Caltech one day."
She folded her hands together. "When I was... well... the first time
I was sixteen years old, I really wanted to go to one of those two;
they seemed like *the* place to go for engineering." She sighed.
"Then I got a look at the economics of the situation, and realized
I'd never be able to pull it off." A wicked grin crept over her
features. "Now, though, it's a whole new ball game. I got a 'do
over'."

They looked at her carefully for a minute. A chubby, black-haired
fellow at one end of the corner whispered, "You were a guy, weren't
you?"

Ami shrugged. "Yes, I was - though I'm more woman than you can
handle, now." She gave a playful wink his direction. "With me, the
mental changes ended with a hybrid. Some got their memories totally
wiped out; some were simply the same mind in a different body. And
some... like me... got both. I can remember dying - several times
- as a Senshi; I can even recall Silver Millenium events if I think
hard enough. At the same time, I can remember being this guy, going
through life, trying to find direction - and rarely finding it."

Silence hung around the table for several moments; she hadn't faked
her words or what she felt, and apparently it hit home. Chris
finally broke the silence. "So what's your direction now?"

Ami sighed. "My hope is to go to college. I'm not sure about the
major; part of me wants to be a doctor like my - like Ami's mom; part
of me also wants to do computer science." She sighed.
"Unfortunately..."

"Unfortunately?"

Ami drummed her fingers together. "I don't know if you've ever seen
the dark side of the United States government. At any rate, there
is no good or evil side - only one side or another." She sighed.
"Someone wants me - a little too much - and for some reason they're
carrying government badges."

If silence hung around before, it positively body-slammed them then.
"So... you're on the run?"

Ami nodded. "Guys, I need to go." She pulled out two $20s, enough
to pay for all of the pizza. "Thanks for your company." She slipped
a hand into the strap of her bag; she needed to -

"Wait." Chris pulled out a piece of paper, and wrote a number.
"If... if you're ever in trouble, let me know." He shrugged.
"I don't know what I can do... but I'm sure we can do something."

She looked at him. Part of her wanted to stay, to maybe call this
place home... but she knew that it couldn't happen. Not here. She
took the paper then, after a moment's hesitation, kissed him on the
cheek. "Th-thanks, Chris." She ran out the door in a flash; in
seconds, the cold wind was all that would comfort.

***

Once was not fun.

Twice was positively infuriating.

Ami hadn't relied on her powers, other than the shabon spray; that
and her Senshi strength had been all she needed. She didn't know
what condition the foursome were in, other than that they were still
alive and in an incredible amount of pain. She had some frustrations
to work out; they happened to supply. She made sure not to kill
them; however, she also made sure they wouldn't be in any condition
to try again anytime soon. She'd taken inspiration from a
particularly nasty technique she'd read about in a role-playing
game, one where a character's bones are broken and allowed to set at
odd angles.

Mind you, that was how she'd wanted it. This was a message: leave
her the fuck alone. If they wanted to play God's Own Soldiers,
she'd show them just what God's Own Sailor Senshi could do. She
picked up her backpack and let the bubbles fade; she couldn't keep
the fog up forever, after all.

"A-ami?"

She turned around, a moment of panic crossing her features. Chris
stared in amazement at her. "Um... hi." She looked at the suits
she left in the snow; all of them were in pretty sore shape. She'd
done exactly as she'd intended. "Come on. Let's go elsewhere."

A couple of blocks away, she stopped. Chris looked at her carefully.
"Who... who were they?"

Ami pulled out their FBI cards. "Comforting, ne?" She sighed.
"Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what your country's
doing to you."

Chris looked over the cards one-by-one. "What do you plan to do from
here?"

Ami shrugged. "I don't know. Leave, for one; the open road calls,
after all. As for where... I can't trust anyone anymore." She
kissed him on the cheek. "I will keep in touch, though."

Chris grabbed her hand. "I... good luck, Ami." He glanced at the ID
cards again. "If you've made enemies out of them, you're going to
need it."

Ami's eyes glimmered in the moonlight. "The secret is faith, Chris.
I can't afford to let them take me; they've already proven their
ethical capacity." Her glare narrowed to slits. "I don't want to
kill; I don't want to become as bad as them. But if they try again,
after what I did to them... I don't think I'll have a choice."
She shook her head. "Bet you never expected Sailor Mercury to say
those words..."

Chris shrugged. "I never expected the FBI to be going after Sailor
Mercury, either."

She fought with herself for a moment, then kissed him full on the
lips. Her body screamed in protest; she wanted to stay there, to
maybe... she broke it off before any more could happen. "Be careful,
okay?"

Chris stared back, shocked. "Y... you too."

***

The shadows passed by her window, an eerie strobe at sixty miles per
hour. The seat, so familiar now, settled in, comfortable to her.
Not many people went by bus anymore; the Greyhound wasn't even
half-full, allowing her space for her thoughts. Life's soundtrack
consisted of Sarah Brightman mp3's; the energetic song spoke of a
fall from heaven's grace, and she felt the adrenaline rush of battle
come over her again.

She'd had two more questions answered tonight. The first was that
they were still after her; she would need to adjust her tactics
if she planned to keep her freedom. To make matters worse, they were
starting to get an idea of who they'd made enemies with. She
couldn't assume them to be fools; they would probably attack en masse
next time, with too many people for her to target at once.

She frowned. She wasn't sure if she had an answer for the Mongolian
Hordes strategy, other than to avoid the confrontation.

The second... she'd been beating around the bush for awhile. She
liked guys. True, she probably also liked girls as well, but she
most definitely had some taste for the male persuasion. She crossed
her legs as she remembered Chris' sparkling eyes; he was cute...

... and he was human. The problem with her life was that she
couldn't afford a relationship; having assholes in black gunning
for her made anyone she chose to join with a target. And that pretty
much eliminated anyone who wasn't at Kublai Con from contention.

Still, it was good to know. No more questioning, no more doubt;
she'd take love as her heart saw it, regardless of the chromosomes
the person happened to be wearing. If she met a cute girl with black
hair and beautiful jade-green eyes at the next stop, all the better.
She had to live; it was a credo she'd adopted long before her ordeal,
back when razor blades had seemed like neat things to use. She had
to get through this free and alive - no matter who stood in her way.

And, when it was all said and done, she'd see who was waiting at the
end.

***

Time, she knew, was running out.

She carefully screwed the cover over the electronics, as though
finishing a bomb, flipped the cap closed, and pushed her chair back.
It looked like a standard lipstick case; however, the circuitry
in the case wouldn't make her prettier. This was an emergency
system; once she activated the matching program in her computer,
she'd have a way out - if she had time to push the button.

Paranoia was beginning to set in, an old friend come back to visit.
She wasn't even trusting Greyhound anymore; these agents had known
her modus operandi. She had to be unpredictable.

The problem was, she only really knew the college towns. She
couldn't blend in elsewhere; she didn't have the skill or the money
to. Like it or not, these small enclaves had become her stomping
grounds.

And, eventually, they would become her battlegrounds.

She chewed on the last of her cheeseburger, and smiled. Many of her
nights in school had been spent like this, burning the midnight
oil with Diet Coke and Quarter Pounders with Cheese. It was on
nights like these that the skills of her first profession had taken
shape. Now... she worked on the skills of her second profession:
survival.

The battle was coming, she knew; however, she chose the circumstances
of her fight. That was her main advantage in this; she could choose
where the fight happened and, to a limited extent, how it happened.

And there was only one place she could think of that would make it
perfect - a place where she knew every corner by heart.

She pulled out her laptop and started looking at trade routes
available. It was time for her to go where it all started, to the
place where she'd first heard of Sailor Moon.

It was time for her to go home.

***

Christmas morning in College Station. Snow almost never fell this
far south, and it didn't today; however, rains from the Gulf pounded
the area, cold rains that chilled to the bone, and a wind that pushed
the water mercilessly into the skin. In the near distance from her
seat in the Denny's, she could see the towers of her old alma mater,
the prism of the Civil Engineering building and the towering
Meteorology building figuring most prominently. For five years in
her past, Texas A&M University had been her home; with luck, it would
prove her salvation.

She knew they were waiting. She'd gotten deep enough on the
government's computers to put a tap on certain folks' email; she'd
timed her arrival so that they'd be ready. Besides, it was
Christmas; the campus was deserted. No witnesses. Only a person
with no place to go would find themselves there.

A good hunter didn't go to the site. A good hunter forced the prey
to go to their site, choosing the field of battle to their advantage.
This was her site, and she'd led her prey here.

She picked up the bill on the table, left a twenty for everything,
and walked outside. She'd always hated the rains here in her
previous life; it made the place unfit for anyone to live. As she
crossed the street onto the campus itself, she smiled; the day was
perfect. She adjusted the fit of her hat and gloves, and started
the walk beyond the fields to the buildings beyond.

The speaker in her ear started giving readings as she made her way
through the maze of buildings; she whistled in appreciation.
No less than twenty agents were detected in the main courtyard;
ten snipers, and ten more hiding in the nearby buildings, waiting
to take her away. All held tranq darts; most had genuine pistols
to accompany them. This was the problem with holding back, she
realized; the enemy was stronger than she was, and would keep on
sending agents until either she was captured or they ran out. She'd
only lasted two months so far; if she didn't make it decisive today,
she'd never be safe.

She frowned. How to deal with them... she could go after each group
separately, but she doubted that it would be effective; they'd have
a watch out for her, and probably knew she was heading their way even
at that moment.

Then she remembered a page from the Jedi school of combat: When
outnumbered, attack. She was protected enough that their darts
probably wouldn't hit her; with luck, she could take all of them out.

She gave a feral grin. The Academic Building stood in front of her,
snipers at the ready. She knew they wouldn't strike until she was in
position; she walked close to the building, purposely taking a path
that would take her out of their sight for a moment.

Then she acted. She bounded from floor to roof with the assistance
of a tree; they stood at the opposite end, waiting for her to pass.
They never knew what hit them. She smiled at the four cases of ice;
this environment - wet and cold, maybe a few degrees above freezing
- optimized her abilities, just as she'd expected. She hadn't killed
them... she hadn't needed to. Their colleagues might not be so
lucky.

She felt a dull thud on her forearm, and smiled at the tranq dart
stuck in her coat. Time to take care of some more folks. She got
a running start and leapt for Bolton Hall, just barely making it.
These snipers had more presence of mind than their predecessors;
they kept firing. A half-dozen darts hit her, three in the chest,
two in the leg, one in the arm.

A growl escaped her lips; she wasn't so kind to these people. She'd
never tried an Aqua Rhapsody on a human being before; the results
were devastating. The force of the water hade broken several bones;
they weren't getting up anytime soon.

That done, she checked the places where she'd been hit. Her
protection - part Senshi, part plastic armor - was working like a
charm. She took off her hat, exposing her tiara; they had to know
she was in Senshi mode by this point.

The kid gloves were off, now. She touched her earring; her goggles
appeared in a heartbeat.

They'd been arranged in seven groups, she knew; she'd just taken out
the two largest. Three more sat on top of Hart Hall, while three
others hid behind the columns of the Academic Building. The
remaining people went in groups of two: in Hart's computer lab on the
first floor, inside Bolton's doors, and at a van parked along a
nearby street. As she spoke, one from each of the ground groups
started shooting at her.

She sighed, and leapt back onto the Academic Building. She had to
take out the snipers, first; the ground troops wouldn't be much of a
match for her. She ran across the Academic Building and leapt for
Hart Hall, a battle cry on her lips.

She felt a sting on her neck just before she jumped, and grimaced;
the distraction was enough to make her miss. She had enough sense
to push off of the walls and secure a landing, managing a painful
roll into the main courtyard.

The warning from her display told her enough. They'd hit her, and
continued to try. The ground agents came out from their hiding
places; they knew from her movements that they had her.

She looked around, staggering to the statue of Sul Ross at the
center, and grabbed her panic button. They were coming toward her;
she didn't have much left. She could feel her concentration
slipping away; her display told her exactly how many seconds she had
before she lost control: 15... 14... 13...

She closed her eyes, pushing the button, sending the signal. There
was one last chance, one way to buy time. She looked out at the cold
and rain around them. She could still bend it to her will, if she
needed to...

9... 8... 7...

She sensed all of it, embracing it to herself, calling it to her in
this time of need. She could even feel the hot, steamy vapor within
the lungs of the agents. She'd never tried anything on this scale...
she fought as the fuzz came to her vision...

"Absolute zero."

She managed a weak smile as her vision turned white, then black.

***

Impossibly-clear sunlight called Ami from her slumber; she opened
her eyes, noted the headache that hammered into her skull, and turned
around, trying to will it all away.

"Good. You're awake."

She turned her head to the sound of the voice; her eyes still
couldn't focus all that well. "No, I'm not..."

Another chuckle came from behind that. "Some things never change."

That voice got her attention; she forced her eyes to focus, and
forced the pain back. "H... Hello, Do-er, Kain." She looked at the
others, at Captain America and Black Widow by her bedside. "Drew.
I see that it worked."

Drew crossed his arms. "Come on. Do you honestly think we weren't
watching you? We leapt into that fight almost as soon as the ice
did."

Ami sighed, letting the smile spread across her face. "Yes, well...
I didn't know that. All I knew was that I was probably going to face
them by myself." Memory flashed; her jaw dropped. "What... what
happened there?"

Kain sighed. "Twelve agents were killed, all of suffocation;
your final attack encased the entire courtyard in ice. The remainder
tried to arrange for an extraction, ice and all, but they met with
some... opposition." He glanced over at Drew. "The ones we captured
- those that aren't injured - are being interrogated as we speak."

Ami weighed that information in her head. What disturbed her about
all of it was that she didn't care. They had attacked her - had set
up an ambush for her - and had done everything to make her into their
little play-toy. She knew she'd made orphans of more than a couple
of kids today... for them she felt sorry, but not for their fathers.
"I... I see. What does the world think of this?"

Drew pursed his lips. "You should know. You're the one who sent
those email copies to Reuters. That, plus some words from us, pretty
much told everyone what had happened. Congress is calling for a full
investigation - especially after those others were found deep in FBI
headquarters. One Leon-alike was about to go postal on those guys
after seeing Nene like that..." He lowered his head. "As for any
charges against you regarding those killed... the locals generally
agreed that it was self-defense." He smiled. "Congratulations.
You're a hero."

Ami shook her head. "Don't... don't ever call me that. I'm a killer
- a warrior, at best. Heroes are the ones who stop the bad guys
without making orphans of their kids."

Drew put his hand on her shoulder. "Now you know why I'm no hero."
He took a deep breath. "I... I know this may be sudden, but we could
use some help here. Tony's a great inventor; however, he can always
use some help, especially on the software end. Also... you're damn
good in a fight, and we could use you. Do you want to join us?"

Ami stopped. The idea carried more than its fair share of appeal.
Tony knew his way around design, and she'd thrive while working
with him. Also... it would give her a home, one with people she
could be comfortable with. She gave one look back at Kain, just to
be sure.

Kain raised his hands defensively. "Don't look at me. It's your
decision."

Ami cocked her head to one side. "Well... okay. I would like to
give it a try." She looked down at her clothes - she still wore the
fuku, as she was still in Senshi mode, but all of her other clothing
was gone. "Um... guys... do you mind if I change? I mean, I've been
in this outfit for most of several days, now..."

"Okay. Kimiko left one of her outfits for you on the chair." He
nodded appreciatively. "And... when you're done... come downstairs
to the mess hall. It is Christmas, after all..."

She nodded. It was getting later in the day; however, it was still
Christmas, and she hadn't missed it. "Um... Okay." She waited for
them to leave the room, then slid out of bed.

Her muscles screamed the moment she shifted out of Senshi form; her
clothing disappeared, as she'd arranged to wear her clothes over her
Senshi armor. She picked up the outfit, a slow grin spreading
over her features.

The bra and panties came on first, utilitarian clothes much like what
she was used to. The henley shirt and jumper, on the other hand,
weren't.

Not that she was complaining. She'd wanted to be 'normal' ever since
she'd started this crazy game; her travels had required her to wear
jeans and a t-shirt. It felt good to be able to wear a skirt again.
She pulled the shirt over her head and onto her; she stepped into the
jumper and buttoned it. She pulled her socks on, then stood in front
of the mirror.

Her hair was a mess; her face screamed for makeup. But... she felt
like a girl, like a plain, ordinary girl. That was why she'd gone
to Juuban a lifetime ago; that was why she'd left the hotel a few
months ago. Maybe here, she could be a normal girl.

She gave the mirror a smile. Yes, she could definitely like it
here...

***

The perfect orange glow of a sunset announced the end of the day; she
stared at it quietly as it began to fade.

She'd only been to Colorado once before in her life, a ski trip that
seemed ages ago, but the serene beauty of the area had taken her
breath away then. That hadn't changed; the spartan, unscarred
landscape reminded her that there were things more powerful than the
forces she controlled.

To be honest, the place was about as perfect as she could imagine.
No ratrace existed here; traffic from home to work would consist
of a walk from the dorms to Tony's shed (or from her bed to the
computer). The facilities reminded her pleasantly of some of the
retreat locations she'd been on, where the television was a thing
that maybe sat in the corner unused (if at all) and where a person
could actually hear herself think.

Then there was the family she'd joined. According to Tony, the place
had been a home for delinquent boys in times past; somehow, it seemed
too appropriate for the family that congregated here. Tony acted
as surrogate father; Marion ended up as the mother figure. The rest
of the group counted as brothers and sisters, more or less - except
for Pinky and Brain, who took more esoteric roles. They loved each
other, they argued, they had fights, they joked and played around,
they listened in the quiet moments... they were a Waltons-like
family, complete with Ran-boy.

And she was adopted by the family.

She paused for a moment, and pulled out her computer. There was
another family she needed to contact, especially now that the
government problems had faded. She hadn't contacted them since MIT;
they were probably worried sick. The fingers worked slowly; every
word seemed to weigh a ton.

"Hey, family. Merry Christmas. I'm sorry I haven't had the chance
to contact you in so long.

"I'm all right - now. You probably heard on the news about that
freeze that hit the A&M campus; that was me. See, the reason why I
hadn't emailed you since early last month was because some people
had taken an idea to acquiring my services - by force. They'd
attacked me twice before what happened in B-CS this morning. I ended
up killing a dozen of them, so they say; I'm still not sure how to
handle that.

"Anyway, I'm hanging out here at Tony's place - Tony is the Iron Man
guy - and I kinda like it here. It strikes me as the kind of place
Mom and Dad would like to live when they retire - out in the boonies,
with no distractions or traffic or anything like that. It's really
a peaceful place to live. And I have a lot of friends here, freaks
like me who were changed by what happened.

"I'll probably visit sometime in the next month or two; that may be a
little strange for you, considering I'm a teenaged Asian girl, now.
I won't announce it in advance; I'll just be there. I can't plan it
any more than that, as I don't know if anyone else wants me like
before. But I will visit soon, I promise. I also plan on visiting
Martin and Heidi soon; just not sure of the details yet.

"Anyway, just wanted to wish everyone Merry Christmas. If you need
to get a hold of me, the email box is open again. I wish I could
be there now.

"-- Ami"

She looked at what she had written. She'd left out a lot; then
again, a lot needed to be told in person. She knew she wasn't the
same person who'd left the hotel two months ago. She'd grown up, in
a sense, enough to know what was needed and what wasn't.

And, here, she had almost enough.

Not everything, but almost.

***

FI

The Latex Vixen

2009-09-03T02:10:23Z

75.41.112.111:

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Mental_change]] {{universe|Xanadu}} [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
[[Category:Animal]] [[Category:Magic]] [[Category:Fox]] [[Category:Transgender]] [[Category:Xanadu]]

This has been sitting on the back burner for a while. But I got
enough for a part 1 done.

Xanadu: The Latex Vixen by James S. Cole

It had taken weeks of coaxing and convincing but finally I was
at Kubla Con. Getting me to attend the con was no feat, getting
me to go in costume to quite a bit of convincing. Getting me to come
in the costume I had made was much harder. I'd though for a long
time the costume was just a pipe dream, or that I'd never finish
it. But I'd managed too, and it was a true work of art. It was a
fantasy made real. For a while I'd been going on-line under
different furry persona's, but this one was the only one with a
chance of appearing remotely real. She was called Latex Vixen, and
with good reason, she always wore some form a latex garment. A
creation of my furriness and my fetish for latex rubber. The costume
was a master piece, fusing two of my biggest interests into one
being. The only way I'd been convinced to don my creation, which
I'd never worn once before, was when my good friend promised me he
too would go in costume, as my submissive. Naturally I'd made the
character a dominatrix, most of the best latex outfits where for
dominatrixes.

The foundation layer was perhaps the hardest part to put on, and
the one I feared wearing the most. If the wearer had been a female
it would have been much easier, but since I was male it required
a bit more. I had to wear special underwear, padded not only to fake
a proper female curve but it involved a padded area my male parts
had to fit into. Needless to say it wasn't the most comfortable
garment, but it was child's play in comparison to the corset I
endured. Another integral part in the illusion, but damm was it
tight. I really have to respect women who wear corsets, it takes
a lot to just breath in one! An inflatable bra and a padded body
suit filled out the rest of the foundation. What came next was a
full latex catsuit, in case your wondering that means a complete
covering from the neck down, only hands and feet uncovered. To say
the outfit was very hot is an understatement. The air conditioning
in the room where I dressed was turned up to full blast to keep me
from over heating, and the costume was yet to be finished. Boots
that reached to my thighs came next with 6 inch spike heels. For
weeks before I'd learned to stand and walk in heels, and as I'm sure
ladies who have worn them can say it's not comfy! The gloves came
next, shoulder high ones, still stiff like new. Another corset over
top of that, thankfully one just for looks, though I don't think it
could have done more. This alone would have made a award winning
costume, but to portray my persona right I needed to add another
element. Considering how hard it was to get the rest on the furry
elements where cake. I'd designed a mask but in the end makeup made
up most of the vixenish face I wore. A open face hood with fake fox
ears, fur and white hair all attached. A prosthetic muzzle, face
paint and special lenses finished my mask. Finishing it off with a
tail glued on to where it would be and a fake gold ring used to
indicate a tail base and the transformation completed.

For as hard as my suit was to put on my friend had it easy, a
pretty standard fox fursuit with a mask set up similar to mine, a
collar and leash. Though he was roasting with in it I was in a much
worse place. Latex of course does not breath, it's greatest
downfall. Combine the padded suit I wore and the corset and I was
not the most mobile person. I had to take little baby steps, which
thankfully gave me and external look of regality, but resulted
from the constriction of the corset and towering on the high heels.
Lucky the convention hall was extremely close. But most of my time
at the actual con I spent sitting down sucking liquids though a straw
to keep from dehydration. I was admired by those who saw me, and
several furry artists took it upon them selves to sketch me. The
illusion of feminism was better than I hoped, many people where
fooled, and utterly shocked when I reveled I was male under all that
latex. The attention felt very nice, though I could say little and
wasn't able to make the rounds. I conceded that the next day of the
con I would come un costumed, so I might visit the booths and do some
shopping. My friend how ever wandered off several times, though
I was more than attended to. He did bring me back some food and
toothpicks, the only way to eat in the mask, and he bought me a
pokemon plush, a cute nidorina that was full size, apparently
someone was selling home made full size pokemon plushes, and they
where every where.

I was lead into the main hall where the costume judging would
be made. The owner of the con walked on stage and said something
I don't fully remember. He was dressed like a native American and had
a unusual mask, it looked rather like a bird. As a sort of official
opening to the costume contest he put on the mask, and all hell broke
loose. I can't remember much, all I really recall was sudden
screaming and how badly it hurt my ears, that and my plush starting
to squirm. I don't know how but I was stuck in the head and blacked
out.

I work up with a slight head ache, and strangely enough in my
room. I looked around and was greeted by a bizarre sight. I was
laying on the bed and when I looked forward I was staring at a
blunted blue snout and bright green eyes.

"Nina! Nidorina!" what ever it was said, and I realized I had a
real flesh and blood pokemon sitting on my chest, squishing my boobs.

The instant I though it was squishing my boobs I realized,
I had breasts! Not the inflatable kind by real flesh breasts.
I sat up and found the pokemon sitting between my legs, my rubber
clad legs. I quickly got up and went to the mirror. What stared
back was a vixen in a very form fitting black rubber outfit. I
figured I must be going nuts, I must have over heated and blacked
out.

"Mistress are you alright?" I heard a voice call out and turned
to see a male red fox morph standing their looking concerned.

"I think I'm going nuts! This can't be real!" I said, finding
my voice a breathy and sexy one.

"I'm afraid it is mistress. And we aren't alone" he replied.
"Everyone in costume was effected, and I mean everyone. We have
monsters, demons, aliens and superheros running around mistress."

"Why do you keep calling me mistress?" I asked, still not quite
buying it all.

"I can't seem to call you anything else mistress." he replied.
"I fact I can't even remember what your name was before this started,
or what mine was! I'm really afraid mistress!"

I tried to think but it was like all my life had come and gone
in a instant. I stilled remembered parts, and general knowledge,
many recent memories. But somehow everything was anonymous.
Who I'd been was gone, who my friend was too. I remembered I had a
life before, and was male, but so much was gone, almost all specifics
where gone. I remembered when I lived, but not who lived there!

"I am too slave.." I said, realized I'd added slave as almost
a reflex.

"I think we are perhaps slipping into out personas mistress."
he said.

"And what about her?" I indicated the nidorina.

"She seems content to stay with us mistress." Slave said. "Many
people who had the pokemon plushes now have actual pokemon."

"Oh man, this Christmas is ganna be hell on parents!" I said
chuckling.

"I think I pity all the pikachus, poor things will be tortured."
Slave said.

"What happened at the contest, any clues?" I asked.

"None mistress, no one is quite sure." Slave said. "Chaos is
wide spread, we were lucky you only had a concussion mistress.
The hotel is probably going to get quarantined soon. It might be
best to go."

"Go where Slave?" I asked. "For one thing we don't even know who
we where. Second we attract a lot of attention."

"I'm not sure." Slave said. "but staying here is a bad idea
mistress."

"Your right.." I agreed. "But where can we go?"

"Leave it to me." Slave said. "I will figure something out
mistress."

Then my stomach growled, I was a hungry vixen it seemed.

Because the hotel was too small a buffet has been set up in the
conventional hall. It was amazing to see, creatures and characters
of every size description and color where about. Fantasy characters,
cartoon characters, superheros, aliens, the list was endless.
Naturally I attracted extra attention, furries where not uncommon
but females walking around in latex where. I hadn't even felt hot in
my suit, I surmised that it wasn't ordinary latex anymore, after all
I seemed to recall my persona had a suit that was able to "breath"
unlike real rubber. I decided that I would have to sell at least
part of my suit, breathable latex would be quite a scientific
find. I moved quite naturally, sashaying across the floor, getting
stares from male and female beings alike. I saw many interesting
things, a Zerg Hydralisk sitting down to eat with "Alien" alien.
Cops trying and failing to corral pokemon outside, ecological
damage would surely result from the introduction of such foreign
creatures. I smiled inwardly when I saw what looked like the Ninja
Turtles, fighting over a pizza. I blinked when I saw what looked
like a generic transformer robot discussing something with a Cylon.
How many of them where lost in there characters like me? How many
where less lost in them? How many completely lost in them?

Slave had already picked a table for us and insisted on serving
me "I'm here to server all your needs mistress." he had said. The
conversation mostly consisted of him telling me of the more unusual
event's I'd missed. The man dressed like Barney the dinosaur going
insane, and who could really blame him? The meeting that an apparent
Iron Man had called of all the super hero's. Just as the story
finished someone burst into the room.

"I am Dr. Albert Wily!" an old man grey haired man in a white
lab coat said. "And I am taking over this room!"

I saw what could only be descried as a humanoid lighter and a
man with sheers on his head follow the self proclaimed Dr. Wily. I
recognized them as Heatman and Cutman, two of the Robot Masters
from the Megaman games, also where Wily was from. The meeting of
hero's was going on right then and apparently Wily took that as an
opportunity. It looked as though things would get ugly until a blast
of energy struck Cutman and knocked him out. I saw three shapes,
all blue, run in and knock out both Heatman and Dr. Wily. When the
commotion died down I saw no less than 3 different Megamen, though
I could see the 3rd was actually Megaman X(A sort of super Megaman,
luckily these three had been hunting Wily and hadn't gone to the
meeting. Afterwards everyone went back to eating. My new Nidorina
seemed contented too, eating what ever scraps she was given.

I returned to my room, I had decided that walking around my
latex costume would attract more attention than I needed. I also
suggested to Slave, which he accepted as his name and position,
that he wear some clothes. When I stripped I found the majority
of my fur was extremely short, so short that it didn't hinder my
wearing of the latex. I searched through my bags and took out a
pretty unisex T-shirt and pair of shorts. I cut a hole in the shorts
and proceeded to get dressed. However, once I had the clothes on
something amazing happened, they changed. The shirt seemed to melt
and eventually transformed into a skin tight crimson latex top, the
shorts did the same changing into a pair of latex hot pants. I
looked over at Slave, nothing happened when he dressed. I removed
the new clothes, half expecting them to revert, which remained
in their altered forms. I tried on a green sweater and got to watch
it morph into an emerald latex long sleeve leotard. I tried on a
pair of tennis shoes and they morphed into a pair of ankle boots with
6 inch heels. I kept trying clothes on and time and time again they
changed, transforming into some latex garment, all the shoes I wore
turning to various boots always with 6 inch heels. I realized
that Latex Vixen always wore latex, and now that I had become her all
I could wear was latex. What ever transformed me made sure
everything I wore was some form or latex. Happily I at lest didn't
have to shower in latex, I could be nude and clothes would not
spontaneously appear on me. Slave gave up his collar so I could
leash Nina, my new nidorina.
________________________________________________________________

* * * Copyright 2001 by the author of this message . If you want to
post this anywhere else, please ask the author for permission
first.

Thank you

The Latex Vixen

2009-09-03T02:09:07Z

75.41.112.111:

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Mental_change]] {{universe|Xanadu}} [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
[[Category:Animal]] [[Category:Magic]] [[Category:Fox]] [[Category:Transgender]] {{universe|Xanadu}}

This has been sitting on the back burner for a while. But I got
enough for a part 1 done.

Xanadu: The Latex Vixen by James S. Cole

It had taken weeks of coaxing and convincing but finally I was
at Kubla Con. Getting me to attend the con was no feat, getting
me to go in costume to quite a bit of convincing. Getting me to come
in the costume I had made was much harder. I'd though for a long
time the costume was just a pipe dream, or that I'd never finish
it. But I'd managed too, and it was a true work of art. It was a
fantasy made real. For a while I'd been going on-line under
different furry persona's, but this one was the only one with a
chance of appearing remotely real. She was called Latex Vixen, and
with good reason, she always wore some form a latex garment. A
creation of my furriness and my fetish for latex rubber. The costume
was a master piece, fusing two of my biggest interests into one
being. The only way I'd been convinced to don my creation, which
I'd never worn once before, was when my good friend promised me he
too would go in costume, as my submissive. Naturally I'd made the
character a dominatrix, most of the best latex outfits where for
dominatrixes.

The foundation layer was perhaps the hardest part to put on, and
the one I feared wearing the most. If the wearer had been a female
it would have been much easier, but since I was male it required
a bit more. I had to wear special underwear, padded not only to fake
a proper female curve but it involved a padded area my male parts
had to fit into. Needless to say it wasn't the most comfortable
garment, but it was child's play in comparison to the corset I
endured. Another integral part in the illusion, but damm was it
tight. I really have to respect women who wear corsets, it takes
a lot to just breath in one! An inflatable bra and a padded body
suit filled out the rest of the foundation. What came next was a
full latex catsuit, in case your wondering that means a complete
covering from the neck down, only hands and feet uncovered. To say
the outfit was very hot is an understatement. The air conditioning
in the room where I dressed was turned up to full blast to keep me
from over heating, and the costume was yet to be finished. Boots
that reached to my thighs came next with 6 inch spike heels. For
weeks before I'd learned to stand and walk in heels, and as I'm sure
ladies who have worn them can say it's not comfy! The gloves came
next, shoulder high ones, still stiff like new. Another corset over
top of that, thankfully one just for looks, though I don't think it
could have done more. This alone would have made a award winning
costume, but to portray my persona right I needed to add another
element. Considering how hard it was to get the rest on the furry
elements where cake. I'd designed a mask but in the end makeup made
up most of the vixenish face I wore. A open face hood with fake fox
ears, fur and white hair all attached. A prosthetic muzzle, face
paint and special lenses finished my mask. Finishing it off with a
tail glued on to where it would be and a fake gold ring used to
indicate a tail base and the transformation completed.

For as hard as my suit was to put on my friend had it easy, a
pretty standard fox fursuit with a mask set up similar to mine, a
collar and leash. Though he was roasting with in it I was in a much
worse place. Latex of course does not breath, it's greatest
downfall. Combine the padded suit I wore and the corset and I was
not the most mobile person. I had to take little baby steps, which
thankfully gave me and external look of regality, but resulted
from the constriction of the corset and towering on the high heels.
Lucky the convention hall was extremely close. But most of my time
at the actual con I spent sitting down sucking liquids though a straw
to keep from dehydration. I was admired by those who saw me, and
several furry artists took it upon them selves to sketch me. The
illusion of feminism was better than I hoped, many people where
fooled, and utterly shocked when I reveled I was male under all that
latex. The attention felt very nice, though I could say little and
wasn't able to make the rounds. I conceded that the next day of the
con I would come un costumed, so I might visit the booths and do some
shopping. My friend how ever wandered off several times, though
I was more than attended to. He did bring me back some food and
toothpicks, the only way to eat in the mask, and he bought me a
pokemon plush, a cute nidorina that was full size, apparently
someone was selling home made full size pokemon plushes, and they
where every where.

I was lead into the main hall where the costume judging would
be made. The owner of the con walked on stage and said something
I don't fully remember. He was dressed like a native American and had
a unusual mask, it looked rather like a bird. As a sort of official
opening to the costume contest he put on the mask, and all hell broke
loose. I can't remember much, all I really recall was sudden
screaming and how badly it hurt my ears, that and my plush starting
to squirm. I don't know how but I was stuck in the head and blacked
out.

I work up with a slight head ache, and strangely enough in my
room. I looked around and was greeted by a bizarre sight. I was
laying on the bed and when I looked forward I was staring at a
blunted blue snout and bright green eyes.

"Nina! Nidorina!" what ever it was said, and I realized I had a
real flesh and blood pokemon sitting on my chest, squishing my boobs.

The instant I though it was squishing my boobs I realized,
I had breasts! Not the inflatable kind by real flesh breasts.
I sat up and found the pokemon sitting between my legs, my rubber
clad legs. I quickly got up and went to the mirror. What stared
back was a vixen in a very form fitting black rubber outfit. I
figured I must be going nuts, I must have over heated and blacked
out.

"Mistress are you alright?" I heard a voice call out and turned
to see a male red fox morph standing their looking concerned.

"I think I'm going nuts! This can't be real!" I said, finding
my voice a breathy and sexy one.

"I'm afraid it is mistress. And we aren't alone" he replied.
"Everyone in costume was effected, and I mean everyone. We have
monsters, demons, aliens and superheros running around mistress."

"Why do you keep calling me mistress?" I asked, still not quite
buying it all.

"I can't seem to call you anything else mistress." he replied.
"I fact I can't even remember what your name was before this started,
or what mine was! I'm really afraid mistress!"

I tried to think but it was like all my life had come and gone
in a instant. I stilled remembered parts, and general knowledge,
many recent memories. But somehow everything was anonymous.
Who I'd been was gone, who my friend was too. I remembered I had a
life before, and was male, but so much was gone, almost all specifics
where gone. I remembered when I lived, but not who lived there!

"I am too slave.." I said, realized I'd added slave as almost
a reflex.

"I think we are perhaps slipping into out personas mistress."
he said.

"And what about her?" I indicated the nidorina.

"She seems content to stay with us mistress." Slave said. "Many
people who had the pokemon plushes now have actual pokemon."

"Oh man, this Christmas is ganna be hell on parents!" I said
chuckling.

"I think I pity all the pikachus, poor things will be tortured."
Slave said.

"What happened at the contest, any clues?" I asked.

"None mistress, no one is quite sure." Slave said. "Chaos is
wide spread, we were lucky you only had a concussion mistress.
The hotel is probably going to get quarantined soon. It might be
best to go."

"Go where Slave?" I asked. "For one thing we don't even know who
we where. Second we attract a lot of attention."

"I'm not sure." Slave said. "but staying here is a bad idea
mistress."

"Your right.." I agreed. "But where can we go?"

"Leave it to me." Slave said. "I will figure something out
mistress."

Then my stomach growled, I was a hungry vixen it seemed.

Because the hotel was too small a buffet has been set up in the
conventional hall. It was amazing to see, creatures and characters
of every size description and color where about. Fantasy characters,
cartoon characters, superheros, aliens, the list was endless.
Naturally I attracted extra attention, furries where not uncommon
but females walking around in latex where. I hadn't even felt hot in
my suit, I surmised that it wasn't ordinary latex anymore, after all
I seemed to recall my persona had a suit that was able to "breath"
unlike real rubber. I decided that I would have to sell at least
part of my suit, breathable latex would be quite a scientific
find. I moved quite naturally, sashaying across the floor, getting
stares from male and female beings alike. I saw many interesting
things, a Zerg Hydralisk sitting down to eat with "Alien" alien.
Cops trying and failing to corral pokemon outside, ecological
damage would surely result from the introduction of such foreign
creatures. I smiled inwardly when I saw what looked like the Ninja
Turtles, fighting over a pizza. I blinked when I saw what looked
like a generic transformer robot discussing something with a Cylon.
How many of them where lost in there characters like me? How many
where less lost in them? How many completely lost in them?

Slave had already picked a table for us and insisted on serving
me "I'm here to server all your needs mistress." he had said. The
conversation mostly consisted of him telling me of the more unusual
event's I'd missed. The man dressed like Barney the dinosaur going
insane, and who could really blame him? The meeting that an apparent
Iron Man had called of all the super hero's. Just as the story
finished someone burst into the room.

"I am Dr. Albert Wily!" an old man grey haired man in a white
lab coat said. "And I am taking over this room!"

I saw what could only be descried as a humanoid lighter and a
man with sheers on his head follow the self proclaimed Dr. Wily. I
recognized them as Heatman and Cutman, two of the Robot Masters
from the Megaman games, also where Wily was from. The meeting of
hero's was going on right then and apparently Wily took that as an
opportunity. It looked as though things would get ugly until a blast
of energy struck Cutman and knocked him out. I saw three shapes,
all blue, run in and knock out both Heatman and Dr. Wily. When the
commotion died down I saw no less than 3 different Megamen, though
I could see the 3rd was actually Megaman X(A sort of super Megaman,
luckily these three had been hunting Wily and hadn't gone to the
meeting. Afterwards everyone went back to eating. My new Nidorina
seemed contented too, eating what ever scraps she was given.

I returned to my room, I had decided that walking around my
latex costume would attract more attention than I needed. I also
suggested to Slave, which he accepted as his name and position,
that he wear some clothes. When I stripped I found the majority
of my fur was extremely short, so short that it didn't hinder my
wearing of the latex. I searched through my bags and took out a
pretty unisex T-shirt and pair of shorts. I cut a hole in the shorts
and proceeded to get dressed. However, once I had the clothes on
something amazing happened, they changed. The shirt seemed to melt
and eventually transformed into a skin tight crimson latex top, the
shorts did the same changing into a pair of latex hot pants. I
looked over at Slave, nothing happened when he dressed. I removed
the new clothes, half expecting them to revert, which remained
in their altered forms. I tried on a green sweater and got to watch
it morph into an emerald latex long sleeve leotard. I tried on a
pair of tennis shoes and they morphed into a pair of ankle boots with
6 inch heels. I kept trying clothes on and time and time again they
changed, transforming into some latex garment, all the shoes I wore
turning to various boots always with 6 inch heels. I realized
that Latex Vixen always wore latex, and now that I had become her all
I could wear was latex. What ever transformed me made sure
everything I wore was some form or latex. Happily I at lest didn't
have to shower in latex, I could be nude and clothes would not
spontaneously appear on me. Slave gave up his collar so I could
leash Nina, my new nidorina.
________________________________________________________________

* * * Copyright 2001 by the author of this message . If you want to
post this anywhere else, please ask the author for permission
first.

Thank you

User talk:Phaedrus/Reinkarmation

2009-08-31T00:06:24Z

75.41.112.111: Created page with 'Talk about unbalanced punishments (I think, was he planning to kill his marks?) -- Alex Warlorn August 30 2009'

Talk about unbalanced punishments (I think, was he planning to kill his marks?) -- Alex Warlorn August 30 2009

Category talk:Xanadu

2009-08-26T02:49:05Z

75.41.112.111:

Hmm, any idea why my three new stories I've personally written haven't appeared in the category section? -- Alex Warlorn August 25 2009

:You need to create a category: Xanadu tag. The universe template simply displays the puzzle piece picture in the upper corner. --[[User:Lloyd Brunnel|Lloyd Brunnel]] 23:27, 25 August 2009 (UTC)

THEY DO! -- Alex Warlorn 25 August 2009

Talk:Dot Hack// Xanadu

2009-08-23T03:46:06Z

75.41.112.111:

It could use some editing. But it isn't horrible. And I like the reference to brain eating zombies. I'm guessing you read [[The Diary of the Dead Guy]]?--[[User:Guvnor Of Space|Guvnor Of Space]] 00:25, 23 August 2009 (UTC)

Sigh. No I actually didn't read it, I was using zomies in a generic term now I shall likely ready it. I'm glade someone has commented on this. This was my favorite out of the Xanadu stories I wrote. What I don't get is why I haven't appeared in the story verse selection yet! -- Alex Warlorn Augst 2009 22