SUBURBAN SENSHI EPISODE FOUR: "The Secret World of Kaioh Michiru" EPISODE PREVIEW Michiru's new painting is revealed, and you'll never believe what it is! Can you see it? Oh my GOD!! Jedite and Michiru must go out into the world while Professor Tomoe prepares to put down Pegasus! Setsuna, what have you done to your face?! Crazy action while Haruka and Hotaru take a break so they can answer YOU, the fans, as we take a special look into "The Secret World of Kaioh Michiru", today on Episode Four of Suburban Senshi! Michiru: Below are Spoilers For ev'ry Sailormoon Show; Read at your Peril. By Dr. Xadium (drxadium@DEATHTOSPAMgate.net) Naoko Takeuchi is hereby thanked for her involuntary contribution to this fanfic. Portions stolen from www.engrish.com (you'll know which bits), because *nobody* can make that kind of stuff up. Pay them a visit! The Purple Death are copyrighted to me. SUPER SPECIAL SERVICE OPENING! NARRATOR: Since Haruka and Hotaru won't be appearing in today's episode, and because we are paying them to be in every show this season, as a special service, today, before our story begins, they will be answering mail from YOU, our SUPER loyal fans! HARUKA: (yelling to backstage area) Now wait just a damn minute! I'm not answering *anything* until I get something taken care of! (offscreen voice: WHAT?!) HARUKA: Last episode some fool dropped *Rose* petals around me instead of *Sakura* petals when I was being perfect! How can I be perfect with *Rose* petals?! I DEMAND satisaction! (The two notes that usually sound before Neptune and Uranus appear sound. A TON of sakura petals unceremoniously SLAMS onto Haruka from above.) HARUKA: (sticking her arm up through the pile weakly) Alright... then. NARRATOR: Our first question today is for Hotaru, and it's from Adam H., who asks: "Why didn't [Saturn] and Pluto put up a fight when Uranus and Neptume (as Animamates) took their Star Seeds? Why did they meekly accept it?" (Hotaru leans forward to answer. Haruka quickly gets out from under the pile of sakura petals, stands, and moves up behind Hotaru. In a flash, Hotaru has her Silence Glaive out, holding it backwards, its curved edge pressing against Haruka's throat. HOTARU: (flatly, not even looking behind her) One more step, Haruka-poppa, and the last sensation you will ever feel is the acrid taste of your lifeblood spilling into your mouth as you prepare to accept the bitter embrace of cold eternity. HARUKA: (sheepishly, moving away) I think I'll just sit down now. HOTARU: Well, Adam, I can understand why you think we just took it meekly. But in point of fact, this could not be further from the truth. You see Toei Animation was forced to omit certain scenes from the anime due to financial pressure imposed upon them by certain parties who wished to suppress the truth I am about to reveal. This is what was omitted-- HARUKA: --Don't listen to her! It's all lies! HOTARU: Finally sensing the chance to finish the mission they had been unable to complete in Sailor Moon S-- that being my elimination-- Uranus and Neptune had just sent a pre-arranged signal to Pluto, who, as you may recall, was standing right beside me. Pluto then grabbed my arms, hoping to restrain me so Uranus and Neptune could get a clear shot at my starseed. But anticipating their duplicity, I had already begun to move sideways, hoping to put Pluto in the line of fire so I would have enough time to protect myself with a "Silent Wall". Unfortunately, my timing was less than perfect and we struggled, ending up swinging back into our original positions just in time to have both our starseeds ripped out of our bodies, which is what you saw. I hope that clears things up for you, Adam. Thank you for your question. HARUKA: (desperately) It's all a tissue of slanderous lies! All of it! NARRATOR: Our next is question is from GKScotty, who asks: "To both Hotaru and Haruka... As Outer Senshi, you're among the people closest to Setsuna. Is there any truth to the infamous "Setsuna = Mamoru" theory?" HOTARU: Actually, that issue will be covered in the next episode of Suburban Senshi. I'd like to tell you more about it, but I really can't because, in truth, even the writer doesn't quite know how he's going to tackle that particular brand of insanity. Thank you for your ques-- (Hotaru winces as a loud noise can be heard in her earphone) HOTARU: The producers wish me to issue a clarification. (flatly) It's not that the writer doesn't know, he's merely concealing the surprise from everyone (mumbles "including himself") for maximum effect. HARUKA: (laughing nervously) So I guess the answer is to stay tuned for the NEXT EXCITING EPISODE of Suburban Senshi! (sound of a cash register drawer opening followed by a stagehand handing Haruka a fat wad of bills) HARUKA: Anyway, I think we should move on to the next question now... NARRATOR: Next up is one from Biclaxaltonian, who asks: "Sailor Moon, how did you react when Piccolo blew up the moon?" HARUKA: (leaning forward) Okay, look. First of all, Sailor Moon isn't even *here*, and-- HOTARU: (interrupting) You don't know the answer, do you, Haruka-poppa? HARUKA: (mumbling) What are you talkin' about? HOTARU: That's why you are being so hostile, isn't it? HARUKA: Look! this section is supposed to be about questions to the two of *us*, and besides-- HOTARU: (leaning forward towards the camera and blocking out Haruka) I apologize for Haruka-poppa. You see-- HARUKA: (pushing her way back onscreen) It's *obviously* a stupid question, I mean-- (she points up, the camera follows and pans to the moon) --as you can plainly see, the moon is *right* there. (with an air of decisive finality) Cogito Ergo Sum. HOTARU: (Forcibly displaces Haruka once again) Forgive her please, as she is profoundly ignorant as to the true workings of the world. To answer your question: Sailor Moon did not react at all, as all the previous occassions on which the moon had been destroyed occured before the birth of Tsukino Usagi. HARUKA: Uhh, Hotaru, I think you're losing it. (Haruka points up to the MOON, which is quite obviously there-- she makes a "crazy" sign next to the side of her head.) HOTARU: I see some education is apparently in order. What Haruka-poppa fails to understand is that after Kamesennin-- HARUKA: --The famous martial artist of legend-- HOTARU: --Please do stop trying to sound as if you understand what's going on, Haruka-poppa. (Haruka fumes and sits back, cracking open a beer and chugging it) HOTARU: After he blew up the moon to stop Son Goku from ever again becoming a giant ape-- HARUKA: (on a buzz) That's crap. People don't turn into giant apes. HOTARU: But Son Goku isn't a 'person'-- he's a Saiya-jin... HARUKA: A vegetable? HOTARU: An alien. And as our special guest will confirm, these particular aliens can turn into giant apes when exposed to the light of a full moon. VEGETA: Girl! You said there would be someone for me to fight here if I gave you my little explanation about Oozaru transformation! Ever since Kakarotto went off to wherever it is he went, I've been spoiling for battle! HOTARU: Don't worry, Vegeta-san. There will be someone soon enough... VEGETA: Fine. (Pedantically) As prince of the Saiya-jin race I can confirm that the surface of the old moon was composed of a special material which allowed it to reflect great quantities of a specific wavelength of light called 'Buruz'. When 17,000,000 units of Buruz strike the eyes of a Saiya-jin, a gland in the Saiya-jin tail secretes a hormone which sparks the transformation into Giant ape--* * I saw something like this online a long time ago, maybe on a.f.d., it's not my stuff-- Xadium. HARUKA: (yawning) Bo-ring. VEGETA: (twitching) What did you say?! HARUKA: (smirking, drunk) I hear Mr. Satan is gonna kick your *ass* at the next Tenkai-ichi Budokai. VEGETA: (Instantly going SSJ) WHY YOU-- (leaps forward and tackles Haruka, who transforms into Sailor Uranus. They tumble offstage where the sounds of violent batttle can be heard.) HOTARU: (rubbing her hands together) Excellent. Now that Haruka-poppa is "out of the picture" so to speak, I can conclude my answer-- the moon Haruka-poppa keeps pointing to is actually a special two dimensional non-Buruz reflecting fake, specially designed by Kami and surreptiously launched into orbit by the French government in an attempt to preserve the spirit of romance and tidal stability the world over. this is why NASA was forced to fake a moon landing in 1969-- imagine their shock when the real orbiter passed through little more than an asteroid field. Thank you for your question, Biclaxaltonian, I hope we've all learned something today. HARUKA: (crawling back on stage, battered, broken and bleeding) Yeah. Never get into a fight with a drunk Super Saiya-jin... HOTARU: You're the one who's drunk. HARUKA: (totally out of it) Am I not Super-Saiya-jin?! IS my hair not blonde? HOTARU: (flatly) I don't think that's quite how it works... NARRATOR: Our next question comes from Steve R., who asks Haruka: HARUKA: (slurred) Finally! A question for me! "I have some neighbors I need... removed. Can you help? How much?" HARUKA: (really slurred now) Eheheheh.... Anywhere, anyplace, anytime, man. As long as the money's right, I can get my hands on some bleach, two sticks of butter and a can of turtle wax, an' I'll get all MacGyver on their ass-- no worries. But it's gonna cost ya. A lot. Maybe even a million dollars. An' if I do this thing for you, someday, and that day may never come, I will ask a favor of you--" (Hotaru cuts her off) HOTARU: Grazie Mille, Don Ten'ou MacGyver. Unfortunately we here at Suburban Senshi cannot be directly linked to any acts of assassination, foreign or domestic. Thank you for your inquiry, Steve. NARRATOR: Our last question is from Anomie, actually has two questions, one for each of you: "For Hotaru: How exactly do you manage to wash your blacks and keep them so...well, black? Do you just have a lint filter that surpasses all ordinary lint filters? Or is there some sort of mystical secret I'm missing? After all, everyone knows that black is the best color to wear - it goes with everything!" HOTARU: You are to be commended on your fine fashion sense, Anomie. As I have discovered through years of rigorous experimentation and analysis, the key to maintaing perfect black clothing is relatively simple. You require two key elements: one, a lint brush of unparalleled quality, and two, infinite time with which to wield it. However, neither you nor I possess that luxury. Fortunately for us, there is a company called Persil which makes a wonderful (ironically white) product called "Black Velvet". It does an exceptional job of keeping my blacks black. Be warned: It has something of a scent and is a touch expensive, but that last part's all right-- I always charge my purchases to Haruka-poppa's credit card. Thanks for your question. HARUKA: (startled sober) You WHAT?! "And for Haruka: Have you thought about introducing LSD to Nephlite's water supply? A carefully placed releasing system would dose him and Naru quite well. In the quest for revenge, psychotropic drugs say you care." HARUKA: Great sentiment! I saw that trick on the X-Files once. Wasn't it cool?! Well, I'd love to try it out, but the truth is I can't-- you see, right now I'm actually *stealing* Nephlite's water supply-- I attached a diverter pipe from his house main and haven't been paying for water for over a month! So I obviously can't taint it. But honestly, if you listen to that Naru girl, the way she talks... (apes a hybrid Bronx / Georgia accent) "Oh, Neffy, dat's so KEWL!"-- I think she's already dipping into the lysergic acid, if you know what I mean. Thanks for the question! (from offstage) NEPHLITE: By the way, Ten'ou, that wasn't my *water* main you tapped. HARUKA: What? NEPHLITE: It was my *sewer* main. (Haruka and Hotaru both turn green and run for the nearest bathroom) NARRATOR: Uhh, that's all the the time for questions we have on this episode! Thank you all for your submissions and enjoy the rest of the show! NEPHLITE: MUHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAH! TEASER MORNINGTIME Michiru looked at the "food" in her breakfast bowl disdainfully. "Jedite...", she began, her voice a bit muffled from the gas mask she was wearing, "you call this 'breakfast'? I thought you told us you used to be an excellent chef." She used her chopsticks to hold up a small kernel of butter-coated microwave popcorn as an example of his fine "work". Jedite, who was still dressed in the uniform of a Dark Kingdom general (he felt weak and pathetic in anything else), stood in the doorway to the kitchen and scowled-- not that anyone could tell-- for he too was wearing a gas mask. "I *AM* an excellent cook. Is it my fault that you people don't have any ingredients for me to cook with?" Jedite walked forwards and pushed open the refrigerator door-- revealing a half-molding loaf of bread, a stick of butter and a curdling box of milk. "I'm sure there are items in the freezer--" Michiru began. Jedite blanched. "I don't do *freezers*." "What?" Michiru asked. "Why not?" "Spending ten years in Eternal Sleep sealed in a giant ICE CUBE will do things to a man-- even a General of the Mighty Dark Kingdom." "If it was truly 'Eternal Sleep' you wouldn't have gotten out after only ten years," Michiru protested. "Gah," Jedite said, fuming. "Who knew Queen Beryl was given to hyperbole?" Michiru shook her head. "Well, fear not, you'll get your ingredients soon enough." Michiru stood. She looked off into the middle distance, her eyes glistening with the power of firm resolve. The ornate dress she was wearing rustled slightly as a breeze passed through the house. "Today is the day our stock rises again-- for today is the day my newest painting will be revealed to the elite masses and we will sell it for a fortune!!" ACT I: FALLING FROM GRACE THE LIVINGROOM "Spray a bit more under there, would you?" Michiru asked, raising up her arms. "I think the smell is almost covered." Jedite shook his head. "There's not enough in this can of freshener to cover that fetid stench." Michiru scowled. "Do please try." Jedite sprayed for five solid minutes until only translucent propellant issued forth from his aerosol can. "There... this is as good as it gets." "Any improvement?" Jedite sniffed the air experimentally. "It still smells like the crater under the Youma Outhouse." Michiru shook her head in disgust. Ever since Haruka had detonated the fertilizer bomb over Nephlite's house, the entire area-- house, inhabitants and associated items-- had possessed the fresh scent of a cow pen in the morning dew. They had tried various means of disinfectant, including multiple applications of Sailor Mercury's Shabon Spray attack, but nothing had worked. "I hope this stench doesn't linger when I get outside," Michiru muttered. "I need to be at my best when I present the painting to the Tokyo Artisan's Guild at ten." She hoped the Absolute Perfection field given to her by Kuniko Ikuhara would disinfect her as soon as she got into public. "I don't see why you should be worried," Jedite said under his breath. "Why thank you," Michiru said gracefully. "Your appreciation of my inherent perfection is greatly appreciated." "No," Jedite said, scowling. "I mean I've *seen* that painting you're so proud of. One glace at that abomination and the least you'll have to worry about is a bad smell." He shook his head. "Feh!" Michiru turned up her face. "You sound just like Haruka did before the police came and hauled her off to jail for setting off that bomb. They cetainly were angry at her." "Well," Jedite said sarcastically, "who would have expected that coating a quarter mile of Azabu-Juuban with fresh manure would aggravate the local authorities?" "Speaking of which," Jedite continued darkly, "shouldn't you be trying to 'bail her out' or something? I don't know how you Sailor Senshi do it, but if this was the Dark Kingdom we would have already killed the policemen, blasted the jail to rubble and freed our compatriot." *Or was that 'free first' then 'smash to rubble'?* Jedite pondered to himself. Yes. *That* would explain the abnormally high number of casualties in Youma rescue attempts over the last few years of the war-- "Hah!" Michiru scoffed. "If this were the Dark Kingdom, you would have left your 'compatriot' to rot in jail while you jockeyed for position with Queen Beryl. The only time you'd break into jail would be when you were ready to assassinate him." "True." Jedite shrugged. Killing was just a way of life in the Good Ol' DK. "Anyway," Michiru said dismissively, heading for the front door with her covered painting, "We don't have the funds to pay for any sort of bail. Hotaru has gone to the police station to check on Haruka. Hopefully after I get this painting sold we can do something more about the situation." "You'd have to *pay* someone to take that thing off your hands," Jedite said coldly. "You poor man," Michiru said, her voice suddenly full of elite compassion, "Living in the Dark Kingdom, bereft of art and culture, you have lost your sense of artistic appreciation. Why don't you come with me to the Guild auction today?" Michiru asked. "Then we'll see if I have to *pay* to get rid of this painting or not," she added darkly. "Our days of eating at McDonald's will finally be over!" "This should be amusing," Jedite replied, smirking. "I always like to see Senshi humiliate themselves." VOICE OVER: My name is Kaioh Michiru. A lot of people accuse me of having little to no personality, because I always seem to be playing second fiddle-- I mean violin-- to Haruka. But those people are completely wrong. Isn't it obvious? Granted, I am quiet and demure when Haruka is present, because that woman is so loud and aggressive it's virtually impossible to get a word in edgewise when she gets going. I just don't waste my energy trying. But when I'm on my own, left to my own devices-- I can be quite formidable-- if I do say so myself. Remember, I recruited *her* to be a sailor soldier. It wasn't the other way around. And who was the original one willing to make the hard sacrifices? Exactly. * * * Lush, ornate splendour. The overbearing air of pomposity and excessively modulated grace. This was the rich atmosphere that permeated the Tokyo Artisan's Guild. Here, Kaioh Michiru was in her native element. Jedite coughed, almost choking, as he followed Michiru into the grand hall of the Guild. "Something wrong?" Michiru said sweetly, swiftly spinning to see the source of the Dark Generals' discomfiture. "Those damned sakura petals," Jedite said. He spat out a few for good measure. "Do they follow you EVERYWHERE you go in public?" He brushed a significant quantity out of his hair. "And where DOES that music come from?! How do you stand it?" "Such is the price of perfection," Michiru melodramatically mused. As Michiru moved through the thickening crowd cautiously carrying her precious painting, Jedite made his way over to a trio of old ladies who were contemplating something. "A pristine example of pre-neo-post-classical simplicicism," the old woman exhaled. "Look at the sumblime curvature of the surface, representing the unity of reality-- the almost existental isolationism of the apparatus, precariously dangling from the ceiling-- representing man's struggle to hold onto his frail existence in the midst of a vast universe, the dim light it emits from within-- a clear allegory to the human soul, the--" "My dear woman," Jedite began haughtilty, "you do realize this is merely a light bulb, don't you?" He pointed up at the solitary bulb hung off a rickety aluminum fixture which was suspended from the ceiling by a thin cord. "Is there a performance component to this piece?" one of the other old women asked, eyeing Jedite curiously. "He must represent the questioning ego-force in man's fallen nature," the first old woman mused. "Are you the inner self?" Jedite fumed. "It's just a light bulb, see?!" He flipped the light switch on and off, causing the bulb to blink. "Ohh," the third old woman said, clapping her hands gaily, "Interactive! I bid 60,000 yen!" The former Dark General's face grew clouded. "Sixty thousand!" Jedite boomed imperiously. "Don't you pathetic fools realize--" He paused as the three women shrank back in obvious fear, "--that Mr. Bulb and I are worth *far* more than sixty thousand?" Jedite chuckled. These fools would apparently pay ridiculous sums of money for just about anything in the name of art. He could make a killing. One of the old women gripped his arm and squeezed it. "Ooh," the hundred-sixty year old crone said, "this is a nice firm one." Drool leaked from her toothless gums. "Eighty thousand!" "One hundred thousand!" the first old lady screamed, raising up her cane in indignation, hobbling over to Jedite and finally leaping towards him, latching on in a weak glomp attempt. "N-Now wait just a minute..." Jedite said in a panic as old ladies began to approach him from all directions, waving stacks of bills. "Wait, please!" He looked around as the crowd began to swallow him. "Michiru?" he asked in a panic. "Michiru!?" He screamed in raw terror before being overwhelmed. For her part, Michiru was standing on stage, smiling. Her hands were positioned precisely over her painting's cloth cover. "And now," the owner of the gallery said in a poshly pretentious voice, "Kaioh Michiru, presenting her latest work, 'Sunset as seen from within a cave inside Mount Fuji..." A hush spread over the inhabitants of the gallery as Michiru deftly disposed of the dark cotton cloth which had been covering her latest work of wonder. When painting this work. Michiru had envisioned a swollen orange sunset, bisected horizonally by a purple-black bank of clouds and dotted all over its surface with glowing silhouettes of white seabirds, as seen by someone looking at it from within the stalagmite / stalagtite covered entrance to a cave in the side of Mount Fuji. Unfortunately, from anyone else's perspective, it really looked like... "Somone's about to eat a giant hamburger!" someone exclaimed, prompting a wave of laughter throughout the gathered crowd. (The "sun" was just the right shade to be hamburger bun, the clouds a pattie, and the birds conveniently looked like sesame seeds. The stalagtites and stalagtites projecting from within the cave looked suspiciously like demonic teeth.) "We thank Michiru-san for her wonderful joke," the posh announcer said, a hint of elegant panic in his voice. "Now if she could please present the real painting..." Michiru stood speechless. "The real painting, please," the announcer continued, voice quivering in panic. "This... this is the real painting," Michiru slowly stammered. "This creative abomination!?" one of the audience members jeered. "Get it off the stage!" Michiru stood there, unnmoving. VOICEOVER I didn't understand what was happening. Every day when I worked on that painting over the last few weeks I was only thinking about the picture in my mind of that sunset and of the clouds. I don't know how a hamburger could have worked its way onto the canvas. FLASHBACK "This food tastes *so* good," Haruka mumbled between bites. "I don't see what's so special about it," Hotaru said calmly. "We should be able to eat like this for a few weeks," Setsuna said. "But I HATE McDonald's!" Michiru protested. "I HATE IT!" FLASHBACK 2 "Where are you going?" Michiru asked curiously. "Store," Haruka grunted. "Could you pick up some milk--" Michiru began. "Not that kind of store," Haruka muttered. Michiru shrugged and continued upstairs, going to her room and depositing her work in progress. FLASHBACK 3 Michiru sweatdropped. "I can't believe you got that." Haruka nodded. "I'm just perfect, I guess." Michiru sighed. "Well, I'm sure I can sell this to a reputable art dealer for a princely sum. Then we'll all eat like kings." (reverb)"...eat like kings..." (mega reverb)"...eat like kings..." (supah ultra in yo face reverb)"...eat like kings..." VOICE OVER - Oh my god. Ever since we lost all our money, I've been obsessed with the quality of my dining experience, haven't I? Now that sick helpless feeling has taken over my work-- the one thing that used to be my refuge from the world. My shame has become an object of public scorn. But it can't be... it just can't be. I've got to be objective about this. Michiru looked over at the painting. A giant hamburger about to enter the mouth of its eater stared back at her. Michiru froze. "This is a high-class auction," the presenter said in a pompously gruff fashion simply saturated with supercilliousness. "We have a certain standard to maintain, and this... 'popular' art simply has no place in our gallery." "Popular art?" Michiru asked angrily. "POPULAR?" She pointed to the painting. "My technique has been compared to that of Michaelangelo himself-- and HE came out the lesser!" "Yes, but at least the great master never painted fast food," the presenter coldly quipped. "Kindly get off the stage." He turned up his nose. "And for god's sakes, woman, use some deodorant. You smell like something that crawled out of a-- out of a--" he turned his nose up even more. "It pains me to use such a crass word-- barnyard!" Michiru scowled. "My masterpieces have have always sold for millions of yen! This one is NO different!" "You couldn't sell landscapes fit for postcards if THIS is the shoddy quality your work has sunken to!" an especially pompous English heckler yelled oh-so-politely. "Ever since you lost *your family's* money you've become very weak, yes, very weak indeed... almost *common*, I dare to say! Why I'll wager you used to pay (said VERY snobbishly, like PHAYYY)someone to paint, ehm, for you...!" A shockwave ran through the crowd. In an instant rumour became fact. In the next instant, like a rabid Pokemon on anabolic steroids, fact evolved into scandal. Crumpled silken handkerchiefs flew from the petite hands of effete gallery- goers, all aimed sqaurely at Michiru's face. A sinister hiss arose from the crowd. The hiss soon escalated into a veritably vicious, yet perfectly polite, boo. "I'll show all of you!" Michiru said as forcefully as she could without yelling. "You *snobs* may not appreciate my talent, but there are thousands of people out there who do!" "Bah!" the announcer said. "Without us, without *our* publicity, *our* connections and *our* support, you would be nothing. We spit upon you!" He demurely spat on the ground in a motion laden with ritual digust. "We shall see," Michiru said firmly, stepping off the stage and storming through the tittering throng. "Excuse me," someone said from alongside Michiru as she sought out Jedite. "Miss Michiru, I'd like ta haves a word with ya, ifs I may." Michiru turned around to see a pathetically short old man in a huge cowboy hat and business suit looking up at her. He stuck out a hand. "My name's 'Big Bob' Robert McCoy, from the great nation of Texas, located in the heart of A-Merica on the other side of the Pah Cific." Michiru extended her hand graceully and nearly got her arm wrenched off as the tiny Texan violently shook her hand. "Is there something I can do for you?" Michiru asked politely, doing her best to smile as she tried to regain feeling in her shoulder. "Wells, ma'am, as a matter of fact there is. See I own a chain of businesses in the States - 'Big Bob's Biggerun Hell Burger Barn'-- I'm sure you've heard of it." A huge question mark popped up next to Michiru's head, but she nodded politely. "It's kinda y'all to lie like that, it really is. Shows good breedin'. Always be kind to yer elders, I like that about you!" "Big Bob" laughed raoucously for a moment, and tried to slap Michiru in the back in a show of jolly cameraderie. Unfortunately due to his stature he impacted something else entirely. Michiru did her best to avoid violence. Bob continued. "See we're kinda invisible cuz at the moment, we lack the most important thing a business needs - a good logo. McDonald's has them thar arches, Wendy's has that goshdurn pig-tailed kid, Checkers has that drive in thang goin on, and we-- well ma'am, to be perfecly honest with you-- we ain't got jack squat." "You want me to design you a logo?" Michiru asked. Corporate work had never occured to her. Something about it offended her sensibilities as a fine artist. "Well shucks, you dun already did that!" Bob pointed to the big painting. "That's the best damn lookin' burger I ever did see! Makes the drool just fly outta my face. Hoo-wee! That big burger's a *perfect* logo for a chain of 'Biggerun Hell Burger Barn's, wouldn't ya say?" "It's not a hamburger," Michiru said archly, pointing to the elegant kanji she had brushed in the top right corner. They read "Sunset as seen from within a cave inside Mount Fuji." Bob laughed again and tipped his hat. "I'm sorry mah dear, but strappin' a pair of antlers onto a jackass and shovin' a laser pointer up his nosehole ain't gonna make him into Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, if you catch my drift." Michiru just stood there dumbfounded. "Let's get down to brass tacks," Bob said seriously. "Behind me is a briefcase plum chock fulla money. I'm talking Benjamins, Hamiltons and Monroes. Hell, I even think I got a Zachary Taylor or two in there. I'm talkin' Green. Samolians. Dough. Bread. El Mucho Grande Dinero. Five million jen-u-ine U-Nited States American dollars for the rights to that thar picture in totality and perpetuity... that's ahh, lock stock an barrel for folks like you and me. Damn lawyers, they're gettin' to me." "My masterwork? As a *logo* for a fast food store?" Michiru laughed at the ludicrousness of it. "I can't have my work be associated with something so, well, pardon me for saying so-- low class." Big Bob picked his nose before continuing. "In case you haven't noticed, ma'am, you ain't exactly on the A-list with these 'civilized' high- falootin' social types anymore. Not that that's ncessarily a bad thing, mind you." "Hmph." Michiru frowned. "I don't need them or their connections. Nor do I need *your* money. I'll re-establish my legacy all by myself, thank you very much. I'm afraid I must decline your offer. Good day. JEDITE!" she called out, moving away. "I'll be here all day!" Bob yelled, "and so will the money!" VOICE OVER: Certainly it would have been easier to take Big Bob's money. In retrospect, maybe I should have taken the money right then and there. But as Hotaru said to me once, "Pride invites a fall." I had heard those words but never understood them until today. I felt that in this world, there are certain things one should never compromise-- things like one's morals, ethics, loyalty and standards. If you sink to the level of the mob around you, you become the mob. I wasn't going to sell out my principles just because a bunch of short sighted egotists failed to see the underlying grace and subtle depths of my work. No. I was going to go out into the world and make a name for myself all over again, then return to the gallery in triumph. With my natural artistic genius, I was sure it wouldn't be long before those critics were eating their words. I was so naive. By the end of the day all my precious rules would be broken. But that was later on. As Hotaru said, "Pride invites a fall." And I had just sent out a gilded invitation. "Help me," Jedite said weakly, crawling towards Michiru. His uniform was ripped and tattered; smudgy lipstick covered his face. He slowly staggered to his feet. "Why is there currency stuffed in your waistband?" Michiru asked Jedite uncomprehendingly. "You really ought to use a wallet. There are thieves everywhere these days." Jedite looked at her with the look of a tortured animal. "You... you don't know... the horror--" he dropped to the floor, momentarily going unconcious. "This is no time to be unconcious!" Michiru said, dragging him to his feet. "I have to seek my destiny!" She looked up the heavens with fire in her eyes. "First seek a hospital," Jedite replied in a slurred voice, weakly raising up a shaking arm. ACROSS TOWN-- THE SECRET LAB OF PROFESSOR TOMOE SOUICHI "Come on," Professor Tomoe said slowly. "Eat the carrot." "No," Pegasus said slowly, his mouth coated with globs of liquified carrot. "No more, please." "Eat," Tomoe said firmly. "You need to be at full strength for this next experiment." The winged horse shook its head slowly. "I'll never give in to--" Tomoe rammed a huge spoonful of carrot goo into Pegasus' mouth. He then turned to a bench behind him, picking up a large drill like object. Holding it up, Tomoe observed it in the light. It was a macabre design, a precision crafted piece of wickedly malicious engineering. Spikes portruded from the central drill, which whirred and hissed with a high-powered pneumatic screech as Tomoe played with the trigger switch. Whirr! Click. Whirr! Click. Whirr WHIRR! Click. Insane laughter. "Wha- what are you going to do with that?" Pegasus asked in fear. The rest of his body had been immobilized in a steel restraining harness, and his head was resting on a modified chinrest. "With this baby?" Tomoe looked at it and laughed diabolically for a moment, revving it up and bringing it dangerously close to Pegasus' eyes. Darkly, he began, "Oh, with this 360,000 RPM wonder, I'm going to scramble your..." Tomoe turned around, facing away for a moment. "BREAKFAST!" Tomoe turned around again, and he was using the drill like a blender, chopping some vegtables into instant mush. Pegasus sighed. Pulling out a fork, Tomoe absently turned the mush over. "And with this little baby," he mused, looking at the fork maniacally, "I'm going to rip into your mythical horseflesh and gouge that golden crystal right out of your head." He began advancing on Pegasus, fork dripping mushy carrot goo. Pegasus' scream was drowned out by Tomoe's crazed laughter. THE SECRET LAB OF MEIOH SETSUNA "Researcher's Log, Day Seven. For some reason I cannot determine, Chiba Mamoru is completely resistant to any form of brainwashing. Nothing I do turns his mind away from Tsukino Usagi. I can't even get him to cluck like a chicken. Why is it that I fail where everyone else had at least temporarily succeeded? Beryl, Nephelenia..." Setsuna put down her tape recorder and sighed. She couldn't answer that most elusive question. "I wish I could ask those evil people how they did it," Setsuna mused out loud. Then the answer struck her like a thunderbolt. They had all been thoroughly evil. And while she may have become somewhat less good lately, Meioh Setsuna was still not evil. Setsuna frowned and looked at herself in the mirror. There was only one way she could continue the experiment. Picking up a Daimon pod she had taken from Professor Tomoe, Setsuna closed her eyes. She would have to follow the good doctor's lead. After all, as Usagi always showed by example, love demanded sacrifice.* * Someone's obviously not getting the message here. Maybe they need Digital PCS? Opening her mouth, Setsuna swallowed the Daimon pod and waited. Nothing seemed to be happening. Cautiously opening one eye, Setsuna looked in the mirror. In an instant, her face became pitch black, as if sucking all the light around it into nothingness. Her red eyes shone forth like bloody headlights, and her mouth was visible as an exaggerated crimson parody of its former self. She felt a new, dark power rise within her. Involuntarily, she coughed out a laugh. Then another one, louder and longer this time. Within moments, she was laughing madly, her hands reaching for the heavens as if to crush them in her very grasp. "YES..." she said in deeper, more ominous voice. "NOW *I* HAVE THE POWER!" She laughed even more insanely. Dark Setsuna regarded herself in the mirror. "How do I shut that off?" she asked herself, involuntarily laughing madly a few seconds later. THE TSUKINO RESIDENCE "Now you have to behave," Usagi said to "Mamoru" as she pulled him towards her house. "This is the first time I'm going to formally introduce you to the family as my fiance. So you have to keep things cool, especially when it comes to my dad. He's gotten used to seeing you, but he gets a little touchy sometimes when he thinks about losing me." "I love you," the Mamoru clone said, nodding. "You're so romantic!" Usagi cooed, as they headed for the front door of her house. It was already open, and both her parents stood there, waiting. Kenji Tsukino was obviously doing his best to avoid a scene. "Mom, Dad--" Usagi began. "I love you," the clone interjected. Kenji and Ikuko looked at each other. "How nice," Kenji said, taken slightly aback. *He already thinks of us like parents* Kenji thought. Maybe he wasn't going to be a problem after all-- "Please come in," Ikuko said, approaching Mamo-clone. "I LOVE you," the clone said, in a completely situationally inappropriate tone. "WHAT?!" Kenji said, turning red as it became completely clear the clone was making googly eyes at the wrong Tsukino female. And worse yet, it took a *little* too long for the wrong Tsukino female to get offended... at least in Kenji's view. "I love YOU!" the clone roared at Kenji as it maintained a wristlock on Ikuko. Kenji recoiled. "Look, My bread's not buttered that way, okay!?" Usagi looked at the proceedings, not completely certain as to what was going on. She had introduced Mamoru to her parents, he had confessed feelings of familial love for them, and now he was grabbing mother by the arm and father was pulling out a shotgun... "We better go!" Usagi said, pulling the clone away from her mother. "I love yooooou!" The clone protested as it looked at Tsukino Ikuko longingly before being pulled away. A shotgun blast barely missed its head. "I know you miss having parents, Mamo-chan!" Usagi said to the clone as they ran, "but that was going a bit too far!" ACT TWO - MOVIN' ON UP VOICEOVER: It was a shock seeing my work "panned" by all those people I had considered to be my intellectual and cultural peers. But I knew, deep down inside, that I was given a gift from Kami to make beautiful paintings, and I wouldn't let anything stop me from sharing the fruits of that gift with the world. I would practice anywhere, anytime. My art would grace every corner of creation... "Are you sure this is wise?" Jedite asked, feeling much better after repairing his clothes and getting some level 5 sterilization cleaning from the hospital. "Of course it is," Michiru said, taking some spraypaint she had just found lying on the sidewalk* *hmm... and using it to paint over the primitive, child-like scrawlings she had spied on a nearby wall.* *HMM.... "It's almost done," Michiru said. "Ay maan," said a decidedly unintelligent fellow from somewhere behind the duo. "What chu be doin to our wall, maan?" The wall Michiru was spraying had been covered with loads of gangsta graffiti. Now, the center of the ode to garish urban scrawl had been replaced by an exact replica of the famous creation of man (Adam reaching for God) portion of Michaelangelo's work on the Sistine Chapel. Michiru and Jedite looked behind them to see no less than sixty thugs wearing purple leather jackets and green cammo pants, all holding up guns pointed squarely at their direction. "Chu better put our chit back da way it was, maan," the lead punk said as menacingly as a punk with a ridiculously bad accent could. "Or what?" Jedite asked darkly, wisps of black energy beginning to mass around his gloved fists. "Or da Purple Death is gonna bentilate chuu wussies..." the lead punk continued. "Why do you think we're 'wussies'? Because we care about fine art and speak proper Japanese?" Michiru "hmphed". "I can sink to your level, I simply choose not to." "Chu can't talk the walk, fancy laydee," one of the punks jeered. "Yo man," his leader said. "Dat don make no sense." "Yo, chut up man!" the first one fired back. The leader promptly shot his minion dead. "Chut up chyourself, esse." He looked over at Jedite. "I gots ta enforce da discipline, chu kno?" Jedite nodded approvingly. He was all too familiar with the mechanics of summary execution for purposes of troop intimidation. He had learned it in Dark Officer's college. "Likes I was saying before I was so roodlee inter rupted, laydee," the lead punk continued, "Chu gots no rights messin on our turf. Chu ain't gots da gangsta spirit. Chu can't walk like us, hang like us, or talk like us, maan." "Of course I can!" Michiru insisted. "I am perfection itself! I can do *anything* required of me at any time! Just ask Kuniko Ikuhara!" "Dat trippy dude who made dat cho about dat screwed up wussy boy who fought in da icky giant robot ting?" "No, that was Hideki Anno." "Watever. Look, homes-- chu speaks our language, we lets chu go. Chu be full of it, we fill chu with something else... eheeheh" He cocked his gun menacingly. "Hot burning lead." Jedite snickered and whispered to Michiru, "does this fool have nay conception of the powers he's messing with?" Michiru shrugged. "Obviously not. Observe." Sakura petals began to fill the air as a demonstration of imminent perfection announced its approach. Jedite scowled. "I meant in a military sense." Michiru concentrated on speaking like a thug mofo. What she thought: "Yo-- homes-- you-- be-- trippin'. What she SAID: "Thou art most verily of unsound mind, good sir." "The hell?" The gang leader asked his minions. Michiru sweatdropped and decided to try again. What she thought: "I be cool. I'm down with chu homies." What she SAID: "Forsooth, I am splendid! But fear not, for I am well pleased with thee and thine associates." "Ass-ociates?" The punk leader sounded out the difficult polysyllabic word. Then realization struck. "Chu be callin' me an 'ass socialist'?!" VOICE OVER I had no idea what was going wrong. Panic was getting the better of me. Then, with a sense of dread, I realized the problem. Thanks to Ikuhara, I was a perpetually perfect public person. The price of perpetual perfection, which I had joked about earlier, was that I could _never_ sink to anyone else's level in public, no matter how hard I tried. Ever. It was then I realized why people really thought I was boring. It wasn't Haruka-- for whom being perfect meant being cool, aggressive and more like an everyman kind of... woman-- no, it was me. For me, perfection had always meant never making snide witticisms in public, uttering shocked profanities, or granting the world a graphic display of any of my soul wrenching pains. I knew then that I could only be imperfect at home or in private, where no one other than my friends or family would ever know. The Absolute Perfection Field which had served me so well in the past, had doomed me to a life of perpetual personalitilessness.* * New word SPECIAL just for you!! "Now chu die," the punk leader said angrily. "nobody disses the Purple Death and lives, maan!" Michiru pulled her transformation wand from hyperspace and in a flash became Sailor Neptune. "Hey yo," the leader of the "Purple Death" said, pointing at Neptune, "Check it out! She tinks she's won ah does Sailer Scouts, eh? Es muy stupida..." "Sailor what?" Neptune asked, confused. Jedite, for his part, started laughing hysterically. "Yo, wat chu tink is so funny, esse?!" The lead punk started unloading his clip into Jedite. The others followed suit, firing on Jedite and Neptune. "What's so funny?!" Neptune asked, holding up one arm to deflect the bullets from her face, barely noticing as the bullets bounced off the toughened body-armor like material that made up her Sailor uniform. Jedite, for his part, was struggling to contain a belly laugh with one hand while projecting a dark force field with the other. "Hahahahaha... 'Scout'... I can't believe it actually worked." "What worked?" Michiru asked flatly. "In the early days of the war, Queen Beryl asked us to come up with a plan to feed negative propaganda against the Sailor Senshi into the public conciousness. So we hired the most incompetent dubbing company around, and got them to repurpose that anime Toei was making about all of you, using horribly uncool slang, overbearing censorship and illogical plot substitions... hehehe... the plan was to make you all look as incompetent and pathetic as possible... I mean, what the hell is a 'sailor scout'? A seaman who sells cookies door to door? HHAHAHAHAHAHA... I can't believe it actually worked! "Why I bet to this day the vast majority of North Americans think you're just a bunch of weak-willed whiny little saps who have to be saved by a man in a Tuxedo instead of it being the other way around!" Jedite roared with laughter. "Very funny," Michiru muttered, launching a "Deep Submerge" into the middle of the gang bangers. "What are you doing?" Jedite asked one particular foolhardy punk who was poking at his force shield with a stick. "That bubble looks G*y, yo." the punk replied, still poking it. "Do I look like Zoicite to you?!" Jedite lashed out with a wave of black power that melted the punk in his boots. Then he began to chuckle again. "Zoicite... oh yeah, I got him good in that dub too. Made them turn him into a *woman*. HAHAHAHA!" "Isn't this a bit unfair?" Michiru asked as she absently used a "Submarine Reflection" to take out another dozen punks. "Fairness?" Jedite asked. "You're talking to a General of the *Dark Kingdom*. We excised that word from the dictionary." He looked around at the waves of lemming-like punks that continued to advance. "But you're right-- we are wasting time here. I'll take us somewhere more useful." Grabbing Neptune's wrist, Jedite teleported them out of the alley. "Cool, maan!" one of the punks said as they vanished. "We pumped dem so full of lead dat dey diseentigrated, maan!" The Purple Death declared victory and moved on. A DARK ALLEYWAY "Where are we?" Neptune asked, detransforming into Michiru. "A dark alleyway," Jedite replied, looking up at the section title. "Former branch headquarters of the Dark Agency-- our aboveground cover operation." Jedite's features clouded. With venom, he continued, "That was until Danburite was cruelly tortured to death by that b**ch Sailor V." "What?" Michiru asked, confused. "We all know the tale," Jedite said with genuine hatred in his voice. "Stories have been told all throughout the Dark Kingdom about how Sailor V came across Danburite and slew him without mercy, subjecting him to mental and physical torture for hours before he died. We heard she finally grew weary of toying with his emotions and shot him full of Venus Love Megaton Shower attacks before throwing him off a roof, all the while cackling like a possessed youma."* *See the last Volume of Codename: Sailor V for how this *really* went... "I see," Michiru said, in shock. She never knew Minako had it in her. "And they call Haruka and me ruthless," she muttered under her breath. "Anyway," Jedite continued, "We established a lot of front businesses to serve as energy gathering points for the Dark Kingdom. Even with all their blind luck, Sailor Moon and company couldn't have found them all. I'm sure some still exist. You could distribute your work through them, I suppose." VOICEOVER: It was the first time in history a Sailor Senshi and a General of the Dark Kingdom had fought on the same side in battle on purpose. Needless to say, it was only fitting and proper that the first alliance would have been forged by someone as capable, calm and levelheaded as myself. TSUNAMI CAFE "YOU WANT ME TO WHAT?!" Michiru exploded, offended beyond belief. "Play your fiddle for us in Karaoke bar we want," the wizened old, somewhat green with jaundice man said to Michiru. "Big Country Western Theme tonight there is, need fiddler we do. You good fiddler, see you on TV all time, yesss." "You should learn to speak Japanese better," Michiru muttered. She was in reality just angry about being asked to play a *fiddle*. "I am a world class master *violinist*," Michiru said in clean, clear accentless, perfect English. "I play a violin, not a fiddle." "What difference be there?" The old man replied in English. "'Fiddle' it is when _buy_ you want to. 'Violin' it is when _sell_ you want to, yess." He chuckled impishly. A vein throbbed in Michiru's forehead. "Are you saying the great Stradivarius was in the habit of manufacturing *fiddles*?!" "Ahem," Jedite said, trying to interject. "You are trying to _land_ a job, not _lose_ one..." "Quiet!" Michiru snapped. "A fiddle, for your edification, has a *flatter bridge* than a violin. It's a completely, utterly different instrument!"* *Michiru-san is in what we like to call 'denial'. "Cares does who?" the old man wheezed. "Play or play not, makes no difference to me it does." "You need this job," Jedite pressed. "Here!" The old man produced a Fiddle. "And now you must also sing." Michiru froze. "Do what?" Talented as she was, she could not sing.* *Ever hear her image song? Those high notes, OW! "I'll sing," Jedite said. "Metallia knows I've done everything *else* under the sun. You play." Michiru, disposing a lifetime of classical training, began madly running her bow across the surface of the old man's violi... err, fiddle. JEDITE : (To the tune of The Devil Came down From Georgia) "The General went down to Tokyo. He was lookin' for energy to steal. He was in a bind 'cause he was way behind, and Beryl was at his heel..." SEVERAL HOURS LATER "One Hundred Thousand Yen," Jedite said with satisfaction, thumbing the cash he and Michiru had earned. "That," Michiru said bitterly, "is the difference between the fiddle and a violin. Had I been playing a _violin_ just now, you could have multiplied that by a thousand." "Will this be enough to get Haruka out of prison?" Jedite asked. "I don't know," Michiru said. "But my reputation hasn't been restored by playing the fiddle in a Karaoke bar." "No one will ever know," Jedite said sincerely. "HOW THE MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN!" blared every TV in Tokyo five minutes later. "This is Nakai Masahiro, headlining your local news report. Cameras were fortunate enough to be able to capture world-class violinist Kaioh Michiru playing a *fiddle* at the Tsunami Cafe in Azabu Juuban. While rumours have persisted that Kaioh-san has been experiencing financial and creative difficulties lately, this latest incident has now seemingly confirmed them. This, coupled with her disturbing presentation at the Tokyo Arts Guild earlier today, has fueled speculation that Kaioh-san may be suffering from a nervous condition or--" BLAM! "Should you be using that mirror in that way?" Jedite asked, watching as Michiru retrieved her Aqua Mirror from the innards of a charred and smoking television set. THE DARK AGENCY HEADQUARTERS (A WHOLLY OWNED AND OPERATED SUBSIDIARY OF THE DARK KINGDOM, INC.) "First art, now music," Michiru muttered. "All my traditional skills are closed to me now as far as making a real living goes." "Can you write?" Jedite asked, idly thumbing through a Dark Kingdom Rolodex. "One of the few remaining shell companies is an advertising agency of some kind." He paused. "What the hell was Danburite thinking? No wonder we never had any resources except that damn cave at D-Point... he was throwing all the cash around up here!" "I'm sure I can write," Michiru said confidently. "Let's go." ACT III - ALL YOUR CASH ARE BELONG TO US "What... have you done to me?" Pegasus asked weakly, a giant band-aid slapped onto the top of his head. His body faded in and out as he focused his vision and looked for the Golden Crystal, which was sitting on Professor Tomoe's work desk, a small puddle of blood underneath it. Tomoe looked at Pegasus and shrugged, picking up the crystal to reveal a smashed rat underneath. "I was planning to use this crystal of yours to force my way into the dream world and sabotage the human collective unconcious--" "You monster!" Elios snorted. "Why would you do such a thing?" "Ahem," Tomoe cleared his throat. "You're the freakish animal thing that invades people's dreams in the guise of a mythical creature to cavort with young children and you're calling me a monster?" Pegasus sighed. People always latched onto *that* when they got angry. So he broke into a few dreams, stole a few kisses... they all appreciated it-- appreciated him. Yeah, baby. Mastah Elios the Mack Daddy from the Land of Illusion. Yeah YEAH. He liked the sound of his own thoughts. Uh-huh. "Anyway," Tomoe said, "I hate what Jung calls the collective unconcious, known to you perhaps as the thing my daughter's favorite poet Yeats called the _Spiritus Mundi_. "Did you ever have an idea-- one that was SO good you knew it would make you wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice, only to find out that two weeks later, some fool on the other side of the PLANET has just come out with the same exact thing, and you're out of luck?" Pegasus shrugged. "I've never needed money, so--" "Well *I* have! And so have lots of others. The Australian aborigines believe in a state called the dreamtime, where the waking world and the dreaming world intersect. That is your domain... the domain across which those lucky few are able to snatch OUR good ideas out of the ether and move them right into their wallets!" Tomoe pointed to the far corners of the lab. "Look around, horsey boy. See these things?" Pegasus looked. "VHS Camcorder, DVD player, Four Slice Toaster, Laser pointer, Plasma Television, Auto-flush toilet." "All my inventions," Tomoe said flatly. "But because I was paving the way for the grand ascension of Master Pharaoh 90, I didn't have time to patent any of them... and guess what?! Some young punks rip my ideas right out of the ether. Now look at where they are and where I am!" "They're rich and you're... a psychopathic superscientist with seemingly infinite resources?" Tomoe shrugged. "Well, anyway, it's the principle of the thing." "You'll never succeed!" Pegasus said with relish. "You don't have the power to wield that crystal!" "And don't I know it," Tomoe said casually. "I tried shaking it, praying to it, hitting with with various lasers, cursing at it-- nothing works. So, now I use it to smash the small rodents which invade my lab and prop open the doors while I'm working." "WHAT?!" Pegasus asked incredulously. "Remember kids, proper ventilation is a must in any mad scientist's secret laboratory," Tomoe said to the camera. "Well, I'm off... ciao!" He laughed madly, placing the golden crystal on the ground near the lab door. "Wait!" Pegasus said, fading in and out. Without the crystal he was dying. He needed to think fast. "You need me!" "For what?" Tomoe asked. "Oh, you're right, I do." He turned around and looked at Pegasus' legs appraisingly. "I've been needing an industrial strength glue for quite some time--" He chuckled darkly. "NO!" Pegasus said, mind racing, trying to reach into Souichi's twisted maze of a mind. "It must be hard working here without assistants." "Well," Tomoe began, "I used to have some, you know. Very bright and talented people. And it was especially fun to watch them playing twister." He chuckled perversely. "But, even though they all tried very hard, they just kept dying on me, one after the other. Strange, really." "And I take it your daughter doesn't want to follow in your footsteps?" Tomoe shook his head. "Not that I blame her. Getting killed twice during the course of my mad experiments will tend to put even the most dedicated offsring off from pursuing a career in Mad Science. But some of us," he said, adjusting his glasses, "are in it for the thrill of that next profane creation, the next twisted thing that emerges from the font of darkness, stinking of hell and crying for the souls of the innocent. Some of us yearn for the moment when their creations spring to ignoble life, and try to rip the innards out of their maker in supreme ingratitude--" "Yes, YES!" Pegasus said, working hard now. "The thrill and glory of bringing life to the lifeless, meddling with forces beyond understanding or factory warranty! The ecstatic joy of corralling small children--" he paused. "Of *dissecting* small children and turning them into hellish freaks!" "No, school does that to them," Tomoe said, interested now in what Pegasus was saying. "Have you an interest in the Dark Side of Science?" "Oh, most certainly," Pegasus said smoothly. "I would like to follow in your intrepid footsteps, Souichi Tomoe." Professor Tomoe cackled. "You give me the collective unconcious, and I'll give *you* a place at my side." "Very well," Pegasus said darkly. Soon he would have his power, and then he would exact horrible vengeance on both Professor Tomoe and his daughter Hotaru. "Excellent," Souichi Tomoe said. Soon he would have the collective unconciousness, and then he would have some super industrial size mystical Pegasus Glue. * * * GO-GO CREATIVE THOUGHT DESIGN, an ad copy shop on the edge of Azabu-Juuban Michiru was actually enjoying her new job. It involved writing friendly words and phrases that would appear on the sides of many Japanese consumer goods. She had been told people appreciated seeing them. As a child of a wealthy family, she had never bought any domestic products, instead spending her money on luxury imports from the West. So this was a new area for her. She had been asked to write in English, which was no problem for her-- she had had the best tutors in all of Japan. Her first assignment was to write an ad for what seemed to be an antidepressant tablet. Proudly, she handed her copy over to the manager, a young, driven, college-educated man. It read: "STRESS can form the the basis of an unhealthy lifestyle-- making you suffer greatly. Our tablets are so effective against stress that they set a standard of excellence in the industry." "Hmm," the young man said, examining the card carefully. Then he looked at Michiru quizzically. "I don't understand. I thought Jed said you were good." Michiru stood there, shocked for a moment. Presently, she recovered. "Oh? Is there something wrong with the grammar, or the spelling? I--" "It's all wrong," the young man said in an exasperated tone. "But--" Michiru began. "I am perfectly fluent--" "So am I!" the man said indignantly. "Listen. Four years ago a young girl came in to work for us. This was before I knew how to speak English fully. She said she needed part-time work. She told me that her friend had gone to England for a year and come back, teaching her full English afterwards. I told her to go ahead and write some copy for us. This is what she wrote for the same product you just did:" "'evirob' - is the essence of weird life. It will makes you too ill. Try our extraordinary works. you can find It's another standard." "That is... horribly bad," Michiru began. "No!" the man said. "It is horribly GOOD! Foreigners love to buy this stuff, just to laugh at it! It makes the Dark Agency tons of money! And of course it makes them underestimate us. Makes them think we cannot spell their language or use their grammar properly, so they do not watch us too closely. One day we will dominate advertising all across the world, and they will never see it coming!" "You must be joking," Michiru said. "Who was this girl?" The man pointed to a picture labeled "Our great Saviour." It was a very familiar odango-haired blond. "Her lack of grammar has made us millions," the man said with reverence and awe. "You would do well to emulate her example." Michiru felt tears of pain forcing their way to her eyes. SEVERAL HOURS LATER Michiru handed in her next work, hands trembling with pain at having to overcome her Absolute Perfection field. "Let's Try homeparty fashionably and have a joyful chat with nice fellow. Fujinami's straw will produce you young party happily and exceedingly!" "Much better!" her boss said with pride, handing her ten thousand yen. "Can you do this every day?" Michiru felt the blood leave her face. Within seconds she was down for the count. * * * "Mighty glad to be doin' business with ya, ma'am," Big Bob said, admiring his new company logo. "Gonna airbrush me a huge steer in the middle a' this here thang an' tack copies up all over the southwest. Yee-haw! Git along, little doggie!" "Well," Jedite said as he and Michiru made it out of the art gallery. "It may have cost you your principles, your reputation, your dignity and your perfection, but you did it. With that money, your living standard will be back to normal, whatever that is." He pointed to the briefcase stuffed with money Michiru had just put down. "Well," Michiru said slowly, "After repairs to the house, Haruka's bail, lawsuit settlements from the neighbors, I don't know how much we'll have left. But at least you'll have enough ingredients to work with from now on." "You're keeping me on?" Jedite asked incredulously. "You could rehire that, what was his name, 'Chef' fellow." "Nonsense," Michiru said. "You've been very helpful. Besides, some of the songs he used to sing to me..." VOICE OVER: Yes, I could have fired Jedite. But he's seen me at my lowest, and I can't risk him running off and publishing a tell-all book about the worst day in my entire life. He'll stay on for as long as I let him live. I know what you're saying. "But Michiru, you made five million dollars today." So what? My peers think I've gone from being a graceful virtuoso and master painter to being a cheap pop artist / fiddle player. I actually tried to use *slang* today, and I prostituted my genius for a few measly dollars. No, today Kaioh Michiru has truly lost it all. I can't see how it could get any worse from here on out... "Tanks for da green, Biatch!" yelled a seemingly random member of the Purple Death as he ran past Michiru, grabbing her briefcase and teleporting out of sight. FADE OUT PREVIEW OF NEXT EPISODE Haruka gets out of jail, but what's this? She can't pull any more pranks? Michiru-san goes out for revenge while Usagi finds out that Mamoru is... NO WAY!! Hotaru tries to hunt down Setsuna's embezzled fortune but has a run in with Pegasus and finds out that he's her-- sorry, no spoilers here! Next time on Suburban Senshi-- "The Truth is Out... Here!" You better get ready!