Sailor Who 3: No Restaurant for the Wicked (1/2)
BKWillis
by BKWillis
In a room that managed to be strangely grim and unsettling in
spite of its entirely pink decor, foul plots were being hatched.
"Yesss..." Dark Queen Compassion hissed as she toyed with her
jewel-woven pigtails. She loomed above the others on her shadowy
Throne of Dark Spam, a brooding demon in pink silk, her bright
gaze sparkling with cruel satisfaction. "I approve of your suggest-
ions, General Dougite," she purred, nodding toward the figure
seated before her Throne.
"I exist to serve Spam," he replied with a slight bow. He was a tall,
spare man, elegantly turned-out in a close-fitting uniform of pink
and red mottled spamouflage and a glaringly vermillion cloak that
billowed and swirled with the slightest breeze. "I am pleased to
offer my own humble input to your most cunning plan."
"As am I," the woman beside Dougite intoned. She was small and
blonde, with a serious air about her that seemed somewhat out-of-
step with her attire, which was the chainmail bikini required of all
Obligatory Henchbabes under ancient Spamverse law. "Now, all
we need is someone to oversee the diversion," she mused.
"Someone we can afford to lose," Dougite added.
"Someone who won't question why he's being sent off to certain
annihilation," said Dianite.
"An expendable moron, then?" The Dark Queen smiled in wicked
mirth and tugged at a bell-pull beside her. A moment later, the
huge doors swung inward and another pink-uniformed Dark
General entered.
"You sent for me, my Queen...?"
----
"At last! My skills and loyalty are finally recognized by our
Queen! So valued am I, that she gives me operational control
of our most important operation yet! Am I not 'da Man'?" Dark
General Bradleyardite hammered a fist on the counter, tears of
manly triumph flowing down his face. "I'm so cool," he whisp-
ered, giving himself a quick thumbs-up.
Obligatory Henchbabe Lydiite didn't answer. She was too busy
tying her apron on over her pink chainmail bikini and thinking
about homicide. Or rather, author-cide.
"Can't get away," she muttered under her breath. "No matter
what kind of story we do, I always end up partnered with old
Darth Whiner there. Always the same thing: show your rack and
play second-fiddle to the caped clot. One of these days, I swear..."
"We'll show Her Majesty that we're the ones she can count on!"
Bradleyardite was saying. "When there are difficult missions to
be carried out, I'm the one she can turn to. Why, I might even get
to be her Dark Consort and do the Funky Chicken in her boudoir..."
Lydiite just groaned and jammed the nearest paper hat onto his
ranting little head. "Whatever, Boss," she sighed. "But first, we
need to actually carry out the mission."
"Details, details," the Dark General waved off. But he did at least
tie on his own apron and fire up the stove.
Lydiite cast one last look over the room, making sure that all the
seats and tables were clean and ready for action, then strode
resolutely to the door. With a flourish, she flipped the sign
around to the word 'OPEN'.
Evil had a new Earthly face. International House of Spamcakes
was open for business.
----
Later, at Verity Lambert Public High School...
"Hup-two! Hup-two! Keep those feet moving!"
A group of girls jogged around the track, straggling along behind
Coach Melanie Bush, who was calling out orders like a veteran
drillmaster as they pounded along. And, being coach of the
school's Full-Contact Track Team, she basically _was_ a veteran
drillmaster, having taught the finer points of running and hand-
to-hand combat to no less than three Champion teams.
They were good girls, this P. E. class. Not as good as her Varsity
team, of course, but all quite healthy and determined and high-
spirited. She felt a brief surge of pride as she looked them over
and felt her smile widen.
Then it faltered a little as the last straggler caught her eye. Such a
problem, that girl. So much unrealized potential. If only she'd
apply herself. Perhaps she just needed a spark of encouragement.
"Yo! Foreman! Pick up the pace, slugfoot! Grandma's slow too,
but she's old!"
----
Susan flushed in embarrassment as the girls all giggled at her and
tried to speed up her tired legs. Oh, sure, it was easy for them to
laugh. They hadn't stayed up until three in the morning extermi-
nating one-eyed monsters from a parallel dimension and saving
the entire world from a fate worse than oat bran. And her ankle
was hurting. And she was hungry. And...
And Nyssa and Zoe had stayed out late, too, and they were
trotting right along. Susan grimaced and began unconsciously
slowing back down.
"Pssst! Hey! Down here!"
Susan turned to see a small, beaked mouth hissing to her from the
shrubbery beside the track. Surprised, she stumbled and fell right
in front of the bushes.
Coach Bush noticed and called out, "Foreman! You all right?"
"Er, just fine, ma'am!" Susan called back. "My, uh, ankle again!"
The Coach nodded and continued her run, the rest of the class
following. "Make sure you finish your laps!" she called over her
shoulder.
Susan watched them move off for a moment, then turned back to
the figure in the bushes. "Who's there?" she demanded. "Frob,
is that you?"
"Not Frobisher, but a friend of his," replied the penguin that
peered back at her from his concealment. "Call me... Opus. I
was sent to warn the Sailor Scouts that there's a new Spamverse
plot afoot."
"Oh, another one of those," Susan yawned. "You had me worried
for a moment."
"This is worrisome," Opus replied gravely. "The Spamverse is
preparing a twofold attack against Earth. First, they've infiltrated
the restaurant business and are plotting to sieze control of the
city using a special mind-controlling hypnospam that they're
serving as a main dish."
"That's reprehensible!" Susan exclaimed. "Serving spam as
food!"
"But that's just one arm of their evil plot," the penguin went on.
"The second, and more dastardly arm is that they are setting up a
group of Spamverse agents in the guise of a magical-girl team.
They call themselves the 'Elemental Scouts' and are even now
moving to defend the hypnospam operation."
"'Elemental Scouts'? How dare they mock the sacred name of our
Sailor team?" Susan was fired-up now, all her fatigue gone.
"Just so," said the penguin, with a penguiny smile. "The Spam-
verse has decided to fight fire with fire, so be prepared when you
go after them. These Elemental Scouts are both powerful and
ruthless, so don't let them take you by surprise."
"Don't worry about _that_, Opus. When I set eyes on these
Evil Sailors, they'll be history!"
Opus's eyes glittered. "Good girl," he whispered as he withdrew
into the shadows.
----
A short while later, across town at Saint Terrance's School for
Girls...
"No, not Wolsey," purred the cat, "but a friend of his. Call me...
Felix."
Peri Brown glanced around to make sure that no one was watch-
ing, then bent close to the shrubbery to hear what the cat had to
say.
"I've been sent to warn you Elemental Scouts that there's a terrible
new Spamverse plot afoot," the cat went on. "They're launching a
twofold attack against Earth..."
----
Lydiite smiled pleasantly at the man across the counter. "And
what can I get for you today, sir?" she asked.
"What are your specials?"
"Well, let's see," she answered. "We've got: eggs, bacon, and
spam; eggs, sausage, and spam; spam, eggs, sausage, and spam;
spam, baked beans, kipper, and spam; spam, spam, toast, and
spam; spam, spam, spam, chips, and spam; or lobster Newburg
with truffles in a white wine sauce and spam."
The customer looked confused for a moment. "Have you got
anything without so much rat in it?" he asked.
Lydiite smacked him with her order pad. "Wrong Python skit."
"Ow. Sorry. What were the selections again?"
The Henchbabe growled a little to herself, then smiled winningly
at the young man. "We're offering two choices today," she said.
"You can have a plate of spam or a big can of whoopass." She
cracked her knuckles and stared into his eyes. "Which one will it
be?"
"Er, I'll have the spam, I think."
"Excellent choice, sir."
----
The little black cat slipped down the alley, stepping fastidiously
around the muck and garbage. A scarred old tomcat looked up
from the bin he was raiding and hissed a warning at the new-
comer, back arching and claws sliding out.
"Get lost, furball," the smaller cat snapped. Startled by his
speech, the tom bolted away with a yowl of fear.
The cat slunk down to the alley's end, where a cloaked man in
a mottled red uniform stood waiting, idly bouncing a piece of
pink processed meat in his hand.
The man smiled coldly. "Did all go according to plan,
Kamelionite?" he asked.
There was a quick shimmer as the cat transformed into a thin,
silvery humanoid clad in a hooded pink cloak. "Perfectly,
General Dougite," he replied. "The Sailor Scouts and Elemental
Scouts should be on a collision course even as we speak. I
played my parts well and neither seemed suspicious of my
motives."
"Don't pat yourself on the back too much, shapeshifter,"
Dougite warned. "Their ignorance is likely more due to plot
requirement rather than your innate skills." Chuckling at
Kamelionite's discomfiture, the Dark General turned to the
wall behind him and sketched out a quick trapezoid with
the piece of spam in his hand. The moment the shape was
complete, it began to fill up with an eerie pink light that
seemed to pulse like a diseased heart.
The two stepped into the light, which folded in upon itself
and vanished, leaving only a spicy, oily odor behind.
----
Lydiite dropped off an order of Spam Surprise (the surprise
being that there was nothing in it but spam) and turned to greet
the customers who were walking in. "Welcome to International
House of Spamcakes! Have a seat and I'll be with you in a
moment!"
As she watched the four girls sit down, she paused to wonder
whether their secret plot to control the minds of the citizenry via
tainted spam was working or not.
"Hmm. That's weird," a man sitting at the counter said as he
swallowed a bit of spam.
"What is?" asked the woman beside him.
"It's just... I suddenly have the urge to swear everlasting
allegiance to an evil tyrant from another dimension and do her
bidding as a witless minion."
"Hey! Me, too!"
Okay. That answered that. Lydiite allowed herself a brief surge
of hope. Maybe appearing in this story wouldn't suck so much,
after all.
"BWAHAHAHA!" came the horrid laughter from the kitchen.
"For the glory of the Spamverse, I say to ye, 'Order up, Lydiite!'
A spamburger awaits, to be bestowed upon the wretched slave
at table four!"
Maybe appearing in this story wouldn't suck so much... and maybe
baby leprechauns would come and take her away to their magic
kingdom of nougat in a flying ship made of aardvark hair, too.
----
The four high school girls kept a surreptitious watch on Lydiite as
they eased into the corner booth.
"I believe your instincts were right, Peri," said a studious-looking,
fair-haired girl. "This must be the secret Spamverse operation."
"I just don't see it," groused the girl beside her, a brunette in a
leather jacket. "It just looks like a nasty little greasy-spoon eatery
to me."
"The clues are there if you know what to look for, Ace," the first
girl rejoined. "For instance, notice the excessively pink motif in the
decorating. That's the exact shade of pink used by the Spamverse
Royal House. Then there's the vinyl covering on the seats. The
texture is slightly off, indicating that it is in fact a spam-based
replica of true vinyl."
"There's also the sign out front, Liz," Peri pointed out. With a
subtle gesture, she nodded toward the window, through which
the restaurant's sign could be read.
'International House of Spamcakes' was picked out in large, bold
lettering. Under that was, 'A Division of Spamverse Holdings,
Ltd.' and then, at the bottom, 'over 200 million subjugated'.
"Oh, uh, right," Liz said. "I saw that."
The fourth girl tensed slightly, her hard eyes shifting around the
room. "Well, why don't we take them down, then?" she hissed.
"Because I have a plan, Tegan," Peri replied. "These evil
Spamverse Sailors are bound to show up soon, and I want to
take them by surprise. Take them all down at one blow."
Tegan subsided, grumbling. "Very well, but let's not wait too
long. I want to annihilate these Spamverse scum."
"We will, we will," Peri reassured. "I promise you, these so-
called 'Sailor Scouts' are going to regret the day they were born."
----
"I promise you," Susan was saying, "these so-called 'Elemental
Scouts' are going to regret the day they were born."
"Good," Nyssa replied curtly. "Annihilation. Death to Spam.
Delenda est Spammus. I'm there." The Trakenite was tense as a
leashed hunting hound, ready for battle and glaring hatefully at
the tacky restaurant in front of them.
"'Delenda est Spammus'?" Susan repeated, confused. "What's
that mean?"
Nyssa gave a pained sigh. "Honestly, Susan, don't you pay _any_
attention in Mr. Rebmun's history class? It's a paraphrase of
'Delenda est Carthago', a quote by Cato the Elder from the Evil
Proto-Socialist Roman Wars Against the Noble and Healthily
Business-Oriented Carthaginians."
"You mean the Punic Wars," Zoe corrected.
"Mr. Rebmun says that only crypto-Bolshevik weasels call it the
'Punic Wars'," Nyssa sniffed dismissively. "Anyway, that's Latin
for 'Carthage must be destroyed', thus my phrasing of 'Spam must
be destroyed'."
Now Leela looked confused. "Why not just say, 'Spam must be
destroyed'?" she asked.
"Because 'Delenda est Spammus' sounds cooler and more intellec-
tual."
"Or it would if 'spammus' were a real Latin word," Zoe inserted.
"As it is, you just sound pretentious."
With a frustrated grumble, Susan waved a hand for attention.
"Excuse me!" she barked. "We're kind of digressing from the plot
here, aren't we? Can we get back on track?"
"Actually, all of this was in the script," said Zoe, holding up a copy
of said document. "We _are _ on track."
That stopped Susan cold. "Really? That was scripted? What kind
of dope is Willis on these days? This is just stupid!"
"I'm quite pleased with it," Nyssa said simply.
The others all stared at her. "Why!?" they demanded in unison.
Nyssa shrugged. "Considering who's writing this, I'm just happy
to avoid a big lesbian orgy scene."
"Oh, right." "True enough." "Good point."
And then they all took off their clothes and had mad, passionate
sex.
The four girls just stood there glaring at the author.
"Riiight," smirked Nyssa. "You just keep dreaming, writer-boy."
"All-girl group sex is un-Sailorlike," Susan chided.
"Not according to about ten thousand 'Sailor Moon' fanfics," Zoe
reminded her.
"Am I going to get any decent lines in this story?" Leela asked.
"Because, if not, I say we proceed straight on to the fight scene."
There was a chorus of general agreement from the others. "Very
well, then. Let us go transform -- in _private_ -- and then destroy
our enemies!"
"Delenda est Spammus!" the four all cried as they dashed away.
Umm... Mad, passionate all-girl sex? Please? No? Sigh...
----
"Ah, sweet, sweet victory," sighed Bradleyardite as he eyed the
ranks of mind-controlled diners who filled his establishment.
"Under my deft and masterful guidance, our Queen's plan is coming
to glorious fruition! Soon, our massed armies of brainless zombie
minions will go forth and wreak havoc upon this foul city. Only
one thing could make this moment sweeter, dear Lydiite..."
"Franchise rights and a chain of restaurants across the tri-county
area?" the bikini-ed brunette replied.
"Hmmm... Maybe. But I was thinking of something even better."
"To have our enemies, the Sailor Scouts, subdued and in our
power?" Lydiite tried again.
"You're getting warmer."
Lydiite thought for a moment about Bradleyardite and his tastes.
"Mad, passionate all-girl sex?"
"Bingo!"
Lydiite's stomach turned slightly. Not at the thought of mad,
passionate all-girl sex, which was actually sort of okay in her book,
but at the look on the Dark General's face as he contemplated it.
Sort of a cross between Bill the Cat and Harpo Marx, only less
intellectual. "Well, it's too bad Nyssaias and Embericles aren't in
this story, then," she said over her queasiness.
"Yeah, but there's always at least some minor female homoerotic
overtones to these magical-girl shows, so I'm plenty hopeful."
"True, but there's often an element of male homoeroticism as well."
"BWAAAAK!!" Bradleyardite's expression went from Bill the Cat/
Harpo Marx to more of a found-a-slug-in-his-sandwich sort of look.
Lydiite grinned, taking deep and sadistic enjoyment (as was proper
for a villainess) in Bradleyardite's pain. "Ooh, yes," she sighed,
going all sparkly-eyed. "I can see you in the strong and loving
arms of Dark General Francoisite, your doe-like eys staring so
vulnerably into his..."
Bradleyardite began retching.
"Your little cries of 'Subjugate me! Make me your slave, mighty
General!' His hot beath whispering in your ear..."
The Dark General stuck his fingers in his ears and began shouting,
"LA LA LA LA! I CAN'T HEAR YOU! LA LALA LA LA!"
And that's why they didn't notice the Sailor Scouts coming in to
smash the place up a few minutes later.
----
"Oh, no."
"What is it, Liz?" Ace asked.
"Look around at the other customers. Those vacant stares. Those
slack jaws. Those expressions of glazed, drooling imbecility.
They've all been turned into mindless zombie minions. Everyone
except us." Liz's voice became ominous. "You realize what this
means?"
Tegan replied first. "More votes for Nader in the next election?"
Peri was also quick to see the significance. "My God! They've
been turned into the OJ Simpson jury!"
"True enough," Liz replied grimly. "But it also means that someone
will soon be noticing that, thanks to our ordering nothing but tap
water, we aren't mind-controlled. It won't take them long to figure
out who we are, then they'll send out those evil Sailors to take care
of us."
"Unless they're very stupid," cautioned Peri.
"I wouldn't bet on that," Liz retorted. "The Spamverse agents
behind this operation are obviously individuals of great cunning
and strategic insight."
A faint sound of someone shouting, "LA LALA LA! I STILL
CAN'T HEAR YOU!" and someone else muttering about pelvic
thrusts could be heard faintly from the kitchen.
"As I was saying, the Spamverse agents will attempt to close
their trap at any moment, so I suggest we transform now, so as to
be prepared for their onslaught." Liz cast a hopeful look at Peri.
"Transform?" demanded Ace. "Right here?"
"Of course," Peri answered. "Everyone here is mind-numbed, so
they'll never remember our secret identities. Let's do it!"
"But... they'll be able to see my boobs!" Ace wailed.
Tegan shrugged. "So? It's not like they'd notice yours even if they
weren't brain-zapped."
Ace rounded on Tegan with a snarl. "Hey! Watch it, Windbag!
Do you want a piece of me?!"
"Not a piece of breast, Pyro," Tegan growled in reply, "because
you don't have enough to spare. Butt, maybe."
"Please, girls," Peri pleaded. "Cat-fighting is un-Sailorlike."
"Not according to about ten thousand 'Sailor Moon' fanfics," Liz
corrected.
"Whatever. I'm going to transform and have a go at advancing the
plot of this story. You lot do as you like." With that, Peri pulled a
small blue wand from her purse and held it aloft, crying out,
"Eternal Water Power, make up!" A pulsating light surrounded her
as her clothes flew off and and a skimpy, too-tight version of a
Catholic schoolgirl's uniform molded itself to her body.
"Right behind you," called Liz, pulling out her own brown wand.
"Solid Earth Power, make up!"
Tegan paused to glare at Ace, then began her own transformation.
"Howling Wind Power, make up!"
Ace watched the others, then turned to face the wall. "Raging Fire
Power and don'tlookatmyboobs, make up!"
----
In their standard overkill fashion, the Sailor Scouts blasted the
restaurant door off its hinges rather than actually make a sensible
and less-conspicuous entrance. Then again, when you're talking
about four teenage girls running around in Japanese schoolgirl
outfits that look like something from the Junior Dominatrix
Collection, what really is the point in trying for stealth?
"This is a bust!" Sailor Gallifrey declared as she strode into the
dining room, the others flanking her.
"Yes, it's very nice," answered a short-haired brunette in a skimpy
Catholic schoolgirl outfit. "Better than hers, anyway." She jerked a
thumb at the chest of the similarly-dressed girl beside her.
"Shut up, Windbag," the girl muttered.
Sailor Traken smirked at the four strange girls, then nudged
Sailor Wheel in Space. "Look, Wheel. It looks like a Sailor
Team, only uglier."
The two sides stood glaring at each other as Sailor Gallifrey and
one of the strange Sailors cautiously approached each other.
"Sooo," purred the stranger, "you must be these 'Sailor Scouts'
we were warned about."
"And you must be the 'Elemental Scouts', I suppose?" Sailor
Gallifrey asked coolly.
"That we are. And I, Sailor Water, shall see that you pay for your
temerity in challenging us." Sailor Water thrust a finger out at
Sailor Gallifrey, eyes flashing.
"Hah! It is I, Sailor Gallifrey, who will vanquish _you_ for your
insolence!" Gallifrey's own finger was out and pointing as well.
The two groups of underdressed girls began to edge toward one
another as the diners continued to eat on in mind-numbed stupor.
Knuckles cracked, poses were adopted, and the occasional middle
finger was flipped.
Sailor Gallifrey spared a moment to glance around at her
compatriots and gasped as realization struck. "Hold up!" she
cried, holding out her crossed fingers. "Fingers! Fins! King's
X! Time out, already! We mustn't do this!"
"Mustn't do what?" growled Sailor Traken, anxious to do some
senseless mayhem.
"We mustn't just run at each other and start brawling. In the fine
tradition of such good-evil showdowns, we need to pair off against
our correct opposite numbers."
"Cripes! She's right!" Sailor Water exclaimed. "We almost blew
a genre convention."
Gallifrey pulled a clipboard and pen out of her skirt and began to
scan down it. "Let's get this debacle properly organized and get
everyone properly paired-off. Let's see... First, we have the
overprecise, introverted intellectuals."
Sailor Wheel in Space and Sailor Earth each meekly raised a hand
and stepped forward.
"Right," said Sailor Gallifrey. "You two will go fight in the
parking lot. Next, there's the dedicated warrior maidens."
Sailor Sevateem and Sailor Fire strode forward, staring hard at
each other.
"You two will fight in the alley. Then there's the angsty, dark-
souled cynics."
Sailor Traken and Sailor Wind both nodded, neither looking
especially impressed by the other.
"You'll fight in here. That leaves us two leaders to face off on
the roof. That sound okay?"
With amiable nods all around, the various pairs split off to do
battle.
----
"Are you prepared to face your maker?" Sailor Sevateem asked
from atop the garbage can.
"I should ask you that," Sailor Fire retorted, posing unsteadily atop
a mound of discarded shipping pallets several yards away.
The two stood rock-still, gazes locked, unblinking, scarcely
breathing, duelling in the time-honored samurai fashion. Sweat
stood out on their brows as muscles strained at absolutely
nothing, nearly-tangible waves of pure will emanating from
each girl.
Sailor Fire's nostrils twitched.
Sailor Sevateem's bicep spasmed.
There was a soft hiss as Fire's lips slowly parted.
Sevateem's left foot shifted.
Veins began to stand out on their necks as the blood beat furiously
in both their ears.
The moment held...
The moment held...
Then, in a sudden explosion of violent motion, the moment broke.
"Nitro Blast!" cried Sailor Fire, hurling a ball of boiling orange light.
"Huntress Power Wave!" Sailor Sevateem called at the same time,
sending a blast of green energy roaring at her foe.
The two attacks collided and cancelled each other out in a huge
fireball that sent both Sailors scrambling to maintain their balance.
"So, you counter my attack so skillfully? You are obviously born
to the way of the warrior," panted Sailor Sevateem.
"As are you," gasped Sailor Fire. "But, when two warriors such as
us meet, only one may leave."
"Yes. Such is fate."
A gust of wind carried a shower of cherry blossoms across both
combatants, in spite of there not being a cherry tree within miles.
Both sighed wistfully, then bowed slightly to each other.
"Thorn Talons!" Sailor Sevateem called, making a sweeping motion
with her arms. Hundreds of tiny energy spikes formed around her
and launched themselves at the other Sailor.
"Ghostlight Flare!" responded Sailor Fire with a desperate cry. A
wall of flame sprang to life, intercepting most of Sailor Sevateem's
attack. Still, several spikes got through, lashing into Sailor Fire
and staggering her. There was little damage done, and that mainly
just fanservice-style rips at strategic places in her uniform, but her
unsteady perch betrayed her and she tumbled to her knees on the
pavement, her back to her enemy.
This was it. She was beaten. There was no way she could rise,
turn, and counter before Sailor Sevateem finished her off.
"Stand, my enemy. I'll not strike a foe from behind."
Sailor Fire gasped at the girl's words. Shaking slightly, she
looked over her shoulder to where Sailor Sevateem stood, relaxed
but ready. "You... you have honor! I have never met a Spamverse
warrior who fought honorably before!"
"Nor have I met one who was sufficiently honorable to recognize
the concept in others," replied Sevateem with a worried scowl.
"Could this mean...?"
----
In the parking lot, two more combatants eyed each other.
"So, shall we match power against power?" Sailor Earth asked.
"We could, but of course _true_ power is much more than just how
many energy blasts one can throw around," came Sailor Wheel in
Space's reply.
Sailor Earth's eyes narrowed. "Indeed. All real power lies in..."
"...the mind," Wheel finished.
"Well, then, Sailor Scout, shall we do battle with our wits, rather
than fists and force?" Sailor Earth stealthily slipped a hand into
a pocket of her plaid microminiskirt.
"That would seem most fitting." As Sailor Wheel in Space spoke,
she carefully reached behind her back.
There was a blur of motion as both Sailors made their moves.
"SA-HA!" cried Wheel as she slammed the small folding table into
place between them.
"HI-YAH!" Sailor Earth screamed, whipping out a chessboard and
slapping it onto the table.
Without breaking their straining eye contact, both girls began
pulling chess pieces from their pockets and positioning them by
feel.
"Now," smirked Sailor Earth once all the pieces were down, "shall
we begin our battle to the-- WHAT!?" She had chosen that
moment to look down at the board, and was stunned by what she
beheld.
Sailor Wheel in Space looked down, as well. "OH, MY! How...
How can this be? You're playing white!"
"Of course! Heroes always play white. How can _you_ be playing
white, too? As the villain, your pieces should be black!"
"Because I'm the good guy! _Your_ pieces should be black!"
Eyes widened as the realization struck.
"OH, NO!"
"THIS MEANS..."
----