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From: sn0welf@aol.com (SN0W ELF)
Subject: Re: [OW!S] "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!"
Date: 14 Mar 1999 00:00:00 GMT
Message-ID: <19990314005949.24681.00000382@ng24.aol.com>
References: <19990313111213.02124.00000077@ng-cr1.aol.com>
Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com
Newsgroups: alt.fan.sailor-moon
X-Admin: news@aol.com

lordseto@aol.com wrote:
>The NO sonar person turned around in his seat.  "Target has been rammed,
>miss!"
>
>Sailor Polaris turned around and put on a captain's hat.  "Eeeexcellent!  Now
>that the Red Otaku is completed with her shakedown, it's time to go do what
>it
>was built for..."
>
>"And what's that, miss?" Another NO worker asked.
>
>"Assasinate Nightman, of course!" She yelled, bapping the NO with her staff. 
>"Now, let's get this plan into action.  Ready Dog Biscuit tubes one through
>six, and compute trajectory right for Nightman's head!  Oh, and target
>numbers
>seven through twelve at you-know-where."
>
>She let out an Emerald-esque laugh.  Yesss...this would work.
>
>Probably.

   <"Error reading this scene. Switch?(Y/N)"-scene switch>

    Within the bowels of the Red Otaku, the sounds of the biscuits launching
reverberated about the missile room, echoing off several crates and secured off
to the side, all marked as supplies to be transferred from the Dark Crystal to
the boomer. However, the fact that one crate groaned gave lie to it's contents'
supposedly nonliving nature. With a loud creak, the crate's top popped open,
and a bleary-eyed, liesure-suited young man  glanced about, frowning. "My
head.... note to self: don't fall down a provisions-packing chute when trying
to confront the disco folks." As his vision adjusted to the red lights in the
room, he noticed the sound of the last biscuit launching, and the sounds of the
sea outside the pressure hull. As he dropped the Liesure Suit Bandana costume,
he hmmed to himself... "Say. Those... are missile tubes. And they're launching.
Aaaaand, I seem to be in a sub. Hmm. That's really weird." He climbed out of
the crate, wincing as his cramped muscles voiced their displeasure... well, not
so much voiced as blindingly pained.
   "Alright... probably it would be best to find someplace to hide out for
awhile... ah, here, this looks promising." he opened a door, and stepping
through, found himself faced  with the sonar operator, who promptly yelled a
warning, before being shoved aside by the fleeing Shamus, to break his neck on
a nearby table. However, Shamus tripped taking the lower lip of the next door,
ending up face to face with the Chick of Chicanery(grasping at straws? Why
yes..) herself, Sailor Polaris. Well, more accurately, her boots. "Ah... hi
there!... so, how about the weather? Oh, right, no weather in the ocean..
HELP!" 


   Shamus
"Eh, but the Battle of Midway was so clichedly 'The Good Guys Always Win'!"