One girl is from an alien culture who lives her life by the harsh doctrine of logic over the chaos of emotion which she relies on to control her own powerfully volatile feelings. The other is a creature of deep passion, an ebon beauty with a fiery personality who wears her heart on her sleeve while living for the moment with boundless zest and desire. They are Talia Kirk and Tanya Cambridge: Sailor Scouts, high school students, and, more importantly, the very best of friends. These are the adventures of two courageous young women who walk a sometimes perilous tightrope, balancing their awesome responsibilities as heroines with their cherished everyday existence as ordinary teenage girls. Warriors and defenders, partners and companions, Talia and Tanya live, learn, love and grow together in an unique and unbreakable bond of friendship. If you wish to comment on my story, either positively or negatively, please contact me at treetop@voicenet.com. Sailor Moon and all related characters are the property of Takeuchi Naoko, Toei Animation and DIC. Sailor Sirius is the property of Sharon Williams. Any references to Vulcan are the province of Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Studios. So, please, don't sue me because I haven't any money. I do this strictly for entertainment purposes, not copyright infringement.
The Adventures of Talia and Tanya:
Volley Into Danger
by Jeffrey C. Branch
Chapter One
Rating: PG-13
Tanya Cambridge, her waist long, glossy black hair tied in a severe ponytail wore a savage grin on her lips as she parked herself in one spot on the court. Bending at the knees, she looked up at the volleyball as it came her way.
Her arms outstretched, her fists clenched together, Tanya expertly hit the ball and it spiraled upward at the net. One of Tanya's teammates, a taller girl with rust brown hair, leaped up and spiked the ball over onto the other side with surprising force.
On the other side, a stocky, muscular girl near the rear of the court made a frantic dive for the ball and just managed to intercept the round rocket before it hit the floor. It came in the direction of a tall, reed thin redhead wearing a white headband with the Nike swoosh on the front. Knowing she wasn't in position for a return smash, the tall girl lobbed it back over to the other team's side where another of Tanya's teammates, one with dark brown hair done in twin ponytails and goggles over her eyes intercepted it.
"Over here, Maddie! Let's finish 'em off!" Tanya shouted. These were the times the pretty black girl loved, the thrill of athletic competition, the excitement of pitting her skills, her strength, her passion for the one sport she loved most against an opponent. Not even her adventures as Sailor Sirius made Tanya feel as vibrant and alive as she was right now.
The ponytailed girl named Maddie nodded and batted the ball over towards Tanya who nodded to her teammate. The tall girl leaped up, looking for all the world to spike the ball to her left, drawing the attention of their opponents on the other side. But it turned out to be a cleverly designed fake, fooling the other team just long enough for Tanya, screaming like a Samurai warrior to leap high and deliver the killshot with a powerful righthanded spike.
The girls on the other side of the net didn't have a chance of intercepting the ball before it hit the floor. With a whistle, the gymnasium erupted in cheers.
"Point goes to red team," said the announcer from the scorer's table off to the left side of the court. "Red team wins the match, 15-12."
Tanya and her five teammates, all wearing red t-shirts whooped and hollered and jumped for joy and hugged each other while the losing team, garbed in blue slunk off the floor, all save for the tall redhead who scowled at the winning team.
"Wahoo! Tanya, you are da bomb!" cried the pigtailed girl named Maddie, wrapping her arms around Tanya's neck. "That spike was so incredibly cool!"
"Yeah! That was pretty awesome, wasn't it?" said a grinning Tanya, never at a loss for ego when it came to her athletic endeavors.
"Congratulations, Tanya. You played magnificently," said Talia Kirk, walking up to Tanya. Tall, elegant and attractive in a red silk blouse, tailored black trousers and matching low heeled pumps, she was the polar opposite in personality to the feisty, though equally beautiful Tanya. "Your skill on the volleyball court is without equal."
"Hey! What can I say? When you've got it----and stone face, I most definitely do----then flutter it!" Tanya proudly boasted.
Talia, hearing that, cocked an eyebrow. While her grasp on modern day slang was shaky at best, even she knew what her best friend said sounded out of place. "Pardon me, but I believe the correct term is 'flaunt it'."
Tanya flashed one of her million watt smiles at the taller girl. "So sue me! I've been hanging around Mina too long!"
"Ahem!" said someone, loudly clearing her throat. Tanya and Talia turned to face the redhead who glared at them. Still smiling, Tanya walked up to the girl and offered her hand.
"That was a good match, Cynthia. Your team played really well."
The girl named Cynthia looked down at Tanya's hand as if it were something repugnant. "But we didn't win. That's all I care about," she said in a thick, huffy New England accent. "I can't stand losing to you all the time! One of these days, Cambridge, I'll beat you! Just you wait!"
Cynthia then spun on her heel and stormed off. Talia, watching the scene, became curious. "A most unpleasant reaction. Is there some sort of history between the two of you?"
Tanya sighed, her good mood diminished. "Yeah, there is. Unfortunately. Her name's Cynthia Van Buren, your typical, spoiled rich brat. A major league, dyed-in-the-wool, one hundred ten percent bitch."
Talia arched an eyebrow at the obscenity Tanya used. "Might I inquire as to why her attitude towards you was so disagreeable?"
"We went to the same school back when I was living in the States. She was captain of the volleyball team, then I came along and whooped her tail," said Tanya, wiping her brow with a towel. "Being a seriously poor loser who can't stand losing and lives for grudges, she's hated me ever since. She actually threw a party after my dad I left for Japan."
"So, why is she here?"
"There's a huge weekend volleyball camp out in the countryside, and members from the Japanese and American Olympic teams will be there doing clinics and stuff. Kids from schools all over the country will be going there this weekend," said the ponytailed girl, her goggles now high on her head. She then blushed and held out her hand to Talia. "Oops! Pardon my manners! I'm Madoka Suzuki, but everyone calls me Maddie. What's yours?"
"My name is Talia Kirk," the Vulcan girl replied, shaking Maddie's hand. "I am Tanya's companion."
"Companion? Ugh! That sounds so cold!" said Tanya in mock indignation. Giggling, she sidled up to Talia and slipped an arm around her waist. "Maddie, Tal's my very best friend in the whole wide world! She's like a sister to me!"
"Really? That's so cool!" said a beaming Maddie who stared in wide eyed awe at the statuesque Talia. "Wow! You're so tall and pretty, Talia! Ohhh! And I just love your ears! They're wickedly cool!"
Talia was slightly taken aback by Maddie's words. It wasn't often that she was complimented her sharply pointed ears which were part of her heritage as a Vulcan, a race not of this Earth. "Thank you, Maddie. Your kind words are greatly appreciated."
"No prob! Hey! I've got an idea! Ti and I have reservations to the camp! Why don't you come with us, Tal? I'd love to know you better!"
"Yeah! That's a great idea!" Tanya squealed delightedly.
"But, I do not know how to play volleyball," Talia protested.
"So what? Maddie and I can teach you! It's not all that hard! Besides, with your height and your strength, you'd be a natural!" countered Tanya.
Talia looked unsure of herself. "Do you really think so?"
"Look, partner. I may be dumb as a rock about some things, but I'm an expert when it comes to volleyball," Tanya proudly boasted. "If I say you can play the game, then it's a done deal! Will you come? Please?"
Talia nodded. "Very well. I will come. It sounds rather intriguing."
"Way cool!" Maddie whooped. "Tell you what, Ti! I'll sign us up at the office! With any luck, we'll be assigned to the same cabin!"
"Righteous! Go for it!" Tanya cried.
"I'm on it! Nice meeting you, Tal! You're so cool! I think we're gonna be great friends! See ya later!" And Maddie ran off.
"At the risk of abusing an already overused term, Maddie is....cool," said an amused Talia. "Tanya, are you sure I will not be a bother at this camp?"
Tanya smiled fondly at the Vulcan girl and squeezed her shoulder. "You could never be a bother to me, Tal. Not ever. Look, let me hop in the shower because I know I stink. Then you can buy me a soda at the Crown. Playing volleyball gives me a thirst that just won't quiet."
"That is 'quit', I believe. Mina's slipshod vocabular habits are rubbing off on you. I will wait outside."
"Great! See you in fifteen!"
"Perhaps you should make it thirty. Considering how much you enjoy primping, I could be in for a lengthy wait."
The ebon skinned beauty scowled good naturedly at Talia. "Very funny! If I didn't know better, Kirk, I'd swear you were developing a sense of humor!"
Talia cocked an eyebrow, her expression stoic as usual. However, there was a twinkle in her bright blue eyes as the Vulcan girl occasionally enjoyed teasing her best friend. "Indeed. I can only assume that defect in my personality is a direct result of the questionable company I have been keeping."
Tanya's response was to give Talia a long, loud raspberry. "Says you!"
"Most uncouth. Sometimes, I am at a complete loss to understand why I tolerate you," said Talia, barely able to keep a smile curling from her lips.
"Because you love me, stone face!"
Talia, still in what passed for her as a playful mood, shrugged. "We all have our crosses to bear."
Cynthia, having showered, put on makeup and changed into a bright green Christian Dior dress with spike heeled pumps to match was still in a foul mood as she left the gymnasium.
Even after two long years, she still couldn't defeat Tanya Cambridge at the one sport she loved since childhood. Rage boiled within her at the knowledge that someone like Tanya was better than her at volleyball, despite her long hours of training and the battalion of private coaches her father hired to sharpen her skills.
"Damn that little bitch!" she hissed. "I can't stand that she's better than me! I hate her! I hate her!"
"Talking to yourself again, Cindy?" came a male voice in a mocking tone. "You're just reinforcing the stereotype that rich folks are weird."
Cynthia whirled around to see a tall, handsome, redheaded boy in a turtelneck and slacks saunter up to her. His facial features, though curled in a rougish smirk were identical to Cynthia's. The girl scowled fiercely at him.
"No one told you to butt in, Chris!" she growled.
Christopher Van Buren, Cynthia's twin brother, the oldest of the pair by fifteen minutes chuckled. "Well, it was hard not to listen in. Pissed off because Ti beat you again I see."
"Like that's any of your business!"
"Chill out. You need to bury the hatchet with her. It's been two years since Tanya whipped your tail at Stamford Junior High. Get over it."
"I can't!" Cynthia roared back, her face flushed red. "Don't you understand? I hate losing to anyone! Especially to someone like Cambridge! She humiliated me, Chris! I never forgot how much that hurt! And I'll never forgive her for showing me up in front of the team, my friends, the whole school! She ruined my life!"
Chris rolled his eyes, having heard Cynthia's sob stories too many times before. His sister was a drama queen right out of the womb, overreacting to everything, turning small slights into major offenses. It didn't help that their father, a Fortune 500 businessman relentlessly spoiled his little girl, indulging her every whim, thus reinforcing her attitude. While Chris kept his feet firmly planted on the ground and resisted the urge to be a brat, there were times he suspected his sister's grasp on reality was none too solid.
"Yeah, right. For only the hundreth time," he grumbled. "You still going to that camp this weekend? Even though Ti will be there?"
"Are you serious? Of course I am! This is my big chance to make contacts with players from the U.S. team!" Cynthia replied. "The 2004 games are right around the corner! And I mean to do all I can to make the team! That's my dream, Chris! And I'm not going to give up on it now! What about you?"
"Well, I am on the boy's varsity squad, so I'm in too." Chris then smirked. "Besides, it'll be great to see Ti again. I've always thought she's gorgeous."
Cynthia made a face of disgust. "Gorgeous? Her? Don't make me laugh! How can you say that about someone of her race?"
Chris sighed. Among his sister's faults was her misguided belief that her wealth and upbringing made her inherently better than people of other races, a viewpoint he found disgusting. He openly called her opinions racist, Cynthia called them facts. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Cynthia hated losing to someone she thought was inferior. "Beauty is beauty, sis, regardless of the color of their skin. C'mon, we'd better get over to the registration center and sign up. This weekend should be lots of fun."
"I'll second that," Cynthia replied with a nod. This time, I'm gonna make sure Cambridge ends up on the short end of the stick!
Jean-Paul Rainer sat at a desk in the office his host rented on the ouskirts of downtown Tokyo and frowned as he went over financial reports. Slowly stroking his smooth chin, Rainer didn't at all like what he saw on his balance sheet, representing a serious downturn in the fortunes of his organization.
A strikingly handsome blond Frenchman of forty-five, Rainer thought of himself as a Chief Executive Officer, lording over every aspect of his company. It didn't concern him that his 'company' was Le Tigre Francois, The French Tigers, Europe's most notorious terrorist organization that was known and feared throughout the continent for it's ruthlessness. Like any other CEO, Rainer worried over the one thing that mattered most to him: the bottom line.
Looking up from the sheets of paper in his hand, Rainer locked piercing, slate gray eyes on the three men seated before him. He turned to a thin, wiry and balding man sitting to his left. "Philipe. Explain these figures. How could our finances have gone downhill so drastically?"
Philipe Desjardins, Rainer's financial officer, and his best friend of over thirty years sighed and gave a slight shrug in his tailored navy Italian suit. "I know it is no excuse, Jean, but the downturn of our financial health in the aftermath of 9/11 has been monumental," Desjardins explained.
"While the ragheads were hit the hardest, European groups like ours have also felt the pain of the worldwide crackdown on monies funneled to terrorist groups by the likes of Interpol. We've been relying on our own reserves to finance operations over the last year, and, quite frankly, the well is running dry."
"How long can we continue operating at our current rate of expenditure?" Rainer asked.
"At best, four to six months. Nine if we cut back."
With a grunt, Rainer turned to the man who sat in the middle of the group. He was stocky and muscular in a rumpled, ill-fitting blazer and slacks with a dark brown buzzcut and a thick, bushy moustache. "Yves. What's the status on our current missions?"
"We have four ongoing operations, Jean-Paul," Yves LeClair grumbled in reply. "The most intricate, and expensive of the lot is the multiple bombing plan of seven British embassies in Africa, Asia and Saudi Arabia, codenamed: Operation Big Bang. The other three, including the plan to assist Hamas in the assassination of the U.S. Secretary of State during his trip to Jerusalem in three months time could be scaled back if you wish."
Rainer mulled over that for several moments. "Let's table that discussion for now. At least until we hear what our host here has to say." He then turned to the man who sat to his right, a slender, hawk nosed Japanese with dark, longish hair. "Shinji, I appreciate your putting us up here in Japan. Now, you said the Yakuza might be able to help us with obtaining finances."
The third man, Shinji Terada cleared his throat and nodded before he spoke. "Perhaps. I'm the head man for weapons procurement in the Yakuza," he explained in a smooth, oily voice. "My sources tell me that the teenaged children of Edward Van Buren, a Fortune 500 businessman who runs the largest munitions company in the United States are in town."
"Hmm. I've heard of Van Buren. He's said to be a maverick who isn't particular about who he sells his weapons to, including rogue states that sponsor terrorism," said Rainer. "A lifetime member of the National Rifle Association, he's donated millions of dollars over the last quarter century to pro-gun politicians and reputedly has the ear of the President himself. Shinji, are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"
The Japanese man slowly nodded. "Yes indeed. A kidnapping plot. Van Buren, a widower, dotes on his children, especially his daughter, Cynthia. We get our hands on them, and we can literally name our own price for a ransom demand. What do you think, Jean-Paul?"
Rainer slowly stroked his chin as he mulled over what he was told. Then a grin spread across his face. "I like it, my friend. I like it a lot. Do you know why the Van Buren kids are here, and how long they're staying?"
"Well, I understand they're here to attend a weekend volleyball camp in the countryside with local high school kids and players from the U.S. and Japanese Olympic teams. They leave for the camp tomorrow morning."
"That doesn't leave us with much time to organize a team," said Yves. "Terada, how many people are going to be at this camp?"
Terada shrugged. "Hard to say for sure, but a hundred would be a good place to start."
"Those kind of unwieldy numbers beg for trouble," Desjardins grumbled. "Why don't we grab those brats while they're still in the city?"
"That wouldn't work. Security at the hotel where they're staying is too tight. Too many possibilities for screw-ups," said Terada. "Also, sizeable criminal activities in the heart of the city attract the attention of the Sailor Scouts, Tokyo's resident do-gooders. Trust me, Jean-Paul, you don't want them meddling into your affairs. Snatching the kids at the camp would be better."
"Well, if you say that's the better course of action, then we'll go with it," said Rainer. "Yves, how many men do you think we'll need for this operation?"
Yves's brows furrowed as he pondered his leader's question. "Given the number of people expected to be at this camp, I'd say fifteen to twenty. Heavily armed. Problem is, we only brought ten soldiers with us."
"Not to worry. I can make up the difference, and then some," said Terada. "Since your group came here to purchase weaponry from us for your operations, we'd only be too happy to assist you in this...endeavor."
Desjardins regarded the Japanese man with open wariness. Outside of the American Mafia, Desjardins didn't trust the Yakuza with their inscrutable ways and innate deviousness. He couldn't help but wonder what Terada really wanted from this deal he had forged with Rainer's group. "And exactly how much more will this....largesse costs us?"
"Not one Euro extra, my friend," Terada replied with an oily smile. "I have twenty men on standby who are just dying to see some action. All top notch soldiers who are ruthless and will follow orders to perfection. In fact, five of those men are in the field even as we speak on an assignment."
Rainer cocked an eyebrow from curiosity. "What sort of assignment?"
Terada's smile widened. Rainer found it disconcerting. "Weapons testing."
To a battle weary public, some still reliving the horror of three weeks ago when an area of downtown Tokyo was devastated, the absolute last thing people needed to hear was any sort of explosion.
Pedestrians fled screaming in fear from a street in the Akusaka district after a tall, moustached man, a gray satchel slung over his shoulder fired a round from a light gray, futuristic looking grenade launcher through the door of a high end jewelry store that had just closed for the day. Four other men, two sported automatic rifles while the others, carrying large aluminum suitcases poured out of a black Ford Expidition that stood nearby
"Move! We've got three minutes tops before the police arrive!" the moustached man snapped at his cohorts.
The others didn't bother responding to their leader as they rushed inside. Quickly and efficiently, the goons smashed display cases and loaded the cases with thousands of dollars worth of expensive jewels. The leader, standing just outside the doorway, watched his men working, pleased with what he saw. Suddenly, the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. With a low whistle, he got the attention of the armed men who rushed to his side.
"Trouble, Tama?" asked one of the men.
The moustached man smirked and patted his weapon. "Not necessarily. Let's see what our new toy can do."
"Let's not!" came an angry shout from above them. The three men looked up at gasped at an amazing sight right across the street.
Standing on the roof of a four story office building were two beautiful young women in colorful, short skirted sailor suits and matching spike heeled black knee boots. One was African-American with waist long, straight, glossy black hair and large brown eyes that were shooting sparks from righteous indignation. Her partner was Caucasian, over a full head taller than the black girl with short, jet black hair and piercing cobalt blue eyes set into a grim, expressionless face made demonic by her sharply pointed ears. Their arms akimbo, the two women glared menacingly at the thugs.
"In case you losers haven't heard, breaking and entering is a serious offense," said the black girl. "And I won't stand for that! As the star that shines brightest in the heavens, I am Sailor Sirius, and you will be vanquished!"
"I recommend you surrender, or face the consequences of your actions," said the taller girl in a chilling monotone. "Logic demands that evil such as yours be dealt with, for I am Sailor Vulcan, and I will eliminate you!"
The man named Tama grinned at the girls while his cohorts looked tense and nervous. "Well, well, well. The Sailor Scouts. Deal with them, boys!"
The two hoods rushed into the street and fired at the Scouts. But the girls, moving like greased lightning, easily avoided the rounds as they leaped off the roof, simultaneously did mid-air somersaults and hit the men like twin comets, planting the balls of their feet squarely into their chests, dropping them with devastating, yet non-lethal force. Like a pair of Olympic gymnasts working in perfect unison, Sirius and Vulcan expertly backflipped, landing lightly on their toes before assuming combat stances twenty feet away from Tama.
Tama, having witnessed the Scouts' thug smashing acrobatics smiled and clapped. "Bravo, ladies! Bravo! That was really impressive!"
"I'm glad you were entertained, dirtbag!" Sirius snarled. "Now, unless you've got a thing for pain, be a good boy and drop the gun!"
"You will not be asked a second time," Vulcan added, her tone harsh.
Tama chuckled. "Sorry, ladies! I don't do requests!" He leveled his grenade launcher and fired three rounds right at the heroines who, having anticipated an attack, dodged the high explosive rounds which hit the storefront of the building behind them and detonated. The two goons inside the store appeared at the doorway, pulled handguns and fired at the Scouts who dived behind a panel truck.
"Hey, stone face! You get the feeling these creeps don't respect us?" Sirius asked.
"That thought had occurred to me. Rather annoying to say the least," Vulcan replied wryly. Much to her chagrin, she had fallen into the habit of exchanging mindless banter with Sirius during the heat of battle. Even more disturbing to Vulcan was how easy such repartee came to her. "I suggest we put an end to this fracas with S-V Manuever One."
Sirius grinned. "Manuever One! You got it, partner!" The Scout of the Stars concentrated and in a burst of light, the Sirius Star Scepter appeared in her right hand. "Ready when you are!"
"Now!"
Taking a deep breath, Sirius bolted up and aimed her scepter at the gunmen. "Sirius Scepter....ILLUMINATE!"
A powerful blast of blinding light shot out from the scepter, causing the gunmen to scream from the light energy that struck their eyes. No sooner had the glare from the scepter faded, Vulcan moved into action, placing her index fingers upon the purple jewel on her tiara.
"Vulcan Mindstorm....ENGAGE!"
At the alien Scout's command, a transparent sphere of purple light enveloped her head and, an instant later, several pencil thin beams of purple light shot out from the jewel and struck the thugs in their foreheads. The men collapsed as the Scout of Order used her heightened telepathic powers to shut down their minds and render them unconscious.
With the coast clear, the Scouts walked over to where Tama and the four goons lay unmoving in the street. Sirius, smiling broadly, was pleased with how swiftly she and Vulcan subdued the gunmen without any loss of life. In the two months since Sirius and Vulcan formed their partnership, they quickly became a well-oiled machine, their teamwork second to none among the Scouts.
"Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am!" cried an elated Sirius, holding her right palm high for Vulcan who, recently made familiar with the significance of the motion, gave the pretty black girl a high five. "I sets 'em up, and you knocks 'em down! Girlfriend, we are the team supreme!"
"I would be hard pressed to disagree," Vulcan replied, trying hard not to smile as Sirius' boundless enthusiasm was highly contagious. Curious, Vulcan knelt where Tama lay and picked up the grenade launcher he used. "Hmm. A most exotic looking weapon. I have not seen anything like this before."
Sirius scratched her head in puzzlement. "Is it an assault rifle?"
"No. It is a grenade launcher. However, it uses a magazine like an automatic rifle. A most efficient design that enables a user to quickly fire multiple rounds at one time." Vulcan handed the weapon to Sirius who hefted it in one hand. "Despite its size, I would say it weighs no more than six to eight pounds fully loaded, meaning it uses lightweight alloys in its construction."
"You think the military built this thing?" asked Sirius, looking it over.
"Unlikely. I suspect this may have been built by an arms manufacturer."
Sirius frowned. "Hmph! Can't say I like the sound of that."
At that moment, three police cars screeched to a stop ten feet away from where Vulcan and Sirius stood. From the lead car, Inspector Junko Sakurada hopped out, her gun drawn. Five officers trotted up behind her. Junko scowled when she saw the heroines. Meanwhile, Sirius groaned at seeing the shrewish policewoman who openly hated the Scouts.
"Dammit! Can't I go to a crime scene without running into you troublemakers?" she growled digustedly. "What did you two break up?"
"An attempted robbery," Vulcan replied. She turned to Sirius who displayed the weapon to the Inspector. "The leader of the gang used this to gain entrance to the store."
Junko let out a low whistle as she accepted the grenade launcher. "This looks like something out of an episode of 'Star Trek'. And the others?"
"They were using plain old guns," Sirius replied. With an evil smirk, she added, "Do you think you can handle these losers without our help?"
The Tokyo policewoman glared menacingly at the black Scout. "You're pushing your luck, Sirius. Despite what happened three weeks ago, I don't like vigilantes like you flaunting the law in my town!"
The Star Scout chuckled. It was an uncharacteristically fiendish sound. "Oh, yeah. I forgot we're living in Cranky Bitchville."
Before Vulcan could intercede, a loud groaning sound made the women all turn around. Tama, having rose to his knees, glared at the Scouts. His face a mask of evil, Tama slowly rose to his feet.
"V-Girl! What's up with that? I thought he was out!" said Sirius.
"By all rights, he should be unconscious for at least an hour," said a perplexed Vulcan.
"And you're right, ladies. I would be....if I were human!" Tama then let out a roar like a lion as his body undertwent a horrific transformation. Bursting out of his clothes as his body grew to freakish proportions, his skin turned gunmetal gray while his head assumed a long, boxlike shape with huge, multi-faceted yellow eyes. But it was what his arms morphed into the left everyone worried. From the elbows down, the creature had four barreled gatling guns for forearms. His fanged teeth widening in a wicked grin, the monster leveled his gun barrel arms at the Scouts and the cops.
TO BE CONTINUED