"So, explain this to me one more time." Kei raised an eyebrow at the technician whose know-it-all attitude was beginning to get on her nerves. That, and his technobabble.

Yuri laid a hand on her partner's arm. "Chill out, Kei. Don't upset the nice man who's supposed to send us on our very dangerous mission."

Kei rolled her eyes. "I can't believe we're actually doing this. A time machine? The CC has got to be kidding."

Yuri sighed. "You heard the briefing as well as I. And if we don't catch this fanatic before he manages to do something big enough to change history, we — and the rest of United Galactica — will never have existed."

"I won't even begin to pick apart the logical problems with that statement." With obvious irritation, Kei brushed non-existent lint particles from her well-tailored, blue pinstriped wool jacket and skirt. "I feel so... restricted in this get-up," she groused a few moments later, and her partner rolled her eyes.

"For the hundredth time, we can't wear our duty uniforms because they would be horribly out of place in the late twentieth century," Yuri snapped. She might love Kei like a sister, but she'd just about had it with her partner's complaints about this mission. "This is the proper uniform for INTERPOL agents of the period — which I might remind you, we are supposed to be during this mission."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. And when we get there, we plant a couple computer worms to cover our asses, then contact local law enforcement, give them our cover story, and get their help. When we finally catch the creep, we cut the local cops out of the loop and drag him back to our time. I got it already, Yuri!"

The raven-haired 3WA agent smiled sweetly. "Good." Then a thoughtful look grew in her eyes. "And think of this — it's a very primitive period, and we'll mostly be limited to working with the available technology. How much trouble can we possibly get into?"

Kei thought about this for a moment, then broke into a wide grin. "A mission that doesn't end up in mass destruction for once! You know, maybe I will like this!"

A nervous harrumph caught their attention, and they swiveled their heads to look at the technician. "Um, ladies? Any time you're ready?"

Kei looked at Yuri. "You go first."

"We want to thank you for your cooperation, Captain Murphy," Kei offered as politely as she could.

Yuri nodded. "Doctor Irigawa has some passing familiarity with Los Angeles, while we are strangers here. It is very kind — and very helpful — of you to assign some of your men to help in our investigation."

The older man behind the desk nodded with false joviality. His smile was the typical bureaucrat's fake, pasted on to hide his irritation at their intrusion on his turf, but their paperwork and the impressive clearances inserted into several computer systems by their worms gave him little apparent choice but cooperation. "Oh, it was no problem at all. In fact, I'm giving you two of my best officers." There was a knock at the door, and Murphy rose from his desk. "In fact, that's them now."

Before he could reach the door, it opened, and two men stepped into the office. The younger of the two was white and still possessed craggy but boyish good looks, even though he was apparently in his 40s. The other was a black man who must have been close to retirement age. They were laughing together as they came in, but quickly became serious.

"Gentlemen," Captain Murphy announced as the Lovely Angels stood, "I'd like you to meet agents Kei and Yuri of INTERPOL. They're here in L.A. pursuing a dangerous fugitive. And you're going to help them." The captain turned his attention back to the Angels. "Ladies, allow me to introduce Sergeants Martin Riggs and Roger Murtaugh, two of the finest officers in the department. With their aid, I'm sure you can wrap up your investigation quickly and quietly."




Not likely to be coming ever to a FFML near you.

As the office building down the block exploded in flame, Riggs bellowed, "Where the hell did you get that gun?'

Kei smirked. "Why? Looking to arrest me for violating some firearm control regulation?" she shouted back over the sound of collapsing steel and concrete.

"Fuck, no! I want one for myself!"

This page was created on July 19, 1999.
Last modified August 31, 2012.