#004: Morning Lights
-More Nudity and some Plot Advancement-

[Author's Note: The nudity in Chapter Four is respectfully dedicated to Steve Allen Richards, which is certainly something you don't hear every day. Here's to you, Steve, and may Farley never find out where you live.]

Farley woke up the next morning tangled in her sheets and blanket, with her pillow somewhere down behind her knees. Her neck hurt like a mother. Somewhere, distantly, something was beeping. It had been beeping for two and a half hours. By now it was more of a plaintive eep than its usual forceful trill, because if it was possible for alarm clocks to have intimations of doom, or alternately, if this was the sort of fanfic to cutely anthropomorphize alarm clocks, well, this little clock would have a huge, well-drawn personality, full of phobias, paranoia and angst. Farley was at the apex of lateness... yet not late enough to completely blow off work. Farley's wrath, should she soon awake, would descend upon the pitted black casing of the hapless alarm clock.

Farley growled, turned over, and reached out a hand to turn the clock off. Her eyes opened slightly, and her fingers spasmed in uncontrollable panic as she noticed the time. "OH SHIT!" Farley shrieked, trying to roll over, but only wrenching her neck in the process. "I refuse to accept this reality as something that's actually happening to me!" she snarled, leaping out of bed and into her bathroom. Clothes fell to the floor and the sound of hot water jetting through a standard shower head erupted in the small space. It did very little to muffle the angry curses.

A few minutes later, Farley stalked out of the bathroom, completely naked, with a towel on her head. Drips of water from her hair trickled down her neck and naked back as she leaned over and hit number one on her redial. "Mr. Mori's office please." she told the secretary. "....Oh! Ohayo Mori-san!" Farley said, taking the towel off her head and sopping up the drips trickling down her legs before they hit the floor. "You'll never believe what happened this morning!"

"You overslept?"

"Ah ha, you're so funny Mori-san! I'm on a hot new tip!" Farley said cheerfully, gritting her teeth. "Some gaijin vodka company is going to have an ad starring Sailor Absolut, and I've got an interview!"

"I see." said Farley's boss. Farley cringed, crossing her fingers. "Farley-san, is this story going to make you late... and involve several cases of premier vodka charged to the Tattler's expense account? I can make some concessions, but not too many..."

Farley whimpered slightly, hugging her towel. She'd been looking forward to the vodka. "Why of course not, Mori-san! If I'm going to be late, I'll make up for it, of course! After all, I wouldn't want to disappoint you or the Tattler!"

There was a long pause. "Charge one bottle, Farley-san." said Mori gruffly.

Farley perked up. "A-arigato, Mori-san!"

"Have it delivered to my office."

"Hai..." Farley sighed as she hung up the phone, and tossed the towel into a corner. Naked, she sighed again, this time exaggeratedly, and sat back down on her bed. The thought of doing the stupid Sailor Absolut story stone cold sober was not pleasant, to say the least. Grumpily, Farley pulled on a skirt, blouse, pantyhose and ratty sandals, and left her apartment. Something was nagging at her... something she was supposed to do. Something about the night before...

She finally remembered the events of last night in the middle of a crowded subway car. "Oh, DAMN!" she screamed, causing several people to edge away warily.

Farley did the interview with Sailor Absolut sloppily and grumpily, and trekked back to the Tokyo Tattler's offices. She stopped in at her cubicle to switch the sandals for a pair of red high heels she kept under her desk, then stopped by her boss's office. "Ohio goshimas, Mori-san." she said, sticking a respectful smile on her face. "Got the vodka for you." she added, hefting the bottle.

"Ah, arigato, Okuro-san. Please, join us." said Mori-san pleasantly, gesturing to the two seats in front of his desk, one of which was currently filled with some dark-eyed reporter-type guy that Farley had never seen before. The politeness in the room set Farley immediately on edge, and settled into the chair warily. "Okoru-san, this is Moruda-san." said Farley's boss, gesturing towards the new guy.

Farley waved hi, and waited for the bad news.

"He's your new partner."

Farley's blood pressure jumped dangerously, but she knew better than to argue. If some Tuxedo Clark Kent wanted to play reporter by her side, well, she'd just have to stand it until his attention span ran out. Stewing quietly, she led Moruda to her office, a low-ceilinged cubicle stacked with mismatching file cabinets.

"Interesting..." Moruda said with buried awe. He stared around at the walls, papered with clippings, scribbled-upon maps of Tokyo and Juuban, and countless blurry, dim photos, shot at odd angles. All were of Sailors, Knights and Masks. "This... this is where you compose all your stories?"

Farley stared at him. "No, I keep this place up for appearances. I compose all my stories at the bar across the street, and that's where I'm going now." She kicked off her high heels, and stepped into the sandals at the edge of the cubicle. "Damn things'll give me back problems like nothing you know. First things first, can you spare me a cigarette? I haven't had one all day, and I'm going to die."

"I... uh... I don't smoke, Okoru-san." said Moruda apologetically. Well, that did it. He was a Mask, all right. As if being tall dark, stunningly handsome, impeccably dressed, with nice hair, a firm chin, and puppy eyes that strongly hinted at some deep inner vulnerability hadn't spelled it out in ten-foot-high letters already. The non-smoking thing just flicked on the neon. Of course he wouldn't smoke. Too damn upright and clean-cut. A goddamn All-American, except of course this was Tokyo.

"Fine." Farley said. A Tuxedo-template for a partner. She'd deal with it. But first, she'd go out. And get some cigarettes. "Well, if you're going to be my... assistant... you might as well familiarize yourself with the files. So look 'em over." She stepped to the door of her cubicle, then paused. "Uh... and here's your first assignment. See if you can find anything relating to a Sailor Yagi or Hitsuji. Pictures, rumors, anything along the general theme of barnyard animals and suchlike. Those are JP names, so check the Senshi files first, but there are a lot of wanna-bes nowadays, so don't discount the Scout index either. If you have time, search the 'Net; oh, and check Deja News for any mentions in the alt.senshi.* heirarchy. Make a hard copy of anything interesting. Uh... I'll be back in time for lunch; I usually eat in. I'll bring enough for two, I guess..." she shrugged. "You like curry?"

"Hai, Okoru-san." said Moruda-san, with a faint, almost amused smile.

"Right... Look, one last thing- just call me Farley, oka-" Farley was interrupted by a shout from the hallway.

"Insolent mortal bitch!" A Sailor stood at the entrance to Farley's cubicle. Her ribbons and nostrils were flaring, more ribbons and her hair were whipping about, and her aura was glowing a cheery crimson. "This makes FOUR TIMES you have mistaken my name in print! I am SAILOR RAMA, S A I L O R space R A M A. Not Sailor Ramen, or Sailor Ranma, or even your latest blasphemy, Sail-O-Rama! I AM THE MORE THAN SLIGHTLY IMPRESSIVE SAILOR RAMA! And for clouding the minds of my disciples- and therefore cutting into the sale of my most exalted merchandise- I won't forgive you!"

Farley grabbed the Sailor's arm, and dragged her into the cubicle. "Quiet, dammit! My boss'll hear you."

Sailor Rama shook her head. "No, he won't. I checked in with him on the way in, intending to get you fired immediately. Unfortunately he appeared to be stoned on vodka."

Farley blinked in confusion. "Really? That was fast... Well, remind me to sacrifice a virgin to the Gods of Irony. Now what's your name again? Let me just get this down, and I'll do an exclusive on you and all your wonderful products next issue. You'll be right up there with Sailor Absolut. Okay?"

Sailor Rama mused for a moment. "That would be an acceptable penance."

"So glad to oblige, dear. Moruda, take notes." she snapped. "Okay... scout, or senshi? Anything interesting about you personally? What's your main attack? Who's your Tux-template?"

"Senshi, thank you very much. I'm a vegetarian, and-"

"Ah, that's what confused me the first time." Farley pointed out. "Ramen is vegetarian, ya know. If you cook it without the little spice packet. Hmm, sounds like a potential crossover.... Sailor Ramen and the Spice Scouts. Ugh. God, I hate crossovers..."

Sailor Rama growled at the interruption, but continued. "My attack is the incredible causator of mass destruction, the Rama Hammer Fall, and-"

"See, that's what must've got me the second time! Hammer, that's very Ranma-esque. Sorry, you were saying?"

"SILENT, MORTAL! I MUST BE WORSHIPPED, NOT MOCKED!" Sailor Rama screamed.

"Moruda, pliers." muttered Farley calmly, holding out her hand. Moruda rummaged through the drawer and quickly placed them in her grasp. "Arigato. Distraction, please?"

"Uh..." Moruda hesitated for a moment, then did Farley proud. He pointed over Sailor Rama's shoulder, and shouted. "Wow! It's John Biles! And he's looking for a heroine for a prospective sequel to Dance of Shiva!" Farley almost smiled. In that Tuxy, heroic tone, everything sounded sincere...

"WHAT? WHERE??" yelped Sailor Rama, whipping her head around. Quickly, Farley reached out with the pliers, snagged Sailor Rama's henshin brooch, and ripped it off her bow. Lights flared and ribbons swirled, and there was even some gratuitous nudity, but Farley ducked behind a file cabinet, pulling Moruda with her, and stayed there until the special effects went away.

There was silence for a long moment.

"Er, look... could I have that back?" said a meek voice.

Farley looked at the bespectacled schoolgirl in front of her, and handed the brooch to Moruda. "Hold this." She then pulled out a camera and took a picture of the detransformed Sailor Rama. "Okay, Moruda... give it back." He did so gingerly. Farley took several more pictures as the girl re-transformed.

"NOW, AS I WAS SAYING..."

"No, it's my turn. Shut up or me and your secret identity hare taking a little outing to JHK Evening News. Those pictures might not come out exactly, but they'll be close enough."

Sailor Rama gasped. "You wouldn't! You CAD!"

"Oh yes I would. If you doubt it, you may try me." Farley said sweetly. "Oh, and what does cad actually mean? Really?"

Sailor Rama stomped off in a huff, pushing past a Cyndi-Lauper lookalike Sailor on her way out. "'Scuse me." said the bleached-blonde, holding her hands protectively over her glittery henshin brooch. "I'm... er... Sail-O-Rama... but if this is a bad time I can come back later!"

"No, no, of course not! This is about the typo, isn't it? Very sorry about that." Farley interrupted. "In fact, my partne... assistant here would love to do a feature article on you."

"Really? I get a whole feature article?" Sail-O-Rama jumped up and down happily.

"I get to write a feature article?" Moruda smiled as well.

Farley rolled her eyes. "Lucky you, eh? I want it done, the 'Net searched, and all my files reviewed before I get back."

"H-hai, Okoru-san."

Farley nodded to him, and bowed slightly to Sail-O-Rama as she left the cubicle. She took the film out of her camera and stuck it into her pocket, loading a new roll into the camera and slinging it over her shoulder. Tucking her laptop under her arm, she left the office. Just to be sure, Farley stuck her head into Mori-san's office on her way past... Yeah, he was out of it.

At the corner, she stopped, and dropped a few coins into the payphone, dialing a long-distance number. "Hello... Tendo-san? I have some more, uh... merchandise for you. Yeah, normal shoujo-type transformation, basic outline nudity... three or four good ones at least. Hmm? Actually, don't bother with that this time, really I just need some information." she said. "Yeah, I'm looking for anyone who can tell me something about a Hitsuji-hime, or Sailor Yagi... or anyone else who's been looking for them, either." Farley paused, toying with the phone cord as she listened. "You don't...? You do? Okay... well, I'll mail the film... just have her contact me as soon as you get it. Thanks. Thanks very much, Tendo-san. Oh, yeah, about that Sailor Ranma thing... yeah, just a typo. Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure... Bye."

Farley hung up, and smiled. Stopping off at the post office, she mailed the pictures to Ms. Tendo's private post office box, and headed down the street towards her usual hangout, the grungy little bar known as the Cest La Vie.

* * END CHAPTER FOUR * *

Go on to Chapter 5 of Farley's Tale

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