Eagle Riders isn't the friskiest of series...

Perhaps they need to be showered with naughty doujinshi pictures until they give in?

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Mallanox : "My mother was Irish and my father was an alien. I was an only child and I dress funny."

Now come, come. We must choose one. It'd be hard to do them all, and most likely it would take a long time. But which one? I'd have to vote against Eagle Riders. We want them to become fans, don't we?

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What if there is a spoon?

True, true.

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What if there is a spoon?

Men? Thought we'd already let him in on the secret gender-bias of this place.

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Between stimulus and response there is a space.
In that space is our power to choose our response.
In our response lies our growth and our freedom.

- Viktor E. Frankl

woot!!!

whips out a pen from hammerspace and starts signing everything in reach .. books, faces, voluptuous and straining body parts...

"for a good time, call...."

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Trample the weak. Hurdle the dead.

Ive got a better idea...

*grabs Ahske , dons her in Ken's clothes and pushes her into a closet with Lyon....*

Writers need inspiration to write sequels Ashke..so start inspiring away...

EVIL GRIN...

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Shoot first..ask questions later!

[folds arms across chest and gives Ashke a small, wicked smile]

no problem kid, exit's thataway. takes more than Eagle clothing to make an Eagle, hmm? i try not to scare newbies if can possibly help it... saves on the lawsuits.

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Trample the weak. Hurdle the dead.

grin .. you asked for it.


The door closes with an ominous lack of sound.

lyon holds still until her eyes adjust to the lack of light, the palest of trickles sneaking under the door. The fingers of it reach out to touch grace notes to this closet; a broom, some small stacked boxes, tiny shelves. Clothing rustles as Ashke presses farther back into the darkness. To get away? To escape?

No one has ever been afraid before. Always before she had been the one to cower, to hide in the rags of darkness. The sensation of sudden control is a heady rush, pounding in her temples.

lyon slides a half a step forward and cocks her head, listening perhaps. Only the half hungry smile on her face gives her away but it is lost in the shadows.

"Asssshke?"

There is no answer. lyon leans forward, waiting until her eyes pick out the hint of a rapidly beating heart, the flicker of white cloth. She licks her lips and daringly reaches out until clawed fingers hover over the barely seen line of collarbone.

"Assssshke. I will not... hurt." Tries to forget the memory of red excitement carved into flesh, the howling anger that was Askura in a rage. The copper taste that made everything sweeter. "It is just Condor, playing as he always does. He will let us out when he is bored."

There is an easing of the fear-smell, but it is still there and hard to ignore. lyon whets her lips again and tries once more to be harmless and small. Her hand moves until fingers graze skin, the simplest of caresses.

"We have only ... to wait. This is a small game and easy to play."

Skin shivers under her touch and she slides just a breath closer. It is strange. Perhaps Ashke has not played this before? It is but another game of hide-and-catch, with Condor and his whiskey eyes to make the rules.

At least this time there are no chains.


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/bows and winks saucily.

your turn!

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Trample the weak. Hurdle the dead.

I'd feel sorry for Ashke, but she literally asked for it.

Sorry, Ashke, but you're on your own.

*grabs popcorn and plops on a sofa to watch*

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What if there is a spoon?

IMI! HELLLLLP!!!! I'm to young, innocent and virginal for this!!!!! *backs up even further from Condor* Ummm, ah, . . . Nice Condor . . . Be good and I'll buy you a rocket launcher or something. . . .eeps!