"Whoa, Kamikaze, you're just in time!" says Amazon.
"I didn't know you lived so near us. Hey, Kumi-Chan, remember Kamikaze from the battle of the Black Knifes?"

"On the count of three, let's unhook and launch both our drills at the same time! Or if you prefer, I can just use my sonic attack to finish them off."

I don't know but hurry I don't think I can beat all of them.*smacks one a couple times until it's unconscious* Yeah, die you stupid aliens! Oops, sorry borg and others that may be fused with or have aliens.

"I'm okay, Kamikaze! Attack!"

*Amazon launches her own Yellow Knife drills out, but they get tangled up in Kamikaze's and the enemy Borgs. Amazon tugs but can't untaggle herself or Kamikaze.*
"Help, I'm stuck!" she cries. !

Kamikaze: Kamikaze seeing his chance takes of his borg and pounds the 8th gen. borgs while their tangled.*starts pounding the borgs*

8th generation borgs: No stop!*smack*Ahh!

Amazon: Calm down Kamikaze don't kill them!

Kamikaze: Oh, sorry again.* the 8th generation borgs lay there senseless*

"Now, lets tie them up and put them in cages so we can question them on why they are here." says Amazon.

"This is not fair!" says the 8th generation Borg. "We're 8th generation Borgs, not common animals!"

Shut up, who told you to speak.*leans over to Amazon* I've always wanted to say that. Hey everyone lets go to my apartment to question them. It has an interigation room with one-sided mirrors and everything. I even have a lamp specifically made for this kind of stuff.*everyone stares at Kamikaze*What, I have a lot of free time.

Amazon laughs.
"I hate to admit, but this is going to be fun. Just don't torture them or anything."
They put the cages on wheels and roll them over to Kamikaze's house.

"Now, 8th Generation Borg, was it you that made that prank phone call? And why did you attack us like that?" asked Amazon.

"It was a prank phone call, what harm can it do? And stop calling me 8th generation Borg. I have a name you know." it said.

Kamikaze: Alright what is it?

8th generation borg: Stop calling me that, my name is Freddrick.

Kamikaze: Oh, Freddrick, if that is your real name!*shines the light on "Freddrick"* Do you know how much damage a prank call can do?

Freddrick: No.

Kamikaze: Well I don't know either, but it sure is dang annoying! Now you better met our demands or we'll get pissed.

Freddrick: What are your demands

Kamikaze: (whispers) Amazon, what are our demands?

*Amazon rolls out a long list of demands.*

"Quit prank calling people. Don't fuse with anyone anymore. Fix the hole in the ceiling. Wash our dirty uniforms for us. Just kidding."

"Will that be all?" asked Fredderick sarcastically.

Kamikaze: Um.... oh, and don't ever bother us again or else!

Freddrick: Or else what?

Kamikaze: Or else we will....uh....we will....... just don't bother us again!

"But, Kamikazi, how do we know they will actually give into our demands?" asked Amazon.
"We can't trust them. We should put them in the truck and deliver them to Megumi."

"Wait, where are the rest of them?" she remembers. "I think we're missing one."
Suddenly one sneaks up behind Amazon and wraps its drill around her neck.
"Let Fredderick go!" it demands. "Make one move and they lose their head."

Kamikaze: Humm, Amazon you don't need your head do you

Amazon: What are you talking about! I can't live without my head.

Kamikaze: Well, we can't all have what we want.

Amazon: Kamikaze!

Kamikaze: Alright you can have "Freddrick".*Kamikaze frees Freddrick*

Freddrick: We will meet again! Come on gang, lets go.*starts to go out door*

"Don't ever scare me like that again Kamikaze." says Amazon. "At least we don't have to worry about the older generation Borgs anymore. Want to follow them and find where their hideout is?"

I don't know, but what I do know is that if we don't we're going to need to come up with something else to make a story about so we might as well chase them.

"Script, schmipt!" said Mars, forcing all the 8th Generationers to stop. "Ever heard of improv? I'll bet you can't do it!"

Freddrick, his gang and the other fighters looked at her. "Im...prov?" Freddrick said. "I've never heard of it."

"It's a type of performance art," said Mars with a bit of a huff in her voice. "In improv, the most you get is a scene or an idea. You have to make up everything else in able to carry out a scene."

Freddrick looked rather appalled. "You make up everything else? No organization or planning? What kind of 'performance art' is this?"

"A challenge. You can plan all you want, but when you actually act it out, it will never come out like you want it to."

At this point Freddrick looked as if everything she said might as well have been four-letter words in his mind. With a loud "HUMPH!", he beckoned to his gang and walked out. The Alien Fighters grinned at each other. It seemed 8th Generation Borgs had a weakness, and it was called 'disorganization.'

((EDIT: Oops, it seems I was too late. ^_^;;))

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