A/N: Hey, look! shadow's trying satire! Before I get started, I'd like to make sure you all know this is just for fun. It's just a little ribbing on all the badfic-authors out there, and I don't intend to be rude to any of you or belittle your writing-it's just me being a bit bored and playing around.
And now, for the requisite disclaimer: shadow djinni does not own Tokyo Mew Mew or any affiliated characters, locations or situations. shadow djinni does, however, own the plot and the Sues.
Time: 7:30 on a Friday night, autumn of 2004.
Location: The basement of a pink café in Tokyo.
Shirogane Ryou, owner of Café Mew Mew, creator of the Mew Project, and teen genius, paced anxiously back and forth in front of his computer monitor. He hadn't left the basement for days, and it was beginning to show: his perfectly pressed shirt was rumpled, his perfect blond hair was a rat's nest, and perfectly purple bags were forming under his perfectly blue eyes—which were glazed from not enough sleep and far too many cups of coffee to compensate for it. His hands shook, ever so slightly.
"Ryou," his long-suffering assistant, Akasaka Keiichiro, said from the top of the stairs. He'd been trying to lure his boss out of the basement for the last three days, and he was on his last nerve. The irritation showed in his voice. "Come out of the basement. I baked cinnamon rolls."
"I…I can't," Ryou said. His voice shook from too much caffeine and excessive paranoia. "I got this strange reading on the detector…and I've only just realized what it was." His whole body shuddered.
"Are the aliens back?" Keiichiro asked, braving the first steps into the terrifying darkness of the basement laboratory. Quite frankly, he was half-afraid Ryou had created some horrifying, soul-eating monster that had turned on its creator and was now using him as bait to lure Keiichiro and the Mews (when they showed up for work tomorrow, at least) down into the basement to devour them too.
He could certainly believe Ryou was the puppet of some malevolent entity. His eyes were far too bright, and they darted around erratically as if tracking the path of a fly. His hands jittered and shook—Keiichiro blamed that high-caffeine coffee they'd purchased (but how could he resist? It was Fair Trade-certified!)—and occasionally his head would twitch as well. His every movement was jerky, as if his arms and legs were controlled by strings. The baker suspected that if he left Ryou to his own devices whenever the teen told him to, he'd end up like this far more often.
"It's worse than that," Ryou said. His hands jerked, fingers spasming into claws before he clenched them into shaking fists.
Now Keiichiro was worried. "Then what is it? The Saint Rose Crusaders? Something else?"
"It's…" Ryou took a deep breath. "It's the one thing I've always dreaded."
"It can't be that."
"It is. It's…Sues."