Butterflies were pretty little creatures, delicate and fragile and rather colourful. Perfectly harmless in fact. They were made to pollinate and decorate the flora of the world. No, butterflies weren't dangerous little things.

Unless one was that bad little butterfly which stirred its wings in Chicago and made a mountain in Indonesia collapse.

(It wasn't exactly a mountain in Indonesia, but for the purposes of the story, a pile of dust over a map of Indonesia will do very well. Who's being picky?)

Dr. Boroz was quite out of sorts today. The WCK had their hands full with zeppelins left, right and centre, Procyon was out of town (to the best of his knowledge) and there were simply no other novas capable of foiling his daztardly planz (pardon the Z's, but one must keep in the spirit of the story, after all). Oh, one or two were taking out a few random zeppelins, but no one capable of causing widespread damage.

He had prepared for every probability, putting Murphy's Law to shame. But, in rezearching for hiz evil plot, he forgot to take a clozer look at Procyon's love life. In future moments, the lapze in judgement would haunt him.

The problem with planning for every probability and possibility is that sometimes random chance (and not-so-random chance) can come along and truly, utterly, screw things up. Or should that be zcrew thingz up?

(Keeping with the spirit [or zpirit] of the ztory, folkz).

Like the bad little butterfly sending his zeppelins colliding into each other in a twisted choreography that matched the tempo of his so-called torture music perfectly. Mariah Carey and Fran Drescher were all very well, but one only had to listen to traditional Chinese folk music to understand the true definition of pain. The sound of a cat being tortured in a metalworks on the Chinese New Year was an exquisite agony that would make the Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears mad with envy.

(Yes, I know Exalted is another universe. But where's the fun if you can't borrow from your favourite RPGs now and again?)

In fact, Dr. Boroz was rather dezpondant now. The bad little butterfly was making it very hard for his henchmen to do anything right (or wrong, depending on your moral viewpoint). They botched, and it was an ugly botch. Three zeppelins azzploded that way.

Long putting a hurt on the zeppelins in Tokyo meant jack when compared to the awful symphony dished out in not-so-random probability. Dr. Boroz knew he was zacrifizing henchmen to the overgrown hairball when he sent them there. But who the hell waz thiz bad little butterfly decimating his zeppelins?

The final insult was really... final. Hovering in mid-air with the most amazing butterfly wings (and looking faintly ill at being so high up) was a slender little Asian woman with long black hair and a beauty to break the heart. Dr. Boroz got a good look at her face as she unleashed a torrent of sparkling butterflies upon his zeppelins, entropic wave after entropic wave decaying and ruining them. Oh, and his henchmen azzploded too.

Bad little butterfly. Badder Dr. Boroz.

He knew he should have read up on 'The Butterfly Effect'.