SECTION -
WHERE PLAIN AND BLACK IS THE ONLY WAY TO GO.

Operations stormed into Madeline's green-house garden, destroying innocent ferns and orchids as he passed. Madeline sighed, put the chainsaw she used for pruning down on the ground, and turned to see what has pissed off the all-powerful leader of the most covert organisation in the world this time.

'Did you see what Nikita is wearing today!?!' He screamed. 'That's it, I've had it with the wench. I want her and her floppy hats, see-through tops, and fashion disasters out of my sight! I want them burned Maddy!'

'Michael won't take this very well. Then again, I'm not sure even spyboy can withstand the awesome power of Nikita's appallingly kept hair for much longer...' Madeline rubbed her knuckles over her cheek in thought for a moment. 'A suicide mission.' She suggested.

Ops shrugged. 'Another one? Whatever... just get her and her fashion sense blown up real good in the next few days. Take care of it.' Ops walked off feeling a bit better.

'Prick.' Madeline mumbled. 'Since when did you learn the finer points of fashion? Skivvy-wearing, hormonal, bleach-freak...'

The Ice Queen went back to hacking up human shaped hedges into tiny little bits with her saw.

Nikita's apartment an hour later...

Nikita, wearing coral tights and a silver vest she had made herself out of paper clips, opened the door to see Michael standing there.

'May I come in?' He said in his usual sexy voice.

'No.' Nikita said, and tried to close the door but Michael just pushed past her.

'Why not? Is someone here?' Michael said angrily, looking around the small apartment.

'No. It's just that everytime you come to my apartment we have a big emotional scene, and I'm tired. Unless... If you've come to confess your undying love, or seduce me, I could make some coffee.' Nikita said hopefully.

Michael just stared at her, expressionless.

'Mmmmm. Patented Michael answer; the blank stare. In need something real, some emotion... oh. Sorry. Already gave you that lecture didn't I?'

'A couple of times I think.' Michael said quietly. 'But we have to talk.'

'About what?'

'You know a lot about me Ni-ki-ta, but not everything. I am two people. One must always remain hidden, and that side...' Michael drifted off and looked away from her.

'What is it Michael? Please, talk to me!' Nikita urged.

'That side of me must remain hidden from you and everyone, because of two things.'

'Tell me!' Nikita yelled. 'I'll always love you Michael, no matter what the other side of you is like!'

Michael sighed. 'The thing is... Kita, my other side is very fashion conscious. My other side would never tell you this... but I can't take much more of it! No one can! Stop wearing those revolting clothes that look like they've been designed by a blind man, who's only tools were scissors and masking tape! You look like a druggo hooker from the 80's!' By the end of his speech, Michael was screaming.

Nikita gasped, and tears started to trickle down her cheeks.

'I caaaaaaaaaan't chaaange who I aaaam.' She sobbed dramatically.

Michael rolled his eyes, then pulled Nikita into a hug.

'I wish you were different.' He said quietly into her neck.

Nikita was about to say 'Me too', but then registered what he said.

'Excuse me?' She said, pulling away.

'And would it KILL you to brush your hair once a week?' Michael pleaded with her. 'Why can't you just... wear black?'

Nikita stood there staring at him for a moment, then screamed; "Get the F*CK out of here before I chop off the rest of your hair!!!'

Michael gave her a blank stare, then strutted out of her apartment. 'I'm glad I didn't tell her the second secret to my other side. Who knows how she would have reacted if I told her that I'm a Ricky Martin fan...' He mumbled as he walked down her hall.

End of Part One.

Part two -

MONTY PYTHON'S - THE MEANING OF SECTION

Nikita walked into Madeline's office wearing an orange mini skirt and a large shirt that has I LOVE NY printed on it. Her hair was now in dreadlocks.

'You wanted to see me?'

'Would you like some fresh fruit?' Madeline asked.

Nikita shook her head and said no.

'Nikita, there comes a time with everyone here when they become confused. When they believe they can lead a life outside the Section.' Madeline said.

'Haven't I past the time of confusion?' Nikita asked. 'I think I can remember hearing this speech before...'

'That's the point!' Madeline yelled. 'You've been through everything! Every phase, every situation, every stupid mistake... no more can be tolerated.'

'What? I haven't tried to save an innocent's life for weeks! What have I done to piss of the Old Man this time?' Nikita huffed, and sat down on one of Madeline's new couch chairs. She didn't seem to notice that it remarkably resembled an electric chair.

'It doesn't matter anymore NIkita,' An evil voice said from behind her. 'No one can save you now! Mwahahahaha!' The insane cackling echoed through the room and left an eerie silence behind.

'You're just jealous because you don't look as good as me as a blond.' Nikita sneered.

Operations appeared from a dark corner of the office, and sat on the edge of Madeline's desk.

'Quiet! Madeline, you didn't have to talk to her. Oh well. Since your here Nikita, I'm going to tell you something...' Ops said, but was interrupted by Nikita's loud groan.

'This isn't the one about the two dogs is it?' She complained.

'No. You have cultivated an extremely dangerous situation. Not only to yourself, but to the Section. What we do here is try and ensure the safety of every man, woman and child in this so-called civillised world. There is such a thing as evil. It exists. AND YOU"RE WEARING IT!!!' Operations yelled. 'Do you know that for the past few months, we've been using tapes of you walking around Section in that, as a torture technique? With that, and a recording of Jurgen's voice, Frick and Frack have had to do very little work around here.'

Nikita stood up and crossed her arms over her chest.

'I caaaaaaan't chaaaange who I - '

'SHUT UP WITH THAT!' Operations screeched. 'God, did you learn how to do that annoying voice form Jurgen, or was it Lisa Fanning? Talk about nails on a chalk board...' He rubbed his temples, and Madeline pouted in sympathy for him. 'Out Nikita. Find Michael and send him here.'

Ten minutes later...

'You wanted to zeee me?' Michael drawled.

'Yes. There is a mission tomorrow that you will be briefed on shortly.' Ops started.

'Yes, I know.'

'In addition to the mission, I want you to pay special attention to a certain member of the group named Stephen - OW!!!' Madeline elbowed Ops in the rips to bring him back on track. 'Oh... um, forget that. For the mission we will be pulling out 973 members of the abeyance pool. Only you, Walter, Birkoff, and that weird looking guy with the red hair will be coming back. Am I understood?'

'Yes.' Michael said simply.

'Needless to say, you will be the only one with the intelligence on this mission. Birkoff's going through a phase, Walter is always zoned out, and the other guy is brain-dead. Failure is not an option.' Maddy said icily.

'Of course.' Michael said quietly, and did his strut out of the office.

End of Part Two.

Part three -

HOW KITA GOT HER GROOVE BACK

Michael was leaning up against the wall, counting the 973 abeyance operatives as they walked past into the mission van. Well actually, the van wasn't quite big enough, so Operations had been forced to rent out ten mobile hotdog vans for the day.

Michael had gotten up to 972, and looked around for the last person. Just then, a mop of scraggly, unwashed hair came into view, and Michael sucked in a breath. Nikita, dressed in a red sequined jump-suit and stilletto heels, saw him and smiled.

Well at least she brushes her teeth. Michael thought.

When Nikita stood in front of him, she frowned.

'Is there anything wrong, Michael? You look like someone is about to blow up your favourite dog-toy.' Nikita asked in concern.

'No.' Michael said shortly.

Nikita patted him on the back, then took her seat on the deep fryer. Michael looked over to a darked corner of Section, and saw Operations standing there eating a hotdog with the lot. When he saw Michael looking at him, he tried to laugh manically, but he just ended up splattering cheese and onion everywhere.

Michael glared at him for a few minutes, then did his strut into the van.

Two hours later...

'Hotdogs! Get your hotdogs!' One of the abeyance operatives screamed out the window as they approached the nightclub. Michael pulled him back inside, shoved a candy bar in his mouth, and said icily;

'Hotdogs are no longer and option.'

'Damn!' The pale operative beside Nikita swore. 'I can't remember how to tie my shoelace!'

'Left over right, and right over left - remember?' Nikita offered, a little worried.

'Oh yeah! Thanks. They must have changed a lot of things since I was last out on a mission,'

'When was your last mission?' Nikita asked.

'Thirty-two years ago, after I screwed up a mission in Prague, blew up half of the Section area and put a gun to Ops' head.' The guy said, still trying to tie up his laces.

'Riiiightio...' Nikita mumbled, then gave Michael a "What the F*UCK" look. Michael just turned away.

When the van stopped, everyone but Birkoff, Walter and the weird looking red head got out of the hotdog vans. Nikita was about to walk into the nightclub, but Michael grabbed her arm.

'Michael, what's going on?' She asked before Michael could speak.

'Ki-ta.' He said softly.

'Yes?'

'Did you ever know that you're my hero?'

'Actually, no.'Nikita said, a little breathless.

'You are.' Michael said, looking deeply into her eyes. 'You're everything I would like to be.'

Tears started to form in Nikita's eyes. 'Oh, Michael!' She sighed, and put her arms around his neck. Michael have her a soft kiss on the lips, then pulled away.

'That's enough.' He said.

'No. I'm not taking any changes.' Nikita said, and pulled him into a long, passionate kiss. When they were finally done, all the 972 abeyance operatives standing around them with machine guns and black ski masks on started to clap. After a while, the public started to too.

'Go.' Michael said, and watched as the woman he loved walked into the funky nightclub, still wearing that hideous red sequined jump-suit.

Michael got into one of the vans, and ordered all ten of them to park around the corner, so they wouldn't look conspicuous.

'Is everyone in position?' Michael asked Birkoff.

'Um, I think so. All the little coloured dots are in the right places on my screen, so I think it's OK.' Birkoff answered absently. He then grabbed a handful of Oreos and turned to his other computer to play Doom.

'All the blowing-up thingys are in place.' Walter said, and lit up another one of his 'magic mixes.' After five minutes, Walter was laughing uncontrollably. Apparently, the sky was dancing.

'Look at it go!' He squealed.

Michael rolled his eyes, and told everyone to hold their positions.

'Wait for further instructions. Nikita will take point.' He said.

' WHAT! Walter screamed. 'But, the charges are ready to go! Did you see what she was wearing?'

'He's right, Michael. She'll get blowed up real good and screw up the mission - we've got to get her out of there.' Birkoff said desperately, finally dragging his attention away from his computer game.

'It's not the mission profile,' Michael said coldly.

'"Not the mission profile"!?! You f*ucking PRICK!!!' Walter yelled at him, and went to turn off the charges. Michael pulled out his gun faster that John Wayne on his best day.

'Sit down you used-up old hippy, or I start making ventilation holes in your skull.' Michael hissed.

Meanwhile...

In the club, Nikita was finding it very hard to fit in. She only had three minuted left to get the guy she needed, before the charges went off.

'Who are you 'sposed to be?' Two fashionably dressed young women said to Nikita, looking her up and down. 'A reject from the Abba band?'

The two bimbos laughed at their little joke, and Nikita finally got the message.

She looked like a spaz.

'So, this really isn't an attractive way to dress?' Nikita asked, thinking that maybe she didn't look as cool and hip and gorgeous as she though she did.

'No way.' One of the bimbos said.

'Come with us. We will show you the way,young one.' The other said, and started to drag her off to the toilets. 'What looks do you want? Barbie, slut, business woman, assassin-hip-chick -'

'ASSASSIN-HIP-CHICK!' Nikita yelled over the music. She wanted to be the woman that Michael had first fell in love with...

Two minutes later...

Nikita jumped into a hotdog van, dragging some SOTW behind her, just as the boms in the club went off.

She was wearing shiny black high boots, a short black shirt, a tight black button up top, and a knee-length black leather jacket. She also had black sunglasses on - even though it was nighttime - and her long, plattinum blond hair was out and brushed.

Michael looked her up and down in appreciation, and let out a sigh of relief.

He took out his mobile phone. 'Sequence complete.' He said into it.

Birkoff and Walter were staring at Walter in disgust. Or at least, they would have been if Birkoff hadn't just gotten up to level four, and if Walter hadn't been unconscious.

'Lets go.' Michael told the driver.

The ten hotdog vans then took off into the night, leaving behind them a mess of blood and buildings. Section One would now be the delightful, uncoloured, fashion-conscious organisation it had been two years ago.

Thank God.

The end.

Epilogue -

BURN BABY, BURN!

Operations could not be found at Section. He was not at his house. He was not at his ski lodge in Switzerland. He wasn't at the hairdressers getting a touch up. He wasn't even at Oversight, screaming 'I don't want to hear it George!'.

Operations was standing in a deserted alley somewhere deep in the city of Paris, near the old Section One location. He had a large garbage bag flung over his shoulder, a blazing metal drum in front of him, and a scary looking smile on his face. He hadn't been more happy since the time he had had a wild time with Maddy up in the tower.

Slowly, savouring the moment, he opened the bag and reached inside it. He pulled something out, threw it on the fire, and started to laugh. With the orange flames flickering over his face, the leader of the most covert anti-terrorist group in the world resembled - more than ever - Satan.

Operations forced himself to stop laughing and open his eyes. He watched as the brown, floppy hat was reduced to simple ash, then tossed on a duct tape shirt, a see-through white top, Jurgen's 'John Lennon' glasses, Michael's revolting tie, and the can of hairspray that Nikita used on her hair for the Embassy Ball mission with Mijovich.

Their evil would no longer exist within the walls of Section, and unruly recruits would no longer be corrupted by Nikita's influence.

Operations walked back, happy, to his black limo, thinking of some new things he could to to screw up Nikita's life.

The absolute end this time.