But drawing from EIGHTIES SPIRITS, this doujinshi won't end so soon, oh no. This doujinshi is intent on bothering us for quite a bit longer, getting more and more brain damaged with each iteration, much like Rocky films, or Sylvester "Rape This" Stallone himself. But let's not talk Stallone, because it's time for James Cameron's sci-fi masterpiece "Unstoppable Cyborg Fanboys from the Future"


They will not stop, ever, until you are fucked
Sent from a ruined future run by computers, where mankind is fighting for continued existance, these cyberfanboys were created from their creators' frustrations unwittingly passed onto the computer AI and were sent back to the past to do all the hot girls from high school and totally get back at the quarterback of the football team for stuffing them in the locker that one time. Certainly, I would think there are more efficient ways to get hot girls, like not hanging around comic book stores. And they wouldn't have to force themselves with their cyborg strength upon these girls if the robot masters had sent their representatives to the past looking like Prince or pre-fuckup Michael Jackson. I'm not one to doubt the logic our future robot masters. In fact, I give myself freely to them and hope that they will accept my humble services as a flesh-slave and hope they will not harvest my organs for creating horrible biomechanical blasphemies of nature straight out of a Waita Uziga comic. I'm really good at oiling, guys.


YOUR CLOTHES. GIVE THEM TO ME. NOW.
And doubt them I should not, for on the second page they've already tracked down Kei and Yuri, and this time they look like they didn't have that savage confrontation with the uglystick-wielders of Fatness Prime. The cyberfanboys adjust their giant bifocal-scopes their mother-computer picked out, turn on acne-shielding, encrypt all transmissions with a “detailed biographies of little known failed X-Men characters” cypher, and mobilize into “Swarm D-list Babylon 5 extras” mode. Without so much as a marginally clever one-liner, they're on Kei and Yuri like Rob Lowe on teenage girls, their cold robotic efficiency quickly terminating any resistance. *cough*

Despite terrible Terminator metaphors, what does this have to do with the eighties? Well, more than anything we've seen so far, this is the definition of 80'S SPIRITS. Whether setting up new regimes in backwater dictatorships so the CIA has the drugs to keep the black man down, arming totally benign fundamentalist militias who would never think of turning against the good ol' USA, unearthing lost Nazi-melting treasures of the past, or heading back in time and kidnapping famous historical figures so you can pass your history exam, the eighties were all about fucking with the natural order of things, big time. And mechanical nerds taking a trip to the past on a mission of love conveys this spirit perfectly. Most people would just go back in time, fuck their mom, and invent Rock and Roll, but sending killdroids to fuck everything in their path proves your worth as an asset to the decade.

Who knows what kind of disasterous future this will lead to? Could this lead to a police state where running women with hammers smash giant imposing brainwashing screens, or will it lead to an enlightened future united by Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter poorly pretending to play songs by KISS? Time will tell. The mechanoid reaming of Kei and Yuri has major implications for the future, a future where 80'S SPIRITS will reign supreme once more. Isn't that reason to bow down to our randomly and arbitrarily themed robot masters of the future?

OOH, SASSY!


GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUH-UN
Let's get our minds out of the future, though, we should be living in the past. The future sucks, and the present is worse. Why? Because these bleak times are sorely lacking in neon-colored tank tops. With this next story, VIVA!! 80'S, we're teleported back to a day when it wasn't a crime rightly punishable by death to wear spandex, when clothes looked like a nuclear accident, and when makeup was applied with a paint roller. Those were the days.

So Yuri's getting ready for a concert by Madonna or Cyndi Lauper or Tiffany or Whitesnake or whoever inspired the ladies to dress like that, and Kei looks indignant because, oh shit, she's not totally up on space-coke at the moment? I don't know. Anyway, Yuri obviously watched that very special episode of Dif'rent Strokes with Nancy Reagan - She's just high on 80'S SPIRITS, and lets Kei know! This kind of condescending "Just say no" attitude toward drug users which lead to red and blue, motorcycle helmet clad, Ferrari driving cops to run over innumerable dumpster throwing PCP addicts in the 1980's pisses Kei off; it's her damn body and she can do whatever the hell she wants with it. Why should she listen to an administration which can't even protect their Commander-in-chief from the ninja menace?

This conflict between the clean, Mr. T-heeding, Hulkamania-endorsing conservative Yuri and the rebellious, new wave-listening, drug abusing, sunglasses-at-night wearing liberal Kei can only lead to one thing: Hardcore lesbian sex.


Thank you God.


YOU'RE A GOOD KID, CHAMP!
Alas, with a playful punch and a “Go get 'em, slugger!”, it's over all too soon, much like the decade itself. We're getting into 90'S SPIRITS. It's time for Klax. It's time for dirty seattlites to play songs about how they're totally depressed. It's time for uncomfortable gay sex pictures starring hairy, awkward men.


EIGHTIES COME BACK!



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