It was 'round midnight in London, 1976. Punk rock types lined up outside the club, where the marquee said 'THE SEX PISTOLS'. The Pistols had already started; they sounded like chainsaws cutting through an aluminum outhouse. Punk rock types lined before the door, fingering their safety pinned jackets and sharpening their spiked hair with finger spit as they coolly checked out one another.

In the alley behind the club, a vortex howled open and dilated in the sky. Out jumped Eve, clutching a glowing fragment of the Chronos stone. Sweet sixteen, she wore her usual toga and sandals but also a button that said 'Impeach Nixon'.

Eve was followed by 'Auntie' Callisto (she was unable to call her 'Dad') who sported her usual angelic attire. But on hearing the racket from the club, Callisto smiled like the Callisto of old.

"Eve, my dearest," said Callisto, "I think we've arrived at that point in history when music finally gets good. It's called PUNK."

"Wow, 'punk' sure sounds angry, Auntie Callisto," replied Eve, her sandals crunching bottle glass as she walked toward the music. "It sounds much more aggressive than that boring disco singer-songwriter stuff in our last landing. We're still in the 1970s, no?"

"Yes, but we were in America." Callisto blew up her bangs. "This is England, and people here have a greater sense of intelligence." She stretched her arms and yawned. "Not MORE intelligent, mind you, just a greater sense of how light needs darkness, and vice verse. Remember OUR memories; remember the way I used to be."

"Cooooooooool," purred Eve as her eyes crossed in concentration. Then she smiled, removed her Nixon button and thew it like a chakram at a hissing black alley cat.

Eve and Callisto turned the corner and walked toward the club. Before any of the punk rockers saw them, Callisto, with a simple nod, magically changed both her and Eve's attire into stylishly deconstructed punk outfits.

"Whoa." Eve felt her young body thrill as she saw kids her own age drinking, smoking and conversing with an abundance of four letter words. "Auntie Callisto, some of the people here are dressed like Discord. Is she punk?"

"Not even," answered Callisto, "Discord's a twerp. A wannabe. A POSER. But she does have keen fashion sense. Discord's more GOTH, which comes later."

Back in the alley, the vortex opened again. Out jumped Gabrielle, also holding a Chronos stone, but wearing a flowing peasant dress and blouse (sort of like her outfit from Season One). But her hair, now grown out, was teased into rippling waves (while time travelling she tried whatever styles were fashionable.) Putting her hair in her mouth she looked around and saw the alley cat twitching against a trash can. Beside it was the large metal button bent and bloody; obviously it had been flung chakram style with superhuman force. "Eve," she yelled, "I know you're here. Where are you? Xena and I want you and Aunt Callisto home for dinner! I made Shepherd's Pie!" She walked toward the music. "By the gods, what a racket," she muttered to herself. "And why in Tartarus does it smell like pee around here?" As she turned the corner she saw Eve and Callisto, both dressed as strangely as the others hanging around. "Eve, Callisto," she shouted as she ran toward them, "come back here! We're expected home!"

"Wait, wait," Eve whined, "just let me check out this punk scene, Auntie Gabby. It looks fun!"

"Fun?" Gabby put her hands on her hips. "It's dreadful here. It stinks. There's nothing but negative energy here."

"Well, so what?" Eve stamped her Doc Martin'd foot. "You know, you and mom are always preaching about how everybody should be positive. Well, Auntie Callisto is showing me people who like to be negative, and you know what?" Turning around she showed off her slashed motorcycle jacket, which had the words CHOOSE DEATH written in duct tape. "I LIKE the way they dress and I want to check out their music."

"That's music?" Gabrielle put her hand over her ears. "Callisto, you're showing Eve historical dead ends. I'm sure Xena, HER MOTHER, would not find nihilistic behavior very enlightening."

"Oh, lighten up yourself, Gabrielle," sniffed Callisto. "Eve should learn the full range of the human creativity." She patted Eve on the head, who practiced sucking in her cheeks and making her eyes glare to look more punk. "I'm just showing her how fun nihilism can be."

The punks stopped their chattering to stare at them. One them pointed a finger at Gabrielle and yelled, "Hey, look everybody, it's fucking Stevie Nicks! It's Stevie bloody fucking Nicks!" Gabrielle stopped short as everybody spat at her. A mohawked couple gave her the finger. A bottle broke.

"We'll be out in a flash, Gabrielle," said Callisto as she and Eve got their hands stamped at the door. "Just one song."

"It had better be short or she's grounded," yelled Gabrielle as she retreated toward the shadowy alley, a knife in each hand. "Come on, you so called punks; I bet you're no tougher than Dahak's gang..."

Inside the club, The Sex Pistols exploded into their new hit single, 'God Save The Queen' as Callisto and Eve pogoed to the front of the stage.