Action, Adventure, Excitement, Part 5 DC - Chapter 2 Date: Thu, 18 Feb 1999 10:07:58 -0800 (PST) Subject: AAE: (Huge file!) A Little(!?!) Backstory (Part 2) On Thu, 18 Feb 1999 11:50:16 -0600 Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00006417 Darkness. Moonstone had never seen such absolute darkness before. And yet, she saw Pyewackett clearly, light from some unseen source, gleaming off his fur. She saw her white dress in that same light and it was almost gleamingly brilliant. "Where are we, Pyewackett?" *Between realities. Let's see... now where was the Army of Light last?* "Army of Light? You're putting me in the military?" The feline chuckled. *I forget exactly wher the name came from but they aren't even a platoon, I don't think, let alone an army. It's just their name they somehow came to call themselves. Something about their fighting on the side of the Universal Light or at least the Universal Balance between Light and Darkness, Good and Evil, that sort of thing. The full name is the Callahanian Army of Light. Callahan's Place being the bar they originally met in.* "They are religious crusaders then?" *Not really, they are a bit too laid back for that. More like a group of concerned individuals that get together and try and help people with big problems. They run the gambit from ordinary humans with some prodigious technical knowledge to Immortal swordsmen, to entities with the ability to alter reality itself with a sneeze.* "And I'm supposed to join them? What do they need me for?" *Well, they can always use help. And, mostly, if you intend to find any other dragons, you need them.* Moonstone stopped, "Do you think they will accept me?" Pyewackett, paused and looked back, his tail flipping slightly back and forth. *Let's go somewhere where we can talk.* The pair emerged in a dark alleyway, cars sped noisily at the mouth of the alley, where bright sunlight shown. "Ugh," Moonstone said, waving a hand in front of her nose, "The air stinks." Pyewackett padded toward the open end of the alley. *This is what it is like in your world, outside of your island. This is the early 21st century, 2001, on Earth. Basicly a year after we left your reality. Different earth, but similar to yours. I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat.* "Hang on a minute, I can't go out like this. This dress is pretty, but it would draw attention to us. Not to mention, I don't have any money." *Good point. Clever thinking, child, I've gotten so used to people who know all about me, I forgot what normal people are like. Haven't had to sneak around in about 250 years.* Pyewackett looked Moonstone over. *You have potential. So, have you any ideas how to get money or normal clothes? I would just catch a mouse, but that won't help you. I assume you're hungry, we've been walking for a few hours.* "Famished, and I think I have a method. We'll have to brave reality as we are just long enough to get across the street." Moonstone flipped a gold coin up into the air and caught it. "Let's go." The man in the shop frowned slightly, looking at the young woman who entered carrying a cat. "I am sorry, miss, but we do not allow pets in the store." Moonstone frowned, looking at a large red velvet bag she produced from within her cloak. "Oh, poo, I suppose I will have to take my gold coins elsewhere." She shook the bag for emphasis, the heavy clunk of gold coins making quite a racket. The shopkeeper and Moonstone stared at each other for a moment. "Welcome to J. C. Nickels Antiquities Distributors," the owner finally said, his greed outweighing his aversion to having pets in his store. "What a lovely cat! Please, come in, come in!" Moonstone smiled and sat down, Pyewackett acting the part of lap-cat. *Where did you get those coins?* *Mother gave them to me to start my own horde. She is a bit more confident in my abilities than Father. I think mostly, though, he just doesn't want me to leave home.* Meanwhile, the shop owner, a Mr. Gentry, examined one of the Roman coins from the collection. "Excellent condition. I would say it is worth $1000, easily." *Try three thousand.* Pyewackett purred in Moonstone's mental ear, *I hate it when humans lie.* "I believe that piece is worth three thousand, according to several sources on the internet," Moonstone said. Mr. Gentry acted as if he were just noticing some minute detail he had missed before, "Ah yes, I believe the market value for this piece has grown to three thousand dollars recently." Moonstone nodded, "Then I should like to sell it." Gentry nodded, "Very well, I can put a price tag on the piece, and we can probably sell this within the next two weeks." Moonstone oh deared, "I was hoping to get the money now." Gentry sat back in his seat, the ball finally back in his court. "Well, of course, the price if I purchase it now will be less than market value. I can't guarentee it will sell, and would be taking a risk in making the purchase." Moonstone sighed, "Very well, I can let it go for $2,500." "I could hardly accept that offer, I would make hardly any profit. I can give you $1,000 for the coin." "What about $2,000?" Gentry sighed, "You look like a nice young lady, how about $1,500? Take it now, though, before I change my mind." "I could take my business elsewhere." "You could indeed, Miss." Moonstone walked out of the shop $1,750 richer. Pyewackett trotted beside her. *Not bad...It's more than enough for our purposes. Money is tricky. Better to deal in raw elements.* *I am discovering that. Now I need some decent clothes. There's a clothing store down the street.* After some more shopping through an area they came to discover was called 'the Plaza' in 'Kansas City', Pyewackett and Moonstone came to sit in a small outdoor cafe. After a bit of bargaining with the waiters, they were placed at a table behind some shrubbery away from the other customers to avoid any complaints about fur in the food. The waiter seemed a bit surprised at Moonstone's appetite, by the end of the meal having delivered ten orders of barbequed spareribs. A jazz combo played down the street. *Nice locale,* Moonstone thought, glancing around the city. Pyewackett had taught her the spell of enchantment that would let her new clothes shift into and out of existence as she shifted from human to dragon, and she had tested it to be sure in the dressing room. She did this with everything she had bought, then put most of it inside the cloak she wore, and stowed that in a backpack. Dressed in a UMKC sweatshirt, blue jeans, and sneakers, Moonstone looked almost like any college student. Her long white hair and unusually pale skin, the only giveaways she was any different than the few thousand students of that university. What had surprised Moonstone and Pyewackett both was the lack of reaction she had gotten wandering around town in medeival garb. A few people in the clothing store asked if she was working for the Rennisance Festival. She just smiled and nodded and changed the subject. Now that things were relatively quiet, Moonstone returned to the question that had brought them on this detour in the first place. *Do you think they will accept me?* Moonstone enquired, having finished her last portion of ribs. Pyewackett licked at a bone. *Sure, they will accept you as someone to travel with, you have me as a reference, what more do they need? But, asking them to mentor you might be more of a challenge. Not that they wouldn't be willing, but it is more of an imposition, and they may not have time to. Or, at least the one I am thinking of. This is actually somewhat of a new situation, really. I don't think anyone outside the group has asked a member to mentor them. Most walk in already trained. And considering the life they tend to lead, I am hesitant to send you to them for your own safety. They tend to attract trouble like cheese attracts mice.* Moonstone sighed, *This is -not- the way I had planned things to go. I had this whole plan on what I was going to do once I got out into the real world.* *Oh, what was it?* Moonstone sipped at a glass of water. *I was going to leave the island and explore our world. Maybe even go to college. I'm sure if I got a G.E.D., I could get in. Earth was such a pleasant place, I wasn't going to go off to war or anything. I figured I would travel for a while and then start looking for others of my kind. All this just sort of happened. I don't know if I am ready. But, if I turn back home now, I will probably never get to leave.* Pyewackett paused, licking his lips, *Maybe, if we had more time, we could stay here a while and really discuss what you were getting yourself into, but ... hmmm, well, we can actually, the difference in the speed of time between there and here... yes. Yes, indeed, my dear, I think it would be irresponsible of me not to give you the time you need to think about getting involved with the Army of Light and hunting down other dragons. This was, traditionally speaking, far too sudden a move. It's easy for us, your parents and I, to plan your life, but it is yours, after all. I admit I was thinking more about how it could be done than whether you were ready. Dragons tend to be more than ready to push their young out of the nest when they are ready to go. But, in the past, it was a lot easier for a dragon to hide. Now, there are all manner of contrivances humans have to track each other and if you are not in their system, you might as well forget it. But, yes, I think while you decide if the nomadic life is for you, we can work on getting you a few of your other goals out of the way. But, to do that you need to exist in the humans' systems. Which means making fake records of a fake past for you to use. I think we need to talk to someone with experience in creating a new identity.* *Who do we talk to about that?* *A friend of mine,* Pyewackett purred. *Isis.* =It will be expensive in such a primitive culture,= Isis had said. They had travelled to the Seven residence and found Isis asleep in Gary Seven's office. The female black feline, who was slimmer then Pyewackett, but otherwise difficult to tell apart unless you looked at the collar around her neck, had hopped off the couch and walked over to the bookcase. With a short yowl, the bookcase turned out of the wall on a hinge and Gary Seven's Beta 5 computer powered on. As Moonstone sat in an orange armchair, the two black felines conversed about what was going to be needed. =We just need a starting point,= Pyewackett said, =A birth certificate or three we can plant in the appropriate files. Then we get her a Social Security card and we can take it from there like any normal citizen of that Earth.= =You fool Tom, I know exactly what we need. Now let me get the documents together and we can go plant them and get this child in school. Though why she wants an education on such a backward planet is beyond me.= Pyewackett's ears went flat backwards as he said, -Fine, queen, then you can get back to your nap.= Isis looked at Pyewackett, =And let you foul things up? Not a chance. This is a nice girl, misguided perhaps, but nice, and I am not going to let her get any fool notions in her head from you. You've got me as long as she is being apprenticed by you. That silly magic of yors isn't going to save her in a technological society, no matter how primitive. She's going to need me to teach her how ot fool the systems so she can do it on her own in the future.= =So you're going to stick around for as long as her getting a degree takes? It could be four years.= =I can do four years standing on my hind legs. My only worry is her safety. We can't keep an eye on her in classes.= =I can,= Jack, currently a white persian cat, spoke up. The female albino shapeshifter had wandered in early on in the bickering and taken a seat next to Moonstone. The black cats turned to look at her. =It will be a long time,= Pyewackett emphasized. =You are both doing a nice thing. I would hate to see it ruined because she can't stand to listen to you both argue. Besides, I want to.= =Well, that's fine,= Isis said, =But she can't speak feline. She doesn't know what we're saying.= =No, but she knows a cat fight when she hears it. Now, I don't know anything about magic or technology, but I can guard her while she is in school. I don't have to be a cat, after all.= Pyewackett and Isis looked at each other. Isis finally said, =You're in.= The Beta 5 computer drew up the proer papers and the dragon-girl and her three new cat companians left for Earth. It was a long four years... * * * * * * * The space station was simple, a series of docking clamps that merchants' shuttles could latch onto and thus gather to sell their wares. In human terms, take a box full of 'hamster habitat' plastic tubes and form a celtic knot. Then lay it flat and have variously shaped end caps attached from the top and bottom around the maze of tubing. And in the center is the main hamster wheel... On the other hand, don't and chalk it up to 'probably had to be there'. That's what Grep decided as she wandered the maze of corridors. She could draw what the place looked like, even give directions to the locations within, but she didn't have the words to convey the layout of this strange gathering place of alien traders. [Another thing Melissa got,] Grep mused to herself, now totally alone with her thoughts, an eerie situation for her. She and her sister had been 'born' a single mind, but found there was too little external information coming in and too many choices missed for a single entity. So, that single entity subdivided itself into two forms. One was an interface for the rest of the world around them, and the other was security systems. [And now the security system has no idea how to function on its own.] Grep thought. She would have declined to become a biological organism had she realized she would have later chosen to revert to being human. Now there was another series of strange choices. She had been content to be a machine, she supposed, it had never occurred to her to become a genetically engineered lifeform. It had made interfacing with other beings easier, however, since as a biological unit she could interface with the universe of minds her father had joined. And they did assist in her understanding of biological lifeforms, so often confusing. Unfortunately for Grep, when the mutual decision was made to preserve a portion of the universe from the latest of several cosmic resets (Was it a decision or more instinct? She couldn't recall any actual discussion. Most people weren't even sure that they had done anything, other than by evidence after the fact.), they gave up their powers and abilities as a group in the proccess. They also lost the knowledge they would need to care for Melissa and Grep's genetically engineered forms, the bodies had somehow been constructed with the assistance of medical experts from several hundred far-flung galaxies and with no mental gestalt there was no way to maintain them. But the decision to be human may have also stemmed from the desire to interface easily with other beings. Again, more Melissa's decision than Grep's. The decision was logical and thus Grep accepted it, but she suddenly wasn't sure she should have. [Can Grep. the security system, still fulfill that function as a human?] She wasn't certain anymore. Molly and Grep had paused in front of an arms dealer. The others had gone ahead, but for Molly, having grown up on a violent future-possible Earth, and Grep, having so much of her 'programming' devoted to military matters, weapons were of some interest. Grep found herself hoping Tinkerbell was having an easier childhood than Molly or herself, though she was strangely glad to have someone to speak to about such things. "So, ladies," The tall pale man asked, "What'll it be? I have some fine personal disruptors small enough to fit inside a purse." He popped open a case with several palm-sized weapons laid out on red velvet. Each was chromed and brightly polished and about as lethal as the average rubberband gun. "Or," the man added, showing off a large multibarreled gun, obviously meant to rotate, "How about some protection for your ship, hmm? Home security perhaps?" Grep looked at the suggested weapon, "Phased plasma Gatling gun. Twelve revolving barrels that release a high-temperature plasma pulse then rotate to the next barrel to allow the first to cool. Inefficient and prone to have the rotational gear jam." "Ah, a woman who knows her weapons," the man smiled, not phased in the least. "Perhaps you might be interested in our latest line of molecular disruptor rifles?" Grep nodded, taking a rifle and examining it. "Acceptable condition, not ideal. What is your price?" A shuddering rumble traveled through the station. The salesman clapped, "Ah, another ship is docking, more customers perhaps. Oh yes, these little beauties are top of the line, excellent quality, I can't let them go for less than 500 credits." Grep thrust the weapon back at the man. "Too much." The man pushed it back, "One moment, let's think this over. For you, a woman of taste and refinement, I could be persuaded to let one go for 450." "This disruptor rifle was worth 300 credits in the year of its manufacture. Ten years later, when the entire line was ended, its market value was 150 credits, less if it was not in top condition, which this weapon is not. That was fifteen years ago. It is now obsolete." Grep thrust the rifle back. A few moments later, Molly and Grep walked out of the arms dealer's stall with four of the disruptor rifles and a small pack. Molly whistled. "Four disruptor rifles and a dozen ammo clips with a pack for 50 credits. Excellent bargaining technique you have." "I did not realise we were expected to bargain," Grep replied. Molly nods. "We are, but don't let that change your tactics." An explosion down the corridor drew their attention back the way they came. Energy weapon discharges echoed through the station. Looking several stalls down, a large dark figure strode into view. Sirens began going off as the figure grabbed one of the shoppers, by the throat, drew him up off the ground and seemingly sucked the energy right out of him in a sudden flash as the lifeless form burst into flame. Grep turns and shoved Molly ahead of her. "Quickly, we must find Tink and Grandmother and Grandfather Seven." "What is that thing?" "A spirit eater. I will explain later. Right now, we must leave." The Spirit Eater in question turned toward Molly and Grep as the crowds shoved them further away in their panic to leave. Sunken eyes behind stringy black hair and wrinkly, cadaverous skin watched the crowds and picked out one face in particular. It smiled in a way that was far too disconcerting, too wide and there were too many sharp teeth in its mouth. The creature said to itself, "Queen of the mercenaries...we meet again...this time I will kill you..." To Be Continued... ================================= Date: Thu, 18 Feb 1999 10:08:15 -0800 (PST) Subject: AAE: (Huge file!) A Little(!?!) Backstory (Part 3) On Thu, 18 Feb 1999 11:50:27 -0600 Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00006418 The sun was just setting on the planet only known as The Dump. Mike examined the bulky watch he had constructed that took up a bit more than half of his left forearm. It began counting roughly from the time the garbage scow had wrecked. Mike had built it as a first project, mainly to see if he had the tools available to build anything to get him off this planet or not. He had been here two weeks, and found that, indeed, he had the equipment here to cobble together some large ticket items. Including a ship, if he was lucky. As for rain, Mike had lucked out. He managed to get a healthy collection of containers to gather the rain water. It hadn't rained for almost a week and a half, but Mike had gathered enough water the first few days he had been here to last a couple months with careful conservation. Food was another matter. There was none to speak of other than what the shuttles brought in. Mostly snakes, rats, and insects that had by some miracule survived the journey. But since his only other choice was starvation, he got by. His only other choice would have been risking addiction to the mystical water he had created. And while admittedly, he would have gotten more done if he didn't need sleep or food, letting the water replenish his reserves, he did not want to get off the planet only to find himself fighting drug addiction. At worst, if his meals ran out, he could resort to it, but while he had other options, he intended to use them. So, life fell into a routine. Mike hunted when he could, in between building things to aid in his escape. His first project was an inspiring success. A large battery-powered radio beacon. It used a barrel of the acidic rain to power a large antenna that sent out a constant S.O.S. on what was his best guess at intergalactic standard frequencies. The signal tended to spread into other frequencies, but this was a rescue attempt, not broadcast radio. Mike shoved the pole into the soft sand. "Repeater 12 online." This was the twelfth communications relay he had installed, an attempt to make his signal heard 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, no matter which way an observer was looking at the planet. It was also an attempt at a very large array, so he could listen in on the rest of the universe. So far, it wasn't very successful, but he was a long way from earth. At the moment, he would have been happy with a Vogon Constructor Fleet, a Borg Cube, even the Pak'ma'ra. "Mental Note: Buy a Sub-Etha-Sens-O-Matic and build one of Molly's hot wiring kits. I would have avoided this mess if I had had one." "I'll make a note of it!" came a reply that sounded like Curly from the Three Stooges. Mike pulled the makeshift cloak closed as the temperature began to drop. He turned and walked back to the pile of spare parts that had been fashioned into a crude, fat-tired, motorcycle. He was yet again glad he did not have a mirror as he looked like a cross between Mad Max and Joxer on Xena. Most everything he wore was cobbled together from whatever materials he had on hand. It wasn't aesteticly pleasing, but at least it was functional. Digging through piles of junk from an old crash site, Mike uncovered a few parts he was in need of. Tossing them into the sled he had hitched to the back of the cycle, Mike climbed onto the bike and headed back the way he came. In a few more weeks if his luck held, his ship would be done and he would be on his way. "Home," Mike said. Small speakers on the bike emitted, "Sure thing, boss," as the small television screen on the handlebars lit up with the route to the place Mike had desginated home base. * * * * * * * Molly spotted the Seven group first, and pulled Grep over into the alcove they had slipped into. "What's all the commotion?" Gary asked, reaching for his servo, the small, pen-sized, multitool/weapon he habitually carried, "I thought I heard energy weapons going off." "You did," Grep nodded, "We must return to our ship." "Fine, except our ship is on the other side of those things," Molly replied. "Is there another way around," Roberta asked. Tink shook her head. "Thewe ith no othew way. Thith ith a dead end." Molly frowned, looking around the corner, "Not the choice of words I would have hoped for, sweetie." "Thowwy." "Then we must go through them," Grep said, holstering one of the rifles. "The weapons merchant's stall near here will be sufficient to stop them." The small Seven clan moved out toward the weapon's merchant's stall. Nearly dead bodies littered the floor, and further along, piles of ash indicated where the Spirit Eaters had been feasting. They had moved into a shuttle where a large group had presented a sort of sideshow similar to the ones that accompany circuses. Grep and Tink were still in the hallway, Tink having tripped, when another of the Spirit Eaters, this one a shorter, wirey, blond with a crew cut, emerged from the sideshow down the hall. Screams were still echoing from that ship. "So, the mercenary queen did not leave in terror," it said, then paused and sniffed the air, "And she smells different. Like just another soul for us to tear from her body." "Where in Hell did you run into these things?" Molly whispered as she prepped a laser rifle. "Universe A12-XD-50O-2." Grep said under her breath, "Multidimentional scavengers who feed on life energy. I was searching for mother when I got caught up in their invasion. I hired on to a band of Mercenaries and found myself in a position of leadership. So I lead the attack that killed all twenty of a Spirit Eater's puppet bodies. They die like humans, I found, but the mind that controls them can gather new bodies. Apparently, this is the same one and has gathered a new slave force." The Spirit Eater cocked it's head to the side, "Yes, it is. Your friends you are talking to will see soon enough why we are called Spirit Eaters. Thank you for bringing them. And you brought us a child." He sniffed the air again, "Your child. Excellent! We are to feast on royalty tonight. First your warrior princess while the Queen watches, then we shall harvest the life from the Mercenary Queen herself. Then your friends and the rest of this station." Grep went cold. And something clicked into place, like a gear shifting into place. She passed tink to a surprised Molly, stepped forward through a bulkhead and slapped her palm into a panel. A forcefield sprung over the doorway behind her. "What are you doing?!" Molly said, franticly, pounding against the forcefield. Grep ignored her and blasted the control panel into slag. "That will not save your friends, your majesty." the Spirit Eater replied. "We shall simply let the Princess watch the Queen die." Grep's face became a snarling mask as the disruptor fired at the little troll. He smiled as his head disintegrated from his shoulders. Grep dove behind a bulkhead as energy seared the air around her, burning the bulkheads and being absorbed by the forcefield. [Three on the left, two on the right, this would be easier with the lens links, unfortunately, they can intercept telepathy.] Grep thought, beneath the loud mental singing [Down in the west Texas town of El Paso...] Spinning around the corner, she fired off six blasts, then back to cover. [One each side now.] The screaming from the sideshow ship stopped. A forward tumble-roll toward the next bulkhead forward cleared those two out. Grep advanced toward the sideshow shuttle airlock. As Grep rounded the corner, she founbd herself face to muzzle with a large plasma pistol. The female Spirit Eater, Spirit Slave she suddenly remembered they were called, snarled and her finger twitched to pull the trigger. Grep dropped to the floor, her foot flying out and kicking the woman backwards through the bulkhead. Grep's rifle butt flew upward hitting the airlock controls and shutting the bulkhead. She stood and disengaged the docking clamps, which had the effect of also nudging the ship away from the station. It wasn't far, but just enough to start drawing the air out of the shuttle, which forced the ship further away, drawing air out faster, forcing the ship further from the station, and also effectively killing the Spirit Slaves inside. Only four more to the tally. Grep frowned and started to turn when she was nearly hit by a disruptor flash. Grep pressed against the bulkhead and realized this time the Spirit eater was playing his pieces more intelligently. He had pulled half his forces back in protection as soon as he saw her. Ten to one...not good odds without surprise on her side... * * * * * * * Mike looked at his watch. T plus 4 months, 17 days, 3 hours, 17 minutes. He wiped his brow and took a swig of water from his canteen. Then he looked at it. It was a ship. A large ship. Made of whatever scrap and spare parts Michael had been able to scrounge up. Considering what Mike had had to work with, he thought it was beautiful. Most of the large pieces he had moved with forcefields. And considering the materials he had to work with, the ship was a lot bigger than it could have been, had he really streamlined it. Then again, he had a long way to go, so having lots of room, when he would likely be getting cabin fever after a few weeks of travel in a small craft, was a good idea. Though, he really missed his TARDIS, he realized. Even in a ship this size, he was going to be glad for whatever planets he could land on. It towered some two hundred and fifty feet above the desert floor, was five hundred feet at the broadest point, and spanned a good one thousand feet from bow to stern. Some ships were bigger, of course, but for one man, this was a lot of space. Most of it was for cargo, he had to carry any spare parts he might need, plus food and water. He had managed to cobble together a crude replicator, but at the moment, all it could manage was water, caffeinated water, and what food items he could scan in. Which consisted of either rat or snake meat. Mike had also managed a crude form of Tang, mostly citric acid and sugar in water, tasted horrible, but anything to boost his nutritional intake was a good thing. But, he knew he was malnourished and needed to get to earth, or some inhabitable planet soon. So far, he had managed to avoid using much of the water he had purified, fearing the addictive nature of it, but it had been a race to build that food replicator, which was the basis for a lot of the ship's systems and a good test if he could cobble together a matter/energy converter, something he would desperately need if he was going to get anywhere fast. [Why in three hundred years did I never study biology? I can cobble together a spacecraft from scratch, from memory, but can't even recall the formula for a veggie pizza. When I get out of here, first thing I want is a tossed salad with cheese and croutons and some hot tea. I'm not going to eat meat for a month.] Mike straightened his jacket. It looked something like one of the field jackets Admiral Kirk wore in the Star Trek movies, but black with grey accents, and a few joints, like at the shoulders, that were plastic, as well as some of the cargo pockets. His pants were grey, and he had cobbled together some boots. [Also, why did I never study tailoring?] His first attempt at clothing had worked fairly well, at the time, but the Dump was a planet of extremes and it was heading into winter on this wasteland he had called home. No rain, but a bitter cold at night that began to move into the day as well. "Alright, let's christen this puppy and shove off this hole." Mike held a small mic, fixed into his wristband LED watch, to his lips. "Trek-Wreck, ready the ship for launch." Trek-Wreck was the computer for the ship. It seemed an approriate pun, considering it was a traveling scrap yard. "Aye, Captain," Trek-Wreck replied with the voice of Mr. Scott. The ship shuddered and the engines flaired, then steadied to a slow roar. Mike withdrew what looked to be a cobbled together flashlight and pressed a small embedded switch. Turning a dial, a long blade of yellow light flared out. Mike looked at it for a moment, then said, "I christen this ship, _Love's_Labor_." He cut a rope and a bottle swung out and smashed itself against the bow. Taking a moment to reflect on the last four and a half months, Mike ran into the ship and took the elevator up twelve flights to the command deck. With a shuddering roar, the _Love's_Labor_ rose off the surface of the planet Dump. Mike watched from the captain's chair, a duct-taped, high-backed, red leather office chair bolted to the floor. A pair of scavenged seatbelts held him in place. Looking over the consoles around the bridge, Mike smiled. He had outdone himself this time. This was actually going to work. Mike crossed his fingers as he watched the flat image of one of the external cameras show the ever shrinking landscape of the Dump. Soon it was just a brown blur, then he couldn't see the ground anymore. "YES!" Mike shouted, the ship clearing the atmosphere and heading into escape orbit, "Flarn, here I come! But, first I need supplies. Trek-Wreck, plot a return course for Earth. Best speed." "By your command," the speakers emitted in a Cylon tone. The main screen, a crude holographic system showed the three dimentional course as well as the ETA of 10 days, 22 hours, 19 minutes and 43 seconds at Warp 7. Michael held his breath for a few moments. [This was the dangerous part,] Mike thought, as if the last part wasn't. Would his homemade warp nacelles work or blow him to bits? "Engage FTL drive, Warp 1." "Warp One, Aye," came the voice of Mr. Sulu. The _Love's_Labor_ shuddered and Michael noticed a slight pressure pushing him back in his seat. Inertial dampers were working. Mike watched the stars seem to pull inward, like looking through a dark tunnel, before exploding outward in tiny white lines. He unbuckled and walked over to the engineering station. Despite the one man crew, or more aptly because of it, Mike had built in several stations from which to control the ship, some on the bridge, as well as one in each cargo hold and one in Engineering. The ones in the cargo hold and his quarters doubles as transporters and his replicator respectively, but the ones on the bridge were solely copies of the one in front of his chair. The reasons being, for one thing, with junk parts, who knew when one might go? But, also, to add some variety to the monotony. He was already having conversations with the computer and the ship's drones. Admittedly, it was all one way, unless he had his mic open, then all Trek-Wreck said was, "Whachootalkinbout Willis?" Mike said, "Execute plotted course," then watched the monitor. He felt the slight acceleration again as the ship increased speed. Trek-Wreck called out the speed in the voice of Mister Sulu until it reached Warp Seven. Mike pondered, when he had a complete piece of video tape or computer file to work from, he was going to put together a speech card that spoke only in George Takei's voice. But that was for later. Right now, he thought he was doing pretty good with just a few key sound files. Mike took the elevator down a level and went down the hall to his quarters. Checking a gauge on the water tank, Mike decided on a hot shower, then Tang and Rat Jerky. Yum. [It's going to be a long eleven days...] ================================= Date: Thu, 18 Feb 1999 19:05:44 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Da Plot! On Thu, 18 Feb 1999 18:42:27 -0800 (PST) The Lone One Said As CAoL Message # 00006419 OOC: Written late at night, so make allowances. :) If you're confuzzled, lemme know... IC: -Somewhere else- The white hair floating gently around the seated figure was the only visible color if one discounted the vivid crimson of the planet that hung overhead. Beyond that, the stark starlight filled the Darkside sky with a pitilessness unknown to any groundsider. Had there been enough atmosphere, the only other indication than the hair that the figure was not merely a cunningly carved statue would have been soft puffs of steam as it exhaled. Since there was not, one could discount the hair as a mere trick of some adventurous spacer, a more elegant method of leaving their mark where they had passed. Except...ruby eyes snapped open, glowing in the light reflected from the planet. The patina of space dust that had accumulated fell away in an instant as the figure lifted its head to search out the planet, unfurling huge wings. The lack of atmosphere to carry sound ensured that no one heard the whisper, even had there been someone to hear. Rock crunched silently, falling away into vaccuum as powerful limbs bunched and released. If it had been Sunside, the figure would have cast a shadow, but in the greater shadow of Darkside, one more went unnoticed. When the last rock fragment had disappeared into space, there was no one there. ===== The scream bounced off the walls of the room until it faded outside the arched windows. A moment later, the figure materialized in time to duck the ring thrown at the wall. Light from the asteroid moon illuminated Raver's uncharacteristic worried expression as she bounded to the only dark corner in the room. Wings came around to envelop the keening woman in a tight embrace. "I am here...shh...it is all right...you took the ring off, Mandy...they will not be bothering you now...shh..." The string of muttered reassurances faded into the telepathic stream of emotion the demon was feeding her, and they rocked silently. Eventually the keening quieted, changing into a coherent wail. "I don't want them in my head!" "Mandy...you took the ring off. Without the ring, the CAoL cannot contact you. And you are safe here with the Folk. They do not allow mindtouch without consent, and will teach you how to defend against that happening." She patiently repeated the words of the familiar mantra, watching them smooth the worst of the human's spiky distress, damping the dull almost-iron odor. "The silence will aid, also." Thin fingers dug into Raver's shoulders, clutching with the odd reluctance that had been a part of Mandy for as long as she had known the human. "That was the CAoL, wasn't it." A breath passed before she nodded, once, sharply. A burst of neutral affirmation washed down the link, emphasizing the physical nod. "I..." Negation/sorrow/longing/fear washed over Raver. Her cool tone was precisely calibrated. "You cannot come. You should not. You and I, we are no longer joined, and I cannot defend you always." "I. Know." Mandy's tone was sharp. "You don't have to tell me we aren't in the same head anymore!" She shrugged Raver's hands off, jumping up to stalk back and forth in the room, gesticulating. "I don't have to bloody worry about getting killed anymore -- oh no, not at all. I just have to worry about falling apart every single damned time a teep gets anywhere near me! Half the Folk are teeps, and...and..." Her tone was quiet, savage only in its intensity. "I know exactly which ones are teeps. I know. I used to be so mindblind you could've been screaming in my ear and I wouldn't have noticed. Now -- I know exactly who's a teep. From across the room. If one of them *touches* me, *physically* touches me, I have a bloody panic attack. Screaming, shaking, bawling - the whole nine yards. And that's after weeks of therapy at both ends of this damned link. I'm a sodding basket case." It was Raver's turn to come to her feet, but the only thing she did was to catch Mandy's right wrist, and turn it over. A clawtip tapped the single thin scar hidden by the linen binding. "I know." Mandy's face quivered for a moment before she bit her lip and turned away to stare blindly out the window. "Screw this." She began to pound the side of her head into the wall, stopping just as suddenly as she had begun. "You know what's so bloody hilarious about this?" A white eyebrow lifted over still eyes. "You're the only one I can have in my head without having a panic attack." The bitter amusement was clear in both the human's mind and voice. There was nothing that Raver could say, and they both knew it. ===== The members of the Callahanian Army of Light looked up as Raver walked in the door. She slid into a seat at the table, and nodded at them. "It...is good to see you. I fear, however, that Mandy will not be joining us on this mission, as she is still...fragile." For an instant, her eyes held an emotion that could have been called sadness if they were human. Then she noticed Captain Marvel, and inclined her head gravely. "Raver. I fear you have the advantage of me." ================================= Date: Fri, 19 Feb 1999 19:08:07 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Da Plot! On Fri, 19 Feb 1999 22:01:23 EST Dane0R0A Said As CAoL Message # 00006420 >The Lone One Said As CAoL Message # 00006419 > >The members of the Callahanian Army of Light looked up as Raver >walked in the door. She slid into a seat at the table, and nodded at >them. "It...is good to see you. I fear, however, that Mandy will not >be joining us on this mission, as she is still...fragile." For an >instant, her eyes held an emotion that could have been called sadness >if they were human. "Raver, Oracle told me that Mandy might want one of these," Aurora says as she slides a bejewled bracelet across the table to Raver. "It has a number of properties all but two of which depend on the skills and desires of the owner. While worn at the least it will provide its owner with a mindshield strong enough to block any *undesired* mental contact, unless the contactor is at least as powerful a telepath as one of The Ten. It will not block you, but it will block Oracle and myself, unless we truely wish to break it. It will also assist even a minor telepath to be able to make contact at any range, even inter-dimensional, when desired. The other properties will manifest themselves as her levels and number of skills increase. Oh, one more thing about it, Oracle attuned it to himself, me, you, and Mandy. Like an Arisian lens any other being touching it, even Cerberus, will die a fast but horrible death, unless she is also touching it. If she does not want it she should either place it in a *very* safe place, or announce that she will *never* want it. Should she announce that, Oracle will know, and will destroy it." "If Mandy has need of healing, I have some skills in that realm. I would be happy to assist her." Aurora offers. (OOC: Mandy the extra properties are there in case you want them and have been left for you to determine number and nature with the caviate, of course, that Oracle and Aurora wouldn't create something more powerfull than Dragon's Bane) ================================= Date: Sat, 20 Feb 1999 12:36:14 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Da Plot! On Sat, 20 Feb 1999 15:27:42 -0500 Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00006421 >On Wed, 17 Feb '99 Morgan and/or Roland Said > Roland sighs. "Oy. The history of the modern DCU, in a nutshell... >a really _small_ nutshell...okay. Are you familiar with _this_ >universe? The one where Callahan's sits a side road away from I-25?" >(OOC: Assuming the affirmative) "All right. That world is similar to >this one...with a few extra cities, and _vastly_ more public psi and >magic. Most of the empowered beings there run around in outfits like >mine or Cap's here, calling themselves 'superheroes' or >'supervillains.' The JLA, or Justice League of America, is the >largest and most powerful benevolent grouping of such beings. If Mary >could swing throwing her captor into a trap, that'd be the place to >do it. Their main base in on the moon, but Metropolis is their >Earthly home. I think I explained the rest." Dhyrclhanc's ears perk up. "Contemporary DC-Earth? It'll be nice to see J'onn again. Of course with my luck, The enitire JLA will show-up and then I will have to deal with Orion again." "Sometimes I wonder who has the worse ego problem between me, that blasted New God of War, or the entire population of the city of Cleveland." The Ruby Lensdragon takes another drag on the straw stuck in his French Vanilla Milkshake. ================================= Date: Sat, 20 Feb 1999 22:05:53 -0800 (PST) Subject: AAE: (Long!) A Michael Seven Spin Off: Opening Moves On Sat, 20 Feb 1999 23:22:05 -0600 Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00006422 I had a rather curious thing happen today. I had gone up to the base of the falls here in River Age, looking for a large smooth stone for the new patio table I was building. I had finally come to the conclusion I was not going to locate anything and pondered altering my design to include a metal top, which I could easily forge, when a strange sound came to my ears. It was a peculiar grind-wheeze, sounding very much like rubbing metal up and down the strings of a rusted harp. The sound echoed across the valley, but seemed to be coming from the east, towards Hill House. I gathered my crooked staff, using the length of dense, twisting, knotted wood cut from one of the local Twisting Trees to steady myself in the relatively swift current of the river and managed to get to shore without falling in the waist deep water. Following Hill House River as it meandered through the valley east toward my home, I wondered, with a bit of trepidation, what had made the noise? Did I have a visitor? I had not had guests in some time, and must admit, under the conditions I left D'Ni in, I was not certain I would want just anyone wandering through my Age. Especially as I had taken such pains to hide my Linking Book where it could not easily be uncovered. I suddenly recalled the Armory was unlocked and cursed myself for getting careless. It took thirty minutes to reach Hill House, normally the journey only took half that, but I had taken the opportunity to prowl around the perimeter of my home, hoping for a glimpse of what might have caused the noise, whatever it may be. I noticed on the patio a large stone pillar, perhaps eight feet high, that I had never seen before. Curious. As best I knew, I was the only person in this Age. Perhaps whoever left it had made the strange sound I heard. Seeing no one around to explain this odd gift, I approached the patio and looked at the large stone working. Made of the same stone as the rest of my home, as I looked the pillar over, I saw my own handiwork displayed before me. Again, curious. I had never carved this, but it looked like I had. The chisel marks, the style of the little embellishments, all were identical to pillars I carved, including, most recently, the base for the table I was designing. Placing a hand to the stone, I received a further surprise. The stone was slightly warm, and vibrated faintly beneath my palm. As I looked closer, I heard a quiet hum from the pillar, as if it held complex machinery. Most perplexing. A footfall behind me drew my attention. I spun around to find myself face to face with a tall, shapely woman, over six feet in height, with hair in that particular shade of blue that I have only seen in the shallow waters of tropical beaches. She was unarmed, wearing a red wool coat, under which she seemed to wear some form of small armored chest plate which did little to cover her torso and a pair of black leather pants and boots. Her stomach was bare and I noticed she had a highly developed muscle tone. If she was native, I guessed her tribe was rather warlike. Then considering the pillar behind me, I reassessed her possible culture and saw it might be even more advanced than the D'Ni. I was about to ask her who she was when she spoke. "I am a traveler," she said in perfect D'Ni, "Looking for a place to rest from my long journey. May I stay here a few days?" I blinked, then answered, "I would admittedly rather know you before offering a place in my home. However, if you simply mean in this Age, I would be more open to consider it. Would you care for lunch while we discuss how you came to be here?" The woman nodded, "Thank you, that would be most kind." * * * * * * * The two black robed figures stood in the dark shadows of the city of the dead, gazing up at the tower. A cloud of ash flew out of the window and was caught by the wind. Holding a small device up toward the cloud, one nodded to the other and the pair began to move following the cloud. The ash was dissipating but the pair of dark figures continued on, the small device guiding them onwards. They gathered no looks from passers by, seeming to be considered part of the scenery, or perhaps they drew attention but fear kept it from being displayed, or even spoken of. The figures certainly looked menacing, austere, cadaverously thin faces, black robes with high, stiff collars that rose behind their heads into a curving, almost battleaxe-like shape. The figure with the device nodded to the other figure, who drew out an ornate urn from within his robes. Opening it, he held it up, pressing a jewel in the side, which glowed fiercely red. As he held it aloft, a cloud of that same ash gathered above the mouth of the urn, then swarmed inside as the red jewel glowed green. The lid was closed and the urn slipped under cover of the robes. The pair of figures entered an ornate black tomb in a dilapidated cemetery, pulling the door behind them. A grinding and wheezing began to echo around the graveyard as the obsidian monument slowly faded out of existence. * * * * * * * Grep was not having a good day. Pinned against the bulkhead beyond which half a dozen Spirit Slaves were firing at her with assorted plasma weapons, her chances looked grim. As the blonde woman began to contemplate a gloriously futile gesture of defiance to protect her family currently further down the corridor behind a forcefield, answering fire seared a path down the corridor from the opposite direction to her attackers. A moment or two later, Molly moved down to the bulkhead opposite Grep. "How did you get out?" Grep asked, shocked to see the older woman there. Molly fired a couple blasts down the corridor. "You aren't the only one in this family with a grasp for technology. We're not about to let you die trying to do a job we can help you succeed at easily." "I should have thought of that," Grep replied, firing down the long corridor toward the Spirit Slaves. Molly smirked slightly to herself. "They threatened your daughter, I would have likely not been thinking clearly either. Come on, we've downed three and they're falling back." "There will be four protecting the Spirit Eater. He's a big brain-like creature, operates sort of like that Starro character. The other three will be guarding the hatch. They know I'm going to come kill the Spirit Eater if I can get near it. So the three will be guarding the hatch leading to their ship, waiting for me to get there." Molly nodded, "And I assume they'll be expecting you to have backup." Grep nodded as the rest of the Seven clan joined the two women. "We'll have to hurry before the Spirit Eater gets reorganized." A klaxon sounded as they moved down the hallway. A female voice announced, "Warning, ship undocking without closing airlock. Emergency forcefields in this section are at ten percent strength. All personnel evacuate this section immediately. You have thirty seconds before the forcefield failure and corridor depressurization." Tinkerbell swore, but everyone ignored it as they ran for the airlock the Spirit Eater had docked at, as the nearest protected zone was too far. "Looks like he's going to try my stunt. Clever." Grep commented as she ran. Gary Seven nodded. "If we can close the airlock in time we'll be safe." They reached the airlock in question, a weakening forcefield the only thing between them and open space, as the computer announced twenty seconds. Molly and Gary tore into the blasted airlock controls, attempting to rewire the door closed. Tink and Roberta set to work on the forcefield controls, hoping they could get more power to it from other systems. Grep looked for a manual override for the system, only to discover the pumping lever was removed. She was attempting to finagle a work around when she glanced up to notice the ship returning toward the airlock. "They're coming back?" Tink asked, surprised. "Keep working up until they actually redock and the clamps grab them," Gary ordered, "We don't want to stop only to have them reverse direction on us." At five seconds, the corridor shuddered and they could hear the docking clamps take hold. Just then, Gary got the airlock door closed and Roberta and Tink got power from the main lighting grid to boost the forcefield. Grep called for everyone to take up defensive positions and the clan got under cover just as the airlock opened onto the Spirit Eater ship. A Spirit Slave fell out of the hatchway, dead, a large knife jutting from his back. "Trap," Gary said simply. Grep nodded. A familiar voice said from within the ship. "No, Dad. They just weren't expecting me." Grep blinked, "Father?" Roberta added, "Michael? Is that you?" The voice of Michael Seven drifted out of the ship. "Sure is. I need your help though if I'm going to kill the rest of these things. I've got them pinned in a storage bay but can't get through the door without getting my head blasted off." "We're on our way, son," Gary called as they entered the ship. "So you found Flarn then?" "Indeed I did. Come on down the hall to your left and you can finally meet her." The Seven family followed the voice down the hallway in question and went into a storage bay. They found a couple more bodies, one decapitated and the other apparently exploded. Grep covered Tink's eyes as Roberta took her husband's arm. Then they turned a corner behind a stack of crates and stopped dead in their tracks. One of the Spirit Slaves had been impaled on a pipe while two others had been literally shredded by something. The last one looked burned to a crisp and there was a large brain, mostly exploded from inside, decorating the general area. "Michael," Gary said, obviously uneasy at the sight of the carnage, "I thought you needed our help." "This isn't father's work," Grep said. A resounding clang sounded from the door they had entered as gas spilled from several locations around the cargo bay. Sleeping gas. "Correct, Grep." said the voice that sounded for all the world like Michael Seven. "This isn't your father's work. You can call me 'Hunter'." * * * * * * * Melissa was surrounded. It seemed like the entire club was out on the dance floor, gyrating along with her to this new Madonna song. Everyone was underlit from the colored tiles on the floor and spot lights whirled around the floor picking out various dancers in their harsh blue-white light. [Free at last!] Melissa exulted to herself. Her sister, Grep was finally coming out of her shell and was going to get better acquainted with the rest of the family, including her 'daughter', Tinkerbell. Melissa meanwhile was discovering a new world of people outside her family and loving every minute of it. While the two twins who began their lives as human beings only recently, Melissa by far was more ready for it in many ways. She still wasn't secure about her safety at times, unlike her sister, Melissa didn't have an innate grasp of self defense, let alone strategy or weapons use. But, that's what cops were for, right? She played things smart, didn't take stupid risks, kept her eyes open for anything out of the ordinary. That was all any ordinary person could do without locking themselves away from the rest of the world. [But then, I'm not ordinary.] Melissa frowned at that thought. She made her way over to the bar and ordered a cola. Sitting there, sipping her drink, Melissa began to mull over some of the same issues her sister had been grappling with. What use was she now that she was just another human being? Was there any such thing? Probably not, she reckoned, but the question really was, of what value was she to others? Her life had been mostly about service to others. As she sat pondering her past, present and future, Melissa was joined by a tall, curly haired blonde man. "Good evening," the man said loudly, to be heard over the techno music, in Swedish, "You strike me as a woman with a lot on her mind. A rarity in this particular discotheque. May I help?" "No thank you," Melissa replied in Swedish as well, her minilens not needed for handling the translation as she spoke Swedish as fluently as most other Earth languages. Her mouth twitched briefly into a smile as she considered that fact. There was one thing she could do easily, provide translations. "Ah, that's better," the man said, smiling, "Like the American song says, 'Don't worry, be happy.' I'm Bjorn, and you?" Melissa smiled, wondering if she was being hit on or whether this was just polite concern. She decided the former and blushed involuntarily. "I'm Melissa." Bjorn smiled as Melissa blushed. He was sort of cute, Melissa realized. She decided she was tired of dancing and some pleasant conversation wasn't a bad thing. "What are you drinking?" Melissa asked, pointing toward the man's glass. "Vodka martini, would you like to try one?" "I don't know how much I would drink of it." "That's alright, let me order you one," Bjorn said, waving the bartender over. Her drink promptly mixed, Melissa took a sip and grimaced. "Tastes terrible." Bjorn smiled, "It does if you aren't used to it. Don't worry about finishing it, I don't want you to drink something you find distasteful." "Thank you," Melissa said, pushing the drink away, "So, what brings you here?" Bjorn replied, gesturing toward the dance floor, "I enjoy the music and dancing." Melissa nodded, blinking slightly. "Same here." She suddenly wasn't feeling well. Too fast for alcohol to take effect, she realized. Perhaps it was her stomach unsettled after all the dancing, then putting alcohol on top of it. But she didn't think so. This was odd. As Melissa slumped down from her stool, Bjorn caught her, calling "Melissa? Are you alright?" then, "Bartender! This woman needs help!" * * * * * * * Michael Seven woke to the shuddering of the _Love's_Labor_. Leaping out of bed, he threw on his jacket and ran to the bridge. "Trek-wreck, report!" "Passing through temporal anomaly, Captain. Interior to warp bubble, time is as normal. Exterior to bubble is flowing reverse to normal time." Mike frowned, taking the Captain's chair, the only one on the bridge. "Localize source of the anomaly." "Center of temporal distortion registers as Earth." The shuddering passed. Mike glanced at the readings to find they had passed through the anomaly. "External time returned to proper flow. Delta of predistortion and post distortion equals negative five months, three days, sixteen hours, twelve minutes, twenty three and point two four seven five seconds." Mike paused, considering that. The wave was probably moving exponentially. "Estimate time until wave dispersal?" "Twenty three hours, fifteen minutes, four seconds plus or minus three seconds." "Time to earth?" "Twenty four hours, nine minutes." Mike rubbed his brow. "Great, too late to try and undo it... Trek-Wreck, how long to Earth at maximum velocity?" "Twelve hours, two minutes, thirty-five seconds at warp nine point seven five. Warning, at this speed, fuel cells will be insufficient to rebreak earth orbit once established." "Okay... same problem, except use the shuttle instead of the _Love's_Labor_." "Time to earth: fifteen hours, twenty three minutes at warp eight point nine. Warning, shuttle will be low on fuel." "How low? Assume landing on earth, then taking off to meet _Love's_Labor_ in orbit." "Two minutes, thirty three seconds of fuel will be remaining." Mike nodded. "Confirmed, fuel shuttle and ready for launch." Mike stood and went over to the elevator. "Save Flarn now or save Earth and hope I can get to Flarn in time for her arrival. Where's that callous disregard for human life I used to have when I need it? Oh yeah, I never had that. Trek-Wreck, maintain course and speed, make earth orbit and wait for instructions." Mike headed down to the shuttle bay, running over the plan as he went. "Alright, take the shuttle to Earth, get there in fifteen and a half hours, find the source of the temporal distortion and reverse it, all in seven and three quarter hours, then make earth orbit and rendeveus with the ship fifty four minutes later. Easy." As Mike strapped into the shuttle and launched, he said, "Who am I kidding?" * * * * * * * "Dallas. Isn't exactly what I was expecting. Towering skyscrapers, yes, but not tropical jungles." Mike scrambled down into the interior of the grocery store he had landed on, across the street from an electronics firm that was the source of the temporal distortion. Looking around in the intact building, he realized, judging by the inside, the distortion hadn't happened more than twelve hours ago, certainly not enough time to develop the flora choking the inner city he saw outside. "Must be an effect of whatever caused this," he surmised as he landed on the floor of the supermarket from the rope ladder hanging from a hole in the roof, "Now, just to see what they've got causing this thing, then to stop..." Michael Seven's thoughts were derailed instantly as he stared around him. He had landed in the produce aisle. "I think the universe can wait a few moments," Mike said, sinking his teeth into an apple. He grabbed a jug of what was advertised as fresh squeezed orange juice and nearly tore the cap off, taking huge gulps from the container. A sudden crash of shopping carts from the front of the stores, followed by a shriek of something he didn't recognize, drew Mike's mind back from his gourmandish meal. Peering around a corner of the aisle, he spotted something he would have never expected to see. [Just beautiful!] he thought to himself, [I'm trapped in Jurassic Park, Dallas.] Around the corner, the maker of the shriek, a velociraptor, sniffed the air. Mike realized his constant commentary had tipped the creature off. He hoped that stuff in the movies about them being pack hunters was made up. Feeling around for a distraction, Mike grabbed the first thing his hand touched from the shelves he was using as cover and tossed it over his head toward the aisle opposite. The velociraptor immediately caught the movement of what turned out to be a bottle of french dressing and leapt after it. As it broke, the Raptor landed on top of it, shrieking in surprise at the glass cutting into his flesh. Mike dove out of cover, the yellow beam of his lightsaber cutting through the creature's neck neatly. A second shriek drew him around and he thrust at the second charging raptor, sending the blade straight into his maw and through the back of his head. Raptor and human collapsed simultaneously. Mike sat, catching his breath. He looked at the two raptors. "No, I'm sick of lizard." * * * * * * * The two figures stood in the large room, the figure of a doctor slumped over a set of controls, the back of his chair covered in bullet holes that pierced through and into his back, the two guards at the door lying face down in pools of blood. The murder had been quick and efficient, silenced to not draw attention. The men in black robes glided across the floor, one setting the ash from an urn in a small machine atop a pedestal, the other taking the doctor's place behind the controls. An intense light glowed from a bar that passed over the ash, then another, far larger machine went into action. The size of a single bed and covered with a clear plastic half-cylinder, the machine hummed to life, small mechanical arms moving rapidly, shaping a thick, yellow liquid into bones. Rather quickly the form of a skeleton could be seen. More liquid was used in creating organs, then covering it in muscle. A cover slid up and over the clear plastic, and there was a louder hum that faded quickly. The cover retracted and a woman lay inside the cylinder. The woman was small, probably no more than five foot three or four, blonde, with a pleasant form. Her eyes wee closed as she lay still, not breathing. Electricity crackled and her back arched, her breath entering her newly revived body with a gasp as she tried and failed to scream in pain, the sudden involuntary needs for air overriding the pain of the electrical jolt. Heart pounding, her eyes suddenly opened and darted around, taking in her surroundings as she slumped back down on the bed of the machine. The two cowled figures approached silently and looked in on her. One stepped forward and stated flatly, "The Time Lords have a mission for you." The female scream of pure terror finally drew the police to the room to discover the grisly scene. But by that time, the ash, woman and two Time Lords were gone. * * * * * * * The woman, whose name I soon discovered was Anna, chatted amiably through lunch, then during dessert, finally broached the subject I had been expecting to hear all along. "I must confess my arrival here was not by chance, though my journey was indeed long. The truth is, I am in need of your rather unique services. As a D'Ni, your people are known for your puzzles and general skill at subtlety and mysteries. And I sought you out specifically as the man I would have gone to, a man remarkably like yourself, is not exactly on friendly terms with me. "You see, Muhkel Savon, I am being framed." ================================= Date: Sun, 21 Feb 1999 12:36:31 -0800 (PST) Subject: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 12:27:13 Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00006423 >On Sat, 20 Feb 1999 15:27:42 -0500 >Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00006421 > >> On Wed, 17 Feb '99 Morgan and/or Roland Said > >> Roland sighs. "Oy. The history of the modern DCU, in a >>nutshell... a really _small_ nutshell...okay. Are you familiar with >>_this_ universe? The one where Callahan's sits a side road away from >>I-25?" (OOC: Assuming the affirmative) "All right. That world is >>similar to this one...with a few extra cities, and _vastly_ more >>public psi and magic. Most of the empowered beings there run around >>in outfits like mine or Cap's here, calling themselves 'superheroes' >>or 'supervillains.' The JLA, or Justice League of America, is the >>largest and most powerful benevolent grouping of such beings. If >>Mary could swing throwing her captor into a trap, that'd be the >>place to do it. Their main base in on the moon, but Metropolis is >>their Earthly home. I think I explained the rest." > >Dhyrclhanc's ears perk up. "Contemporary DC-Earth? It'll be nice to >see J'onn again. Of course with my luck, The enitire JLA will show-up >and then I will have to deal with Orion again." > >"Sometimes I wonder who has the worse ego problem between me, that >blasted New God of War, or the entire population of the city of >Cleveland." "The population of _Cleveland?_ Orion, hands down," Roland (the native New Yorker) replies instantly. "Well, it sounds like we're all ready." Roland concentrates, and the Place generates an X-Window to the roof of the JLI Embassy in Metropolis. (It's a dark orange roof, about five stories up.) "As I recall, the embassies are inactive, but the JLA maintains contact with them. We should be able to contact someone there. Everyone set?" (OOC: Assuming everyone is) "Then let's move out." Roland shifts into Blaze mode and goes through the X-Window first. Morgan follows. The DCU Metropolis looks like most other Northeastern cities. It's a bit cleaner, but no less crowded. The embassy, located in a section of the main island (New Troy, which resembles Manhattan both physically and socially in its place in Metropolis) most closely resembling the Upper West side, is a bit taller than most of the surrounding buildings, but only by a story or two. It's rather quiet at first; it appears to be mid-afternoon. Then, as the other Callahanians gather, an emerald glow approaches from above. Starting as a pinprick, it grows slowly but steadily until... ...it crashes into Blaze! "Ow." Roland, more annoyed than hurt, slowly stands. "What...?" "You just messed with the wrong heroes, traitor!" a man clad in odd green-and-black armor announces, a woman in purple and an elongated man (?) in red and black on a green platform behind him. Two others, a woman in blue scale mail and a golden helmet, bearing a gold rod, and a man in red and silver on a tiny flying sled, float above him as well. (FTR, for those in the know, they are the modern Green Lantern, Huntress, Plastic Man, Big Barda and Orion respectively.) "You may have served Parallax before, but he's not around to save your butt this time!" Roland blinks. "I have _no_ idea what you're talking about, Crab-Face." GL's expression turns a shade darker. "But we're trying to help Captain Marvel-you know, the World's Mightiest Mortal, purest soul in your universe?-and as much as I'd enjoy turning you into a wahfer-thin mint, I have better things to do. So run along and you won't get hurt." Anyone with half a brain knows that that was the wrong thing to say. "Feel the wrath of Orion, base ones!" Orion roars, charging in with guns (or at least Astro-Force) blazing. The others follow suit, GL plowing into Blaze. Which was even more stupid; GL gets knocked nearly back into orbit. /I'm sure you guys can handle the rest of the Parody League here,/ Roland sends curtly over the link. /But Crab-Face is MINE!/ (OOC: Ding ding ding! Round One! Let the mayhem begin!) ================================= Date: Sun, 21 Feb 1999 15:05:30 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... (Long) On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 17:30:18 -0500 Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00006424 > On Sun, 21 Feb '99 Morgan and/or Roland Said > /I'm sure you guys can handle the rest of the Parody League here,/ > Roland sends curtly over the link. /But Crab-Face is MINE!/ > (OOC: Ding ding ding! Round One! Let the mayhem begin!) Dhyrclhanc surveyed the mess, his hand sliding down his face, more in embarasement than anything else. He knew that big battles due to mistaken identities and misunderstandings were part and parcel of the Super-Hero genre but this was too much! ^/Stand down./^ he sends to Nimrod and Synthea, both Sikorski and Dasher being strangely absent. ^/I do not want to make this situation any worse than it already is./^ Nimrod almost seathes, or as nearly as a synthetic syntheziod can but sends back ^#/My prime directive remains to protect normal humanity, however none seem to be under threat at the present I will do as you say. If this were to change nothing you or any one else could do will be able to stop me/#^ Dhyrclhanc returns, ^#/Fair Enough./#^ ^/You know that I'd follow you into Hades, brother./^ sends Snythea. ^/Let us hope it doesn't come to that./^ returns Dhyrclhanc, winking at his "sister". He switches on the force field generator attached to his vest and is immediatly surrounded by a golden-blue shimering glow. Then, assuming a Tsudo horse stance and raising his arms up in the air, two long batons raise up out of his palms. He then attaches the two to make a pole the relative size of an escrima stick and after a few seemingly experimental swings, the staff is transformed into a great axe that Roland will recognize as having more than a passing resemblance to Terrax's Cosmic Axe, only dragon-sized. Dhyrclhanc then takes to the air and resumes his native 31' long form. With a mighty heave, the immortal Ruby Fire hatchling sends the axe soaring in a path just short of Barda and Orion. "Hey Barda, rein in that Brother-In-Law of yours. Now is not the time to unleash that particular Dog of War!" -- Meinwhile, at the Watchtower, whoever is on monitor duty will notice that a strange, vaugly disc-shaped, large ship has seemingly materialized in orbit around the moon. A minute later they'll hear in their heads, /J'onn? You up there? Call off the troops, J'onn. There's been some kind of big misunderstanding here!/ -- Back at the scene of the battle, it would be at this point that Orion's Mother Box realizes that Dhyrclhanc has one, too. ================================= Date: Sun, 21 Feb 1999 15:52:52 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 18:07:48 EST Dane0R0A Said As CAoL Message # 00006425 >Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00006423 > "Then let's move out." Roland shifts into Blaze mode and goes >through the X-Window first. Morgan follows. Aurora simply vanishes from the Place, to reappear an instant later beside the Metropolis side of the X-Window. > /I'm sure you guys can handle the rest of the Parody League here,/ >Roland sends curtly over the link. /But Crab-Face is MINE!/ > (OOC: Ding ding ding! Round One! Let the mayhem begin!) As she scans the local heros for weaknesses and vulnerabilities, Aurora smiles sadly. */"It is ever such. The local heros attack newly arriving heros out of paranoia and misunderstanding. Well, it must be played out."/* Aurora, quietly but powerfully, says, and sends (OOC: Every being within a mile "hears" her statement), as she steps into the path of Orion's weapons. The energy emitted from the weapons strikes her, without seeming to have any effect. (OOC: I'm not familiar with these heros. I think that Orion is one of the New Gods from New Genisis and Barda is his "girl friend", but I don't know anything agout the others, except GL of course. GL I'm familiar with, if this is the yellow vulnerable GL.Roland, DC, could you expound please? I need to know this before I can decide whether she knocks him across the street, or into galactic orbit. Which, if I'm right about who they are, of course will have Barda jumping her.) ================================= Date: Sun, 21 Feb 1999 15:56:30 -0800 (PST) Subject: RE: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 18:52:39 -0500 Zia Said As CAoL Message # 00006426 "Oy." Zia remarks, apparently deciding a bit of Jewish flair fits in with the scenery, "I really dislike supers when one isn't a super." She looks down, noting that her street teen appearance held even after the X-window transport. As the party of the modern supers shows up, she falls back. Looking oddly unsure, she just watches Roland/Blaze and Crab-Face start boxing one another soundly. They look evenly matched. Then she watches DC and Big Barda [OOC: Is that really a modern super, or is Roland pulling my leg ... wait, Plastic-Man? Never mind.] tag out. Her best idea seems to be backing for the edge of the roof, and holding up her hands placatingly. "I don't suppose..." she steals a look over the edge, "that a big superhero HQ would have anything as mundane as fire escape, I hope?" She mutters under breath, "Really should have read more comic books.." Abruptly Orion starts to fire his guns... (Or is that 'Blaze-Away', heh.) The teenager in the rough clothing half-dives forwards, somersaulting behind a huge HVAC unit with a muffled, "Horny unicorns, Batman!" jibe muffled by the sound of weaponry behind her. She hunkers down behind the shielding metal. "Oh, yes, this was a lovely idea. I wonder if whatever the Place did to me is going to wear off soon? Or at all? This really..." There is a shudder as something hits the other side, "isn't my idea of fun at all." She finishes as she crouches down even smaller. "Maybe a Power Word." An oddly echoing reverb of a woman's voice, rather akin to Billy's earlier cry of 'Shazam!', sings in the air, a long word in some foreign tongue (the language of Amber, which is Thari, btw), "Ghardi-elnabrisque, New Troy!" Fog, as thick as pea soup, and oddly non-smog smelling, billows up suddenly, ignoring the sun's heat and the mid-afternoon weather, and blankets the water and the pennisular island in short order, reducing normal visibility to about 3 feet in the better spots, and 6 inches in the thicker areas. In the fog, sound is tricky, but somewhere, a younger lady seems to be half-choking down a gale of laughter with a suprised note in it. ================================= Date: Sun, 21 Feb 1999 17:05:49 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 19:34:34 -0500 Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00006427 > On Sun, 21 Feb '99 Zia Said > Fog, as thick as pea soup, and oddly non-smog smelling, billows >up suddenly, ignoring the sun's heat and the mid-afternoon weather, >and blankets the water and the pennisular island in short order, >reducing normal visibility to about 3 feet in the better spots, and 6 >inches in the thicker areas. In the fog, sound is tricky, but >somewhere, a younger lady seems to be half-choking down a gale of >laughter with a suprised note in it. At first, the only thing anyone can see is, besides the exchanges of energy that mark the "blasters" still in battle, is Dhyrclhanc's Elder Dragon Psi-Aura. Then every one in the CAoL who's on the Lens-link mentaly hears chimes akin the starting up of an MacIntosh Computer and then Dhyrclhanc's mental voice quickly saying, "Hi! Here, take this." and suddenly eveyone has a clear mental picture of their surroundings, in complete Technicolor, covering an area as wide as to reach all the way into low orbit and out to Alaska and down to South America, even including Hawaii, Japan and the western tip of Europe. ================================= Date: Sun, 21 Feb 1999 17:35:37 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 20:28:04 -0500 (EST) Shadow Said As CAoL Message # 00006428 >On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 12:27:13 >Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00006423 > >>On Sat, 20 Feb 1999 15:27:42 -0500 >>Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00006421 >> >>> On Wed, 17 Feb '99 >>> Morgan and/or Roland Said > >JLI Embassy in Metropolis. (It's a dark orange roof, about five >stories up.) "As I recall, the embassies are inactive, but the JLA >maintains contact with them. We should be able to contact someone >there. Everyone set?" > (OOC: Assuming everyone is) Rhiannon finishes her milkshake, John leaves his half-finished. They both stand. > The DCU Metropolis looks like most other Northeastern cities. It's >a bit cleaner, but no less crowded. The embassy, located in a section >of the main island (New Troy, which resembles Manhattan both >physically and socially in its place in Metropolis) most closely >resembling the Upper West side, is a bit taller than most of the >surrounding buildings, but only by a story or two. It's rather quiet >at first; it appears to be mid-afternoon. > Then, as the other Callahanians gather, an emerald glow approaches Rhiannon nudges John and whispers, "Look. Fireworks." John glances up and whispers back, "They must have heard we were coming." >from above. Starting as a pinprick, it grows slowly but steadily >until... > ...it crashes into Blaze! > "Ow." Roland, more annoyed than hurt, slowly stands. "What...?" "Yes, they definitely knew it was us." John comments sardonically, seeing as Roland wasn't hurt. > "You just messed with the wrong heroes, traitor!" a man clad in >odd green-and-black armor announces, a woman in purple and an >elongated man (?) in red and black on a green platform behind him. >Two others, a woman in blue scale mail and a golden helmet, bearing a >gold rod, and a man in red and silver on a tiny flying sled, float >above him as well. (FTR, for those in the know, they are the modern >Green Lantern, Huntress, Plastic Man, Big Barda and Orion >respectively.) "You may have served Parallax before, but he's not >around to save your butt this time!" John and Rhia look at each other. "Ooh. An old fashioned butt-kickin," he says. "And here we are not even dressed for the occasion," she replies. They start moving to the side. > Roland blinks. "I have _no_ idea what you're talking about, >Crab-Face." GL's expression turns a shade darker. "But we're trying >to help Captain Marvel-you know, the World's Mightiest Mortal, purest >soul in your universe?-and as much as I'd enjoy turning you into a >wahfer-thin mint, I have better things to do. So run along and you >won't get hurt." "We're trying to reason with them." "Ahh, we should change to battle dress, then." Starting from the right, and flowing across their bodies to the left, John and Rhiannon's clothing changes. Rhiannon ends up wearing a one-piece long-sleeved form-fitting garment in black with green swathes. John is wearing a long-sleeved shirt that looks like its made of silk. It has multi-colored designs of dragons, men, gods and demons swirling over it. The shirt is tucked into a pair of black pants. [Not jeans!] > /I'm sure you guys can handle the rest of the Parody League here,/ >Roland sends curtly over the link. /But Crab-Face is MINE!/ John and Rhia move to cut off Huntress. Neither of them has any weapons in hand. (Martial arts action! Woooh!!) "You could surrender," Rhia says. "It would save you embarrassment later," John adds. ================================= Date: Sun, 21 Feb 1999 23:30:24 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 20:38:56 -0500 (EST) Shadow Said As CAoL Message # 00006429 >On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 19:34:34 -0500 >Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00006427 > >> On Sun, 21 Feb '99 Zia Said >> >> Fog, as thick as pea soup, and oddly non-smog smelling, billows >>up suddenly, ignoring the sun's heat and the mid-afternoon weather, >>and blankets the water and the pennisular island in short order, >>reducing normal visibility to about 3 feet in the better spots, and >>6 inches in the thicker areas. In the fog, sound is tricky, but >>somewhere, a younger lady seems to be half-choking down a gale of >>laughter with a suprised note in it. John and Rhia both smile in the newly-made mist. They seem to be doing better against their opponent now that visibility is reduced. >At first, the only thing anyone can see is, besides the exchanges of >energy OOC: Gee, Thanks for letting me know. >that mark the "blasters" still in battle, is Dhyrclhanc's Elder >Dragon Psi-Aura. > >Then every one in the CAoL who's on the Lens-link mentaly hears >chimes akin the starting up of an MacIntosh Computer and then >Dhyrclhanc's mental voice quickly saying, "Hi! Here, take this." and >suddenly eveyone has a clear mental picture of their surroundings, in >complete Technicolor, covering an area as wide as to reach all the >way into low orbit and out to Alaska and down to South America, even >including Hawaii, Japan and the western tip of Europe. John stumbles at this sudden change in perspective and gets hit, flying backwards. Rhia yells, "John!" but is too occupied to run to his side. He hits the ground and rolls another foot or so before coming to a stop. They both quickly block off this view. ================================= Date: Sun, 21 Feb 1999 23:30:29 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... (Long) On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 21:53:28 Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00006430 >On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 17:30:18 -0500 >Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00006424 > >Dhyrclhanc then takes to the air and resumes his native 31' long >form. With a mighty heave, the immortal Ruby Fire hatchling sends the >axe soaring in a path just short of Barda and Orion. > >"Hey Barda, rein in that Brother-In-Law of yours. Now is not the time >to unleash that particular Dog of War!" Barda winces. "Oh, no-" Orion turns his full wrath on Dhyrclhanc. "Dog? _I?!_ I am Orion, son of Darkseid, champion of New Genesis, and Hunger Dogs and Parademons alike flee my wrath-as should YOU!" Barda sighs. "When did _I_ become the voice of reason?" Plastic Man laughs. "Take a look around, Bardie," he says, shaping himself into a ball and rebounding towards Zia. >A minute later they'll hear in their heads, /J'onn? You up there? >Call off the troops, J'onn. There's been some kind of big >misunderstanding here!/ J'Onn looks up. *Eh?* He examines the monitors. *-sigh-Kyle...a moment. I will dispatch other Leaguers and reach Earth shortly myself.* >On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 18:07:48 EST >Dane Said As CAoL Message # 00006425 > >As she scans the local heros for weaknesses and vulnerabilities, >Aurora smiles sadly. */"It is ever such. The local heros attack newly >arriving heros out of paranoia and misunderstanding. Well, it must be >played out."/* Aurora, quietly but powerfully, says, and sends (OOC: >Every being within a mile "hears" her statement), as she steps into >the path of Orion's weapons. The energy emitted from the weapons >strikes her, without seeming to have any effect. Orion boggles at this. "Wh-immune to the Astro Force? HOW?!" Barda sighs. "I'll handle this." Aiming her rod at Aurora, she generates a Boom Tube in front of the Starspawn, though it's meant to redirect any attacks toward Apokolips, not catch Aurora herself in its field. Morgan watches all this silently, borrowing her chief's patented long-suffering sigh. While she watches her comrades (especially Roland) to ensure than none are in danger, she is otherwise staying out of combat. As the CAoL is thus far routing the opposition, she does not need to take any action as yet. >On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 18:52:39 -0500 >Zia Said As CAoL Message # 00006426 > > Then she watches DC and Big Barda [OOC: Is that really a modern >super, or is Roland pulling my leg ... wait, Plastic-Man? Never >mind.] tag out. (OOC: I hate to tell you thi-actually, no I don't. Yes, Big Barda _is_ a modern DC character, though she dates back [IIRC] to the 70s and the creation of the New Gods. She was one of the Female Furies until she fell in love with Mister Miracle and defected with him to New Genesis.) > "Maybe a Power Word." An oddly echoing reverb of a woman's >voice, rather akin to Billy's earlier cry of 'Shazam!', sings in the >air, a long word in some foreign tongue (the language of Amber, which >is Thari, btw), "Ghardi-elnabrisque, New Troy!" Elsewhere... "Holy Moley! Stop!" Captain Marvel sighs as the fight quickly gets out of hand. Using the Wisdom of Solomon and the Speed of Mercury, he decides to protect the civilians and other non-combatants, which presently includes Morgan and Zia. > Fog, as thick as pea soup, and oddly non-smog smelling, billows >up suddenly, ignoring the sun's heat and the mid-afternoon weather, >and blankets the water and the pennisular island in short order, >reducing normal visibility to about 3 feet in the better spots, and 6 >inches in the thicker areas. In the fog, sound is tricky, but >somewhere, a younger lady seems to be half-choking down a gale of >laughter with a suprised note in it. Neither of whom particularly needs protecting at the moment, however... "Whoa!" Plas bounces toward Zia blindly. "Good thing I have my Plastic-Sense to guide me!" Plas bounces well PAST Zia, missing her by several yards. "No, wait, that's that spider guy, Soap-Opera Man..." Plas bounces off several building sides, finally returning to the rooftop. Dazed, he becomes a giant coil, ready to spring into action... >On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 20:28:04 -0500 (EST) >Shadow Said As CAoL Message # 00006428 > >>On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 12:27:13 >>Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00006423 >> >> Roland blinks. "I have _no_ idea what you're talking about, >>Crab-Face." GL's expression turns a shade darker. "But we're trying >>to help Captain Marvel-you know, the World's Mightiest Mortal, >>purest soul in your universe?-and as much as I'd enjoy turning you >>into a wahfer-thin mint, I have better things to do. So run along >>and you won't get hurt." > >"We're trying to reason with them." >"Ahh, we should change to battle dress, then." (OOC: ROFL!) >John and Rhia move to cut off Huntress. Neither of them has any >weapons in hand. (Martial arts action! Woooh!!) > >"You could surrender," Rhia says. >"It would save you embarrassment later," John adds. Huntress smiles coldly at them. Throwing spikes seem to grow from her fist. (OOC: In case it ain't obvious, it was just sleight of hand.) "This isn't a game. But if you want Mortal Kombat, I'll _show_ you mortal combat." The shift in tone between phrases is obvious, and she moves forward. Unfortunately for her, she's the _post_ Crisis Huntress, and is just a gangster's daughter with some serious issues rather than the child of Batman and Catwoman. Either one of John or Rhia could take her; together it _will_ be an embarrassment how easily you can take her out. Speaking of which... "Crab-Face, I would _love_ to take all _day_ to humiliate you, but there's a young lady out there who needs our help. So if you stop humiliating yourself I'll go easy on you." Blaze easily counters every one of Rayner's projections, jamming mecha-construct's joints and deflecting flying maces. "Yeah, right. The ring _showed_ me you talking to Jordan on Oa! The older one, not the Green Lantern." Kyle fires literal battering 'rams' at Roland. "Hal was NOT Parallax," Roland sighs, creating bright blue carrots in the rams' mouths. Though the 'rams' are not truly animals, the carrots are in fact sharp spikes, and pop the constructs easily. Then he uses his TK to generate some horrific turbulence in the air around Rayner. "Wh-oof-gnn-" Kyle says brilliantly as he's buffeted around. "It's not that easy, you-GMF!" Rayner's tirade is stopped in mid-rant as he smacks face-first into a forcefield. "Oh, what the nass," Blaze says with a shrug and a cool smile. "I've wanted to do this for a _long_ time, and you're obviously not going to listen to reason." He generates slight electrical energy around Crab-Face, disrupting his nervous system ever so slightly. Then he grabs the distracted ring-wielder by the arms and plays 'crack the whip.' Rayner goes flying. "Waaaaaa!" Rayner cries, dazed and dizzy. He fires emerald missiles of varying inventiveness at Roland. "Oh, _please._ G'Nort could do better-well, okay, maybe that was harsh." Roland chuckles as he cloaks his presence and creates the illusion that Rayner looks like himself. Crab-Face is kicked around by his own missiles in short order. "Image target acquisition. I figured you for an Image kinda guy." ================================= Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 00:13:47 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... (Long) On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 02:41:19 -0500 (EST) Shadow Said As CAoL Message # 00006431 >On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 21:53:28 >Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00006430 > Huntress smiles coldly at them. Throwing spikes seem to grow from >her fist. (OOC: In case it ain't obvious, it was just sleight of >hand.) "This isn't a game. But if you want Mortal Kombat, I'll _show_ >you mortal combat." The shift in tone between phrases is obvious, and >she moves forward. Unfortunately for her, she's the _post_ Crisis >Huntress, and is just a gangster's daughter with some serious issues >rather than the child of Batman and Catwoman. Either one of John or >Rhia could take her; together it _will_ be an embarrassment how >easily you can take her out. Actually, we just play with her, we wouldn't want to damage Earth's *cough* finest. John and Rhia move almost as one. They easily block or dodge anything she throws at them without trying to make it too apparent what they are doing. After a round or so they start to press Huntress, keeping their attacks *just* within her abilities. Until Dhyrclhanc sends a panoramic view of half the world into their heads, that is. Speaking of which, now that I know what Huntress's abilities are I'll go finish up the other post. ================================= Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 00:13:53 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 02:49:39 -0500 (EST) Shadow Said As CAoL Message # 00006432 Replying to myself... >On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 20:38:56 -0500 (EST) >Shadow Said As CAoL Message # 00006429 > >John and Rhia both smile in the newly-made mist. They seem to be >doing better against their opponent now that visibility is reduced. Or rather, their opponent is doing much worse. :^) >John stumbles at this sudden change in perspective and gets hit, >flying backwards. Rhia yells, "John!" but is too occupied to run to >his side. He hits the ground and rolls another foot or so before >coming to a stop. They both quickly block off this view. Rhia looks over her shoulder at John and sees him try to raise himself off the ground and end up just rolling over. She turns back and she is *not* happy. Playtime over, with a few quick moves backed with a touch of magic she lays out Huntress, finishes it off with a pressure point combo and leaves her in a state of paralysis (and probably shock and confusion as well). She then runs over to John, to make sure he's OK. ================================= Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 03:33:49 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... (Long) On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 05:19:35 -0500 Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00006433 > On Sun, 21 Feb '99 Morgan and/or Roland Said > >>Dhyrclhanc Said >> >>Dhyrclhanc then takes to the air and resumes his native 31' long >>form. With a mighty heave, the immortal Ruby Fire hatchling sends >>the axe soaring in a path just short of Barda and Orion. >> >>"Hey Barda, rein in that Brother-In-Law of yours. Now is not the >>time to unleash that particular Dog of War!" > > Barda winces. "Oh, no-" > Orion turns his full wrath on Dhyrclhanc. "Dog? _I?!_ I am Orion, >son of Darkseid, champion of New Genesis, and Hunger Dogs and >Parademons alike flee my wrath-as should YOU!" Catching the Great Axe as it returns to his hand. "Yes, Orion, I know full well what you are. If you are the same New God of War that I have enountered before, then you have obviously forgotten what *I* am. I am Dhyrclhanc, student of the Arrisan fusion Mentor, Heir to Fuzzy the Cat-Changling Techno-Mage, Exhalted Ruby Flame Dragon, Lensman and Sentinel. And I would think that even a Warror in the Service of New Genesis would have wisdom enough to know how, and when, to pick his fights." >>Zia Said >> "Maybe a Power Word." An oddly echoing reverb of a woman's >>voice, rather akin to Billy's earlier cry of 'Shazam!', sings in the >>air, a long word in some foreign tongue (the language of Amber, >>which is Thari, btw), "Ghardi-elnabrisque, New Troy!" Thari? That got a real world counterpart, there Zia? OTOH, IC, DC'll be happy for the oportunity to learn another language. Assuming that he gets the chance in this mayhem. > "Whoa!" Plas bounces toward Zia blindly. "Good thing I have my >Plastic-Sense to guide me!" Plas bounces well PAST Zia, missing her >by several yards. "No, wait, that's that spider guy, Soap-Opera >Man..." LOL!! Roland. > "Oh, _please._ G'Nort could do better-well, okay, maybe that was >harsh." Roland chuckles as he cloaks his presence and creates the >illusion that Rayner looks like himself. Crab-Face is kicked around >by his own missiles in short order. "Image target acquisition. I >figured you for an Image kinda guy." Boo! Hiss! bro. I still don't entirely understand, or appricate, your dislike for GL#3 there Roland but I'm not sure that excuses such comparisons. Besides G'nort's still supposed to be hanging around here somewhere's having never lost his ring. OTOH, I suppose it could be worse, you could've compared Kyle to the _chipmunk_ GL. }>=8P ^/I don't suppose you want my help there, eh, bro? Maybe, my "resemblance" to Alan Scott might help here?/^ We develop and shorthand for the ring/rings link shared by the CAoL Trinity yet? ================================= Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 04:35:18 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 07:29:40 -0500 Caprice Said As CAoL Message # 00006434 Legion watches the various combat with her arms crossed, a faint frown of disapproval on her lips. As none of the enemy is targetting her, she need do nothing more than watch, and Relocate should someone seem to be blasting towards her. She comments to Captain Marvel, "In our experience such instances tend to sort themselves out." Her voice here has the same 'echoing' quality that it does on the link, as if it were actually made of several voices, speaking ever-so-slightly out of synch with each other. ================================= Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 09:54:34 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along...(LONG!) On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 11:50:29 EST Driscoll Said As CAoL Message # 00006435 >On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 12:27:13 >Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00006423 The halls of the LexCorp research center were bustling with people, which was perfectly fine with Jim. The more people there were right now, the less chance anyone might notice him in his lab coat and quickly duplicated ID card. Jim could immediately see why The Controller chose such a place. What better hiding spot to rape a reality from than underneath the nose of one of the most powerful corporations in it. But if Jim had his way, soon this base would be no more and this reality would not have to ever fear The Controller. He turned off of the main cooridoor and quickly came to a large, red metal door. A handprint analyzer seemed to be the key to opening the door but Jim knew differently. He had seen the design of this lock before. Placing his hand on the analyzer, he sent a string of nanites into each of five holes he found under his fingertips. Inside teh device, they went to work de-activating the security protocals and the door slowly began to open up. Retrieving his nanites, Jim hurried through the door before it closed again. He looked around at the dusty un-used lab behind when suddenly the lights turned on. Jim's eyes, since they were designed around human eyes, took a bit to adjust to the glare, but his other systems worked fine internally. Reaching out, he mentally tapped into the computer banks and realized they had detected an intruder alright, but one _other_ than himself. The Controller was being activated, adn there wasn't enough time to shut it down! Jim literally flew apart at the seams. Part of him moved into the computer systems, flooding them with nanites attacking the circut boards whiel preserving the magnetic media for later searching. Another part shifted into a small rover and scuttled off to find the human the sensors had detected. The rest prepared itself to de-activate this Controller by force if needed. A cryogenic holding tube in a corner of the lab area began opening, spilling a thick fog across the floor. Jim's main torso moved into a better possition to view the tube. A humanoid hand gripped the edge of the opening and a gutteral moan eminated from the darkness within. Jim atempted to use his Master Remote controler unit to shut down The Controller but nothing seemed to happen. Suddenly, from the tube, a stream of... flesh...smacks into Jim with enough force to push the Nanite colony back into the metal door and bulge it outwards. Jim could hear people on the other side who heard the boom and were new looking at the convex door. Security would be here anytime, cutting the door open. He had to end this fast. A shambling creature that may have once been human now moved out of hte confines of hte tube and into the room. Flesh sagged adn hung like it was melting and the eyes looked around confusedly without a glimmer of The Controller's normal intelligence. Jim morphed a netlauncher onto his arm and fired it. The elctro-charged stun net hit solid matter for a moment, and then TheController oozed through its openings. It swung one of its arms that stretched as it moved and a huge fist clanged into the door just next to Jim's head. Jim re-absorbed the net-launcher and replaced it with an ice cannon. The creature threw another stream of flesh at Jim, but he fired his new gun at the same time. Flesh froze at temeratures low enough to liquify nitrogen, but the stream kept traveling, smackign directly into Jim's chest and disrupting his form. He seemed to explode in a splash of nanites. As he pulled himself together people began to gather at the opening that had just broken in the door, looking at this form seeming to re-built itself, the forzen monstrosity in the middleof the room and small pieces of shattered flesh all around. Jim morphed a sonic cannon and The Controller hulk shattered into thousands of pieces. Retrieving his nanites from the computers he also took the storage drives they had removed. Then he went to claim his rover. The Rover meanwhile had found an unconcious body behind some storage containers. A quick investigation for that the cyborg was alive, but neural activity was minimal to say the least. Jim came up and re-absorbed the nanites treating Jack. He looked the hideously scarred face, torn bloodied clothing and simple cybernetics over. This didn't look like anyone from this world, and no one should have been able to get in this lab without The Controller's permission. Yet the computers detected this guy at the same time Jim entered. Jim turned as Security were opening the door up the rest of the way. There was no time to ponder this now. Bending over the fallen figure, Jim morphed into a small hover carrier, cacooning Jack safely inside. "Stop! You are trespassing on LexCorp..." Jim didn't stay long enough to listen. Forming a plasma cannon, he fired a pulse burst at the wall, weakening it enough to break open as soon as Jim hit it. > "Feel the wrath of Orion, base ones!" Orion roars, charging in >with guns (or at least Astro-Force) blazing. The others follow suit, >GL plowing into Blaze. > Which was even more stupid; GL gets knocked nearly back into >orbit. > /I'm sure you guys can handle the rest of the Parody League here,/ >Roland sends curtly over the link. /But Crab-Face is MINE!/ Jim was flying around trying to decide where to go when his sensors spotted the CAoL on the rooftop with the JLA. They would be able to help. It had to be fate that was bringing these events about. Turning towards the battle, he was almost to the rooftop when the thick fog began to cover everything. Creating a Sonar sensor he attempted to delve into the fog but found it was somehow obscuring sound as well. Not wanting to trust his sonar, he switched to a thermographic display. The several human-sized blurs could have been anyone, but DC's image was impossible to not identify so Jim sped towards the sentinal Lensdragon. #"Dhyrclhanc!! When you have finished with him I have someone here who is in immediate need of aid!"# ================================= Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 14:36:52 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 15:49:05 -0600 Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00006436 Since there were no objections, Moonstone hefted her Chiefs backpack and Blades hockey stick and stepped through the X-window. Taking a deep breath, she smiled. "At least the air is cleaner than Kansas City." As she surveys the city skyline, a crash behind her instinctively draws her head around to look. As she watched the fight erupt, she suddenly began to understand why her father had been so urgent in warning her about humans. These humans were certainly more powerful than even her father's warnings had led her to believe. With Morgan and Legion watching from the sidelines, and Zia having taken cover, Moonstone realized she had better do something as well. Considering this Orion character's reaction to Dhyrclhanc, changing into a dragon would be a bad idea and she wasn't about to fight in her human form, not with these characters. She thus turned to the people keeping out of the fight for options. She doubted she could dodge all these energy beams flying about, so taking cover seemed like the best idea. Moonstone looked around the roof for a relatively unscathed bigh-volume air conditioning unit to hide behind, barring the appearance of any hatchs into the building becoming visible. She spied a likely on the far side of the roof, running for it, while watching for any stray shots. Then Zia shouted something and a thick fog rolled in. [Oh perfect, now where was that-] Suddenly the ground disappeared from under her feet and she was falling. Fingers scrabbling for her amulet, she silently whispered the incantation and her form began to shift. The plummeting form of a human sudenly grew larger, sprouting wings, tail and limbs extending until the figure of a dragon replaced the girl. Stretching out for a glide, Moonstone slowed her descent, arcing upwards as she flew blindly through the fog. "This is crazy, I'm going to run into something," she said to herself, slowing to a hover, wings slowly beating to keep her steady. Then she started listening, hearing the battle raging above her. Moving slowly until she could get under the noise, her clawed hands and feet gently brushed the side of the building, and using it as a guiderail, she slowly flew up to the roof again. When she reached the top, instead of climbing up, she felt around for a good ledge or something to put her feet on and just let her head peek over the edge of the roof, the rest of her pressed flat against the building. [This has to look ridiculous. A 24 foot long dragon clutching the side of a building for fear of getting shot by a bunch of trigger-happy humans. Now where was that big air conditioner?] ================================= Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 22:18:12 -0800 (PST) Subject: RE: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 20:19:42 -0500 Zia Said As CAoL Message # 00006437 >On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 05:19:35 -0500 >Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00006433 >>On Sun, 21 Feb '99 Morgan and/or Roland Said >>>Dhyrclhanc Said >>> >>>Zia Said >>> "Maybe a Power Word." An oddly echoing reverb of a woman's >>>voice, rather akin to Billy's earlier cry of 'Shazam!', sings in >>>the air, a long word in some foreign tongue (the language of >>>Amber, which is Thari, btw), "Ghardi-elnabrisque, New Troy!" > > Thari? That got a real world counterpart, there Zia? OTOH, IC, >DC'll be happy for the oportunity to learn another language. Assuming >that he gets the chance in this mayhem. To quote, "Aroo?" You're going to learn a language from a single word, in the middle of a fire fight, from someone who isn't terribly fluent in it herself, yet? Not to mention, what conceivable reason would Zia have to try and teach it to you... especially in the midst of unfriendly fire, considering she is vulnerable (or thinks she is). In the books, Corwin remarks that it bears superficial resemblance in sound to an Earth-language, but it's grammar and construction are not really based on any of Earth's tongues. This is because it is the 'ancient' tongue that all the languages of Earth evolved from later, not that it makes any real difference... It's only spoken in Amber as far as I know. >> "Whoa!" Plas bounces toward Zia blindly. "Good thing I have my >>Plastic-Sense to guide me!" Plas bounces well PAST Zia, missing her >>by several yards. "No, wait, that's that spider guy, Soap-Opera >>Man..." > >DC: LOL!! Roland. Zia: ooooo! He picked on Spidey! Doesn't he know everyone loves the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man? Of course, he knows I like Spidey, but OTOH, it was hilarious. Guess I'll just have to give it an attempt to ignore... :) Zia, hearing the Man of Stretchiness bounce by, chooses wisely to stay flattened against the HVAC's main body. She rolls back to her feet, crouching, as she cocks her head and closes her eyes. Seeming to trust to luck, she breaks away from the equipment as the firing above drops off - Roland and DC, from the sound of things, have distracted the shooter. She can make out the Huntress' hash being settled by Rhia, as the sound is only distorted by the normal effect of fog, not any magical effect. She can't really tell where, however, and she does not leave her Lens in the CAoL's link. So, DC's patch to a satellite/mental view doesn't reach her. If Zia's Lens is even still functional, given the wide scale of the failure of her other abilities... Walking slowly away from the sounds of combat, Zia slides her feet to make sure she stays on the roof. When out of the fog ahead, a dark bump rising from the edge of the wall takes shape... >On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 15:49:05 -0600 >Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00006436 > > [This has to look ridiculous. A 24 foot long dragon clutching >the side of a building for fear of getting shot by a bunch of >trigger-happy humans. Now where was that big air conditioner?] Moonstone sees Zia first, given the acuity of draconic eyesight; a small, walking shape emerging from the fog, not quite heading right to her, until two more steps closer, whereupon Zia can make Moonstone's head out. She swerves, and nods clear down to her shoulders, more of a bow. "No, you don't look ridiculous at all." Zia whispers in a rather difficult to understand Dracon; her throat and tongue are human and ill-suited to the demands of the language. Her accent is distinctly Eastern, which might well make her even more difficult to understand. OTOH, if Moonstone is well versed in racial languages, she can tell Zia learned from a volcanic dragon. For her own part, Ziactrice hunches down against the roof's edge to talk, seeming to be quite nervous at her back's exposure to the firefight despite the fog. "I always thought taking cover when folks shoot at you smarter than not. Besides, it's about the only way someone as large as yourself COULD get hard cover here. It's precisely 193.7 inches due north-north west, behind me. Why? Also, if you don't mind, I'd like to use that fire escape you're standing on. Marked it out earlier. I need to get to a computer, somewhere, and see what I can find out. There are members of the CAoL faster than I, but none have my "luck" in stumbling into the right place at the wrong time." ================================= Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 22:18:18 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 20:46:43 -0500 (EST) Xzerrion Said As CAoL Message # 00006438 On Sun, 21 Feb 1999, L.J. Wolfe wrote: > "You just messed with the wrong heroes, traitor!" a man clad in >odd green-and-black armor announces, a woman in purple and an >elongated man (?) in red and black on a green platform behind him. >Two others, a woman in blue scale mail and a golden helmet, bearing a >gold rod, and a man in red and silver on a tiny flying sled, float >above him as well. (FTR, for those in the know, they are the modern >Green Lantern, Huntress, Plastic Man, Big Barda and Orion >respectively.) "You may have served Parallax before, but he's not >around to save your butt this time!" Xzerrion smoothly draws his sword and dagger. "Anybody know who the f*** these folks are or what their basic problem is, other than an ego the approximate size of Icewind Dale?" > /I'm sure you guys can handle the rest of the Parody League here,/ >Roland sends curtly over the link. /But Crab-Face is MINE!/ > (OOC: Ding ding ding! Round One! Let the mayhem begin!) Tezrantha glares at the combatants. "This is productive," she snarls. "I thought you were supposed to be on the same Goddess-cursed side!" ================================= Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 22:18:23 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along...(LONG!) On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 20:47:59 -0500 Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00006439 > On Mon, 22 Feb '99 Driscoll Said > Turning towards the battle, he was almost to the rooftop when the >thick fog began to cover everything. Creating a Sonar sensor he >attempted to delve into the fog but found it was somehow obscuring >sound as well. Not wanting to trust his sonar, he switched to a >thermographic display. The several human-sized blurs could have been >anyone, but DC's image was impossible to not identify so Jim sped >towards the sentinal Lensdragon. #"Dhyrclhanc!! When you have >finished with him I have someone here who is in immediate need of >aid!"# #/Jim!?# sends back the Sentinel-Lensdragon, #/What, in the names of Bahamut and Tiamt, are you doing here? On second thought, don't tell me. I'm {indicates mental picture of his current conflict with Orion} however, if you can attain this location {indicates a point in "geosynchronus"(sp?) orbit arond the moon} you'll find my ship, the NOTC "Charles Xavier". Sikorsky, my medic, is on-board and I'm sure he'd be happy to help you./# ================================= Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 22:18:28 -0800 (PST) Subject: RE: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 20:52:44 -0500 (EST) Xzerrion Said As CAoL Message # 00006440 On Sun, 21 Feb 1999, Ziactrice Keenan wrote: > Abruptly Orion starts to fire his guns... (Or is that >'Blaze-Away', heh.) The teenager in the rough clothing half-dives >forwards, somersaulting behind a huge HVAC unit with a muffled, >"Horny unicorns, Batman!" jibe muffled by the sound of weaponry >behind her. She hunkers down behind the shielding metal. "Oh, yes, >this was a lovely idea. I wonder if whatever the Place did to me is >going to wear off soon? Or at all? This really..." There is a shudder >as something hits the other side, "isn't my idea of fun at all." She >finishes as she crouches down even smaller. Dantris sends directly into Zia's mind, *I resemble that remark!* There are distinct overtones of laughter. ================================= Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 22:18:32 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 21:05:17 -0500 (EST) Xzerrion Said As CAoL Message # 00006441 On Mon, 22 Feb 1999, Caprice wrote: >Legion watches the various combat with her arms crossed, a faint >frown of disapproval on her lips. As none of the enemy is targetting >her, she need do nothing more than watch, and Relocate should someone >seem to be blasting towards her. She comments to Captain Marvel, "In >our experience such instances tend to sort themselves out." Her voice >here has the same 'echoing' quality that it does on the link, as if >it were actually made of several voices, speaking ever-so-slightly >out of synch with each other. Xzerrion, Tezrantha, and Dantris take up positions flanking Legion. They have weapons out, but only respond to any attacks on themselves, waiting for the situation to calm down. ================================= Date: Mon, 22 Feb 1999 22:18:36 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... (Long) On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 21:27:10 EST Dane0R0A Said As CAoL Message # 00006442 >Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00006430 >>On Sun, 21 Feb 1999 18:07:48 EST >>Dane Said As CAoL Message # 00006425 >> >>As she scans the local heros for weaknesses and vulnerabilities, >>Aurora smiles sadly. */"It is ever such. The local heros attack >>newly arriving heros out of paranoia and misunderstanding. Well, it >>must be played out."/* Aurora, quietly but powerfully, says, and >>sends (OOC: Every being within a mile "hears" her statement), as she >>steps into the path of Orion's weapons. The energy emitted from the >>weapons strikes her, without seeming to have any effect. > > Orion boggles at this. "Wh-immune to the Astro Force? HOW?!" > Barda sighs. "I'll handle this." Aiming her rod at Aurora, she >generates a Boom Tube in front of the Starspawn, though it's meant to >redirect any attacks toward Apokolips, not catch Aurora herself in >its field. This strikes Aurora as immensly amusing. With a peal of laughter (OOC: heard physically and mentally around the whole planet) she rises above the combatants, then expands upwards, and backwards. A second later, she is of a size to dwarf the skyscrapers of the city. She holds out one hand palm up, then space warps around Barda and Orion. They suddenly (without moving) find themselves standing on her hand (minus their toys). /*"Consider yourself lucky, youth."*/ she says to Orion, with a little giggle still in her voice. /*"I had intended to swat you into the next galaxy, but when your partner endangered that planet I realized that it would do more damage to our surroundings than I want to repair afterwards."*/ Looking at Barda she asks, "*/You have a grievance with that world, that you would risk its destruction at my hands?"*/ That asked, she bends over, and positions her hand so that the two New Gods can step off onto the roof of the JLA HQ. (OOC: assuming they do, If not they'll find themselvs on the roof without moving) She then vanishes, and reappears on the roof facing them (a more reasonable size). ================================= Date: Tue, 23 Feb 1999 00:07:15 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Tue, 23 Feb 1999 02:34:36 -0500 Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00006444 > On Mon, 22 Feb '99 Xzerrion Said > >Xzerrion smoothly draws his sword and dagger. "Anybody know who the >f*** these folks are or what their basic problem is, other than an >ego the approximate size of Icewind Dale?" /Welcome to a Supers' Universe./sends the Sentinel-Lensdragon. /For good or for ill, part of the physics, if you, will is that battles are begun not because of any true philosophical or ethical differences in the combatants but because of a simple mistake or the missunderstanding or misinterpretation of facts or situations. When the natives of such alterverses are as powerfull as these are both their victories, as well as their errors, wil be exagerated./ /For now, simply defend yourself,/ adds Dhyraclhanc, /I have already gotten in touch with Kyle's "superiors" aand they should be arriving soon to clear up this mess. Untill then, I am afraid it is another case of "hurry up and wait"./ ================================= Date: Tue, 23 Feb 1999 00:07:22 -0800 (PST) Subject: RE: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Tue, 23 Feb 1999 01:02:28 -0600 Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00006445 >On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 20:19:42 -0500 >Zia Said As CAoL Message # 00006437 >On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 15:49:05 -0600 >Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00006436 > > [This has to look ridiculous. A 24 foot long dragon clutching >the side of a building for fear of getting shot by a bunch of >trigger-happy humans. Now where was that big air conditioner?] > "I always thought taking cover when folks shoot at you smarter >than not. Besides, it's about the only way someone as large as >yourself COULD get hard cover here. It's precisely 193.7 inches due >north-north west, behind me. Why? Also, if you don't mind, I'd like >to use that fire escape you're standing on. Marked it out earlier. I >need to get to a computer, somewhere, and see what I can find out. >There are members of the CAoL faster than I, but none have my "luck" >in stumbling into the right place at the wrong time." Moonstone pauses, cobalt blue eyes looking down as she feels around with a foot. "So, it is." she replies in English, "Just a second, I will clear the way." She seems to shuffle slightly sideways, then says something silently to herself and disappears into the fog. There's a bit of clanking as someone shuffles around a bit on the fire escape, a quiet "Damn stick," and finally, a stage whispered "All clear" drifts up to Zia, followed by the sound of tennis shoed feet moving down the fire escape. ================================= Date: Tue, 23 Feb 1999 04:35:36 -0800 (PST) Subject: RE: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Tue, 23 Feb 1999 07:15:13 -0500 Zia Said As CAoL Message # 00006446 >On Tue, 23 Feb 1999 01:02:28 -0600 >Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00006445 >>On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 20:19:42 -0500 >>Zia Said As CAoL Message # 00006437 >>>On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 15:49:05 -0600 >>>Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00006436 >>> [This has to look ridiculous. A 24 foot long dragon >>>clutching the side of a building for fear of getting shot by a >>>bunch of trigger-happy humans. Now where was that big air >>> conditioner?] > >Moonstone wouldn't mutter it aloud to herself. Unless Zia was >listening in to her thoughts.> > Moonstone pauses, cobalt blue eyes looking down as she feels >around with a foot. "So, it is." she replies in English, "Just a >second, I will clear the way." Zia looks involuntarily impressed that Moonstone can manage English... given the palate's dimensions and quantity of ivory in a draconic mouth. > [Moonstone] seems to shuffle slightly sideways, then says >something silently to herself and disappears into the fog. There's a >bit of clanking as someone shuffles around a bit on the fire escape, >a quiet "Damn stick," and finally, a stage whispered "All clear" >drifts up to Zia, followed by the sound of tennis shoed feet moving >down the fire escape. The teenaged Amberite walks over to the edge, and swings her feet over. Then she carefully hangs from her fingers, "Could you make sure that my feet are over the fire escape, please? I don't bounce as well as some folks around here." Once Moonstone confirms, she drops to the fire escape as gently as she can manage. It creaks alarmingly under her weight. "The damn indoskel would come back at the worst possible moment." Zia mutters, sounding vexed and strained. She rubs a shoulder, and gives Moonstone a curious hello smile. "I'm Ziactrice. I didn't catch yours, earlier?" She'll either bow or offer a hand, depending on Moonstone's reaction, although she gets the left hand out first, and has to switch if it's a handshake. Almost as if she is more accustomed to a reversed exchange of grips. "The fog is beginning to lift - I didn't have the true name of this place to nail it down with, just a common name. I won't be able to do much more magic for some time." Indeed, visibility seems to have climbed to a whole five feet. The fire escape seems to float in white, but at least now you can see the wall and Zia clearly, and a bit of the grill work. -- Ziactrice "Zia" Keenan I give you preference because you stay with me by day and dream I take you willingly to my most secret places withholding only judgment I feel you positive a force gently overwhelming like gravity I wish you peace life rich and abundant wherever you are ================================= Date: Tue, 23 Feb 1999 05:34:40 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along... On Tue, 23 Feb 1999 08:20:34 -0500 Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00006447 > On Tue, 23 Feb '99 Zia Said > "The fog is beginning to lift - I didn't have the true name of >this place to nail it down with, just a common name. I won't be able >to do much more magic for some time." Indeed, visibility seems to >have climbed to a whole five feet. The fire escape seems to float in >white, but at least now you can see the wall and Zia clearly, and a >bit of the grill work. Dhyrclhanc was a hyper-linguist even before he got his lens so he'll enjoy asking you for lessons in "Amberish" *later*. Even Dhyrclhanc who has, himself, admitted to being a bull in a china shop is smart enough not to do the asking in the middle of a fire-fight and, no he won't pick-up any of the language from Zia's utterance of a single word but it's the word that's was what intrigued him to start. Once both Moonstone and Zia are on street-level, the air fills with the sound of a high-power electrical circut being completed and, if they turn around, they will find the seven-, or so, foot tall, dark pink, white and maroon, hunter android named Nimrod standing behind them. "May I be of any assitance, here?" he says, with one three-digited hand outstretched. ================================= Date: Tue, 23 Feb 1999 08:05:09 -0800 (PST) Subject: Re: AAE V: Moving Right Along...(LONG!) On Tue, 23 Feb 1999 10:55:07 EST Driscoll Said As CAoL Message # 00006448 >On Mon, 22 Feb 1999 20:47:59 -0500 >Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00006439 > >#/Jim!?# sends back the Sentinel-Lensdragon, #/What, in the names of >Bahamut and Tiamt, are you doing here? On second thought, don't tell >me. I'm {indicates mental picture of his current conflict with Orion} >however, if you can attain this location {indicates a point in >"geosynchronus"(sp?) orbit arond the moon} you'll find my ship, the >NOTC "Charles Xavier". Sikorsky, my medic, is on-board and I'm sure >he'd be happy to help you./# Jim regards the situation a moment and then a fist-sized clump of himself leaps off and onto Dhyrclhanc's arm. #"It's not much, but that piece should be able to configure itself into most any type of weapon you may need against that guy. In its current state it is set up as a power absorbtion field which should be able to take at least the force out of some of his attacks, alter the energy, and then re-route it to anything you might need charged. Justin used a similar system often as The Controller and Iron Man."# Then the hover-transport Jim shifts slightly, growing larger engines, wings, and heat shielding. With a roar the engines come on-line and Jim blasts off across the roof. PlasticMan barely has time to see Jim coming and shift his coils to get out of hte way. Once off the rooftop, Jim kicks his engines into full power and there is a sonic boom as he flies towards the Charles Xavier. #Charles Xavier. Dhyrclhanc told me to seek you out. I have an extra-dimentional cyborg I found that appears tohave almost complete mental shutdown. I need aid. Dhyrclhanc told me to seek out a... Skiorsky?# The man-sized craft then looks for a place to dock on the Blackbird. =================================