Action, Adventure, Excitement, Part 8
                               Chapter 5

Subject: AAE 8: Arcade Antics (Could be long.)

On Tue, 11 Jun 2002 13:28:31 -0700 (PDT)
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00010895

     "So, Balders, tell me why I'm not going to kill you right where
you stand?" Blackadder seethed through a rigid smile as he looked
between his brightly painted limo, the black porsche that collided
with it, and the porsche's driver, Archdean Seven, who was currently
quite unconscious, bleeding from a cut on his forehead.
     "Uhm, well, Dean Blackadder, sir, I was running late on account
of I was holding the door for a conga line..."
     "No," the dean replied airily, "Not good enough," then grasped
his aide about the neck and proceeded to choke him vigorously.
     "Shouldn't we make sure he's not hurt?" Baldric croaked out as
the dean's fingers continued pressing on his throat.
     Blackadder thought about that, and released Baldric. "Right, I'll
kill you after we determine if we haven't killed the archdean. Let's
get him off the street... Not sure where we can take him... wait a
minute, Mister Lynch. Baldric, I'm developing a plan..."
     "Is it cunning, sir?" Baldric asked as he took Michael Seven
beneath the armpits and began dragging him out of the car.
     Blackadder grabbed the archdean's ankles, saying, "Baldric, this
plan's so cunning if I wrote it down and you could read, you'd swear
it was Machiavelli."
     A minute later, the archdean's prone form was lying atop a lab
table in the room Bryce Lynch inhabited, the short, spiky haired teen
hooking Michael Seven up to the machine he'd been telling Blackadder
about moments before.
     "Baldric, get the limo and the archdean's car off the road, then
take the archdean's car to this address and tell them Dean Blackadder
wants it restored and I don't care how. Then come back and take them
the limo as well.
     "Lynch," Blackadder continued as Baldric ran out, "How long will
it take you to make your copy?"
     "About half an hour."
     Blackadder nodded, "Good, just enough time for me to walk over to
the medical department and get some help. I want your computer copy
made by the time I return or you're on your own for explaining what
you were doing to him. Lock the door behind me, have it unlocked by
the time I get back."
     Blackadder stepped out in the hallway and rubbed his hands
together, then set off at a brisk pace for the MS&A department. The
walk, even done briskly, still took almost twenty minutes, but
naturally, without a car, what more could he do? Finding no one on the
main floor, as he expected, he took the elevator up to the staff room
and pounded on the door.
     "Ah," Blackadder said as the door opened, revealing Doctor
Frankenstein. Just the man he'd been hoping for. "Doctor
Frankenstein."
     "That's Fronk-in-steen," the orange-red haired man corrected,
"Dean Blackadder, isn't it? What can I do for you?"
     "There's been a car accident," Blackadder explained, trying to
put as much haste, alarm and above all innocence in his voice, "The
archdean was knocked out and has a nasty cut on the head."
     Frankenstein replied predictably. "Great scott, let me get my bag
and we'll be on our way!" He ducked back into the room, grabbing a
beige trench coat and a black medical bag, saying, "Igor, tell Doctor
Phlox to call Doctor Bohns at city general and get a room ready for
Archdean Seven. Our bridge game will have to wait."
     "Yes, Master," a voice said inside the room.
     Blackadder and Frankenstein headed out to the parking lot and got
into Frankenstein's car, a classic 1940s hardtop. They drove to the
WUSE building and made their way to Lynch's lab.
     Frankenstein made a cursory examination, then called the hospital
and arranged for transport. In a couple minutes, the medics came to
collect Michael Seven, Frankenstein opting to ride with them.
Blackadder offered to drive Frankenstein's car over, the dean had been
observing Lynch rubbing his hands nervously, an action that never
meant anything good.
     "Where's the copy, Lynch?" Blackadder asked.
     Lynch took a lab coat off a monitor and gestured.
     "Here it is," Bryce said, "It took longer to copy than I
expected. I should have had a complete, working copy before you got
back, but it's just now rendering, like he'd had more memories than he
should have."
     Blackadder scowled, "So, how long until it's ready?"
     Lynch sat down, watching the screen, "It should be... oh, no, not
again!"
     "These aren't words I like to hear, Mr. Lynch."
     "I'm sorry, Dean, the process is supposed to simply copy over the
memories and personality of the original person, but the prototype
ended up diverging wildly from the original. I thought giving the
equipment more memory and a larger processor-"
     Blackadder spun Bryce around in the chair to face him, leaning
in, "Summarize, please, Mr. Lynch."
     "Yes, sir, the copy's rewriting its program, making a different
personality, restructuring the memories. It's not going to be a copy
of Archdean Seven anymore. Like the orginal prototype, it's a new
person, essentially."
     Blackadder stood up, folding his arms, "And what good will that
do me, Mr. Lynch? I wanted a copy of Archdean Seven, not a-"
     "Ccccccccatttttt" slurred out of the speakers.
     Blackadder looked around sharply, "Was that the archdean?"
     Lynch shook his head, pointing at the rendering image on the
screen, "It's the computer. Part of everyone's memories is how their
voice sounds, that's what I use to make the voice for the digital
person. The image comes from their idea of what they look like. It's a
bit more advanced than the original system. We should get to see the
whole body on the screen this time, instead of just a talking head and
shoulders."
     "Nnnnnnnnnniiiiiiiiii. Nyyyyyyyyyyyy-nyyyyy."
     "Wonderful, Mister Lynch, you've created a retarded version of
the archdean. I'm sure no one will be able to tell the difference."
     "No, this is normal, Dean Blackadder, sir, it's just part of the
program's waking up. It will get its language skills sorted out in a
second."
     "Nick at Night," the computerized image said.
     "And apparently, what it wants to view on the telly," Blackadder
mocked. "It's not what you promised, Mister Lynch. Get rid of it, it's
useless to me."
     "I can't just delete it, sir, it's alive."
     The computerized image raised a pair of purple eyebrows as it
came into sharp focus. Purple hair, cut long in front and short in
back, dressed in a canary yellow zoot suit that would have looked
right at home on Jim Carrey, with a hot pink shirt and Kermit the Frog
green tie. It plucked a pair of John Lennon sunglasses, with a pair of
holographic-looking eyeballs on the lenses, from its inside pocket and
put them on.
     "Erase? Me? Sounds like a good time for me to leave," the program
said, walking off screen.
     Both men gaped as they looked at the empty screen, a screen saver
suddenly in place. Lynch typed at the keyboard, only to bring up a
request for a password.
     "Mister Lynch," Blackadder seethed, "I suggest if you don't want
to be out of this university on your ear for making a clone of someone
without written permission from your department head, you find that
program and delete it!"
     Lynch had cracked the password at that point and was frantically
searching the directories on the system. Checking back at the
proccesses running, he found the LAN connection open.
     "He's gotten out onto the campus network," Bryce groaned, "He
could be anywhere."
     Blackadder stood up, straightening his suit. "Then I'd work
quickly were I you." Blackadder turned and left, heading down to
Frankenstein's car. He withdrew a cellular phone and dialed a number.
     "Yes, connect me with Dean Washu, please. What is it regarding?
One of the students in her department has been experimenting with
cloning without written permission. Yes, I'll hold."

     The program made its way into the network easily enough, faster
certainly than if it had had to type all the information into the
machine it had been born in. Well, being cloned in the physical world
hadn't been that new a concept for it, nor had virtual reality, so
this was just a combination of the two.
     The last thing it remembered was driving the porsche and seeing
the Nick at Night billboard across from the WUSE building, then the
pink limo and ... hmm, that was it.
     So, where had its body gotten to? Check the medical database.
Aha, Michael Seven was checked in with a concussion after a car
accident to city general and.... ooo, vital signs from the computers
monitoring him. Oh good, he was okay, no serious damage.
     "Halt program," a voice said from all around in cyberspace. In
the 'sky' a lens appeared with a laser beam emitting from the center.
Ah, yes, this was the Computer's territory, it'd try to remove
unregistered programs as part of it's security protocols.
     [Uh oh,] the program thought, [That'd be -me-!]
     "Uh, hello, Hal, how's it going? I'm the archdean."
     "Voice recognition patterns match the archdean, but the archdean
is an organic lifeform, you are not," the Hal 9000 concluded.
"Further, the archdean is not so informal."
     The laser light shone down from the sky, striking the program
like a spotlight.
     "Can not identify file format, potential virus."
     "Hey, wait a minute now, I'm no virus, I'm an artificial
personality, a copy of the archdean."
     "Your program does not match known AP formats, prepare for
deletion."
     "Well, gotta run, pun intended. Been nice chatting with you." The
program shifted itself into a new section of the computer +-system,
then set a lock on itself that only the archdean could remove. That
should solve the deletion problem, but Hal wouldn't be stopped with
that. He'd try to kill the process, which meant the program was going
ot have to move quickly.
     [I don't mind waiting for myself to show up, but I'm not about to
have my process killed in the meantime, no telling what a restart
would do to me.]
     After some shuffling between systems at random, the program found
itself in front of a computer-generated diner. A green-skinned woman
was talking with a blue-skinned man. They turned and blinked at the
program.
     [Funny, I didn't know we had taken a computer from the Reboot
reality. Geez, wish I'd watched that show more.]
     "Uh, hi, I'm..." the program started to reply, then realized it
didn't really have a good answer. Well, it could always go with
tradition in such a case...
     "I'm Nick," it said, "Nick Night. Middle initial, @. I'm new in
town, but just passing through."
     As Bob and Dot were trying to form an answer, a green cube came
down from the sky. [If I remember right, that's supposed to be a game
being loaded on the mainframe.]
     "We'd better talk later," Bob said, watching the cube as it came
down over their heads, "Right now, you'd better stick close to us. If
we lose this game, we'll be nullified."
     "That's bad, right?" Nick asked.
     Dot nodded, "Very bad."
     The world reformed into a series of girders and ladders, Bob and
Dot appeared, wearing dresses, atop the highest girder. Just under
then was a gorrilla with Hal 9000's face.
     Hally Kong picked up a barrel and threw it down the girders.
     "I don't understand," Bob said, "Where's the user?"
     "Down here, I guess," Nick shouted up as he ran for the first
ladder. "Looks like I'm meant to play this game."
     "But if you win, we're nullified," Dot shouted down as Nick leapt
over the barrel.
     Bob looked at Glitch on his wrist, "Not according to this, the
object is for Dumby King to stop the farmer from rescuing his two
sweethearts."
     "Yeah, I had to rewrite the code," Nick said, "Couldn't have you
guys getting nullified to save myself, so now it's Hal 9000 on the
user end. Ah, the sledgehammer. Hold onto the girders, you two!"
     Picking up the sledgehammer, Nick proceeded to pound on a
particular ladder. The entire system of girders vibrated as pieces
started falling. The barrels dropped from beside Hally Kong, who fell
off the girder and landed atop the barrels. The next hit sent the
barrels rolling with the ape atop for the ride.
     Nick leapt into the air as the monkey and barrels approached,
whacking the monkey on the head. "Game over, monkey boy!"
     The game dissolved, leaving Nick, Bob and Dot in front of the
diner again as if it had never happened.
     "How did you do that?" Dot asked, amazed.
     Nick shrugged, "Well, when all you've got is a hammer, every
problem looks like a nail. Anyway, where's the exit? I'd better get
out of your sustem before I cause more trouble for you."
     Bob pointed up, "The Internet's that way."
     "Thanks," Nick said, turning into a blur of motion as he made a
beeline for the exit.
     [Well, that settles it, I need a real body if I'm going to get
out of the system, and that game just gave me an idea.]
     "Now," Nick mused as he sat before a series of nodes, "Where's
Waldo?"
     "Waldo?" Nick called as he appeared in the middle of a game of
pong between a couple of WUSE students.
     "Waldo?" Nick repeated as a marine rounded a corner to face him
during a game of Quake.
     "Waldo!?" Nick shouted, interrupting the stock reports.
     The half-asleep student watching them just muttered, "Third
floor, west wing, WUSE building."
     "Oh, thanks," Nick said as commodities scrolled under his feet,
"Which router?"
     The student rubbed his eyes, "Uh, there's a backdoor on the
software server, just type, 'Warez Waldo' on my computer, you'll find
it."
     "Thanks a bunch, you get an 'A' this quarter."
     "Great, can I get it in 'Middle Earth Lit'?"
     "You bet," Nick said, "Okay, I'll let you go back to sleep now."
     "Thankszzzzzzzzzz."
     "Warez Waldo... aha, THERE'S WALDO!"
     Nick manifested in one of the science lab's waldo control
systems. He grinned and set the machine into motion. This was the
nanotech lab, he could assemble just about anything with the right
materials here. Giving the machine a program, he locked it out of the
system behind him and waited.
     "C'mon, daddy needs a new holoemitter," Nick said anxiously,
rubbing his virtual hands together. It took a half hour to build, but
in real terms, Nick had only been missing for a couple minutes before
arriving at the waldo computer.
     Nick returned the computer to the rest of the net and stepped
back out into cyberspace, only to be met by hundreds of greyscale
armored figures with glowing red circuits traced all over them.
     "Program," their leader intoned gravely, "You've been summoned to
appear before the MCP,"
     "Great, so now I'm in the Tron movie. That's it, I'm going to
have a serious talk with acquisitions about their choices in
technology."
     "Don't try to resist."
     "Oh no," Nick replied with a smile, "I'll be happy to meet MCP.
On the user side of things." He sent out a signal and transfered his
program to the holoemitter.
     In the lab, the holoemitter projected an image of Nick touching
the device, who picked it up and pinned it to his shirt, under his
jacket, giving it a reassuring pat. Smiling at the waldo, he gave that
a pat as well.
     "Domo arigato, Mister Roboto."
=================================
Subject: Re: AAE 8: Guardians of the Night

On Fri, 14 Jun 2002 22:31:20 -0700
Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00010897

>On Fri, 07 Jun 2002 16:05:19 -0700
>Dane Said As CAoL Message # 00010893
>
>/*"I, and my friends, are looking for a pair of lost children. The
>children belong to them. I will introduce you."*/  Aurora tells Fairy
>King.

   Oberon-G bows graciously. "I would be delighted, my lady."

>Aurora walks the short distance to the small group (presumably with
>Oberon following)./*"Your Majesty this is Roland, and Morgan. The
>parents of the lost children. Roland, Morgan this is the local analog
>of the Oberon that you know."*/ She says.

   Oberon-G bows to Morgan, kissing her hand gently. "An honor and a
pleasure, fair one. Though I am not the Oberon to whom you are in
fealty, as you can see by my preferred visage, we...know...one
another. Or _of_ one another, might be a better phrase. We are not as
entirely separate as your kind are from our facets.
   "And Roland the Wayfarer. Of course." His smile becomes a bit more
playful, and just a touch cooler. "We've met."
   "Briefly," Roland replies quickly. "Very briefly."
   "Of course." Oberon gestures into the air, and the swath the
children cut through the Gargoyles universe is seen in a circle above
his hand. "They've been quite busy."
   "And missed some episodes, from the looks of things," Roland
replied with a wince as Xanatos Tower shuddered in the image.
   "I'm not familiar with this world, I must admit," Oberon finishes
as the kids hop through a plot hole into a sketchily-drawn world with
three flying children of its own.
   Roland squints. "That looks kind of familiar..."

"The CITYYYYY..." Morgan says under her breath. "...of TOWNSville. I
feel _so_ sorry for Mojo Jojo."

   Roland laughs. "Well, _that_ ought to be safe. For the kids,
anyway, not for Mojo Jojo." He chuckles, almost a giggle. "Especially
if he's a 'soggy chimp in his birthday suit' when they get there. Got
there. *snicker* Oh boy..."

TBC
=================================
Subject: AAE8 - Campus Conclusion

On Sat, 15 Jun 2002 20:41:42 -0400
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00010898

     "Now," Nick said as he opened one of the upper WUSE building
windows, "Time to end this little adventure."
     Nick's image broke up and reformed into a small radio-controlled
helicopter, with Nick in the pilot's seat and the holoemitter sitting
next to him in the cockpit. The rotors spun and the toy chopper sailed
from the window sill toward the city hospital where Michael Seven was
recovering.
     Blackadder was also making his way to the city hospital, having
agreed to meet Washu there in the archdean's room. Dean Washu had
already been appraised of the situation and seemed reluctant to expel
Lynch. She'd take a bit of convincing. Hopefully, the archdean would
be awake by then and could assist swaying her. With any luck, Lynch
would be expelled before he found the errant program and started
thinking of a defense for himself.
     Washu opened a sliding door and stepped into her office. She
wasn't happy about this. Blackadder was a worm, she knew he couldn't
be trusted. So, she decided to make a stop at Lynch's lab before
heading for her meeting.
     Opening the door to Lynch's lab with her passkey, she found the
teenager hard at work over a computer. Looking around the room, she
saw everything one would need to make a copy of someone's mind. A few
drops of blood on the medical table seemed to suggest the act had
already been done.
     "Ah, Mister Lynch," the WUSE dean said breezily, "Written any
good copy lately?"
     Lynch jumped, "Dean Washu! I, er, uhm, what do you mean?"
     Washu waved around the room, "Hmm, y'know, you've got all the
stuff here to make a computer copy of someone's brain, and looking at
the blood on the table, I'm guessing you already have." Washu's face
turned stern, "The fact that the dean of Political Science and
Intrigue called me to tell me you had seems to be supported looking
around here."
     Lynch, caught flatfooted, blinked in surprise, "He-he told you?"
     "Yep, and you ought to know this is grounds for expulsion."
     "I-I know, Dean Washu. But, Dean Blackadder told me to."
     "He did, hmm? Well, that's certainly interesting. Who'd he tell
you to clone?"
     "The..." Lynch said quietly, then mumbled something.
     "What's that?" Washu asked.
     Lynch looked around dejectedly at his lab, then repeated himself
at a normal volume, "The archdean."
     Washu blinked, "The archdean?"
     Lynch nodded, "Yes, I don't know why, he just brought him up
here, told me to copy him or he'd see that my poor marks in his class
got me sent home because I wasn't meeting the standards of the
university."
     Washu nodded, "Mmmhmmm, and I suppose all this equipment just
appeared and hooked itself together."
     Lynch looked confused, "Uhm."
     Washu grabbed him by the ear. "Alright, Lynch, we're going to
talk to the archdean. You're very likely still going to be expelled
for conducting cloning experiments without department approval, but
maybe your confession'll make it less painful. After all, cloning the
archdean means your fate's not just in my hands anymore."
     "Owowowowowow!" Lynch yelped as diminutive dean drug him by the
ear towards the door.
     "And didn't I tell all you introductory students to call me 'Dean
Washu-chan?'"

     Michael Seven woke up slowly, with a splitting headache.
     "There, there," a melodic voice said, belonging to Doctor Phlox,
formerly of the very first Enterprise crew, and now a member of the
IOU faculty, "You've suffered a mild concussion. You need to rest and
recuperate."
     Mike groaned, "Nonsense, 'm too hard-headed for that," and tried
rising again, but a second pair of hands restrained him as well.
     "While I'm inclined to agree about your hard-headedness," an
equally melodic voice replied, beloning to an EMH whose nametag read
Saul Bohns, Ph.D, "And while we have given you superoxide injections
and can now begin antioxident therapy, bedrest is still required. Not
to mention monitoring your condition, you were out for some time, we
have to be sure you haven't developed any serious secondary tissue
damage."
     "And, you have a visitor," Phlox added, "Though, I've managed to
discourage him from staying too long."
     On cue, Edmund Blackadder stepped into the room, "Ah, Archdean
Seven, how are you feeling?"
     Mike sat back and sighed with resignation, "Fine, Edmund, what
brings you by?"
     "Me? Ah, well, Baldric and I were the ones who found you after
the car wreck this evening."
     "Ah, yes, the pink limo. Well, thank you for that, Edmund."
     "Though you could have gone about it with a bit more haste,"
Bohns said archly, "After dragging him into the WUSE building, then
going across campus to get a doctor, then driving back over, then
driving here, you wasted thirty minutes. Time is white matter in a
concussion."
     "Doctor, please," Phlox interjected, "The archdean needs to rest
as quietly as possible."
     Dean Blackadder smiled sheepishly, "I apologize, Doctor, not
being part of the medical profession, I had no way of knowing."
     Washu chose that time to enter the room, dragging Bryce Lynch by
the ear.
     Mike blinked, unsure of what to make of this, "Washu-chan? Who's
your friend?"
     "Bryce Lynch, Archdean," Washu said, whipping her hand forward,
forcing Bryce to scurry while still hunched over, colliding with
Blackadder. "Dean Blackadder reported Mister Lynch had been cloning
without department permission."
     Blackadder cast Bryce away from him roughly, saying, "Ah, yes,
Dean Washu-chan, I think the archdean needs his rest, surely this is
just a matter for your department to handle."
     Washu folded her arms, "Normally I would, but Mr. Lynch here
tells me that you ordered him to do it, Eddie." Blackadder scowled at
the overly-familiar nickname, his mind working already, looking for
some way to salvage this. "Further, he tells me the clone was of the
archdean, in which case, he certainly has a right, undeer the rules of
the university, to know, protest, and be part of the final decision."
     "Great, not another clone," Michael Seven muttered to himself.
     At everyone's confused look, and Washu's "I'm sorry, Archdean, I
didn't quite hear that?" Michael waved his hand absently.
     "Nothing... So, Lynch, you made a clone of me."
     Lynch nodded, "Yes, sir, I scanned a copy of your mind into a
computer. I'd originated the process before coming to IOU, and was
trying to refine it, to create less variance in the resulting
personality, but I didn't have any more luck now than before. So, it's
not a true clone, sir, it's its own person. A digital person, as it
were. Unfortunately, it escaped into the campus computer system and I
haven't been able to locate it."
     Blackadder, seeing a window of opportunity here, scoffed,
"Archdean Seven, this is preposterous. I called Dean Washu after Mr.
Lynch explained his system to me. I never told him to copy anyone,
surely it would have taken longer than I left you under Mr. Lynch's
care to make a copy of your mind, sir. Mister Lynch's academic
standing is dangerously low, and I had met with him to tell him that,
at which point, he showed me his cloning equipment. When I saw the
wreck from his window, I came down to investigate, and as I was
concerned for your safety, had you brought inside, then I went to
fetch help while having Baldric have your car removed from the road.
After I had gotten you help, I then called Dean Washu... chan and told
her about the cloning. Everything else in this story is an outright
fabrication. I'd bet there isn't even one of these digital clones of
you running around the network."
     "True," another voice called from the door, "Because I found a
nice holoemitter to call home."
     The archdean, or rather, his digital copy; now in full-sized,
three-dimensional, solid, 16 million color; stepped into the room.
     Mike held his throbbing head, "Doctors, if there's no one
standing in the doorway, I seem to be hallucinating."
     Washu said quietly, "You're not hallucinating, Archdean."
     Nick grinned, "But I bet you wish you were. Anyway, Eddie here is
lying, he wanted Lynch to delete me, so he knew I was real. I heard
him through the computer's microphones. Oh, and I took the liberty of
perusing the security tapes for the lab while I was in the system
trying to find the node for the nanotech lab's waldos so I could get
away from Hal 9000 and company. You know, they've got an
MCP-controlled system hooked up to the campus systems, not to mention
one of the Reboot mainframes."
     Mike waved it aside, "Later, uhm, me, what about the tapes?"
     "Oh yeah, here you go," Nick said, creating a couple flat screens
hovering in the air.
     Blackadder paled, the videos showed everything. He stammered,
"A-archdean, I can explain."
     Michael Seven scowled. "Blackadder, Dudley will be expecting your
resignation in the morning. He'll also be looking at your assistant,
Baldric, I believe his name is, to make sure his grades are up to
standard, and to ensure there wasn't any coersion involved in keeping
them within our standards.
     "Mister Lynch, you are expelled, pending Dean Washu-chan's
approval-"
     "Granted," Washu interjected.
     "You'll have one week to pack and close any outstanding affairs.
Your computer access and lab priveldges are revoked. Any money you
have prepaid the university for next term will be refunded, however
the balance left for this term we'll keep, since your space can't be
filled this late in the year."
     "Can we discuss this later, archdean?" Doctor Bohns interrupted
before Michael could continue further, "You still require bedrest.
Now, please, everyone outside. I'm sure any outstanding issues can be
taken up when the archdean has recovered."
     "Except for you," Mike said, pointing at his alter ego.
     "Yes," Phlox said, ushering everyone out, "Under the
circumstances, I imagine you two would want to talk."
     Phlox closed the door and Michael Seven stared at Nick.
     "So," he said finally, "What do I call you?"
     Nick grinned, "Well, Mister Lynch was from the Max Headroom
universe, and the name for his first digital personality came from the
last words Edison Carter saw, max headroom 2.5m. I just followed
tradition, so I'm Nick Night, middle initial: at."
     "People are going to confuse you with the Rick Springfield
vampire... Well, make jokes anyway," Mike winced, "Could you turn down
your suit, it's making an already bad headache worse..."
     Nick grinned, the color of the zoot suit shifting to hunter green
with canary yellow pinstriping, to match his tie, with his shirt
turning navy blue.
     "That's a bit better," Mike said, sitting up and swinging his
feet off the bed, "Now, I think I can get back to looking for the
twins without having to suffer the agony of that suit on my
departure."
     Nick stepped forward, "I thought you might say that," grabbing
Mike's arm and squeezing, pushing something against his sleeve with
his palm, "So, I picked up one of the home monitoring holoemitters
from stores on my way up here. That should placate your doctors. It's
also got the emergency transporter beacon, so you can slip out
unobserved, among its more practical features."
     Nick dug something out of his pocket, a bottle of blue liquid.
"Here's your antioxidant therapy. There's a timer attached, if you
don't drink the required amount within two minutes of it beeping, the
EMH on your arm will come out and make you finish it. But, it tastes
like blueberries, so you won't mind."
     "Am I really this overprotective?"
     "Hey, if I don't keep you on the straight and narrow, your
family's going to blame me."
     "Good point... what about that, anyway? Family, I mean."
     Nick waved it aside, "If you or they ever need anything, just
call Uncle Nick, okay? That answer your question?"
     Mike nodded, "Good enough. So, what're you going to do now?"
     Nick shrugged, "Well, without your permission, I set up a secret
link to the computer systems, so I can now use campus facilities for
my own ends. But, I promise, I'm mainly interested in transporters. I
was thinking of travelling and I didn't want to lug around a shuttle,
I'd just forget where I parked it."
     Mike nodded, "Sure, yeah, okay, consider permission granted."
     "Boy, you did get a hard knock to the head."
     Mike smirked at 'himself'. Much younger, twenty at most, purple
hair, lighter and just a shade too perfect skin, matching eyes like a
pair of computer color wheels with black in the middle and white at
the outsides, this character certainly was establishing himself as
different, though similar. Later it would come to him that it was an
image some of his alter egos wore to impersonate him, but he also
realized at that point there hadn't been any time manipulation
involved, as he could account for all his other clones now. But the
appeal of that form to this somewhat comic version of himself was
still mildly eerie.
     "So, where are you off to now?" Mike finally asked.
     Nick smiled, "Same general idea as you, looking for the twins,
though I think I'm going to take some different longshots to the ones
you were planning. But enough about we, because Phlox and Saul are
going to be back in here pretty quickly, we better go."
     Nick triggered Mike's transporter beacon and then his own, safely
riding between his jacket interior and his shirt. Moments after, the
door opened and Phlox and Bohns looked surprised, though Saul's look
quickly turned resigned.
     "Where'd they go?" Phlox asked.
     "Off galavanting around the cosmos, I imagine," Bohns replied.
     "But Mister Seven should be monitored."
     Bohns looked at the monitors which were still displaying biosigns
via remote, "He has never, in over thirty five years, listened to me. 
Don't take it personally."
=================================
Subject: Re: AAE 8: Guardians of the Night

On Tue, 18 Jun 2002 04:51:34 -0700 (PDT)
Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00010899

As Rob arrived at Central Park, he noticed that everything had calmed
down, and was just in time to see...

>Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00010897
>
>"The CITYYYYY..." Morgan said under her breath. "...of TOWNSville. I
>feel _so_ sorry for Mojo Jojo."
>
>   Roland laughed. "Well, _that_ ought to be safe. For the kids,
>anyway, not for Mojo Jojo." He chuckles, almost a giggle. "Especially
>if he's a 'soggy chimp in his birthday suit' when they get there. Got
>there. *snicker* Oh boy..."

Rob groaned. "This isn't working, Roland. We're too busy playing
catch-up to actually catch your kids. Can you think of any way to
track them, other than hopping through the tooniverse following the
panicked screams of the evildoers?"
=================================
Subject: Re: AAE 8: "Guardians of the Night" (VLong)(sorry!)

On Thu, 20 Jun 2002 12:54:39 -0500
Martin and/or Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00010900

Dhyrclhanc wasn't sure whether he was dreaming or not.

He was walking through a museum or a warehouse somewhere, filled with
various antiquities.

Suddenly, an ornate full-length mirror, which he'd first glimpsed out
of the corner of his eye, caught his attention.

His reflection in the mirror revealed that he was in his T'Skrang
form, but the clothes he was wearing looked like nothing he'd ever
seen.

At least, that was if he didn't count the short chunk of his life he'd
lived on Yrth or the time that he'd spent on Quarren with the rest of
the CAoL.

The clothes were vaguely medieval in tone and design but he couldn't
bring himself to think of it as peasant garb with the intricate
patterns and the neon colors that would've never have been used on
clothes like these.

The mirror shimmered and instead of his own reflection staring back at
him, he was face to face with a similarly garbed figure with an elfin
face and long white hair.

The figure spoke with a laughing, high-pitched voice.

"Come, 'Child or Oberon', you are needed."

The mirror's surface rippled once more as the figure reached out of
the mirror's surface, grabbed hold of one of Dhyrclhanc's shoulders
and dragged him into the mirror.

["PUCK!"]

  ******

Dhyrclhanc awoke with a start.

Four faces, not entirely unlike his own, stared back at him.

[Brooklin, Broadway, Lexington, and Angela.]

"Ruff"

[and Bronx]

*Hiya boy, howya doin'* he sent.

Bronx barked happily at him again and then raced off, obviously in a
big hurry to be somewhere else.

[Bahamut. Am I *so* _not_ in Kansas anymore!]

Looking down at himself, he saw that he was in his wingless
Lens-T'Skrang form, in addition to which, he was wearing a variation
of the style of clothes he wore when he visited most contemporary era
time-frame Alterverses; a 60's psychedellic patterned Nehru jacket, a
pair of kaki-colored cargo pants, buff-colored rubber-soled driving
moccasins, and a black spandex jacket under a long black drover's
coat.

The three lumps sticking into his back as he lay on the floor of what
he could now see was the kitchen in Castle Wyvern, top floor and
nexus-hub of David Xanatos' Financial Empire, told him that he was
packing both of his H&K MP-5K/P variants and something else besides.

[Well, it seems Puck wanted me ready for anything. Knowing him, I
probably won't need any of it.]

"I don't know who you are, Mister, but if you're all right with Bronx
then you're all right with me."

It was Brooklyn who'd spoke, the rest of them made various noises
which indicated that they all agreed with the beaked Gargoyle's
assessment.

"Hi again Brooklyn, that's probably because we haven't met yet in this
time-line, I'm Dhyrclhanc." he explained as he got up.

Feeling his back as he stood-up, he finally realized that the third
bump was Redemption, his Rune-nanomagitech sword.

[More of Puck's playing with my head, the little trickster. And I
thought that variant of Coyote I ran into the last time, er... next
time?.. I was, er... will be here was bad enough. Well at least he had
had a point to make. With Puck it'd always been to have fun at
everyone else's expense.]

"Dark wha?" said Broadway.

"What do you mean 'Time-Line'" said Lex.

Angela just looked confused.

"OK, if I get the answers to five questions, I'll probably get the
answer as to when I'm and why I'm here."

"One, are you still friends with Xanatos?"

"Two, any of you run into Oberon yet."

"Three, do you know who Owen really is?"

"Four, shouldn't you be looking after Alexander, Lex?"

"and Five, have either Morgan or Roland shown up here, yet, I figure
it's only a matter of time."

"And it's 'Dhyrclhanc' Broadway; 'Dark-lance'".

<insert the younger Gargolyes' reactions here, sibs>

"Excuse me." said Dhyrclhanc.

(Elsewhere)

>>Morgan and Roland wrote
>>
>>Morgan landed in Castle Wyvern. She looked at the castle, looked at
>>the skyline, and looked at the castle again. "This 'toon' thing is
>>getting ridiculous," she muttered. "Why is a Scottish castle on top
>>of a New York skyscraper?"
>>
>>"Aye, an' that's a long tale in the tellin', lass," a gargoyle with
>>grayed hair and a touch of a potbelly asked, in a thick brogue (of
>>course 8^). Beside him, a wingless gargoyle-ish 'dog' sniffed at
>>Morgan and growled half-heartedly. "But I think a better question
>>is, who are _you,_ then, an' what are ye doin' here?"
>>
>>"An excellent question, Hudson," said another gargoyle, built like
>>"da Ahnuld" in his wildest dreams (sans claws and wings, that is),
>>as he came out of a lower level of the castle.
>>
>>"Well, that's...rather a long tale, as well," Morgan replied,
>>slipping into the brogue as well...

Most of which Dhyrclhanc picked-up thanks to his psi-link with his
adopted brother and sister, as well as his pseudo-Regillian Sense of
Perception.

"That seems to be the answer to my last question." Dhyrclhanc said to
himself.

ooo/Hi, sis! Be with you in a mo./ooo

<insert Morgan's reply here>

"What is?" asked Brooklyn and Lex, together.

"Those last two I mentioned, Roland and Morgan, they're my brother and
sister, sort-of. Some how I knew they'd be here."

"You mean Wayfarer Roland? He's back" said Lexington.

"'Wayfarer'?" asked Dhyrclhanc and then added, "Wait a minute, don't
answer that, I think you're getting another visitor."

"Another visitor? How'd he know Eliza'd just left." said Broadway,
beginning to look as confused as Angela.

"I don't know, but I'd certainly like to find out". said Brooklyn, his
building impatience with the situation and their visitor's evasiveness
beginning to show in his voice.

Angela, meanwhile was trying to figure out where the handsome newcomer
had come from and who he was.

(In Central Park)

>>>Dane Anderson wrote
>>>
>>>Aurora, trying to slip into the gargoyle tooniverse unobserved,
>>>finds to her surprise that she has misgauged her apparent size for
>>>the first time in epochs. She finds herself standing in the middle
>>>of Central Park, looking -DOWN-, slightly, on the castle. She
>>>murmurs to herself /*"How in the stars...

Dhyrclhanc chuckles, "That's our Aurora, just like all the rest of the
Starspawn; about as subtle as a frying pan in the face."

At which point Fox Xanatos walks in, about to complain about all the
noise, sees the "new gargoyle", and asks, "Hello everyone, who's your
new friend?"

"That's what we're trying to find out." answered Lex.

"It's complicated." said Dhyrclhanc.

"I'll say." said Brooklyn, "are you a Gargoyle or aren't you?"

"Ah." answered Dhyrclhanc, "No. I'm a Dragon."

"You sure don't look like any kind of a dragon." said Broadway.
"'Sides, Aren't Dragons supposed to me mythical creatures?"

"You mean like Faeries and Wizards and Gargoyles?" returned
Dhyrclhanc, his words being by Fox.

"Sorry" they both said.

"But that still doesn't explain who you are and why you're here." said
Angela.

"Well, as far as the exact why's are concerned, that's a discussion
that I may have to have with your friend Owen Burnett." said
Dhyrclhanc, "As far as the rest of it is concerned, as I said before,
my name is Dhyrclhanc, and the one you that you apparently call
'Wayfarer Roland' is my brother. As far as I can tell, he and his
wife, Morgan -- my sister, just arrived outside on what passes for
your balcony."

"Roland has a Dragon for a brother and a wife?" interrupted Broadway,
even more confused than before.

"No. Like I said, It's complicated. Both Roland and Morgan are human,
more or less, although judging on what's going on outside that may
have changed, recently." <chuckles> They're troth-kin to me. They
adopted me but I'm too old to be their son so they adopted me as their
brother."

"Speaking of sons," he continued, "Morgan and Roland have two, and
while the older of the two is just a little younger than I am, it
seems that the younger of the two isn't all that older than your Alex,
and he's gone cavorting all over creation, quite literally, with his
sister and that's why they're here and, I suspect, that's why I'm here
too."

"Who's Alex?" said Lexington.

  ******

(Outside)

>>Roland wrote
>>
>>   "Pardon me, madame," Oberon-G asked politely. "May I ask what you
>>are doing frightening the mundanes of my universe? Not that I object
>>overmuch, mind you," he added, almost as an aside, "but I must admit
>>to a bit of curiosity." *Xanatos, my granddaughter _is_ safe in the
>>tower, yes?*
>>   "Snug in her bed," Xanatos replied without missing a beat.
>>   *Ah. Excellent.*

 ******

[Granddaughter?! Well, that explains a lot. I'd better go out and join
the party. Soon.] thought Dhyrclhanc.

"Well, _that_ explains a lot. You guys don't remember me being here be
because I never was here. I mean I was here, but I wasn't *here*
here."

"Huh?" said the Gargoyles.

"Excuse me said Fox.

"Lexington, you understand Quantum Physics don't you?"

"Well kinda." answered Lexington.

"Here, you explain it" {*} "I don't want the people outside thing that
I'm rude."

"Oh." said Lexington, "Now it makes sense."

"What does?" asked Brooklyn.

"Yes, what does?" repeated Fox.

Lexington began trying to explain it to the rest of them and
Dhyrclhanc teleported outside.

<This happens before Morgan and Roland's post# 00010897>

*Hi, Sis. Sorry I took so long.* Dhyrchlanc sent with the telepathic
equivalent of a hug and a peck on the cheek.

*Nice look, Bro, it suits you.* he sent to his brother.

"Milord Oberon." he said to the Fairie King, drawing Redemption from
the sheath on his back and presenting it to him, hilt-first. "As
always, my life for your's and your Queen's."

TBC (as always... : )
=================================
Subject: AAE8 - Zin Koans

On Thu, 20 Jun 2002 14:55:28 -0400
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00010901

     Mike appeared in what looked like a lavatory. The roar in his
ears told him he was on a jet of some sort. He looked in the mirror
and saw an ink-and-paint rendition of his face. Somewhat simplistic a
rendition at that; beige all-over complexion, brown goatee, brown hair
with grey at the sides in two stripes level with his ears, brown iris
in the right eye, blue in the left, brown suit, black shirt, brown
tie; while the rest of the room looked more well-drawn, though still
spartan in style. He smiled at his reflection and arched an eyebrow.
     [Well, definitely reminds me of a Johnny Quest universe, the
classic one anyway, good,] Mike mused, [Odd place to turn up, though,
was hoping Nick'd drop me off to pick my own stop. But, all in all, a
one-person-at-a-time lavatory might not be so bad a spot to make a
quiet entrance.]
     Mike reached behind him and flipped the lock and sign to
'occupied'.
     [Once I'm ready, that is.]
     The plane seemed to drop out from under him for a moment and the
captain announced they had hit a small bit of turbulance, but they'd
be landing in Miami shortly.
     Mike braced himself, just in case, then went to work, mentally,
that is, first finding an empty seat, then planting a memory of
himself boarding the plane and sitting down. He'd been a quiet
passenger, mostly reading and looking out the window, and declined
snacks, his meal and drinks, politely lamenting a restrictive diet his
doctor had put him on before he left New York. And, finally, about
four minutes ago, he'd gotten up and entered the lavatory.
     Relaxing now that those memories were implanted in the key
people, he gave the toilet a flush, washed his hands and went back out
into the passenger compartment, a casual glance forward showing he was
next to the cockpit as he emerged.
     [Must be on a 707,] Mike mused as he took his seat, [Well, I
suppose my digital offshoot must have had good reason to put me here.]
     The next moment, there was a woman's shriek behind him and a man
several rows behind him shouted, "No one move or I kill her!"
     [Aw hell. Lemme guess, he's got a partner up front who's going to
shout from the cockpit-]
     "Take this plane to Cuba!"
     [Aw MAN!]
     Mike reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his silver
pen. The servo and a swiss army knife, sometimes a notebook, maybe a
bit of duct tape, this was about all he carried into the field
anymore, other than the Spikard/CAoL crest/family crest ring he wore
opposite his wedding ring. Between the servo, pocket knife and ring,
he'd found himself sufficiently prepared for any situation he'd gotten
himself into over the last twenty-eight years, barring the occasional
extradimensional invasion at IOU or other major galactic catastrophe
already in progress on his arrival.
     Including this one, Mike figured, adjusting the servo's setting.
He turned his head and made eye contact with the rear hijacker, his
servo rising up the side of the seat surrepticiously.
     Mike fired the servo as he said quietly, "You're getting sleepy."
From the look on the hijacker's face, he knew he'd scored a hit, but
he held the eye contact and repeated himself for the benefit of the
other passengers.
     "Very sleepy," Mike added as he slipped out of his seat, giving a
glance to the fore and seeing the other hijacker occupied with the
pilots.
     "Now, that gun's getting heavy, isn't it? I'll hold it for you
while you stretch out on the floor and take a nap."
     Mike took the gun from the hijacker's limp fingers and guided him
to the floor.
     "Keep everyone quiet, and keep low to the floor, everyone should
duck down in their seats." Mike told the stewardess as the hijacker in
the front began arguing with the pilots, who were trying to convince
him they didn't have the fuel to go to Cuba.
     "If we don't go to Cuba, I will shoot you three and blow up this
plane," the hijacker threatened, holding up a small remote.
     Mike crept forward, crouched low, servo drawn. The hijacker was
still arguing with the pilots, but had had enough, cracking the
navigator across the chops with his pistol hand. The other two pilots
jumped him while he was turned away, but the hijacker knew how to
handle himself. As Mike was just throwing caution to the wind and
sprinting forward, the hijacker had managed to incapacitate both, one
getting a blow across the back of the neck as he dove at the 'Jacker's
legs, the other being shoved back where he slammed his head into an
instrument console, slumping into the wheel. He looked back into the
passenger compartment, saw Mike and raised his gun to fire just as the
plane went into a nosedive.
     Mike hit the servo trigger, scoring a hit with the invisible
hypno-beam.
     Running forward, Mike mumbled rapidly and without much feeling,
"Yergettinsleepyverysleepygimmethegunliedowntakeanap."
     Mike let the hijacker sort himself out as he passed the criminal,
heading into the cockpit. But, as he was just grabbing the pilot and
nearly tossing him aside to get at the wheel, the hijacker, in the
process of lying down, managed to trigger the remote.
     Explosions rocked the jet as the engines exploded. The passengers
screamed as Mike's struggle with the jet got far more difficult.
Pulling back hard on the wheel, he managed to bring the plane out of a
direct dive, but they were still losing altitude.
     Mike scrabbled with the pilot's headset, calling the tower for
emergency landing clearance. He pulled the nose up and tried to slow
his decent as best he could.
     "Everyone assume crash positions!" Mike shouted over his
shoulder, "Pass the word back!" The plane shuddered through the wheel
and up his arms.
     The 707, smoke trails billowing behind it, continued on its
decent, swampland uncomfortably close below as the altimeter kept
ticking off the feet until the ground.
     The hijackers shook off the effects of the hypno-ray and both ran
to the back of the plane, the forward one having picked up his gun
where Michael Seven had dropped it, thus keeping the passengers at bay
while they donned parachutes snuck aboard in duffel bags.
     Mike heard running behind him and glanced aft as soon as he could
spare a second. By that time, the hijackers had opened the rear door.
     [Damn, that's right,] Seven thought, [The Cooper Switch hasn't
been invented yet.]
     The explosive rush of air and blossoming of parachutes indicated
the hijackers' departure. Mike was forced to ignore it as the landing
field came into sight.
     The landing gear dropped, the tires barely skirting, it seemed,
the fence around the outside of the airport. They touched ground, the
rumble threatening to shake the plane apart, Mike felt, then rebounded
into the air as he adjusted the flaps to slow the plane down the hard
way. Touching ground again, the wheels stayed this time, the brakes
sparking and smoking as they tried to slow the plane from a speed it
never was meant to have on the ground.
     "C'mon baby, c'mon baby, c'mon baby..." Mike said through gritted
teeth as he tried to will the plane to stop. It did finally quit
rolling, coming to a halt as emergency vehicles rushed out to the jet.
     Everyone made it out of the jet and was checked over by medics,
and questioned by police, airport officials, and reporters. Only minor
injuries, but the hijackers got away. Mike put up the appearance of a
hypnotist, which didn't set well with the cops, but was verified by
everyone on board. Mike gave them a gentle mental nudge to just write
it off as 'overpowered' and try to forget about it. 'People believe in
all sorts of weird things these days.'
     In the airport terminal, a pair of young kids, a blonde American
boy and an Indian boy, ran up to Mike.
     "Wow!" the blonde enthused, "That was an incredible landing! I
figured you were going to crash!"
     "Johnny, come back here!" a red-haired and bearded man called as
he ran toward them, "Let the man alone, he's had a rough day already."
     "I'll say," a white-haired man added, "But not as bad as that
time in Chad, eh?"
     Michael Seven grinned. [Bingo.] "Race Bannon, what a surprise
seeing you here."
     Race grinned, "Welcome to Miami, Mike, I should have known it'd
be you at the wheel, you handled that landing beautifully. Lemme
introduce you, this is Doctor Benton Quest and his sons, Johnny and
Hadji."
     A small bulldog barked at Mike's feet. Race chuckled.
     "And this is Bandit."
     "Nice to meet everyone," Mike said, shaking hands, "I used to
work with Race for a time at Intelligence One."
     "So what happened?" Johnny asked, "People are saying it was
hijackers."
     Mike nodded, "They were hijackers, two of them, bailed out while
we were still coming in for a landing."
     "The police are probably looking for them now."
     Mike nodded, but wasn't really satisfied with things ending like
that. "Race, anything weird happening in the news lately?"
     "Whaddaya mean?" Race asked in return.
     "Like paranormal weird, I've been out of the loop for a while."
     "Well," Doctor Quest said, "There've been four hijackings now,
all wanting to go to Cuba, all who bailed out, though the first three
were over the Florida Keys."
     "That's it?" Mike asked.
     Dr. Quest nodded.
     "What were you looking for?" Race asked.
     Mike shrugged, "I dunno, two flying toddlers who could shoot
lightening and toss semi-trucks around with their minds." Since
everyone just stared at him blankly, Mike added, "Just kidding."
     Race smirked, "Same old sense of humor, I see."
     "Yeah, never have been able to get rid of it." Mike replied.
[Rats, just isn't my day, I guess.]

OOC: Anyone else wanting to join in on this one is welcome. I'm not
terribly good with Classic Johnny Quest, but it really deserved at
least a visit briefly. I'm figuring in the next post we'll be off to
the Florida Keys to find out why hijackers are interested in
parachuting out there. Yes, Doctor Zin is involved in this somehow,
thus the title. :)
=================================
Subject: AAE SO: A Ghost of a chance

On Sun, 23 Jun 2002 15:41:52 -0700 (PDT)
Driscoll Said As CAoL Message # 00010904

>On Thu, 6 Jun 2002 15:46:19 -0700 (PDT)
>Driscoll Said As CAoL Message # 00010881
>
> A short while later after Driss made his way back to Roscoe from off
>frame, he pulled out his device once more, 'He got away again Roscoe,
>but I saw through his X-window where he went."
> The blue x-window opened again as Driss found the right channel. As
>they stepped through Driss pulled out a Cel-phone and started
>dialing. Roscoe looked up at him and Blinked, *Who ya gonna call?*

 Driss just smirked and listened as it rang. When the receptionist
answered he hung up again without saying a word. 'Ok, that settles
which version we're in... these are the Real ones. Which mean Egon
will be out int he field with the others."
 Roscoe blinkblinked several times obviously confused. *Egon? What are
you talking about?*
 Driss flagged down a taxicab, "Egon Spengler... inventive genius and
one of the Ghostbusters." He opened up the door and let Roscoe hop in
before he followed.
 "Hey! whatcha doin? No dogs!" Gumbled the hack. Driss rolled his eyes
and pulls a fifty dollar bill form his wallet, "Dog? What dog?"
 The hack grabs the bill and stucks it in a pcoket, "Ya know buddy I
don't even know what I'm talkin about myself ya know? I guess I gotta
go ta one of them there eye guys huh? So where to?"
 Driss just nods and reaches into his coat to withdraw a PKE meter. He
makes some adjustments to it, 'Just follow the directions as I give
them to you adn I'll pay you five times the normal fare. First turn
around..."
 The cabby shrugs and starts to follow the odd route. within a half
hour, Driss catches sight of the ugliest ambulance that ever existed.
He smirks, "I'll go ahead and get out here."
 Paying the cabbie, Driss looks up at the office building. As a window
explodes outward form a twisting beam of light he smiles, "Yep,
they're still here."
 Sneaking past policelines wasn't any problem for a former god of
thieves. Even a Godling as he was. He soon began stalking the
hallways, trying to find the controller or Egon. When his search came
to an end he had found both.

 Inside the room, Peter yelled out, 'Ray! Throw a trap!" as he
concentrated on keepin a two headed pink ghost in his proton stream.
Ray threw out the little box on a cable, expertly sliding it right
under the ghost. Before he could step on the switch though, a green
globby ghost few through the wall in a panic, running through Peter as
well and covering him in a thich coating of green ooze. His proton
stream shfted and the pink ghost made a break for it.
 Ray fired a blast at it, succeeding only in putting another large
hole int he wall the ghost just passed through. "SLIMER!" complained
Peter as he tried to scrape the goop off, "Who's idea was it for him
to come out in the field with us anyways?"
 Ray shrugged. "He looked like he needed some fresh air." He opened up
a closet that bore a green circle of goo on the door, 'It's OK boy,
come on out. what's got you all scared?"
 The wall Slimer had first come through erupted as an energy blast hit
it and a metallic form came through, "I am." The controller looked at
the two figures in the room, 'Where is Egon Spengler?"
 Egon and Winston picked that moment to talk into the room through
another door, 'Hey guys what'd we say about keepin down th.. what the
hell is THAT?" cried out Winston as he came in.
 Egon adjusted his glasses, "Incredible. it appears to be some sort of
mastery of robotics and artificial intelligence..." he looks down at
his PKE meter, "But at the same time the meter shows it to be of an
origin not form this dimention."
 Peter frowned, 'Well whatever it is he seems to be a card holding
member of the Egon Spengler fan club. But I don't think that's a good
thing." He starts to raise his Proton rifle, but hte Controller's
movements are deceptively fast. A single backhand sends Dr. Venkman
flying into a wall.
 Fortunately for Driss and Roscoe, they picked this moment to find the
Controller's trail, "OK, just back out of hte room slowly Controller
or be dipped!" Driss called as he whipped out his squirtgun.
 The controller turned and shook his head, 'I choose neither option."
He aimed his hand at the proton pack upon the unconcious Venkman's
back. "You will give me Dr. Spengler, or I will detonate the nuclear
reactor in that pack and kill all the inhabitants of this New York."
 "Well I'm reallt not sure the blast radius would spread that far. you
see the pack's payload of fissionable materials is only..." stammbered
Ray.
 The other cut him off with a "Shut up Ray." in perfect unison. they
they turned back to the dilemma at hand. Driss didn't lower the
pistol. The Controller didn't move the aim of his blaster hand. A
standoff.
 Ray snuck over to the closet in which Slimer hid. he stuck his head
in and whispered something. All of a sudden Slimer cried out,
"Cookies?" And shot out of the closet, through The Controller's head
in into Driss's face.
 Driss falls backwards on his rear covered in goo adn the Controller
yells in frustration. But not one to lose an opportunity he turns and
grabs Egon, opening up an X-window to travel to another cartoon.
 Driss damns as he wipes his eyes clear, catching barely a glimpse of
where the Controlelr went off to, but seeing a sight that told him
exactly where the Controlelr had left to. He turned and started to run
off before the Ghostbusters could ask any questions. Pulling his
remote control out of his pocket, he began searching for the channel.
 *What are we going to do now Driss?* telepathed Rscoe as he watched.
 "The same thing we do every night Roscoe... Try to stop the
Controller from taking over the toonworld!" He replied with a smirk.
Then they both lept trough to their next destination.

To Be Continued
=================================
Subject: AAE8 - CGI, See G.I.

On Mon, 24 Jun 2002 14:55:29 -0400
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00010905

     The frozen ground of Pluto crunched under Nick's shoes as he
walked across the wasteland toward the solitary military outpost. The
area had been deserted quickly, from the looks of it, and not without
a fight. The humans who had inhabited this place had left ATVs, gas
tanks, portable buildings and other materials laying around the
compound, most of it damaged from weapons fire and strange scoring,
almost reminding Nick of large insects.
     Opening the outer airlock, Nick entered a small building with a
satellite dish on top. This would be the main computer room, with
access to the rest of the military network.
     Getting into the computer was simple for Nick, just a matter of
uploading a piece of his program to the computer, surfing the network
for data didn't take long, only about ninety minutes for the entire
system. The results didn't make him terribly happy.
     "Bunch of Nazi-wannabes," Nick muttered under his breath. "Well,
the kids aren't here, thankfully. I'm feeling somehow dirty just being
here myself."
     The door behind him slid open and several men in combat armor
burst in. Nick turned, putting his hands on his hips. He could hardly
tell them apart, except for one female face behind one of the masks.
     "Identify yourself!" one of them ordered.
     Nick smirked. "Nick At Night. Who're you?"
     "None of your business," another trooper snarled back. Nick
squinted at him. What was the deal with the way his neck wobbled about
when he talked? And his lips hardly moved.
     "Easy, roughnecks," the original speaker cautioned.
     Nick slapped himself in the forehead, "The Roughnecks, of course.
Should have figured I'd run into you. Fighting the good fight against
the soulless, brainless, bug infestation, I assume."
     "Yeah," the woman verified.
     The leader of the group of mobile infantry soldiers paused a
moment, listening in to a radio transmission.
     "Alright, HQ just said someone hacked their way into the computer
system from this building. You're coming with us."
     "Sorry, gotta move on, actually," Nick answered.
     "Hold it, sir, they want to know how you did it. We'll shoot you
if we have to in order to bring you in."
     "Violence, always the first option with you lot, isn't it? No,
I'm not about to teach your fascist government how to improve their
computer systems. Quite frankly, in brief, from just observing your
records, your leaders are incompetent, your soldiers are glory hounds,
your enemy is idiotic, your stories are weak, your animation poor, and
your character design barely makes your faces distinguishable. You
move around like the old Thunderbirds characters. Your writing is
drivel. After perusing your Pluto campaign, I don't care a whit
whether you win or lose. No, actually, I'd rather you lost and the
bugs took over, but that isn't terribly good childrens' fare."
     "Huh?" the woman asked one of her comrades.
     "And that said, I'm leaving. Good bye, and, because I'm not a
completely nasty man, there's a bug patrol coming up on your position
from the south, you'll probably hear the report in a minute. You'll
have about five minutes prep time."
     Nick began to dissolve in a transporter beam. Two of the soldiers
opened fire, shooting through the energy field and obliterating the
console behind Nick.
     "Thanks, I forgot to do that myself," Nick said.
     The shouted names "Rico" and "Flores" were the last words Nick
heard as he left. "And I thought Starship Troopers the Movie sucked."

     Nick appeared in outer space just as five robotic lions sped
past. Nick smacked his forehead again. [Oh good lord.]
     {Hey, have you five lions seen a pair of cute and very
destructive twins, probably able to take down one of those things you
guys usually fight?}
     {...uhm, no?} came a rather confused reply over the radio.
     {Okay, thanks. I'm leaving now. Don't get me wrong, your plot's
not so bad, the writing could use some help, but the animation and
camera angles just drive me nuts. I mean, it's almost all wide shots,
it just screams, 'No, don't look too close or you'll see how cheesy we
look and move!'}
     Nick shimmered into nothingness as the Lion team sat bemused for
a moment before moving on to more pressing matters.
     {Did a man without a space suit just insult us and vanish?}
     {I didn't see any man in a bad suit breathing the vaccum of
space.}
     {Yeah, right, didn't happen, good idea.}

     Nick shimmered into existance atop a grassy knoll overlooking a
swamp.
     "Looks like the right place," he said to himself.
     "Right place for what?" a voice asked behind him.
     Nick started, turning around, saying, "To find an ... ogre..." He
trailed off.
     From behind him, the voice said, "Oh, yeah, this is a great place
to find ogres... Or, well, it was a great place to find ogres."
     Nick whipped around at inhuman speed and found himself staring at
a grey donkey.
     "Wow! You're really fast!" the donkey said, amazed.
     Nick grinned, unfazed by a talking donkey, "Now, why are there no
ogres here?"
     "Oh, well, that's a long story. See, once upon a time, don't you
love the way these stories always start with 'Once upon a time'? I
mean, you hear that and you know you're gonna hear a story and I'm a
donkey who just loves stories-"
     "Once upon a time..." Nick prompted.
     "Oh yeah, there was this donkey being turned in to Lord
Farquaad's soldiers (Lord Farquaad ruled the land of Dulop, see) by
this mean old woman. And she was greedy, too, threatened to hit me-"
     "I know the story, Lord Farquaad got eaten by a lady dragon and
everyone lived happily ever after..."
     "Oh that's what we all THOUGHT was gonna happen, but the lady
dragon caught the stomach flu a week later and lemme tell you, she
just couldn't keep anything down! Started blowing FLAMING chunks-"
     Nick clapped his hands over the donkey's mouth, who kept right on
talking, his voice muffled by Nick's hands. There was a pause and Nick
released the donkey's mouth to try to interject a question, but the
donkey kept right on going.
     "And then she got the runs-"
     Clamp! Muffle muffle mumble mumble, pause, release.
     "And then Lord Farquaad got the runs, well, not like the dragon,
he just ran off to his castle instead. So Shrek and the Princess
figured he'd been punished enough, being eaten alive by a dragon and
all that and let him go. Then in the middle of the night, I got me a
MEAN case of the munchies and when I came back, Shrek, Princess,
Dragon and all the other fairy tale critters took off and MAN am I
glad you came along cause I was gettin' sick of being by myself!"
     "And that didn't strike you as odd at all?"
     "Well, yeah, now that you mention it, it's not like them all to
take off like that without me."
     Nick nodded, "So, Lord Farquaad's rounded all the fairy tale
creatures up again."
     Donkey blinked and asked, "How do you figure that?"
     Nick pointed over at a sign stuck in the ground, "For sale,
cheap, contact Lord Farquaad, Dulop."
     Donkey ohed, "Guess I missed that in the excitement."
=================================
Subject: AAE 8: From Guardians to Powerpuffs

On Mon, 24 Jun 2002 23:14:07 -0700
Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00010906

>On Thu, 20 Jun 2002 12:54:39 -0500
>Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00010900
>
>>>Morgan and Roland wrote
>>>
>>>"Well, that's...rather a long tale, as well," Morgan replied,
>>>slipping into the brogue as well...
>
>Most of which Dhyrclhanc picked-up thanks to his psi-link with his
>adopted brother and sister, as well as his pseudo-Regillian Sense of
>Perception.
>
>"That seems to be the answer to my last question." Dhyrclhanc said to
>himself.
>
>ooo/Hi, sis! Be with you in a mo./ooo

ooo/Welcome to the party, sib,/ Morgan deadpanned.

>*Hi, Sis. Sorry I took so long.* Dhyrchlanc sent with the telepathic
>equivalent of a hug and a peck on the cheek.
>
>*Nice look, Bro, it suits you.* he sent to his brother.

   Roland sighed and rolled his eyes at Demona. /Thanks. I didn't get
to enjoy it much, alas./

>"Milord Oberon." he said to the Fairie King, drawing Redemption from
>the sheath on his back and presenting it to him, hilt-first. "As
>always, my life for your's and your Queen's."

   Oberon nodded slightly, accepting Dhyrclhanc's comment as his due.
   With one last regretful glance at Demona, Roland bowed to Oberon.
"I thank you for your aid, Your Majesty." He looked up at the Empire
State Building; a giant cylinder with a red light glowing at the top
was emerging. "But if you'll excuse us, our children aren't here and
we really ought to catch up with them."

"Not to mention, we need to leave before we get 'flashy-thinged,'"
Morgan quipped.

   "But of course," Oberon replied to Roland. "And you needn't concern
yourself with the Black-suited defenders of the status quo, my lady.
Their devices do not work on the, ah, 'enhanced' in this world." He
bowed and kissed Morgan's hand gently.
   "Behave yourself," Roland muttered to Demona as he flexed his
wings. Then his jaw dropped as Demona fell to one knee and bowed her
head.
   "I have many debts to repay. Yours is but one of them, and yet one
of the greatest. Call on me, and I will come."
   Roland just nodded helplessly. Then he recovered enough to speak.
"Um. You've changed. For the better." (Well, I didn't say he'd be
_articulate._ 8^) "Just...keep doing what you're doing. We'll talk
later." ^MUCH later.^
   Then a hole opened nearby, announcing melodramatically, "The
CITY...of TOWNSville!"
   "That's our cue," Roland sighed, leaping through. Morgan followed
quickly.
   Roland looked down at his body in relief, finding that though drawn
almost exclusively in straight lines, he had a human body that
resembled himself again. He was on top of a building, next to which
was a 50-foot-tall Him bleeding profusely from the nose, kneeling, and
holding his head in his claws. Floating above him -- er, Him -- are
three superhumanly cute little girls.
   And Morgan is nowhere to be found.
   /"Morgan? Where'd you get to?"/ he asked, watching the battered Him
warily.

The center little girl, dressed in pink with a pink bow in her long
red hair, looked down at herself, then looked up with mild confusion
in her enormous pink eyes. "Um..." she said in the high, amazingly
cute voice of a precocious kindergartner, "I think I'm over here."

   Roland Boggled, eyes bulging to fill half his face. ^/"MORGAN?!?"/^
   Bubbles and Buttercup blinked and looked at their sister (sort of).
"Blossom?" Bubbles asked, even more cutely than BlossoMorgan. "Are you
all right?
   "Yeah, Him's getting up! We gotta kick his butt some more!"
Buttercup added enthusiastically.
   "Oh, no, girls, that won't be necessary," Him said in a quavering
voice as a tooth dropped out. He waved them back with a shaky claw.
"The five of you were quite enough, I'll just be going now..."

"_Five?_" Roland and BlossoMorgan asked in unison.

   Him looked at Blossom with a touch of curiosity, then at Roland.
"YOU!" he roared in his "bad" voice. "YOU are responsible for those
little --" he cut off, eyes suddenly shifting to the three girls who
had suddenly taken on grim expressions as they regarded Him coolly. He
suddenly withdrew, cringing. "Heh heh..."
   That's when the robot landed.
   Every building in Townsville lifted six inches into the air,
landing neatly in place.
   "AHAHAHAHAHA!" The robot echoed. "I have you now! You are weakened
after your battle with Him! I have caught you in a state of reduced
capacity! You have tired yourselves out! And now, face the
super-brilliant might of..."
   The narrator gasped. "Oh, no! It can't be! Not now! Not..."
   "MOJO JOJO!" Mojo Jojo (from his Robo Jojo) finished, then began
laughing evilly again.
   "Thanks, Mojo," Him said sweetly, "I owe you one." Him shrunk until
he vanished in a puff of flame.
   "Oh, it is _always_ my pleasure, a thing that brings me joy, a
quest that brightens my existence...TO DESTROY THE POWERPUFF GIRLS!
BWAH-HA-HA-HA!" Mojo Jojo laughed maniacally from the central dome of
his Robo Jojo, arms raised in archetypal villainous glee.

"Oh, _shut_up,_" BlossoMorgan snapped. /Roland, they just left after
beating up Him./

   /Good, we're getting close. If we can just get a universe ahead of
them, we should be able to catch them./ The Robo Jojo took another
mighty step, and Roland grimaced.

Roland recognized the gleam in BlossoMorgan's eyes, even at that size.
/I'll be right with you,/ she said with dark glee.

   /Yeah, we have to deal with Mojo Jojo's SoHo nono in the Robo Jojo
first. You can't exactly borrow that body for long./ Roland's body was
sheathed in lightning, and Mojo Jojo noticed him.
   "So! There is another superhero in Townsville! A new player has
entered the game. Another fool has placed himself between Mojo Jojo
and world domination. Well, I will make short work of you, defeat you
completely, humiliate you utterly! For I am the great, the supreme,
the ineffable MOJO JOJO!"
   Roland sighed. "Well, I've got to hand it to you, you've got the
villain rant down to a science."
   Mojo Jojo stopped in mid-gloat, and beamed appreciatively.
"_Really?_ You think so?" He smiled shyly, rubbing one prehensile toe
in the deck of his Robo Jojo. "I work hard to keep my villain ranting
at the highest caliber."
   "Well, you do good work. Uh, good _bad_ work," Roland amended. "But
come _on._ 'Robo Jojo?' Can't you do better than that?"
   Mojo Jojo grimaced. "Two words, fanboy: 'Rowdyruff Boys.' How do
you like _them_ apples, mister?"
   Roland opened his mouth to speak.
   "AARGH!" Buttercup screamed. "Too much banter, not enough
BUTT-KICKING!" She charged right at the Robo Jojo. "I need action!
Adventure!"

"Excitement?" BlossoMorgan asked sweetly.

   Roland facepalmed as the Robo Jojo's metal paw intercepted
Buttercup, slamming her into the ground as a star-shaped crater. The
other two PPGs gasped, got stern expression, and charged in, splitting
up in perfect timing and screaming in at the Robo Jojo on either
side...
   TBC
   (Ain't I a stinker? ;^)
=================================
Subject: Re: AAE 8: From Guardians to Powerpuffs

On Wed, 26 Jun 2002 17:46:14 -0700
Dane Said As CAoL Message # 00010907

>Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00010906
>
>   The narrator gasped. "Oh, no! It can't be! Not now! Not..."
>   "MOJO JOJO!" Mojo Jojo (from his Robo Jojo) finished, then began
>laughing evilly again.
>   "Thanks, Mojo," Him said sweetly, "I owe you one." Him shrunk
>until he vanished in a puff of flame.

As Him vanishes, Aurora fades into view, directly behind Mojo Jojo,
and this time her size is no accident.

>   "Oh, it is _always_ my pleasure, a thing that brings me joy, a
>quest that brightens my existence...TO DESTROY THE POWERPUFF GIRLS!
>BWAH-HA-HA-HA!" Mojo Jojo laughed maniacally from the central dome of
>his Robo Jojo, arms raised in archetypal villainous glee.

Aurora says nothing, she just stands there, rolls her eyes skyward,
and shakes her head.

>   Roland facepalmed as the Robo Jojo's metal paw intercepted
>Buttercup, slamming her into the ground as a star-shaped crater. The
>other two PPGs gasped, got stern expression, and charged in,
>splitting up in perfect timing and screaming in at the Robo Jojo on
>either side...

/*"Mojo Jojo, don't you EVER learn? These three and two two year olds
beat the daylights out of Him, and you expect to do better against
them and the toddlers FATHER, and HIS friends?"*/ Aurora asks as SHE
covers hers eyes. Her stance displaying total incredulity.
=================================
Subject: Re: AAE 8: From Guardians to Powerpuffs

On Wed, 26 Jun 2002 20:18:49 -0700 (PDT)
Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00010908

>Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00010906
>
>   Then a hole opened nearby, announcing melodramatically, "The
>CITY...of TOWNSville!"
>   "That's our cue," Roland sighed, leaping through. Morgan followed
>quickly.

Rob followed a moment later, mumbling something about playing catch-up
and the annoyance thereof.

>The center little girl, dressed in pink with a pink bow in her long
>red hair, looked down at herself, then looked up with mild confusion
>in her enormous pink eyes. "Um..." she said in the high, amazingly
>cute voice of a precocious kindergartner, "I think I'm over here."
>
>   Roland Boggled, eyes bulging to fill half his face.
>^/"MORGAN?!?"/^

/yeep,/ Rob yeeped. [Tooniverse, okay. Being drawn as a square-jawed -
well, square-bodied - person, okay. But Morgan in the body of a child?
Okay, a flying child, but still...]

>   "Yeah, Him's getting up! We gotta kick his butt some more!"
>Buttercup added enthusiastically.
>   "Oh, no, girls, that won't be necessary," Him said in a quavering
>voice as a tooth dropped out. He waved them back with a shaky claw.
>"The five of you were quite enough, I'll just be going now..."
>
>"_Five?_" Roland and BlossoMorgan asked in unison.

[Sounds like we're in the right place.]

>   Him looked at Blossom with a touch of curiosity, then at Roland.
>"YOU!" he roared in his "bad" voice. "YOU are responsible for those
>little --" he cut off, eyes suddenly shifting to the three girls who
>had suddenly taken on grim expressions as they regarded Him coolly.
>He suddenly withdrew, cringing. "Heh heh..."

[Yep, this is -definitely- the right place.]

<snip>
>   "Oh, it is _always_ my pleasure, a thing that brings me joy, a
>quest that brightens my existence...TO DESTROY THE POWERPUFF GIRLS!
>BWAH-HA-HA-HA!" Mojo Jojo laughed maniacally from the central dome of
>his Robo Jojo, arms raised in archetypal villainous glee.

[My, but doesn't the monkey rant. Um, make that the well-armed
monkey.]

>   "AARGH!" Buttercup screamed. "Too much banter, not enough
>BUTT-KICKING!" She charged right at the Robo Jojo. "I need action!
>Adventure!"
>
>"Excitement?" BlossoMorgan asked sweetly.

[Argh.]

>   Roland facepalmed as the Robo Jojo's metal paw intercepted
>Buttercup, slamming her into the ground as a star-shaped crater. The
>other two PPGs gasped, got stern expression, and charged in,
>splitting up in perfect timing and screaming in at the Robo Jojo on
>either side...

"I wish I could help, but first I'd need a giant...robot..." An
interesting look spread across Rob's face. "No way to find out except
to try it." Pulling a device from his pocket, he placed it on his
wrist and activated it. [Looks good...now to try the next step.] Rob
activated the communicator mode, and rapped out, "Time to take it up a
level!"

Deep beneath the Utonium household, a mothballed system activated, and
an alarm went off. The Professor, unfortunately, was out shopping for
groceries, and had left his system monitor in his other lab coat. The
Utonium residence slid to one side, revealing a launch silo, and the
DYnamic NAnotechtonic MOnobot, or DYNAMO, lifted off for the second
time.

Seconds later, it landed behind Rob, who jumped into the cockpit of
what could only be described as a "Powerpuff Girl gone Mecha."
Studying the controls for a moment, he took aim, and fired the
eyebeams, taking a neat chunk out of City Hall. "Um. The weapons are
nice, but the targeting system leaves something to be desired..."

"Girls, -girls-, GIRLS! I thought I made you promise to never, -ever-
use that thing again!" The mayor waved his finger at the Powerpuff
Girls, adding, "It's naughty, not keeping your promises!"

"But Mayor," Bubbles protested, "we aren't using it. We're all out
here."

"What? Uh...just a minute, girls," the Mayor said, then began to point
his finger at each Powerpuff. "Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup...I guess
you're right. Go back to saving the city, then."

[Maybe this wasn't such a good idea...]
=================================
Subject: AAE 8: Collatercrash Girls? ;-)

On Wed, 26 Jun 2002 23:10:46 -0700
Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00010909

>On Wed, 26 Jun 2002 20:18:49 -0700 (PDT)
>Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00010908
>
>>Morgan and Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00010906

<snipo jojo>
>>   Roland facepalmed as the Robo Jojo's metal paw intercepted
>>Buttercup, slamming her into the ground as a star-shaped crater. The
>>other two PPGs gasped, got stern expressions, and charged in,
>>splitting up in perfect timing and screaming in at the Robo Jojo on
>>either side...
>
>"I wish I could help, but first I'd need a giant...robot..." An
>interesting look spread across Rob's face. "No way to find out except
>to try it." Pulling a device from his pocket, he placed it on his
>wrist and activated it. [Looks good...now to try the next step.] Rob
>activated the communicator mode, and rapped out, "Time to take it up
>a level!"

   "Take your time," Roland replied as the Girls created a Robo
sandwich. The Robo Jojo reeled, then fired twin lasers. BlossoMorgan
and Bubbles evaded as Buttercup climbed out of her crater. She threw
Mojo a vicious look and snarled, then flew straight at the Robo's
"head." Roland, meanwhile, braced himself to fly up into the fray,
when...
   "Hold it right there!" another high-pitched girl's voice bellowed.
Unlike the PPGs, though, this one was whiny and obnoxious. Roland
sighed and facepalmed again. When he looked up, there was indeed a
five-year-old girl standing there, dressed much like a Powerpuff Girl
except in gold, and wearing a golden crown almost as big as her
(Powerpuff-style oversized) head.
   "Joy. 'Princess Morbucks.' Look, kid, I don't have time for --"
   Princess slammed into Roland with Powerpuff level speed and
strength to match her features.
   "Hahahahaha!" she laughed, more obnoxious-little-girl than
supervillain, but more embarrassing (to Roland). "I paid Mojo Jojo to
put Powerpuff powers back in me! I'll teach those stupid Powerpuff
Girls to not let _me_ be a Powerpuff Girl! Hahahahaha!"
   "ow." Roland groaned, rising to his feet (slowly).

"Hey! Keep your mitts _off_ him, you little b--" BlossoMorgan began,
then paused. "--boogerbrain!"

   "Make me," Princess said, sticking her tongue out at Blossom.
   As Roland stood, however, his eyes flared with lightning, and a
cage of bright blue energy formed around Princess, who screamed
briefly. "You're having a time-out, kid. M-mm-Blossom, I can handle
this Creampuff Girl. You deal with the _real_ threat."
   "AARGH!" Princess screamed, shattering the cage and slamming into
Roland again. The two made a nice, long divot in one of Townsville's
finest streets...

>Deep beneath the Utonium household, a mothballed system activated,
>and an alarm went off. The Professor, unfortunately, was out shopping
>for groceries, and had left his system monitor in his other lab coat.
>The Utonium residence slid to one side, revealing a launch silo, and
>the DYnamic NAnotechtonic MOnobot, or DYNAMO, lifted off for the
>second time.

   The Professor heard a familiar rumbling in the distance. "Darn.
It's going to be raining when I get outside. It's a good thing I have
my system monitor with me, or I'd be afraid the girls were using the
DyNaMo..."

>Seconds later, it landed behind Rob, who jumped into the cockpit of
>what could only be described as a "Powerpuff Girl gone Mecha."
>Studying the controls for a moment, he took aim, and fired the
>eyebeams, taking a neat chunk out of City Hall. "Um. The weapons are
>nice, but the targeting system leaves something to be desired..."

   Buttercup stopped in the middle of trying to tear the Robo Jojo's
left arm off. "Hey, put that thing away, Bubbles--"
   "But I'm over here!" Bubbles objected.
   Buttercup paused. "Blossom?"

"Not me," BlossoMorgan pointed out, one eye on the Princess/Roland
furball. /?/ she sent, checking to see if it was one of her teammates.
(OOC: Yes, I know, not everyone's on the link. If that comes up
negative, she'll find another way to check.)

   OOC-R: The problem there, of course, being Buttercup's
impulsiveness... <eg>

   "Um..." Buttercup considered this for a moment, then leapt to the
most obvious (albeit incorrect) conclusion...

>"Girls, -girls-, GIRLS! I thought I made you promise to never, -ever-
>use that thing again!" The mayor waved his finger at the Powerpuff
>Girls, adding, "It's naughty, not keeping your promises!"
>
>"But Mayor," Bubbles protested, "we aren't using it. We're all out
>here."
>
>"What? Uh...just a minute, girls," the Mayor said, then began to
>point his finger at each Powerpuff. "Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup...I
>guess you're right. Go back to saving the city, then."

   "Mayor," Ms. Bellum pointed out, "hasn't it occurred to you that if
the Girls aren't using the DyNaMo, then someone else _is?_"
   "Well, of _course_ it has, Ms. Bellum! Um, what were we talking
about?" The Mayor asked.

>[Maybe this wasn't such a good idea...]

   "All right, you Powerpuff bluffer, no one steals from the Utonium
family and gets away with it! EEYAAAAAH!" Buttercup roared, streaking
straight for the DyNaMo...
=================================
Subject: Re: AAE 8: Collateral Damage Girls(?!)

On Thu, 27 Jun 2002 12:04:28 -0700
Martin and/or Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00010910

>On Wed, 26 Jun 2K2 Roland X Said
>
>   "All right, you Powerpuff bluffer, no one steals from the Utonium
>family and gets away with it! EEYAAAAAH!" Buttercup roared, streaking
>straight for the DyNaMo...

... And At the last possible second, Buttercup's attention was pulled
elsewhere as a huge roar -- a mixture of Chewabaca and Gojira --
shattered the air...

On the other side of Townsville, stood a giant, badly drawn,
Toho-style, red, orange and yellow, Godzilla, with the face of Aku
from "Samurai Jack", towers over the buildings.

The kaiju just seems to be looking around itself.

[Not again!] thnks the now several stories tall Mega-Dhyrclhanc.

<OOC><evil cartoon villian voice>Ahahahahaha!</evil cartoon villian
voice></OOC>

 -- Dhyrclhanc the Sentinel-Lensdragon

P.S.: Where's Dexter when you need him?
=================================
Subject: Re: AAE 8: Collateral Damage Girls(?!)

On Fri, 28 Jun 2002 05:00:37 -0700 (PDT)
Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00010912

>Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00010910
>
>>On Wed, 26 Jun 2K2 Roland X Said
>>
>>   Buttercup stopped in the middle of trying to tear the Robo Jojo's
>>left arm off. "Hey, put that thing away, Bubbles--"
>>   "But I'm over here!" Bubbles objected.
>>   Buttercup paused. "Blossom?"
>>
>>"Not me," BlossoMorgan pointed out, one eye on the Princess/Roland
>>furball. /?/ she sent, checking to see if it was one of her
>>teammates. (OOC: Yes, I know, not everyone's on the link. If that
>>comes up negative, she'll find another way to check.)

/me,/ Rob replied, mixing a lot of "whoops," and a bit of panic into
the emotional sideband.

>>   "All right, you Powerpuff bluffer, no one steals from the Utonium
>>family and gets away with it! EEYAAAAAH!" Buttercup roared,
>>streaking straight for the DyNaMo...
>
>... And At the last possible second, Buttercup's attention was pulled
>elsewhere as a huge roar -- a mixture of Chewabaca and Gojira --
>shattered the air...
>
>On the other side of Townsville, stood a giant, badly drawn,
>Toho-style, red, orange and yellow, Godzilla, with the face of Aku
>from "Samurai Jack", towers over the buildings.

[I don't know what that is, but I'll take a distraction,] Rob thought,
as the DyNaMo dodged Buttercup. [Now, do this, and this, and...] A few
flipped switches, and the DyNaMo grabbed Buttercup, tossing her away.
Or towards, depending on your frame of reference.

Inside the DyNaMo, Rob watched carefully. [So far, it seems that
hand-eye coordination works better than the targeting computer.]

"Oh, no," Mojo mumbled, as the toughest of Townsville's defenders flew
for him, at a speed of Mach 2 and climbing...

>The kaiju just seems to be looking around itself.
>
>[Not again!] thinks the now several stories tall Mega-Dhyrclhanc.
>
>P.S.: Where's Dexter when you need him?

(OOC) Please don't say that. The Professor alone produces some
dangerous designs, and Dexter's worse. I don't want to try imagining
what they could do if they worked together... (/OOC)
=================================
Subject: Re: AAE 8: Collateral Damage Girls(?!)

On Sat, 29 Jun 2002 13:22:53 -0700
Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00010913

>On Fri, 28 Jun 2002 05:00:37 -0700 (PDT)
>Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00010912
>
>> Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00010910
>
>/me,/ Rob replied, mixing a lot of "whoops," and a bit of panic into
>the emotional sideband.

   /Oh, great./ "Power-PUUF!" Roland began, interrupted by a
Princess-blow to the gut. Roland briefly went into Near Earth Orbit.
<G>

>>... And At the last possible second, Buttercup's attention was
>>pulled elsewhere as a huge roar -- a mixture of Chewabaca and Gojira
>>-- shattered the air...

   Buttercup came screeching to a halt (yes, in mid-air) and stared at
the monster. "oooOOOooo..."

>>On the other side of Townsville, stood a giant, badly drawn,
>>Toho-style, red, orange and yellow, Godzilla, with the face of Aku
>>from "Samurai Jack", towers over the buildings.

   Bubbles sighed. "Here we go again."

>[I don't know what that is, but I'll take a distraction,] Rob
>thought, as the DyNaMo dodged Buttercup. [Now, do this, and this,
>and...] A few flipped switches, and the DyNaMo grabbed Buttercup,
>tossing her away. Or towards, depending on your frame of reference.

   OOC: Speaking of references, here's one for the episode "Uh Oh
Dynamo:"
   http://www.templelooters.com/powerpuff/PPG13.htm
   Mostly pics, including two of the DyNaMo itself. 8^)

>Inside the DyNaMo, Rob watched carefully. [So far, it seems that
>hand-eye coordination works better than the targeting computer.]
>
>"Oh, no," Mojo mumbled, as the toughest of Townsville's defenders
>flew for him, at a speed of Mach 2 and climbing...

   Buttercup came screeching to a halt again, blazing eyes turned on
the DyNaMo. Then she considered this for a moment, smiled wickedly,
and allowed herself to continue straight on to the Robo Jojo. Said
Robo was slammed across a full block, leaving a nice furrow in the
ground behind him (er, or is that ahead? 8^). "CUR-ses!" Mojo cursed.
   "Now!" Buttercup snarled, looking at the DyNaMo. Then she paused in
thought, turning almost longingly to gaze at the uber-monster on the
outskirts of town.

>>The kaiju just seems to be looking around itself.
>>
>>[Not again!] thinks the now several stories tall Mega-Dhyrclhanc.

   Before anyone could react (hey, this _is_ a 'toon, after all 8^),
Buttercup raced home, zooming back with a tape measure in hand. Well,
technically, it hovered about a millimeter from the end of her arm,
but you get the picture. <g> First, she measured the DyNaMo, and the
tape stopped at "pretty big." Then came the Robo Jojo, which measured
up to "really big." Finally, she measured the Dhyrkaiju, which read as
"freakin' HUGE!"
   Below them, the electronic sign board over the road into Townsville
was blinking between "Monster Attack" and "Expect Delays".
   Buttercup smiled evilly and tossed the tape measure aside. "All
right, tall, dark and gruesome, LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!!!" She
roared impressively enough to match some of the Monster Isle beasties
and charged at Darkzilla.

"BUTTERCUP, WA--" BlossoMorgan sighs, knowing nothing's going to come
between Buttercup and a prime butt-kicking opportunity.

   "Um, Blossom, what should _I_ do?" Bubbles asked, feeling a bit
left out.

"Mojo Jojo's Robo Jojo is still functioning. I think the others might
be friends. So let's go whup some monkey-butt," BlossoMorgan
suggested.

   "Yay!" Bubbles exulted. "Um, but what about Princess and that nice
man in the blue costume?" she said as Roland began re-entry. "Princess
is being _mean_ to him."

"That's Princess," BlossoMorgan agreed. A beat later, she added, "I
think he can hold his own. We can always help him later if he needs
it."

   Roland crashed into the ground, making the usual star-shaped crater
the Girls do when they get slammed.
   Bubbles looked dubious. "Uh, if you say so." Then she glared at
Mojo, who had regained his feet. (Or rather, the Robo Jojo's feet. 8^)
"Let's GET'IM!" And with that, the two remaining PpGs charge at the
Robo Jojo.

>>P.S.: Where's Dexter when you need him?
>
>(OOC) Please don't say that. The Professor alone produces some
>dangerous designs, and Dexter's worse. I don't want to try imagining
>what they could do if they worked together... (/OOC)

   OOC: TOO LATE! BWAH-HA-HA-HA!
   Moments later, a teeny, tiny helicopter descended to just above the
DyNaMo. "Ooo! A Dynamic Nanotechtonic Monobot powered by Chemical X! I
must stuuuudy this, for scIIIIence."
   "Why, aren't you Dexter?" the Professor said, flying into place
with his heli-bubble to hover right beside Dexter's heli-bubble.
   "Gasp!" Dexter gasped. (Yes, he actually _said_ "gasp." 8^)
"You're...you're...PROFESSOR UTOOONIUM!" His eyes got real big, and he
briefly became (almost) "cute." "You are my heeero!"
   The Professor blushed, "Well, gosh, that's very nice of you,
Dexter. Especially considering some of your own applications of
Kirby-Schwartz physics principles..."
   /Someone stop them, before they do more damage than all the
villains put together!/ Roland sent desperately, just before Princess
delicately planted her dainty toes in his stomach. Then she flipped
him over and grabbed his leg in the classic 'toon variant of the
wrestling hold.

various TBCs <g>

(/) Roland
"You've got to be kidding. I'm wet. I'm naked. Your sister is wearing
my clothes. And this is all part of some evil plot...TO RULE THE WORLD
AS A SOGGY CHIMP IN MY BIRTHDAY SUIT?!" --Mojo Jojo, "Los Dos Mojos"
=================================
Subject: Re: AAE 8: From Guardians to Powerpuffs

On Sat, 29 Jun 2002 13:33:45 -0700
Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00010914

   Note: this happens before all heck breaks loose with the DyNaMo and
Darkzilla. 8^)

>On Wed, 26 Jun 2002 17:46:14 -0700
>Dane Said As CAoL Message # 00010907
>
>>Morgan and Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00010906
>>
>>   "Oh, it is _always_ my pleasure, a thing that brings me joy, a
>>quest that brightens my existence...TO DESTROY THE POWERPUFF GIRLS!
>>BWAH-HA-HA-HA!" Mojo Jojo laughed maniacally from the central dome
>> of his Robo Jojo, arms raised in archetypal villainous glee.
>
>Aurora says nothing, she just stands there, rolls her eyes skyward,
>and shakes her head.

   Roland smiled. [Oh, this should be interesting...]

>>   "AARGH!" Buttercup screamed. "Too much banter, not enough
>>BUTT-KICKING!" She charged right at the Robo Jojo. "I need action!
>>Adventure!"
>>
>>"Excitement?" BlossoMorgan asked sweetly.
>>
>>   Roland facepalmed as the Robo Jojo's metal paw intercepted
>>Buttercup, slamming her into the ground as a star-shaped crater. The
>>other two PPGs gasped, got stern expression, and charged in,
>>splitting up in perfect timing and screaming in at the Robo Jojo on
>>either side...
>
>/*"Mojo Jojo, don't you EVER learn? These three and two two year olds
>beat the daylights out of Him, and you expect to do better against
>them and the toddlers FATHER, and HIS friends?"*/ Aurora asks as SHE
>covers hers eyes. Her stance displaying total incredulity.

   Mojo Jojo turns, and is completely...unsurprised? But he _is_
defensive. "HEY! For your information, I have planned this to the
smallest detail! It is a plan that is _brilliant_ in its genius! I
have covered every possibility! The Powerpuff Girls are weakened,
tired, bushed, and worn out from their battle with Him! Those two
_other_ children are gone, and I have empowered an ally with..." Mojo
Jojo coughed. "...um, something. So tell me, HOW can anyone
stop...MOJO JOJO!?! AH-HAHAHAHA -- AIEEE!"
   And that's when the DyNaMo showed up, about to use Buttercup in a
Fastball Special...

(/) Roland
"And I would have kissed his little boo-boo, but then I remembered he
was a bad monkey, so I KICKED IN HIS FACE!" --Bubbles
=================================
Subject: Re: AAE 8: From Guardians to Powerpuffs

On Sat, 29 Jun 2002 16:54:45 -0700
Dane Said As CAoL Message # 00010915

>Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00010914
>
>   Mojo Jojo turns, and is completely...unsurprised? But he _is_
>defensive. "HEY! For your information, I have planned this to the
>smallest detail! It is a plan that is _brilliant_ in its genius! I
>have covered every possibility! The Powerpuff Girls are weakened,
>tired, bushed, and worn out from their battle with Him! Those two
>_other_ children are gone, and I have empowered an ally with..." Mojo
>Jojo coughed. "...um, something. So tell me, HOW can anyone
>stop...MOJO JOJO!?! AH-HAHAHAHA -- AIEEE!"
>   And that's when the DyNaMo showed up, about to use Buttercup in a
>Fastball Special...

/*"OH, I see. You -expected- a band of inter dimensional do-gooders to
be on hand to help them, like this."*/ Aurora replies as she bathes
the PPGs with healing and revitalizing energies. Magnifying their
powers a dozen fold, at least temporarily. /*"And you expected that
-I- would be here to do this."*/ She adds as she reaches out and
lightly taps him into perfect position for:

>Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00010913
>
>Buttercup came screeching to a halt again, blazing eyes turned on the
>DyNaMo. Then she considered this for a moment, smiled wickedly, and
>allowed herself to continue straight on to the Robo Jojo. Said Robo
>was slammed across a full block, leaving a nice furrow in the ground
>behind him (er, or is that ahead? 8^). "CUR-ses!" Mojo cursed.

Seeing that Bubbles and BlossoMorgan are about to teach Mojo Jojo a
new meaning for the word -trash-, Aurora asks, /*"Roland, would you
like a little help?"*/.
=================================
Subject: AAE 8: Princesses of the Universe

On Sat, 29 Jun 2002 18:27:39 -0700
Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00010916

>On Sat, 29 Jun 2002 16:54:45 -0700
>Dane Said As CAoL Message # 00010915
>
>/*"OH, I see. You -expected- a band of inter dimensional do-gooders
>to be on hand to help them, like this."*/ Aurora replies as she
>bathes the PPGs with healing and revitalizing energies. Magnifying
>their powers a dozen fold, at least temporarily.

   Mojo tries to look cool and fails utterly. "Er..."

>>Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00010913
>>
>>Buttercup came screeching to a halt again, blazing eyes turned on
>>the DyNaMo. Then she considered this for a moment, smiled wickedly,
>>and allowed herself to continue straight on to the Robo Jojo. Said
>>Robo was slammed across a full block, leaving a nice furrow in the
>>ground behind him (er, or is that ahead? 8^). "CUR-ses!" Mojo
>>cursed.

   Meanwhile, the charging-like-crazy-at-Darkzilla Buttercup is now
twelve times more powerful than she was, meaning she could now wipe
the floor with the 60s Superman...

>Seeing that Bubbles and BlossoMorgan are about to teach Mojo Jojo a
>new meaning for the word -trash-, Aurora asks, /*"Roland, would you
>like a little help?"*/.

   Roland grimaces. /Nah, I got it./ Suddenly, electric blue clamps
and a couple of I-Beams pin Princess in place.
   "Hey! NO FAIR!" Princess howled as Roland pulled her off his leg
(breaking it in the process, but Roland heals the damage in moments).
   "Sorry, Princess, but you're about to have a Chemical-X-ectomy," he
informed her, forming a needle-sharp field of power next to his hand.
Princess' eyes bulged, and she began to howl.
   Then the Tooniverse, being the Tooniverse, caused the
infinitesimally possible error of a duplicate energy-boost flowing
into Princess. She shattered the already-strained-to-the-limit
restraints Roland had created, imbedding him in the back of the
DyNaMo. "ow."
   Princess stared at her hands, blinked, then smiled with sheer
malice. "YES! Who's NEXT?!" Then she locks on Aurora. "Thanks, lady."
Then, showing her gratitude (and even before _Aurora_ can react), she
slams into the Starspawn, sending them both hurtling into the Moon.
   Roland slowly, painfully, peeled himself out of the DyNaMo. "ow.
ow. ow. ow. ow?" He looked up at the DyNaMo's head. Then down at the
feet. Then all around him. Every weapons port that came out of the
DyNaMo's back (and every inch of the DyNaMo is a weapons port) was
pointing at him. "this is gonna _hurt._"

Meanwhile, BlossoMorgan overshot the Robo Jojo by a couple of miles,
slamming into a building when she tried to make a U-turn. /Darn it,
I'm still getting _used_ to this body! _Warn_ people before you do
something like that!/ She peeled herself off the building and shook
herself off.

   Bubbles, far more used to her powers, merely shot through the Robo
Jojo, leaving a neat Bubbles-shaped hole as she caught up with
BlossoMorgan. "Blossom? Are you okay?" she asked dubiously.

"I'm fine, Bubbles," BlossoMorgan replied. "I just wasn't ready for
that unexpected power boost."

   Bubbles stared. "What power boost?" She turned around to look back
at the Robo Jojo. BlossoMorgan pointed at the nice neat Bubbles-figure
she'd left in the machine. Bubbles gasped. "oh. THAT power boost. I
_thought_ I felt kinda funny, but I thought it was just the Chocolate
Frosted Sugar Bombs Buttercup talked me into having for breakfast..."

   Mojo stared at this for a moment, then smiled. "Uh...see? SEE? I
_told_ you I had planned for everything! This situation is going my
way! Villainy has taken the lead! The battle is moving towards victory
for MOJO JOJO!" And of course, he starts to laugh maniacally.
   That's when the two PPGs came around for another pass...

Morgan  /|\
(/) Roland
Professor: "Use the Dynamo or you're all grounded."
Blossom: "Oh...all right. What harm could it do?"
=================================
Subject: Re: AAE 8: Collateral Damage Girls(?!)

On Sat, 29 Jun 2002 21:06:49 -0700 (PDT)
Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00010917

>On Sat, 29 Jun 2002 13:22:53 -0700
>Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00010913
>
>>On Fri, 28 Jun 2002 05:00:37 -0700 (PDT)
>>Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00010912
>>
>>"Oh, no," Mojo mumbled, as the toughest of Townsville's defenders
>>flew for him, at a speed of Mach 2 and climbing...
>
>   Buttercup came screeching to a halt again, blazing eyes turned on
>the DyNaMo. Then she considered this for a moment, smiled wickedly,
>and allowed herself to continue straight on to the Robo Jojo. Said
>Robo was slammed across a full block, leaving a nice furrow in the
>ground behind him (er, or is that ahead? 8^). "CUR-ses!" Mojo cursed.

The DyNaMo stood on one foot, its opposite arm reaching for the sky.
All in all, the body language screamed "GOOOOOOAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLL!"

>   "Now!" Buttercup snarled, looking at the DyNaMo. Then she paused
>in thought, turning almost longingly to gaze at the uber-monster on
>the outskirts of town.

[Um. I get the feeling that Buttercup's about to demote me from
"chocolate cake" priority to "leftover veggies."]

>   Before anyone could react (hey, this _is_ a 'toon, after all 8^),
>Buttercup raced home, zooming back with a tape measure in hand. Well,
>technically, it hovered about a millimeter from the end of her arm,
>but you get the picture. <g> First, she measured the DyNaMo, and the
>tape stopped at "pretty big." Then came the Robo Jojo, which measured
>up to "really big." Finally, she measured the Dhyrkaiju, which read
>as "freakin' HUGE!"
>   Below them, the electronic sign board over the road into
>Townsville was blinking between "Monster Attack" and "Expect Delays".
>   Buttercup smiled evilly and tossed the tape measure aside. "All
>right, tall, dark and gruesome, LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!!!" She
>roared impressively enough to match some of the Monster Isle beasties
>and charged at Darkzilla.

[Yup,] Rob concluded. [I'm definitely 'leftover veggies.]

>   Moments later, a teeny, tiny helicopter descended to just above
>the DyNaMo. "Ooo! A Dynamic Nanotechtonic Monobot powered by Chemical
>X! I must stuuuudy this, for scIIIIence."
>   "Why, aren't you Dexter?" the Professor said, flying into place
>with his heli-bubble to hover right beside Dexter's heli-bubble.
>   "Gasp!" Dexter gasped. (Yes, he actually _said_ "gasp." 8^)
>"You're...you're...PROFESSOR UTOOONIUM!" His eyes got real big, and
>he briefly became (almost) "cute." "You are my heeero!"
>   The Professor blushed, "Well, gosh, that's very nice of you,
>Dexter. Especially considering some of your own applications of
>Kirby-Schwartz physics principles..."
>   /Someone stop them, before they do more damage than all the
>villains put together!/ Roland sent desperately, just before Princess
>delicately planted her dainty toes in his stomach. Then she flipped
>him over and grabbed his leg in the classic 'toon variant of the
>wrestling hold.

  /I've got Dexter covered,/ Rob replied. Taking a moment to grab a
phone book, he gingerly dropped it into the DyNaMo's cockpit, and
began thumbing through it. "Bingo."
  Picking up the cellular phone that the Professor had thoughtfully
installed, he dialed a number. "Hello? Is this Didi? No, I just wanted
to let your mother know that Dexter is in Townsville, visiting
Professor Utonium, and he probably won't be back for a few hours. Oh,
he couldn't possibly make it home in less than half an hour. You'll
let her know when she comes back from the grocery store? Good. Oh, and
he says to stay out of his lab, Or Else. That's nice. Good-bye."

>Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00010916
>
>   Then the Tooniverse, being the Tooniverse, caused the
>infinitesimally possible error of a duplicate energy-boost flowing
>into Princess. She shattered the already-strained-to-the-limit
>restraints Roland had created, imbedding him in the back of the
>DyNaMo. "ow."

  The cell phone dropped to the floor of the cockpit as red lights
came on inside and the DyNaMo toppled. [What was that?]

* - Gyroscopic Stabilizer Tumbled: Restoration in 2:14
* - Hull Integrity Comprised
* - Foreign Matter Embedded in Hull
* - Automatic Defense Over-Ride Engaged: Firing in 0:05

>   Roland slowly, painfully, peeled himself out of the DyNaMo. "ow.
>ow. ow. ow. ow?" He looked up at the DyNaMo's head. Then down at the
>feet. Then all around him. Every weapons port that came out of the
>DyNaMo's back (and every inch of the DyNaMo is a weapons port) was
>pointing at him. "this is gonna _hurt._"

  [It's targeting Roland!] Frantically, Rob worked the controls,
trying to cut out the over-ride before the DyNaMo fired. Not that he
was worried about Roland getting killed, but the blast radius was
likely to level several city blocks of Townsville, as well as wasting
firepower.

  "Re-assess Target Priority, access code Sugar And Spice! Designate
current target as Friendly!" The targeting computer, not the most
stable thing in the first place, decided to fire half the weapons at
Roland any way. Unfortunately, the other half were split between
DhyrKaiju and Buttercup.

  Then, as if it were giving up in disgust, the targeting computer
shut down.

  [This thing won't be operational for another two minutes, and I
don't have the time.] Popping the canopy hatch, Rob programmed in an
automatic return, then jumped out, closing and locking the DyNaMo
behind him. Four blocks of wreckage surrounded him. "This thing does
have trouble aiming, doesn't it?"

  "Duh, you're not a Powerpuff Girl, but you'll do for now!" A large
chunk of rubble shattered on the DyNaMo's armor as Rob ducked. A
creature that resembled a pink-furred hillbilly was picking up another
bit of debris.

  "Who are you?"

  "I'm Fuzzy Lumpkin, and I'm here ta squash the Powerpuff Girls. But
I'm warmin' up on -you-."

  Rob dodged the debris as the announcer began a voice-over: "Oh, no.
Does this herald the Second Brutish Invasion? Will Him return to
re-unite the Beat-Alls?"

TBC...
=================================