RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Hero Revolution # 9 (Greetings From Sunny La Perdita!)

The MBL Roll Call:

Tobias "T. C." Christopher
Danny "AnimalMan" Hearn
Mick Harrison/Mxy
Larry Lance
Sam "Shift" Dawson
Turkish Stringfellow
Grimm
Dirk Bell
Kristofer "Chance" Schanz

MIA
Edulcore "Eurostar" Cicciotto (believed to be dead.)
Naecken (believed to be dead)
Kristogar Velo (on leave of absence)
Pete "The Chimp" Glover (dead)

Support Staff
Kit Piper (MBL Consulting President and financial advisor)
Shirley Francis (MBL Consulting secretary and Mick's girlfriend)
Dr. Henry Quantos (MBL Consulting scientific advisor)
Lil' Jo (T.C.'s cat)

Dawn. The sleepy island nation of La Perdita.

The apartment complex that serves as the headquarters of MBL Consulting.

Turkish Stringfellow stands at the edge of the roof of the building and looks out over the city as the sun begins to rise. Turkish's robe flaps to and fro lightly in the morning breeze. Occasionally, Turkish's thoughts turn towards the area where he arrived on this island. He felt there was some significance there, but could not say what it was. He continued watching the sunrise.

Mick and Shirley laid next to each other in bed and dreamed similar dreams of a life together. Only in Mick's dreams, some of the colors were wrong and there were a lot more cows. . .

Tobias dreamt of a world that could almost, but not quite keep up with his speed. A comicbook like world filled with superscience where he and his son fought crime side by side faster than light. Lil' Jo was curled up next to his legs.

Danny, perhaps sparked by his time visions in the Castle of Crossed Destinies, dreamt of his life in the year 2083. There were no animal powers, no Hal, and no weird threats to his life. But oddly, his new friends were around to share his life, even those who were missing like Eurostar, Pete, and Naecken.

Kristofer Schanz had gone directly to his room upon returning and had cleaned himself up and sat out his next day's clothes. He couldn't wait to see his beloved Shirley. . .How lucky, he thought, that he had chosen correctly and been returned to his own timeline.

The ghostly Pete Glover snored loudly (for a ghost) lying on top of a pile of garbage cans outside the building.

Larry Lance dreamed of a time-hopping super team that never existed, of his lost love Dinah, and their talking dog Fluffy.

Dirk Bell, an early riser thanks to his upbringing, rummaged through the kitchen in search of something to eat, despite his injuries. His auburn hair, unkempt, wearing only an old T-shirt with the logo "I don't think I'm better than everyone else, I just think I'm better than you." on the front, and a pair of smileyface boxer shorts.

Sam had passed out on the couch, in front of the tv set. His only thoughts right now, awake or asleep, were of Michelle.

Although Grimm did not physically tire, he found that his mind still needed sleep to function properly. And the adventure in the Castle had taken quite a toll. The dream had come again. It was coming more frequently now. A dark, unearthly garden, with plants unknown to mortal man, and the dark mistress of that garden with her skeletal servants. . .a promise of a life unknown on her bright red lips.

The morning paper sat on the front doorstep. The bold headline emblazoned on the front read: PARADE TODAY!! LA PERDITA PSI-UNIT TO BE GUESTS OF HONOR!

[ 09-10-2002, 02:19 AM: Message edited by: TheTimeTrust ]

The morning breeze, although cool, hinted at the tropical heat to come. It's wafting flutter was thick with a salty brine and the chattering of gulls a few miles away. The sun's orangish-yellow glow barely peaking over the dormant giant in the distance; a smoky ring of fog meeting the light at its' hazy peak. Lush scapes of rippling palm tops and waist-high grass met the volcanoe on one side, where the eternal blue of the sea crashed against the ancient ebony ore on the other.

Tensile toes, gripped the tip-edge of the fifteen-story height, snapping gray robes canvassing in the wind. The rough-hewened brownstone of the complex was still warm with yesterday's sun under his feet. The night was always sharply cool, the chill of the sea constantly rolling through moonlit streets. But, as with most tropical climates, it was merely an equaling force against the sweltering heat that accompanied most days. Heat that clung to stone and soil hours after Earth's star had travelled into the horizon.

And Turkish smiled. Opening his arms out wide, he breathed a quiet "Good morning!" to the paradisiac view. Then, casually stepping down from the edge, his feet rolled along the surface of the equally rough stone of the rooftop.

It was large, to say the least. Yet, not enormous. The stairwell housing sat to the far left of the roof, scattered metal vents, and exhaust pipes lining its' top. To the right, a small greenhouse took up the far edge. Having no door, the green-tinted fiberglass shelter sat open, a few dozen types of domestic and exotic plants sat perched under the effervescent glow of a similar fiberglass roof.

Turkish walked to the opposite edge of the roof that he had previously been standing at, and released his outer robe. Folding it with meticulous care, he spread it forth into a spot next to the green house. He studied the makeshift pallet for a moment, then, with a nod of satisfaction, turned and walked back to the edge.

Suprisingly enough, he didn't stop at the edge, this time. Taking a fluid step forward off the roof, he placed the sole of his foot against the side of the building. Then, with an impossibly inverted stance, walked casually down the vertical climb.

Inside, Dirk hobbled from the kitchen, his leg wrapped tightly in a cast. He lazily scratched his ass, his boxers crumpling against his fingers. In his other hand, he clutched a bottle of Mr. Pibb, and an apple. Walking by the bay windows of the lounge, he paused, his eyes catching a shadow play across the gleaming light of the morning sun.

Peering out through the glass, he watched as Turkish walked past, heading towards the ground.

After a brief pause, contemplating how in-stride it was to see a man walking down the side of a fifteen-story building, he simply shrugged and walked towards his room.

The monk's feet stepped lightly onto the soft grass. He walked a few feet towards a litter of trees lining the estate. His feet casually stepped along the surface of the now-crusted mud that had been produced a few days ago. Of course, none clung to his feet for long. Coming to a stop, he slowly bent down, studying a small, tropical flower. Its' blue petals, spread wide, slowly faded to white as the spiral neared the center bud.

Turksh smiled again. And, with a whisper, the soil parted, exposing the clean, fresh roots of the plant.

Back on the roof, Turkish held the flower with care, entering the open greenhouse. The far-off sound of the morning commuter traffic was as muffled as the haze of light within the structure. Turkish found a small, clay pot, filled with dead soil. He studied it for a moment, then, lightly blew against the dirt. The soil itself seemed to inflate a bit. As if taking a breath for the first time. He carefully placed the flower down into the pot, the roots of the plant crawling upon its own accord, writhing into the fresh, newly-rich black soil. Having securely found a hold in the pot, the plant seemed to sway for a moment. The blue of the petals, ever so slowly, suddenly began to deepen in vivid beauty.

Taking the pot in hand, Turkish walked back to his pallet, sitting down upon it in his usual cross-leg posture. Pulling the pot up to eye-level, Stringfellow began to run his fingertip along the front of the dark red holder. And, yet he didn't apply force against it, his finger began to etch a word, carving it into the side.

Satisfied with the work, he sat the pot up on the ledge directly behind-and-to-his-left. He stared at it for a moment, before his lips parted to speak.

"Meditation wouldn't be the same without you...." he softly spoke.

Then, he turned his head back around, closing his eyes for his normal morning trance.

The breeze flittered along the bright blue petals of the exotically beautiful plant, one word lining its pot: Naecken

In the MBL's exercise room on the basement level of their apartment headquarters, Kristofer Schanz did 100 pushups with his right arm before switching to his left for another 100. After this he would use some of the other new exercise equipment to warm up before his daily morning jog and swim.

The repetitive nature of exercises lends itself to boredom, and boredom creates a vacuum which often leads to thought and consideration. Chance was thinking about how strange it had been when the team returned to the apartment building the night before. He shrugged it off as side-effects of the Castle of Crossed Destinies, which was strange like that and liable to leave a lasting mark on all of them.

Even stranger, though, was the state of his apartment when he returned to it. It was a complete mess. The floor was covered with stain spots here and there, not to mention a nasty burn mark in the corner. The small kitchen was devoid of both cutlery and food, except for a few pieces of food which looked months past due (these he threw into a bag without looking at them too closely and tossed them outside with the rest of the trash).

The room which was in the worst state, though, was his bedroom. It looked like nothing more than an old storage room. The bed was completely unkempt with old sheets that appeared to be moth-eaten, and it was covered with trash. Little nicknacks and doo-dads, of the type one might find lying around on the street, seemed to be everywhere. There was a strange little rock collection on the dresser which seemed to be the only thing in the whole apartment in some semblance of order. It took more than two hours that night for Kristofer to gather everything into a few boxes and toss them out with the rest of the trash, and then do some light vacuuming before replacing the soiled sheets from the linen supply closet elsewhere on the first floor. And it took a while to find a good set of clothes to set out and wear the next day -- his closet seemed to have none of the new clothes he had bought after arriving in La Perdita, but only the ones left there by the previous tenant. By the time he got to bed he was all the more exhausted.

That was no excuse for sleeping in the next day, though, and getting a head start. So he went back to his usual routine of morning exercises, a daily ritual for the cleansing of mind and body before getting back to work.

The state of his apartment was strange, though. One possible explanation was that perhaps someone had been playing a practical joke on Chance. Maybe Sam had one of his friends set it up for him. Or perhaps Kit was making an ironic statement about his cleanliness. Who knew? And who cared, anyways? All he could think about at this point was meeting Shirley this afternoon for their daily "love-fest." And he knew it was time to finally tell Mick what was going on between him and Shirley. It just wouldn't be fair to his fellow teammate to keep it secret any longer. It was more than an affair. He and Shirley were in love.

Kristofer stopped his push-ups and took a deep breath, smiling as he thought about her. He reached into his pocket and held out the ring he'd been carrying with him for three weeks now. Perhaps today would be the day he would finally ask her to marry him...

Mick and Shirley's room.

"When are we gonna do it?" Shirley asks.

"Whu...?" Mick says, as the sense of sleepiness he was feeling since he woke up suddenly dissapears, "Again?"

"No, you idiot...!" Shirley says as she throws a pillow at him, "Not that!"

"Do what then?!" Mick asks.

"You know..." Shirley answers.

"Oh..." Mick says, remembering, "That. Dunno. How about now? I think everyone's in the kitchen..."

"Ooookay..." Shirley says, opening the door.

They walk down the stairs and then to the kitchen, where they see... well, pretty much everyone. Before walking into the kitchen, Shirley turns to Mick.

"This will make it official, you know," she says.

"I know," Mick replies, "Lets go"

As they walk into the kitchen, Mick coughs and says "Excuse me, uh, we've got an announcement to make..."

Kristofer Schanz notices Shirley is in the room and tries to make eye contact with her. She doesn't seem to notice him. Is she angry, he wonders? Or maybe she's sad... But what could be the reason for her to be sad? And what is this announcement Mick has to make? Ah. Of course. It's so obvious. Shirley told Mick about she and Kristofer. Now Mick is going to announce they are splitting up. He should have guessed it before. Shirley feels sad for Mick. She's so sensitive.

"Shirley and I..." Mick says, looking around the room and seeing Grimm grabbing a cardboard of milk.

"Well?" Grimm asks, "Spit it out alredy"

"What the hell?!" Mick asks, "What is this guy still doing here?!"

"He's one of us now, Mick..." Kristofer says, "So are Dirk and Turkish"

"Are we really that desperate?! I mean, I got nothing against Turkish... And Dirk seems OK... But this guy's a freakin' biker with his face painted like a skull! I mean, don't you watch movies?! Nothing good ever comes with a biker, especially one with his face painted like a skull!" Mick says, looking at Kristofer, "And who the hell are you??"

Kristofer looks at Shirley and thinks "I can't blame him for hating me"

"He helped us in the fight the other day, Mick," TC says, "I think he deserves our trust..."

"That fight? C'mon, that was a piece of cake, man..." Mick replies.

"Easy for you to say, you were uncouncious the whole time while your boyfriend Mxy did all the job!" Grimm says.

Larry, silent until that moment, starts laughing and falls off his chair.

"Yeah, well--" Mick starts saying.

"WE'RE GETTING MARRIED!" Shirley yells.

Everyone in the room stops talking. They look at Shirley and Mick. Soon, they are all congratulating the couple. Mick and Grimm are shaking hands. "Welcome aboard," Mick says to the biker.

Kristofer Schanz is petrified...

"Thanks, Mick. I'm really happy for you. . ." Grimm said, taking the man's hand while leaning forward and putting his arm around Mick's shoulder. "But, uh, just so you know, it's not paint."

"Wh-what?"

Grimm leaned forward, empty eye sockets "looking" directly into Mick's eyes. Mick stared into the hollow cavities.

"I don't know if the others have noticed yet. Maybe they're just being polite. But, it's not paint. This is my face. Well, anyways, congratulations, pal!"

Grimm punched Mick in the shoulder, friend-like, almost knocking the stunned man to the floor, and walked off out of the kitchen.

Mick just stared off into space.

"Honey?" Shirley asked, walking over and waving her hand in front of Mick's face. "Are you ok?"

Mick continued staring and said "It's not paint. . .It's not paint. . ."

Dirk loved the sound of the breaking of his teeth breaking the skin of the apple as he bit down on it. The fight with Knell had left his with a shattered jaw. But Turkish, in a display that Dirk took as proving the prophet had a little mean streak in him, made the calcium in Dirk's jaw heal faster so that the gunslinger could once again speak freely to any and all who come around him. The leg was still in a cast, which kept him from being able to wander too far from the apartment complex and further proved his point about Turkish.

So Mick and his chick were getting married. Nice, but who cared. It wasn't as important as other things that could be and were happening elsewhere. Dirk concentrated all his time and energy on something that was really important. Since he had first came to the group, the marksman had slowly been moving his belongings up to the abandoned ninth floor. He had filled all the rooms with the things that he had brought with him and a few more items that he brought back after a few excursions into town, before the fight that broke his leg.

Grimm had whispered something into Mick's ear that caused the man's face to turn almost as white as Grimm's. The others crowded around the two to congrantulate them. Dirk sat in the chair with his cast propped up on the table, apple in one hand, and a bullet bouncing between the knuckles on the right hand. His eyes never watched the bullet's progress. They concentrated more on the apple.

That Schanz dude, who just popped in out of nowhere, dropped into a chair next to Dirk with a look like he just had his testicles crushed in a vice. "So," the gunslinger said in between chomps, "who the hell are you, and how in the hell did you get here?"

"Wha..?" Schanz said after finally realizing someone was talking to him.

"You heard me, slappy. Who are you, and how did your ass end up with us?"

"I'm Schanz. Chance. I've been a member of this team since almost the very beginning." The whole situation seemed perplexing to the man. Why was everything so much different than he remembered it, and why was everyone treating him like a stranger?

"I admitt that I don't know every jerk-ass that does or has worked here, but everyone else here doesn't seem to know you either. They may not have said it aloud, but I know it. I have a pretty damn keen eye and can see things most people just overlook. I've seen how everyone reacts to you. You're a stranger in a strange land, bud." Dirk returned to his apple for a few more bites. "Just fair warning: I'm watching you." Standing up from the chair, he speaks as he hobbles away from the table, "If you'll excuse me, I've got to take a wicked shit."

Biggle´s woke up in his sofa with a nasty hangover.
The sun was shining straight at his face, and the pillow was soaked in sweat.

He rose carefully, checking his balance so he wouldn´t fall face first on the dusty floor, which was in desperate need of a vaccuum cleaner.
Magazines and pizza cartons were all over the place.
The flies were fighting over a piece of left over ham sandwich on the table.

A few occult books were thrown into a corner, and his backpack of utilities, had been turned upside down during the night. Probably during his "night-walk" in the dreamtime.

He slowly managed to go to the bathroom where he looked at himself in the mirror and sighed.
A change of pace...a vacation or a real job would be just right.
He laughed to himself.
Imagine him in a office. Staring at a computer allday long. No. This was were he belonged. On the brink of doom. Forever keeping the dark otherdimensional forces out there in check.
Actually being a sorcerer had its benefits.
No early mornings, long lunch breaks and he got to travel a lot.

He took a aspirin and gulped down the water.
Washing his face was torture as his head shook.

The breakfast contained four fried eggs with the sunny side up and some tea.
While sitting there he suddenly missed his friends.
It had been awhile since they had met. 1969 to be exact. The day that Ginger had come to him on a day not unlike this one, and had proposed a mission to the Transylvanian mountains...he should never had said yes.
They were way to old for missions like that...and now here he was...rejuvenated, a new man, with a new mission.

Keep the world safe.

At least he now knew he could ask some people for help if he needed it.
Poor Ginger.

[ 08-12-2002, 01:57 PM: Message edited by: T5 ]

Puerta Mibela, La Perdita
56 Oakwood Avenue
Fifth Floor
Apartment 501

Sam Dawson sat on his couch, shadows covering his face and chest. His head was still throbbing from one of the longest days of his life. Only once before had he been in so much pain. But he would rather not think about that. Opening a medical kit, he took out bandages. Taking off his shirt and dropping it to the ground, his chest was a mixed shade of black and blue. His arms were deeply sliced up, the wounds still somewhat fresh.

Unraveling the ace bandage, Sam tightly wrapped both of his arms up. Leaving just enough room for movement, but not enough to see his injuries. Being able to shape shift is great at blocking injuries from the eye, but his body needs time to really heal just like everyone else. Some injuries, such as broken bones were easier to will back into place. Cuts, bruises, burn marks, these small things were much harder to fix. Better to just let nature take its course. Next, he cleaned and covered his leg wounds.

Holding his head, he moved into the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, he took out a container of Pain Medication. Placing a few pills in his hand, he didn’t even hesitate before throwing them back. Pills, medicine, such things he had to get used to in his normal routine after the incident.

Finally his glance rose to that of the mirror. His blond hair messy and thrown about, the darkness still covering his face. Clicking on the light, his image became clear in the mirror.

His expression cold. Angry. Sam starred into his own eyes, almost as if his reflection was someone else. His line of sight, never strayed, his anger never letting up.

The skin on the right side of his face was red and blistered. The burn scars locked deep within, his appearance unrecognizable. The deformity traveled down his chest and around his lower backside. After a few moments, Sam shifted his body into the only form everyone else knows.

To them it’s his true form.

His true self.

In reality, it is only a mask; against the truth.

Chance had never liked Dirk Bell. He knew that from the moment he first saw him. It wasn't just the guns -- though Chance had always hated guns and he believed that anyone who relied on guns was essentially at heart a coward -- but it was Dirk's attitude and lack of respect for life that really riled Chance. That was why he had spoken against Dirk's being allowed to join the company. Yet here he still was.

The funny thing, though, was that Dirk didn't seem to remember him very clearly, and in fact his little sideways speech at him was, with a few variations, almost word-for-word of what he had said shortly after they had met.

He had no intention of worrying about such a crude killer like Dirk Bell, though, not when his heart seemed like it was being ripped apart by wolves. After so many months of seeing Shirley behind Mick's back and feeling terrible guilt about it while at the same time knowing that they were meant to be together by some unlucky (for Mick) quirk of fate, Chance began to feel like he had had his deserved comeuppance. Fine. Perhaps he had misled himself on how Shirley felt about him. But he still needed answers.

He found Shirley at her desk across the hall from his apartment in the MBL Consulting office near the first floor lobby and, after a minute trying to decide whether or not he should do this or not, he finally walked in and sat down before her desk.

Shirley looked up, smiling at this cute, muscular Swede before her and said politely, "Hi. Uh, can I help you with something?"

"Perhaps," said Chance, a sad smile on his lips as he looked into her eyes. "So how long have you and Mick been planning this? Getting married, I mean?"

"Oh, Mick proposed a few weeks ago. He's not the most romantic guy in the world, but he's always treated me like a princess."

"Huh. I see," said Chance, looking down at his feet. "And do you... do you... truly love him?"

"Of course I do!" Shirley said without hesitation. "I would never have agreed to marry him if I didn't."

Chance smiled at her and saw complete honesty in her eyes. "I believe you, Shirley." After a moment he added as he stood up to leave, "And I wish both of you the best of luck. I'm sure you deserve each other."

"Thank you!" Shirley said, smiling.

He walked out quickly as Shirley said, "Hey, what was your name again--?"

But Kristofer Schanz could no longer hear her.

[ 08-13-2002, 02:58 AM: Message edited by: TheTimeTrust ]

Danny stood outside the door of the toilet, leaning against the wall. He heard a flush. He heard the sound of the tap running.

Well, at least he knew he washed his hands.

The door swung open, and out stepped Dirk.

"Hey."

"Danny. It's all yours," Came the reply. Dirk kept walking, until Danny placed a hand on his chest.

"Somethin' I can help you with there?" Dirk said.

"We have to talk."

"...right..."

"Who are you?"

"Dirk. We've met already. What, you get knocked on the head too?" Dirk said, gesturing towards the bandages wrapped around Danny's midsection.

"That's not what I meant," Danny replied. "Where are you from?"

"Well, my Mummy and my Daddy did a special dance one night-"

"Seriously. We don't have the first clue as to where you're from or what you're doing here, Dirk."

"...right..."

"I'm not saying it has to be right now. I understand if it's... complicated. Hell, I know all about messed up origins. I'm from the fucking future. But sooner or later... you're going to have to spill your guts."

"I know-"

"I really can't be bothered playing interrogator right now. So I'll drop it here. Just remember- the key word around this place is trust. This mysterious origin crap is going to get old pretty soon."

"...yeah."

"It's not that I don't like you. It's just that... in this line of business... we have to know the people we're trusting with our lives. Now, I have to take a piss on one of these ancient fucking toilets. I tell you, you take an automatic flush feature completely for granted until you don't have it anymore..." Danny said, and disappeared into the toilet.

Chance was just walking by, deep in thought, when he saw Danny exit the toilet (or bathroom/washroom, as the Americans say). He put on a half-genuine smile and said: "Hey Danny. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," said Danny, who felt a bit of deja vu suddenly. "Uh, how are you?"

"I'm good. Good. Uh... Adjusting all right to the early 21st century?"

"Look, Chance, or Kristofer, or Schanz, or whatever you wish to be called... get to the point. You want to ask me whether I've noticed anything strange lately, why people are treating you like a stranger, and why things seem slightly different than you're used to. Well? Am I right?"

Chance nodded, feeling slightly vindicated. "So you've noticed it, then, too?"

Danny closed his eyes and shook his head, rubbing the morning drowsiness from his face. "I don't think -- I can't help you, Chance. Talk to Doctor Quantos. He'll be able to straighten you all out. Sorry. I just don't have the patience right now to stand here and try to explain things to you when I have little idea myself of what's happened with you and Pete. Just... just talk to the Doc."

Chance frowned and smiled, nodding at the advice. "Thanks, Daniel."

"It's--"

"Danny. Yes, I remember," said Chance, still smiling that friendly smile though inside he still felt numb. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

"I guess..."

Kit Piper was whistling as he walked through the doors of the office of MBL Consulting.

"Morning, Shirl!" he said, beaming. "How's it goin'?"

"I'm getting married!" Shirley said, holding up the ring on her finger.

"Well, congratulations, girl! I hope that doesn't mean you'll be leaving to settle down anywhere. I don't know where I could find another Girl Friday secretary like you!"

"Oh, Kit..." she said, blushing. "Anyways, Mick and I haven't decided what we'll be doing after we get married yet. But we may decide to stay on here, we don't know yet."

"Just so long as the both of you are happy together, that's all that matters. I haven't had too much luck with my wives myself, but that hasn't stopped me from trying again and again! And if I hadn't gotten married, I'd never have become a dad!"

"Ooh, how did the week with your daughters go?" Shirley asked him excitedly. Everything got her excited lately.

"Shirley, I tell you -- it was just great. Seein' those girls grow up so fast, though, it makes me kinda scared, what with the dangerous world we live in and all. We need more people like your Mick and the other heroes around to straighten this crooked world out a bit." While he was talking to her, he was also sorting out his mail. "Hey, did I get any calls while I was away?"

"Yep. I wrote 'em all down and left an annotated message on your desk."

"That's my girl," Kit said grinning. "How are the guys?"

"They're good. Dirk and Grimm are still waiting to meet you, and there's a new guy. I think his name's 'Chase' or 'Chance' or something." Shirley stopped and frowned in thought for a moment. "Come to think of it, though, I haven't seen nor heard from Pete at all since the guys got back. And he's usually here almost every morning to mess up my office and generally make a nuisance of himself. I wonder where he could be?"

"Oh, you know Pete," said Kit chuckling. "Falls asleep outside by the trash bins once in a while, or down the street with a couple of other bums. But despite his eccentricities, he's a good kid. I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later."

"One other thing, Kit," Shirley said, reaching over for some paperwork. "Larry and Tobias decided to take some vacation time. No word on when they'll be back, though. From what Mick said about what they went through in the last couple of days, I don't blame them for wanting to get away for a while."

"Hmm. Well, that should be fine. We'll always have a spot for them when they come back," said Kit, walking into his office. "Oh, and if Dirk Bell or Grimm show up, send them right in. The same goes for Chance." He continued whistling as he closed his office door and got back to work.

Kit Piper slid behind his desk and took a glance at the calls he'd recieved already this morning. He recognized all of the numbers, save one - someplace called Sandcrawler Security. Kit shook his head and pressed the intercom button that patched him through to Shirley's desk.

"Hey, Shirl..." he asked, "what was the deal with this guy from... Sandcrawler Security?" Kit had to look at the memo again just to make sure that he had the name right.

"He said he might like to make a business proposition with you, Kit," Shirley answered. "Wouldn't say much more to me about it, though. Said he wanted to talk directly to you."

"Alright, thanks, Shirley," Kit said, taking his finger from the intercom button. Once again, he looked down at the memo, studying his contact's name next to the business: Grissom Montag.

"Montag, eh?" Piper mused as he turned to the video phone sitting on his desk. Punching in the number, Kit sighed heavily as an image similar to a TV test image popped up on his screen. "...guy doesn't even have a vid-phone..." Piper muttered.

"Montag," a voice on the other line answered in a thick British cocknied accent.

"Yes... um, hello, Mr. Montag. This is Kit Piper with MBL Consulting..." Kit said, turning his attention to his computer, as he tried to find some information on MBL Consulting.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Piper!" the voice on the other end resounded. "How are you this fine day?"

"I'm well, Mr. Montag," Piper said. "I was told that you called me earlier. With what can I help you?"

"So glad you asked, Kit," Montag said. "So glad you asked.

"Y'see," Montag began, "I'll be in the Puerta Mibela area on vacation a bit later today. Actually, I'm in transit from my base offices in L.A. as we speak."

"Are you... flying?" Piper asked, ceasing his websearch momentarily, a bit of concern in his voice.

"Sure am," Montag answered from the other line. "I own my own jet. One of those new F/A-22 Raptors. Actually, they're not even on the market yet. Hired one of the test pilots to teach me to fly and... well, let's just say I gotta good deal on 'er. She's a beaut, though, I tell you what..."

"Is there a point coming soon, Mr. Montag?" Piper asked, finally finding a link to the Sandcrawler Security homepage.

"Right down to business, eh, Kit?" Montag said. "I like that. Well, as I'm sure your secretary told you, I have a business proposition for you..."

"That being...?" Piper asked, reviewing the contents of Montag's webpage.

"Well, I'd like to supply my services to you," Grissom replied. "Give you the full security set-up from top to bottom. Cameras, lasers, punchcodes, gas-emitters... the whole shebang. Whattaya say?"

"Well..." Piper said, cocking his head. "I must say that it is a very generous offer. However, a man with any bit of business savvy knows that you can't get something for nothing. What's in it for you, I wonder...?"

"So glad you asked," Montag answered. "I'd like to give you guys a job. Y'know, one of those 'missions' you all go on... like mentioned on your website. I'd like to hire you. Y'see, I used to be in the adventurin' business a bit myself, but, well... I'll need a hand on this one..."

"Well, you understand, Mr. Montag, that there are several missions that will already be requiring our full attention at the time of your arrival..." Piper mentioned.

"Of course, Kit, of course!" Grissom answered. "That being the case, I'll stay with the team for however long it takes. Put me on as... security advisor or equipment manager or something like that. May need to fly out to attend to other clients from time to time, but you can go ahead and sign me up."

"Very well, Mr. Montag," Kit said, smiling, satisfied with the offer and with the contents of the Sandcrawler Security website. "Feel free to come in and see me as soon as you get onto the island, and I'll have my secretary send you straight on in."

"Thanks, Kit!" Montag said, obviously pleased with the development. "See you in a few..."

[ 11-24-2002, 12:41 AM: Message edited by: Chewy Walrus ]

Kristofer Schanz went to the communications console in the group's collective "living room" on the second floor and signalled Dr. Quantos. It rang a few times on the other end, but there was no answer. So he left a text message that said, "Would like to videoconference with you, Doc. Contact me ASAP. -Schanz."

Then, since his teammates all seemed estranged from him for some reason, Chance left the building and jogged down to a small, rented hangar near the airport. He took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the bay doors in order to take a look at the beauty before him... the military-grade, Seafighter Class Hovercraft. This had cost him a pretty penny, a huge chunk out of the profits he had already made by investing in that food company which shot up in value after buying those stocks on a lark, but it was completely worth it. The team would no longer have to travel by conventional means. It would have its own air transportation. And here it is...

...or was it? A huge chunk of panic began to rise in Chance's throat as he realized that the 5 million-dollar hovercraft Dr. Quantos had been able to purchase with his money was GONE!!! This was not good. Not good at all. Where had his luck gone lately? So far this day had been a complete disaster! Was Chance the drug beginning to flush out of his system, no longer activating his latent metagene? He hoped not, but the first thing he needed to do was track the hovercraft down. He had, of course, had the foresite to install hidden tracking devices on the hovercraft for just such an occasion as this, but he needed to get back to Dr. Quantos in order to activate them for a full, world-wide search.

A sprint back to the apartment brought him quickly back to the communications console on the 2nd floor. And there, the shocked face of Dr. Quantos stared at him through the screen...

***

A few minutes earlier, and several hundred miles away, in North Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada...

Dr. Henry Quantos was feeling pretty good about life just about now. Although the complete destruction of Malvan-X Incorporated had seemed at first to be the worst possible thing that could happen to him and his career, it actually was a blessing in disguise. For, during the destruction of the Mandelovian headquarters of that international company which he had worked for and helped build up since 1985, he had become acquainted with the group of metas who were collectively known by the less-than-accurate nickname of "the Revolutionaries" and had furthermore secured a job with them due to the great wealth of the little Pete Glover, the luckiest man on Earth. If not for this occurrence, and the computer-enabled ability to work for this team as their scientific consultant while living many miles away in his home city in Canada, he would never have moved into this singles townhouse complex he lived in now, and he would never have met Barbara.

Barbara Townsend was a remarkable woman. A few years younger than him at the age of 55, she was an entrepreneur and business owner, having also raised three children as a single mother after the death of her husband. Her kids were away now, one in law school, another in medical school, and the third a businessman like his mother, and she happened to live just a few doors down from Henry's new place of residence.

They had met while Henry was walking his dog (he was visiting an old friend at the local SPCA one day and made a connection with a young German Shepherd-Collie-Black Labrador mix, and he ended up walking home with that dog the very next day after having gone home and having had the memory of that dog's soulful, friendly eyes at the forefront of his mind all night), and Barbara was walking her Cocker Spaniel. The dogs seemed very interested in each other, and neither of them could move their dog away from the other, so the owners themselves began to talk with each other. It had been a short conversation at first, but it never left Henry's mind. Soon it became almost a ritual for them to "mysteriously cross paths" at certain times; any excuse was good enough for them to talk with each other. Finally, Henry Quantos, a life-long bachelor at the age of 63, worked up the nerve to ask this beautiful red-haired angel named Barbara Townsend out to dinner. She turned him down... however, she told him not to be discouraged, and that she might have a different answer for him if he asked again. And so he did a week later. This time she said yes.

After the two had gone on their first date, Barbara confessed that she had a friend of hers in the RCMP do a background check on Henry Quantos, just to make sure everything was on the up-and-up. She was taking no chances after having been burned by past relationships. This first date led to another, and then to another, and another, and then to the state where they found themselves in now: They were falling in love with each other. Which only goes to show that true love can happen at any age.

Dr. Quantos wore a permanent, satisfied smile on his face ever since meeting Barbara, and as he walked back into his townhouse with his dog, he found that he couldn't stop thinking about her and highly anticipated the next time they would see each other, also hoping that one day soon they could go home together at the end of the day.

"Come on, Mandy, come on, now," Henry said to his dog, who he named "Mandelovia" -- "Mandy" for short. "There's a good girl. Who wants some Kibbles and Bits? Oh yeah, I know you too well, sweetheart." Mandy, a young dog with a lot of energy, was excitedly licking Henry's face and frantically wagging her tail, when he saw out of the corner of his eye a flashing message on his computer screen. He took Mandy over to the kitchen corner and gave her a bowlful of Kibbles and Bits to keep her occupied for a moment, and then he walked back to his screen.

He read the message: "Would like to videoconference with you, Doc. Contact me ASAP. -Schanz."

"Is this somebody's idea of a sick joke?" Quantos said aloud, a sick feeling coming to his stomach as he tried to figure out which of the guys would've done something so tasteless as to give send him a message under the guise of a dead man, a dead old friend of his to whom he had once been mentor. He shook his head at the callousness of it, then began typing out a reply: "Not funny, guys. Very poor taste. - Dr. Q"

Before he could hit SEND, though, he received the flash of an incoming videoconference. Sighing, he clicked a button on the keyboard, and a familiar face lit up the screen.

Dr. Henry Quantos' jaw dropped as he saw who it appeared to be.

***

"Hi, Doc," said Chance, an uneasy smile on his face. "Listen: The hovercraft appears to have either been stolen or taken by one of the guys for a joyride again. Could you run that tracking system for me please?"

Dr. Quantos' face remained stuck in its frozen shocked position. He couldn't find any words to say.

"Uh... Doc? You all right? You look like... you look like you've seen a ghost... heh-heh." Chance smiled as he said this, obviously meaning it as a joke. But it was taken all too seriously by the doctor.

"Ye're not far off, me old son."

Chance almost jumped off his seat at the voice of his little ghost sidekick, Pete. "Oh, it's you. Pete -- PLEASE don't do that to me again. You know how much that riles me."

The ghostly Pete seemed to chuckle for a moment, thinking of all those times the ghostly Kristofer Schanz had scared the pants off of him back when their places were reversed, then said, "Payback's a bitch, innit?"

"Look, I don't have time for this right now, Pete," Chance said, not understanding his meaning. "I'm talking to the Doc, here." He turned back to Dr. Quantos. "Sorry, Doc. I haven't seen the little guy for several hours now, but all of a sudden he decides that now is the time to start hovering around me again."

Dr. Quantos still hadn't said a word. Finally, he forced his cracked voice to say, "K-Kristofer? Is that really you?"

"Doc? Of course it's me. Who else would it be?"

"And... and is Pete there as well?"

"Sure. But as usual I'm the only one who can see him."

"Oh my god," Quantos said under his breath. "Listen, Kristofer -- I'm coming out there. I'm going to find a way to get out there and... well, I'll just get there as soon as I can. Dr. Quantos out."

Chance watched the screen go blank. "Well, that was certainly strange."

"Ye dinna know the half of it!" laughed Pete as he began to disappear again.

Kristofer Schanz was beginning to get fed up. He needed some answers, and he needed them immediately.

Mick rests his arse in the couch in his room, watching TV (he has never been an active person, but since Mxy started using his body, he's tired all the time... Sometimes he wonders if Mxy does acrobacies when he uses the body...). As he flips through TV stations, Mick sighs.

"Fuck me," he says, "I can't believe I miss Larry alredy"

Mick knows there's something he has to do... He's been trying to remember what that was since this morning, with no results. It was something about talking to someone about something...

Suddenly, a random TV commercial, completely unrelatred to what he has to remember, refreshes his memory.

"Oh, yeah..." he says to himself. He closes his eyes and says, "Haven't done this in a while..."

When Mick (difficultly) concentrates, he reaches the someone he has to tell something to...

"Mxy? You there?... Hey, Mi-ckey! 'Sup, yo?... 'Sup yo'? You got a TV in there?... Nah, all the entertainment I got over here in your subcouncious is childhood traumas and stuff... Uh-huh... Speaking of childhood traumas... I remembered something very strange about my childhood the other day... Yeah? What was it?... Oh, don't play dumb... You know what I'm talking about... But I don't have to play dumb! Watcha talkin' bout, Willis?!... Are you SURE you don't have a TV in there?... Possitive... Huh. Anyway, I was saying... The other day, when we were in that weird castle place, I visited the room I used as a kid... Yeah! I found myself in there after you said my name! Hey, you used to like the New Kids On The Block?... W-What?... You had posters of them and stuff... Uh... ANYWAY... I was going through my old stuff, and I saw a drawing of you, my friend... So what?... When I looked at the drawing I remembered that actually making it when I was a kid! That was years before I met you! Something isn't right here, Mxy... That's weird, but I don't... Come on! I know you must know something about this!... Ummm... What if... OK, I've lived in your subcouncious since I came here... And?... What if I got my sense of fashion from your memories?... Well, I guess that is possible... If that's not it, then I don't know what to say, Mick... I'm as confused as you are, buddy... All right... I'm gonna take for word for it... I swear I don't know anything about this, Mickey... OK, OK... Hey, one other thing... Anything, Mickster... Do you do acrobacies when I'm not around?... Whu?... Nevermind. See ya later. Have fun watching my childhood traumas... Bye!"

When Mick returns to the councious part of his mind, Mxy (or the mental image of him) sighs. He makes a TV appear in front of him.

"Heh... That Kramer..."

[ 08-13-2002, 10:08 PM: Message edited by: I'm Not Mister Mxypltk ]

Mick continued flipping through the channels until he saw something that gave him pause. . .

"Oh, hell no!"

It was the parade in honor of the PSI-Unit, and the town had gone all out: ticker tape, confetti, streamers, giant balloons in the shape of famous cartoon characters. . .

"Is that a smurf?" Sam asked, plopping down next to Mick.

"I think so."

"Hey, do you remember that guy who was always chasing the smurfs?"

"Yeah, what was his name? Gargle. . .Gargamel?"

"Yeah, he had a cat, too. What was his cat's name?"

"I don't know."

"Me neither."

Sam saw Danny walking into the room.

"How can you guys watch that primitive receptor set? It gives me headaches just thinking about it."

Sam: "Thanks ever so much for your enlightened wisdom, "Futureboy."

Danny: "What's your problem? You trying to fill in for T. C. or something?"

Sam: "No, I'm sorry, man. I guess I'm just still a little stressed from that fight in the Castle."

Danny: "Yeah, me too."

Mick: "Will you look at this shit?! We do all the work and those guys get all the fucking credit!"

Danny and Sam looked at the screen and saw the La Perdita PSI-Unit being driven down the street in a convertible, waving to the adoring public.

Sam: "Danny?"

Danny: "Yeah?"

Sam: "Do you know the name of Gargamel's cat?"

Danny: "I'm going back to bed."

Grimm walked in passing Danny on his way out.

Sam: "Hey, Grimm!"

Grimm: "Yeah?"

Sam: "Shirley said to tell you Kit's back and ready to see you."

Grimm: "Great, I'll head over to his office now."

And Grimm continued on out of the room.

Mick: "Be careful around Grimm, Sam."

Sam: "Why?"

Mick: "It's not paint."

Grimm walked down the hallway that lead to Kit's office. He heard voices as he approached.

". . .I tell you, Shirley, those burritos are killing me! If I ever eat at that sorry excuse for a Taco Bell again, I'm . . ."

Kit noticed a large shadow covering the room.

". . .gonna. . ." he began to turn around.

He turned and looked up at Grimm. And up. And up. And up.

". . .die."

"Kit, this is Grimm. The boys picked him up during that mission in Uruguay."

"N-Nice to meet you. . ." Kit fell backwards onto the floor having fainted.

"Does he do this with every new applicant?"

"Get him up off the floor, I've got some smelling salts in my purse. " She looks up at Grimm. "I need them for when Mick does his little change. . ."

Dirk walked away from the bathroom after Danny's little "confrontation." Dirk didn't care if Danny didn't like the fact that he was being private or not. He had his reasons and that was that. To Hell with what everyone else thinks.

The gunslinger returned to his room and went back to the business of sorting everything out. Even with a cast on, he still insisted on wearing as much of his gear as he could. The fact that the goblinoids had caught him off guard did not bode well with him.

After an hour or two, someone, Dirk wasn't sure or even cared who, told him that someone named Kit was waiting to meet him. The gunslinger hobbled down to the man's office. The guy looked like he was pretty shaken up by something. Dirk wasn't sure what. Kit began to ramble on about the paper work and so forth with a slight tremble in his voice.

"Wait!" Dirk said in the midst of the spill. "Do we get dental. And health. That's all I want to know." He began to use one of his knives to scratch under his cast. Kit continued on.

"I just need you to sign here," the man said handing a document to the gunslinger with his slightly quaking hand while searching for a pen.

"No prob," Dirk motioned to Kit. "I got one myself." He began to search through the many pockets in his coat. Guns, knives, throwing stars, etc. were deposited on Kit's desk from the pockets in the search for a pen. Out of one pocket came a small grenade. "Can you hold that for me?" he asked while handing it to a Kit who's heart almost stopped. "Don't drop it, now."

The slight quake of Kit's hands began to climb to a 5.5 on the Richter Scale. His face became pale white. Dirk found what he was looking for, signed the document, and tossed it back towards Kit.

"I guess that does it," Dirk said as he limped out the door. As Kit lost control of his bodily functions, Dirk returned to the office, "Oops. Forgot something." The gunslinger snatched the grenade out of the man's hands and left.

After several awkward, quiet moments, Kit pushes the intercom and manages to squeek out a few words to Shirley. "Shirley, if anyone needs me, I'm taking the rest of the day off."

As Grimm headed back to his room, he noticed Kristofer Schanz standing in the hallway looking depressed.

Hey, isn't that. . .? What was his name again? Oh yeah.

"Schanz!" Grimm said, startling the man out of his reverie.

"Huh? Grimm? You know my name?"

"Yeah-"

"You mean you recognize me?"

"Yea-"

"You know who I am?"

"Yes. You're the ghost who tried to possess me in Uruguay, the one who's always hanging around Pete. Where is he anyway?"

Kristofer Schanz' heart sank again.
"No. It's not right. Pete's the ghost, not me."

Mick quickly flipped through the channels.

“The stupid parades on EVERY channel!”

He continued clicking the remote, getting more and more frustrated.

“They even preempted the cartoonies!”

Finally he gave up and threw the remote at the TV.

“Bastards!!!”

Sinking into the couch seat he calmed down and turned towards Sam, only to be met with Grimm’s appearance. Mick’s eyes shot out of his head and he fell backwards, taking the couch over on its side. Sam, now standing, shifted into Mick’s appearance.

“Hey, look at me, I’m scared shitless.” Sam said as Mick laughed and attempted to get to his feet.

“Help me up you ugly bastard!” Mick said joking around.

Mick fell back to the ground. Sam’s expression changed and he shifted back to himself.

Mick finally got to his feet and looked towards where Sam was, only he was gone.

[ 08-15-2002, 10:29 PM: Message edited by: GoozX ]

A young Carib Indian boy named Qinta sat at the foot of the volcano on the west side of La Perdita Island, just looking out at the beach and the endless horizon to the north, where only other islands could be seen stretching away into the distance. The little nook he had discovered one day while out exploring with his older sister Yeta had proven to be a perfect spot for cloud-watching, or indeed any kind of watching.

This day he saw something approach the island from far off in the distance. It flew low over the waters of the Caribbean Sea, but it was not a plane or a helicopter as one might think. No, this was shaped differently. Qinta had never seen anything like it. It almost looked like a brick which hovered just above the waters as it moved at an extremely fast speed. Within minutes he saw it moving in more and more quickly, until he could catch a good glimpse of it as it went around the volcano towards the east side of La Perdita Island and the airport. If Qinta had been more interested in science fiction, he would have guessed what the flying craft was: It was a hovercraft. A highly-advanced flying machine which was, nonetheless, already outdated for the military. Thus it had been sold to the highest bidder.

On board the hovercraft, dubbed the Stormloader, Dr. Henry Quantos sat at the helm next to a very quiet ex-American Army officer. After his alarming conversation with a very much alive Kristofer Schanz, Dr. Quantos quickly gathered a few files and some needed paperwork and had a friend fly him from Vancouver down into Washington state to the Boeing plant just south of Seattle. There Quantos met the ex-Army man who he had been dealing with in order to purchase this hovercraft. He threw in an extra hundred grand for the officer as well as a plane ticket back to Seattle if he would personally pilot it down to La Perdita himself, no questions asked. Thus Dr. Quantos made it to the island in record time. It was the first time he had ever been there, despite the team's residing there for a few months now.

The hovercraft moved in to a small hangar bay near the airport which Dr. Quantos had purchased for MBL Consulting back when the deal first began to be made to buy this transport craft. A homing beacon installed in it helped guide them directly to the spot. All it would take was a few minutes dealing with Customs, and Dr. Quantos would be able to finally see the guys again. All but Pete. Poor, poor Pete.

Henry hired a taxicab at the airport and looked disinterestedly through the windows at the passing slices of Perditan life as it rose up the hill towards 56 Oakwood Avenue. The vehicle stopped, and he got out, passing his fee with a healthy tip to the grateful driver. He had no baggage with him except the briefcase containing his documents.

Quantos walked slowly up the steps of the apartment building, impressed at how all this came about: First Pete's great wealth enabled them to settle anywhere they needed to, and the fortunate chance of meeting Sam Dawson, who just happened to own an apartment building in the West Indies left to him by his family. And the chance occurrence of meeting Kit Piper had provided the team with a sense of purpose. Sure, it was luck, and Pete "the Chimp" Glover probably had a great deal to do with it, but the team had been riding a series of incredible events even before they hooked up with the diminutive Newfoundlander who became their lucky charm.

He opened the doors with a key he brought with him which he had cut long ago at locksmith's back home, and stepped inside, walking directly to the office. He knew exactly where everything is due to his own computers at home tapping into the security cameras and system here, but it was a very different experience to be walking here in a place he had only seen through video before. As he stepped into the office, Shirley was visibly surprised to see him.

"Doc!" she gasped, then smiled at the older man she had known only through video-conferencing. "It's good to see you, Dr. Quantos! But what brings you here?"

"Hello, Shirley," he replied, a subdued smile on his face. "Uh... is Kit around?"

"Kit? No, he took the rest of the afternoon off. Do you want me to call him back?"

"No, that's all right. I may need to use his office later on, though, if that's all right with you."

"Fine by me. And I'm sure Kit wouldn't mind at all, Doc."

"Thanks," he said as he turned on his heels and walked out. "I'll be right back."

Henry knocked on the first floor apartment which had been Pete's but was now presumably occupied by Kristofer Schanz. He was still not prepared to see before him in flesh-and-blood the young man whose death had bothered him so back at the beginning of the year.

The door opened, and a dead man looked at Dr. Quantos right in the eyes and smiled...

[ 08-17-2002, 11:44 PM: Message edited by: TheTimeTrust ]

Minutes earlier...

With Larry away, Sirley busy, and no danger at all, Mick found himself incredibly bored. Everybody else wasn't in the mood to have pointless conversation with Mick, and the new members creeped Mick out (Grimm for obvious reasons, Turkish for being bald, Chance for looking at him in a funny way, and Dirk for being new).
Mick decided to go outside the building. Just after closing the door behind him, he saw a taxicab pull over in front of him. Dr Quantos came out of it.

"Doc! What brings you here?" Mick asked. "Don't tell me... We have to go Back to the Future!"

"Hello, Mick..." Dr Quantos says, sighing, "I really don't have time right now..."

Dr Quantos walks right next to Mick and gets into the building.

"...sorry..." Mick says, after the door slams.

Mick starts wondering on the streets of Puerto Mibela, with no direction at all. Suddenly, he starts hearing noises coming from behind him.

He turns to see what is making the noise. He whispers "Oh, please no..." when he recognizes the Parade...

La Perdita Airport

Grissom Montag had arrived with his jet about an hour ago, but customs around this place were terrible. He'd just gotten finished and decided to take a break before heading over to MBL Consulting. So, he chose to take a walk out into the food court. Walking into a small pub, he took a seat at the bar. A young girl with a nice tan and a Hawaiian shirt behind the bar walked over to him, leaning on the counter. She had a beautiful smile and her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

"What can I get for you?" she asked sweetly, winking at Griss.

"I dunno..." Griss said, smiling and pulling his hat off of his head. "I'm a bit new in town. Any island specials or anything I need to know about?"

"Well," the girl began with a wink, "that all depends on what you're in the mood for..." She smiled at him and winked again.

Griss' smile widened as he talked. "Got anything sweet?" he asked, winking back.

"You wanna sweet island special, huh?" the girl asked, resting her head on her fist. "Well, I could always whip up a strawberry colada..."

"A... what?" Griss asked, arching his eyebrow.

"A strawberry colada," she responded, her smile broadening.

"Never heard of it..."

"Well, it's an island special alright," she said, turning towards her liquor stock. "It'll just take a few minutes..."

Grissom took extreme pleasure in watching her walk away. He smiled a bit - a smile which broke the minute his cell phone started ringing.

"Montag," he answered, rolling his eyes. "Oh, hey, Charley... yeah... yeah... Well, now that you mention it, I'm not really all that sure if they have a maintenence man... I could put in a word for you, sure... you're gonna go ahead and have Burl fly you down in the chopper? ...Hey, Charley, look, I'm not so sure that it can make it from L.A. to... Oh, you're in Ft. Lauterdale? Well, then, by all means, come on down... Burl there, too? ...Oh, he's in Atlanta... Renting a chopper then? ...Alright, Charley, see you tonight... Uh-huh... Bye..."

Grissom laughed a bit as he put his phone in his pocket, as the cute bartender walked up, a coconut half in her hand. "Girlfriend?" she asked, raising her eyebrow. "Wife?"

"Hardly," Montag chuckled. "No, Skynard had me down to a tee... 'Freebird' and all that..."

"So, who was on the phone, then, wise-guy?" she asked playfully.

"Just a co-worker, hon," Grissom said, leaning forward.

"Good," the bartender said, handing him his coconut half. Grissom thanked her and looked at the orangish liquid and raised an eyebrow. A miniature umbrella, a strawberry, and a pineapple ring had been used as garnish.

"A strawberry colada, eh?" he asked.

"It's my own recipe," she said, slipping a folded-up cocktail napkin into his hand. "Don't lose that, now... it's got an important number on it..."

She then turned away, leaving Grissom to his drink. The beverage was, as he'd surmised, a refreshing pina colada/strawberry daquiri blend, which Montag rather enjoyed. She went a bit heavy on the rum, but he wasn't about to complain.

Finishing his drink and slipping the cocktail napkin into his pocket, he walked down the bar to the spot where his bartender was standing and knocked on the counter to get her attention. She turned slowly and smiled brightly when she saw who was trying to talk to her.

"What can I do for you, sir?" she asked. "Drink alright?"

"Oh, it was great," he said smiling back. "Hey, I was wondering what you were doing tonight after your shift..."

"Well, I really didn't have any plans to speak of..." she said, leaning on the counter, her face mere inches from Griss'. "Why? What'd you have in mind?"

"Well, since you asked..." Montag said with a wink and a grin, pulling a pen and slip of paper from his pocket. As he spoke he began to jot down an address. "I'll be staying here looking at a possible business venture for... most of the day. If it falls through - which doesn't much seem likely, by the way - then I'll be moving on. If not, however, then I'll be settling down here for a good stretch of time. Ring the bell, ask for Grissom. Got it?"

She smiled as she took the paper from his fingers.

"Got it," she said, leaning forward and giving the rugged-looking man a passionate kiss. "See you tonight..."

As Grissom walked away, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips. "I think I'm gonna like this place..." he muttered as he walked his way to the taxis parked outside.

[ 08-19-2002, 01:01 AM: Message edited by: Chewy Walrus ]

Danny stepped out of his room, having been entirely unable to get to sleep. He made his way to the elevator, got in, and pressed the button for the ground floor.

He still didn't entirely trust these elevator things. But Danny wasn't in the mood for the stairs... he wasn't exactly at full health.

He placed a hand softly on his side, near his kidney. He winced, and drew it back.

"Fuckin' stab wound..." He said softly.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. There stood Sam.

Sam got on. Danny got off.

"Hey Sam..."

"Thought you were going to bed."

"Couldn't get to sleep..."

"Oh."

Sam pressed the button for the doors to close. Danny turned and yelled "Azrael!" as they did so.

"What?"

"Azrael!"

The doors closed tight.

"Well, that was... awkward..." Danny said, and began to wonder exactly how, when, and who put a bug in Sam's arse. He walked out to the foyer, where Shirley was at her desk and Grimm was just entering the building with a newspaper uner his arm.

"Been to the newsagent then?" Danny asked.

"Yup," Grimm replied, lifting his paper. As if to prove his claim that yes, he had indeed been to the newsagent. You never can tell... kids today, with their crazy newsagent stories...

"Get any weird looks?" Danny said.

"Plenty," Grimm answered, smiling. He walked on into the living area. Danny's gaze followed him out of the room, and he furrowed his brow in thought. Oh, how he furrowed. Much furrow was had on this day.

"What's the matter? Scared of the new guy?" Shirley said, grinning.

"...hm? Oh. Right. Uh... not really. Just... I dunno... unfamiliar. We don't know him at all. Or Dirk. Or Chance. We're only just starting to get used to Turkish. Not that I don't like them, but..."

"You want to get to know them before you're ready to risk your life alongside them."

"Something like that."

"You should talk to them."

"Tried it. With Dirk. He didn't really take to it."

"Grimm may be different. He seems... friendlier than he looks," Shirley said.

"Maybe... but I'll worry about that later. Today, I have a parade to see. This'll be the first time I've ever seen a parade that's on the ground. Should be... interesting," Danny said, and walked out the front door.

The occasional breeze fluttered the neat folds of Turkish's robe as the prophet sat in meditaion on the roof in the afternoon sun. His mind was transfixed on itself, searching for clues and answers that would not come. Gulls cried out to one another in the sky. A cheering crowd and a band marching to a loud and happy tune came from the streets below. But those sounds did not come to Turkish's ears. He only heard the enthralling rythm of his own heart beat and breath creating a symphony to his soul.

*SLAM* The door to the roof swung open and crashed against the wall. Dirk Bell hopped on his good leg up the last couple of steps and out onto the roof. His right hand flips open his Zippo and lights it while his left produces a cigar and brings it to his mouth. A few puffs later, the lighter is returned to its pocket and Dirk looks out to the scenery surrounding the MBL building.

"Nice quaint place you've got here," he said to Turkish, who never moves any part of his body so much as an inch. "A little paint, some pictures, a few throw rugs and you'd have yourself one hell of a bacelor pad."

Dirk propped himself up on the side of the ledge on the west side of the building. "So. How exactly is it that you do all that freaky shit you do?" No reply. "Do you do some incantation?" Nothing. "Pray to a god?" Still nothing. "Roll a d20? Click your heals together three times and make a wish?" And still, the prophet doesn't move.

Dirk hobbled his way back to the doorway. "And people say I'm an inconsiderate bastard." He disappeared down the stairs.

Turkish sat in his meditation. His heart beat regulated to a slow and steady rythm. His breath deep and long. The symphony played on as he felt a shadow of a cloud blocking out the sun pass over his face and the wind build and slide across his body. His mind still searching for the truthes that it was hiding from itself. Playing a child's game of hide-n-seek with itself. A clap of thunder rang out in the distance.

[ 08-18-2002, 12:27 PM: Message edited by: thedoctor ]

Grimm sat in his room, "scanning" the newspaper he'd been forced to go out and buy, after Mick destroyed the copy that the company was subscribed to, intently. He searched the international section. Nothing. Nothing. Still more nothing. Perhaps he would have to get another paper. Perhaps he should chance another trip to the newsagents to try and get an American paper. . .

No, he wasn't quite ready for another round of staring and odd looks from the locals. The looks he got from his "teammates" were bad enough. Maybe he shouldn't have blown off that Danny kid so quickly.

Grimm got up and walked over to the sparse bed. He reached over to his left arm and pressed a small button (hidden unless you knew just where to look) and removed the gauntlet there. He repeated the motion for the other arm.

He laid the heavy iron items on the bed and threw his leather jacket on top of them. He did the same with the chains he wore around his neck. He then sat down and removed his heavy biker boots. He stretched out his toes. "Aaahhh. . ."

Taking a moment to stop at the old oak dresser that the room had been furnished with, he pulled out a black XL t-shirt (with the sleeves cut off) and put it on. He picked up a battered copy of Jack Kerouac's Dharma Bums (he had found it late one night while rummaging through the library)and settled down on the old couch in the far corner of the room, next to the window, to relax and read.

No sooner had he started the first paragraph, when he bolted upright, a searing pain bursting in his head, the word "Vengeance" burning in his mind spelled out in red flames. Grimm fell backward onto the couch, unconscious.

Danny walked around outside trying to find a good position to see the parade from. Not being familiar with this place (or even this era) he wasn't sure how to best situate himself for best viewing. And the streets were already getting crowded.

"Man, that music's loud, and awful. . ."

"Ha-"

Danny bumped into something.

"Hey, watch ou-uhm, hi."

A beautiful local girl was staring back at Danny.

"Hi, are you here to watch the parade?"

"Yeah. I've never seen one before."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm Danny, by the way."

"Hi, Danny, I'm Rachel."

"Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you. You know, Danny, my parents have an apartment with a balcony view. We could watch the parade from there without all these people around."

"Sounds great."

Mick Harrison turned around to see the La Perdita local marching band Chapter 27 walking straight towards him. Mick was paralyzed. The band continued walking towards him, never stopping or slowing down. Mick was pulled into the band and dragged down the street, being prodded and jostled from all sides. Eventually, he was dragged down to the ground and the band was marching on top of him. Mick was in pain, dazed, and could only do one thing. The word fell out of his mouth "Mxy. . ."

"What's up, Doc?" said a smiling Kristofer Schanz as he greeted the man he considered to be one of his greatest influences in his career as a chemist.

"Kristofer... it really is you," Dr. Henry Quantos said as he looked into the man's face and recognized the young man he once knew. "Up until now I was not sure what to believe. But seeing you here in front of me. It's undeniable."

"Look, Dr. Quantos," Chance said, "things have been a little bit strange for me today, so I'm hoping you can shed some light on things for me. Why is everyone -- including you, apparently -- acting like they've either never met me or, in your case, haven't seen me for years? I've been working with the MBL for months now, and I've even become something of an unofficial leader among the guys. I've made friends here -- Shirley, Kristogar, Danny, and all the rest. And you, Doc -- don't you recall all our morning talks? And there's another thing... Pete has been acting really strange lately... and more than his usual brand of homespun quirkiness, I mean."

Henry sighed and sat his briefcase down on the coffee table in front of the living room sofa and sat down. "Perhaps you had better start from the beginning, Kris. Tell me everything. Tell it to me as if... as if I did not know it myself. Uh... and perhaps you'd better put on a pot of coffee. We're going to need it."

"Sure thing, Doc." As Chance walked into the kitchen area of the living room and set up his coffee percolator, Quantos clicked open his briefcase and flipped through the contents as if making sure they were still there and were unchanged, shutting it again after reassuring himself about them. Nothing had changed.

"So where should I begin? When I invented Chance, or earlier?"

"I think I already know a little bit about that and the experiments you conducted to test your newfound powers of luck. Start with when you arrived in Mandelovia..."

"Well, as you know, I came to Mandelovia to seek your help. I wasn't sure what to do with this new formula I invented, and I wanted to use it in a way that would help the world somehow. You were the only man I knew I could trust. I'd attended all your lectures when I was younger, and you'd always answered my letters with such well-reasoned replies."

"What happened when you arrived in Mandelovia?" Dr. Quantos asked him.

"That's when things began to get strange. After arriving safely at the airport, I took a taxicab into Old Mandelovia. It was there that I was accosted by this little homeless man who asked me for spare change. I gave him some, but after I turned my back on him and began walking, I was alarmed to hear the screeching of tires going down that narrow, cobble-stoned street. Well, I had remembered to take a few drops of Chance before and after the plane trip, so I leapt forward immediately in order to do something. I wasn't really thinking, but I was sure that no harm would come to me. There was a mother pushing a baby carriage right there in the middle of the street -- I know it's a cliche, but it's the truth -- I ran over to her and just stood there as the vehicle bore down. I didn't know what else to do.

"Well, luckily enough for all of us, the car spun out of control and crashed just a few feet away into the opening of a narrow alley only about a metre wide. It looked like no one had been hurt, but upon closer inspection that little homeless man was the only one hit. I tried giving him a few drops of Chance in an attempt to save his life somehow, but it was clear that he was already gone. That was Pete Glover, of course.

"I was extremely shaken from this incident, Doc, and I went to my hotel room immediately after giving a full report to the police. I ended up sleeping off the rest of the afternoon and the night, and in the morning I woke up with a bad headache, but I decided to have a shower before going down for breakfast. That's when I first saw the ghost. It scared me out of my wits, Doc. It was certainly not anything I was prepared for. At first I thought that my mind must have snapped. There was no way that spirits or ghosts could exist, I believed then. But there in front of me was the ghost of Pete Glover. I slipped on a bar of soap then, as I hadn't bothered taking any Chance yet that morning, and everything suddenly went black. I don't have any memories of the next few hours, but when I finally came to, I was in the complex at Malvan-X looking up at your face, Doc.

"From what we could reconstruct, and as ludicrous as this sounds it was the only explanation, when I passed out, the ghost of Pete Glover had somehow taken over my body and lived my life for a few days, even going so far as drinking the entire bottle of Chance after mistaking it for alcohol. Thus the powers of luck I had were now internalized. And while Pete was in control of my body I had become much wealthier. Of course, you sent your Chief of Security to retrieve me after I missed our appointment, and it wasn't until I was brought there that I regained control. That was when I first met Daniel Hearn as well, and I helped you save him. But Malvan-X had been cursed by the bad luck Pete's ghost brought it through his fear while possessing my body, and no amount of good luck could save it. The complex was destroyed, along with every other Malvan-X complex across the world, but we were saved by Tobias. I fell in with the guys, and we hired you on as our scientific advisor with all the money I now had."

"And you've been with them ever since," said Dr. Quantos, "eventually leaving Mandelovia for La Perdita, where you met Kit Piper and founded MBL Consulting."

"Of course, Doc. You should know all of this already."

Dr. Quantos sighed once again. "I think I'm going to need some coffee."

"I'll get it for you," said Chance.

"Meanwhile, why don't you tell me what happened on your last mission?"

"Sure," Chance said as he poured a couple of cups of coffee, giving one to the Doctor and taking one for himself. "Well, actually, now that I think about it, I'm not really clear on what happened. I recall our apartment being attacked by one menace after another, until we were transported to this... this Castle of Crossed Destinies, it was called. After that, though, things got strange. We were back at the apartment again, and Pete started acting strangely, like he was supposed to still be alive, and I was the ghost. I soon discovered that we had never in truth left the Castle, and I went to assist my teammates with whatever help I could provide. After that, we left the Castle and came back here. And that's when everyone started acting strangely. Hmm... Do you suppose the Castle might have had something to do with it? Perhaps it scrambled their memories of me in some way?"

"I'm afraid not, Kristofer," said Dr. Quantos, his long face looking suddenly very old and tired. This was taking a lot out of him. "It looks like there was some kind of mix-up at this 'Castle of Crossed Destinies' you speak of, but it wasn't what you think."

"What do you mean, Doc? If you have something you need to tell me, please do so."

"This isn't going to be easy to hear, I'm afraid, Kris."

"I'll be glad to hear any answers you can provide, Doc. Just tell me what's on your mind."

"You're dead, Kristofer."

"Wh-what?"

"Well, no, you're alive, of course, but the Kristofer Schanz of this timeline is most assuredly dead. I'm afraid, Kris, that Pete was right. He was the one who joined the guys and helped found MBL Consulting, not you."

Chance looked into the Doctor's unflinching eyes for several moments, but it was obvious he was serious.

"I-I'm not sure how to take this, Doc. Needless to say, I think you're wrong..."

"Kristofer, I brought documents and photographs with me. A copy of your certificate of death, a photograph of your tombstone, the obituary column in a Mandelovian newspaper from January, and several photographs of Pete and the others."

Chance frowned and rose from his seat, turning away from him. "L-look, you can show me whatever you think is proof that I'm dead, but it doesn't prove anything. Somehow that Castle has screwed with everyone's minds, including yours. Maybe it's even screwed with history. I'm not buying any of this."

"It's the truth, Kris. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. The Castle was responsible, yes, but the only thing it changed was making Pete into a ghost and bringing you into his timeline. Nothing else has been altered, I can assure you."

Chance turned to him and was about to say something, but stopped. He turned angrily to the window with his back to Dr. Quantos and said nothing. The silence hung in the air like a black void for several moments.

"Kris--"

"Doc, please don't..."

"I'll leave you alone then," Dr. Quantos said as he finished his cup of coffee. "And I'll, uh, leave the briefcase as well, in case you want to take a look at it for yourself."

Chance didn't reply as Dr. Quantos stood up and walked over to the door. Quantos turned back and said, "I'll be staying here for a few days, Kris, if you want to talk."

He waited there for a few moments, and just as he began shutting the door, he heard Kristofer Schanz mutter in a strained voice, "Thank-you."

[ 08-19-2002, 05:05 AM: Message edited by: TheTimeTrust ]

Puerta Mibela, La Perdita
56 Oakwood Avenue

The place is right. The door is in front of me. The apartment complex looks anonymous, and the plate next to the door, saying MBL Consulting is rather small. But the island is a paradise, I have to admit. Things have really changed from my time with these guys.

Anyway, I am eagerly anticipating my entrance. We were the best of friend, back at the circus. Nothing like what I have experienced in the EPS. Distrust, coercion, plain hate, there were the norm. With the “Revolutionaries” it was camaraderie, fun and friendship. Finally I am back.

Next to me is Turner. Will he ask to stay here? If he does, I will be the most happy. He has proven to be a great friend, and under his tough bark, a too fun guy. My pet UFO, the mean that has brought us here, is hiding inside the island volcano. We had the time to change clothes and to clean ourselves.

Will my friend recognise me? The figure mirrored in the glass of the door is somehow different from the Edulcore Cicciotto they knew. The endless hours of training at the EPS have build back my body, like I was in those years as a track runner, and how I was NOT in my days as a cook. I have become bald, but not completely, and the hair in the back of my head are long, tied up in a ponytail. In the days of the run away, a beard has grown on my face. I like it, so I haven’t shaved it, I gave it only a little trim. Blue jeans and a black shirt, that’s my usual wardrobe. It was back in my days as a famous man, it was in my days as a cook, it will be forever, I think. My old red costume, that for a time has been my other choice of clothes, is gone. Destroyed, is behind me, like it was the remnant of an old, dead universe. Right now, it would be impractical, to say the least. With long sleeves, it would prevent my feathers to sprout out of my arms. So, from now on, it will be only t-shirts for me.

Eh, I am nervous, you see that! I am about to meet my long lost friends, and all what I am able to think is what I am wearing.

I open the door.

There is a young girl sitting at the reception. The face tells something to me. I bet I have met her before, but where?

“May I help you, sirs?” the girl asks. So much for the entrance.

“This is the MBL, right?” I ask.

“Do you want to talk with Mr Piper?”

Piper? Who the hell is Mr. Piper?

“Uhm, well, I would rather prefer to talk with Kristogar Velo, if it’s possible”.

“Velo? Sorry, but he’s gone.”

“Naecken?”

“Naecken is dead, I am sorry”.

Nae, dead? An immortal composite of demons and angels is dead? This is difficult to accept. “Larry Lance?”

“Gone too!”

“Nowhereman?”

“Gone”

“Tobias Christopher?”

“Gone”

“Danny?”

“Danny is not gone, but it’s out to see the parade”

“Mick, then?”

The girl, at the name, smiles. “He’s out, too. By the way, we are getting married, mister... Mr?”

“Cicciotto. My name is Edulcore Cicciotto”.

The face of the girl becomes white. “They... they say you died...”

“Report of my death were quite premature, I fear.” I lean my hand.

The girl takes it. “Shirley. I am secretary and receptionist”.

“Are you alone, here?”

“No, there are Kit, Turkish, Schanz, Grimm and Quantos...”

Quantos! Thank God, at last one person that I know!

[ 08-20-2002, 07:04 AM: Message edited by: The Eurostar ]

Grissom Montag looked at his watch as the cab he sat in continued at its stand-still position just a few blocks from the island headquarters of MBL Consulting.

"What's taking so long, mate?" Griss asked, leaning forward to talk to the cabbie.

"It's the parade," the cabbie quipped, pulling his cap over his eyes. "They have the road blocks up... it should be going on for most of the day..."

"You're kidding me..." Griss said, hitting the seat with frustration. "What is this? The La Perdita gay pride parade?!"

"Who knows?" the cabbie answered. "All I know is there's s'posed to be some psychic kids appearing..."

"...psychic kids..." Grissom said, more of a statement than a question. "I've heard enough."

Next thing the cabbie knew, he heard the back door slam and his charge walking down the street, past the parade roadblocks. Before he could say anything, he looked down in his lap and saw a folded U.S. fifty laying in his lap.

Without saying a word, the cabbie pulled his cap back over his eyes and fell asleep, waiting out the parade...

“Edulcore! And Mr.Turner! I am glad you made it to La Perdita!”. Doctor Quantos seems very happy to see us. We left his cabin, days ago, without any salute, during his sleep. It was for his own safety, I had fear of some EPS agent could have harmed him, trying to seize us. Luckily, it seems no one of them was ever able to find us.

“Hi Doc. Finally someone I know. I was expecting to find a lot more friend, here.”

“The Parade has brought someone out, and the others has to delve with the scars of the last adventure. It was though, I believe, at last from what I have heard”.

“Pretty good place you got” I say politely, looking at Doc and at the girl, which is still sitting behind her desk. In truth, I don’t like the place. It’s too... modern, to neat. Since the moment we left the EPS, I felt at home only when I was in the wilderness, up in the mountain, rowing on the river, crossing the deserts. This building is only concrete, glass, steel and plastic. But, at last, the island seems a paradise.

“I am sorry I can’t have you meeting Kit Piper, our president and financial advisor, he is gone for the day off. You’ll have to attend a little bit of bureaucracy, just a form to fill. In the meantime, I can show you the building, and you can choose among the spare rooms...” says, friendly, Doc Quantos.

“Well, Doc, that would be extremely nice, but I am sure that this nice lady can do the same later” I say. “I wouldn’t waste your time with such a trivial thing. But if you would help me, I have questions only you can answer”.

Quantos frown a little. “Questions?”

“Yeah. At the EPS, Walker made surgery over my body, and my powers disappeared. Remember, I told you that in the cabin, days ago.”

“Sure, I remember.”

“Well...” I say, and make my feathers sprouting out of the arms.

The eyes of Quantos widens, and a slight, nearly unnoticeable smile appears on his lips. “Quite interesting, son” he whispers, delicately stroking my feathers. “You want to know how you got these?”

“I especially would know why, but I fear only Walker should respond.”

Quantos produces a small syringe. “I need a small sample of your blood...” then he takes a little scissors from one of his pocket, “...and a small piece of one of your little feather...Done!”

Doc leaves, and I turn toward Turner. “At last maybe this mystery would be resolved”. Then the idea that Turner maybe knows something hit my mind “Ehy, only now I notice that I never asked you about these powers! Have you ever heard anything from Walker, before he did this to me?”

“No” he says, laconically. The he understand that I would like a more articulate answer, and continue. “There was the Revolution, there was no time to heard rumours. But I don’t think Walker has given you new powers purposefully. It wouldn’t suit him. He must have performed some genetic recipes on you, and that is an after effect he wasn’t able to anticipate.”

The time Quantos is away seems surprisingly short. “Well, the results cannot be considered definitive. I will need to do more analysis, not only on blood sample, but all over you. In the meantime, I had the composition of your DNA scanned and sent to my computer in Vancouver. The only Malvan X mainframe still surviving. I found out something interesting...”

“Tell me, Doc” I say, sitting on the desk.

“Your DNA has been nearly completely cleaned from your original class Alpha metagene. Almost. Some strands still survive, and they are intimately interlocked from genetic material not human.”

“Alien?” I ask, my eyes wide open.

“No. Only not human. Of a bird. To be correct, of Circaetus gallicus, the short toed eagle. An old world eagle.”

I am speechless.

“You see, the eagle DNA is what is responsible for the feathers. Have you experienced any other effect? Like enhanced vision and hearing, extremely good aim, augmented resilience?”

“All of the above.”

“The remnants of your metagene is what control the density of the feathers, making them appearing and disappearing, and also it’s what decrease the mass of your body, making easier for your wings to sustain you.”

“But why? Why making me an eagle-man? He spoken to me about cancelling my powers, not changing them. This makes no sense.”

“Well, like you said, only Walker could tell. But from the few I know about him, when he was a well know genetist, he is a very fine mind, which follows unexpected roads to arrive to great results. You said your little clone... your son... is in the hand of Walker, right?”

“Right. But why...?”

“I am sure that the wings and the other powers are something he was not really expecting, tough I can’t be sure about it...” while he said that, Turner look at me and raises his eyebrows, like to say, “I told you the same”.

...but making you an eagle man do make sense. He doesn’t want you taking back the kid? Well, the eagle he used to alter you is called in English the short toed eagle. A descriptive name, but rather modest for a bird so big and beautiful. In your language, it’s called biancone, for the complete white underparts. But the name it is used in most of the languages of its range, is much more appropriate. It is the serpent eagle. You see, that raptors specialise in hunting and eating exclusively serpents.”

“You mean...”

“... that there is an innate aversion in serpents for this eagle, and I suspect...”

“...that Walker tried to make me a serpent eagle so that Eddie would feel the same aversion for me?”

“Basically, yes. Machiavellian, for sure.”

I don’t say a word. I don’t have any words. Walker has beaten me even this time.

Like always.

[ 08-23-2002, 10:22 AM: Message edited by: The Eurostar ]

Chance stood by his window in thought. He could no longer deny what Dr. Quantos had told him. Suddenly all the pieces began to be put together in his mind. And it answered so many questions: Why the guys treated him like a newcomer and why Dirk said his little speech. Why his room had been even messier and unkempt than it had been when he first moved in. And why Shirley and Mick were engaged. Kristofer Schanz had died in January...

Part of him felt somewhat relieved as far as Shirley was concerned. She hadn't rejected him at all, because she'd only just met him for the first time this morning! But she and Mick were much closer in this universe, without Chance having ever entered the picture. Well, she was engaged to Mick now; she loved him, and Chance had to honor that. If only it was as easy to dispose of his feelings for her...

Poor Pete! He suddenly realized how he had been treating the little ghost lately, never knowing that Pete had been right all along. This was HIS place on the team Chance had taken. This was HIS apartment, HIS money... Poor, poor Pete. He was dead, a ghost. How unlucky was that?

Outside

Turner had left the apartment complex only minutes after he and Ed had arrived. Ed went off with Henry Quantos, to attempt to find answers to what had happened to him. Turner just couldn’t stay in the Apartment Complex, he felt odd, and very out of place.

Walking hastily down the street, he didn’t notice as he bumped into someone quickly moving in the opposite direction.

“Sorry,” Grissom Montag said in his strong English accent, brushing his hands down his coat, before noticing who he bumped into. Turner did the same.

Both men paused for a moment, thinking that they somehow know this other person before them. Shrugging their shoulders, they both went on their separate ways.

Turner didn’t know where he was going but he needed to clear his head and think. He was here for a job. A job he must finish. A cool breeze passed over his face, the fresh island air intoxicating. Sounds in the distance of pleasure and enjoyment. The sounds getting closer? Turner turned and noticed a sign, ‘Parade Today.’

In the Complex

Sam sat alone in his apartment. The TV was off, as was the radio. He sat on a couch thinking deeply. A bottle dropped from his hand. It landed in an almost silent thud on the wooden floor bellow. After a few moments, Sam got up. Wiping his eye sockets clean and slowly walking towards the door. After exiting, his door remains slightly open the reflections from empty liquor bottles lining his floor.

Sam got into the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor, then the first. Finally, after what seemed like a long wait, the doors clicked open with a beep. Exiting, Sam made his way into the living area.

“Hey!” he yelled toward Shirley, who was across the room. He turned and noticed Dirk exiting the stairwell. A half smile formed on his face, as he walked towards Dirk.

“Hey Bell!” Sam yelled at the man, only feet away. “We gotta talk!”

“What?” Dirk answered in a monotone voice, not caring for any more harassment from his new ‘teammates.’

“You sir, are an asshole.” Sam replied getting in Dirk’s face, his breath-causing Dirk to turn his head the other way.

“How much have you had to drink?” Dirk asked, “It’s only 1 o’clock.”

“That is none of your business. I want you to talk to you about your first day here in MY house. You came in you and threw your bags on me like I was below you or some crap. You are not better than me you egotistical prick.”

“And this is your way to prove that?” Dirk asked, keeping his cool and not letting Sam get to him. Shirley stood but Dirk signed for her to sit back down.

By now, Sam’s finger was pointed at Dirk’s face. Rage in his eyes.

“I should kick your ass. Then maybe you’ll learn to respect others.”

“You could try.”

Sam paused for a moment, before reaching back for a punch. In the split second his arm was back, Dirk pulled a blanket off the near-by couch and whipped it around Sam’s neck pulling him over the couch and onto the ground. Dirk kneeled his one good leg next to Sam’s head and tightened up on the blanket.

“Don’t ever try that again.” Dirk was cold and harsh, before returning to his feet and exiting the room.

Shirley watched as Sam just stayed on his back in deep thought.

"I'm just really not in the mood for this shit today," Dirk said as he exited the room. Sam still laid on the floor, motionless, as if contemplating what had just happened.

The gunslinger exited the complex and made his way down the street. There was a parade somewhere to his left. He took a right. The streets and alleys looked barren. Everyone on this island must have been at the parade.

The walk was hard. Not only was Dirk's leg in a cast, but he refused to use crutches to balance himself. He just took it slow and steady until he hit the beach. There, he found a nice place to sit and lit a cigar. He could hear the rumblings of a thunderstorm off in the distance. Clouds rolled in from the sea. Dirk couldn't help but chuckle at the fact that a stale, old saying was going to find itself useful today. It was most definately going to rain on someone's parade.

As he scanned the beach, he noticed something he hadn't seen in a while. An islander was coming up the shoreline. It was a little boy, to be precise. A load of fish slung over his back as he crossed the sand. "Somebody's got to make the doughnuts," Dirk said to himself when he considered the fact that not all the islanders were well off enough to take a break for a parade.

The boy saw him and gave Dirk an odd look. (After all, he is wearing a trenchcoat in a tropical climate.) The kid waved and smiled. Dirk responded in kind. He had nothing against kids. In fact, he loved kids. They were very close to himself. They didn't beat around the bushes about how they felt about things, and they did what it took to get what they wanted, no matter how difficult it could be. No, Dirk had nothing against children. It's when they grew up and became PC assholes that he had something against them.

The gunslinger watched the waves crash upon the shore as the sound of thunder grew closer.

Shirley sat in the couch to rest for a moment. For a normal day, this had been a crazy one... To think it was only starting.

"I wonder where Mick is..." she said to herself, as she turned on the TV, immediatly getting an answer to her question.

"Excuse, eh... Shirley, right?" asked Edulcore, walking into the room, "Could you tell me where to find Danny or Mick...?"

Edulcore noticed Shirley was staring at the TV screen.

"Ehy, is that the parade they told me about?" he asked "Why are there weird lights and flying cows and...?"

Shirley looked at him, the look on her face saying "DUH".

"Oh," Ed said, "Good old Mxy..."

At that same moment, in the parade, Mxy noticed that the giant cartoon characters floating next to him where actually balloons.

"So unhappy you are with yourselves you have to pretend to be something you're not?!" he asked to the balloons.

He didn't get an answer, but he decided to help them out anyway, giving them lives of their own...

Danny, while unsure of writing this post while he was drunk, sat on a small balcony with a girl named Rachel. They were watching the parade together, and Rachel seemed rather excited by the sight. Danny was mainly curious about the whole thing, and a little put off by the fact that the PSI Unit was getting so much damn attention.

"So, Rachel..."

"Yeah?"

"I didn't catch your last name."

"Johnson. Rachel Johnson."

Danny reflected on the fact that this was the surname of his first love and current ex-girlfriend. Which seems like a great idea now. But of course, right now Danny is drunk.

"And you?" Rachel asked.

"Hearn. Danny Hearn."

"Right..."

"I stole it from the keyboard player from the band Barenaked Ladies."

"...huh?"

"I was listening to a lot of them when I first came up with this character... was the first name that came to mind..."

"I see."

Danny then decide to stop breaking the fourth wall and start writing a proper post.

The parade went on beneath them. Bright lights, loud music, colourful floats, a large crowd. The usual trappings of this sort of event.

"Big crowd down there..." Rachel said.

"Yup. Big... big crowd," Danny said, agreeing.

"I didn't think there was even that many people living on La Perdita."

"A lot of them might be tourists..."

"Maybe. So whereabouts do you live?"

<She wants you Danny! See how she just worked asking you where you live into the conversation?!>

Danny ignored Hal's rantings, and answered the question.

"I live in this old hotel, down that way..." Danny said pointing towards the south of the island.

"But you're not from here originally."

"...huh?"

"The accent. Australian, is it?"

"Yeah, I'm from Australia..."

"Really? Which part?"

"Melbourne. The cold part..."

<She wants you!>

Danny continued to ignore Hal.

"What's it like there?" Rachel asked.

"Pretty cool, I guess. It's a nice place to live," Danny said, somewhat awkwardly. He didn't really know how to answer these sorts of questions about his past. It was, understandably, something he was reluctant to talk about with strangers. 'So, I'm from 8 decades into the future, how 'bout you?' isn't exactly the best conversational ice breaker.

"So what brings you to La Perdita?"

"Uh... work. I work with some people here. Yup. Work."

"Cool."

<She wants you! She wants you! Go for it!>

"OH MY GOD!" Rachel yelled.

"What? What is it?"

"One of the balloons! The Tweety Bird one! It just started... flying around on it's own!"

"Huh?"

"And where the hell did that cow come from?!"

"Mxy..." Danny said under his breath.

"What?"

"Nevermind. Uh... I gotta use your toilet. I'll be back in a minute."

Danny got up, and went to the toilet. Not the most romantic of locales, I'll admit, but Danny was pretty damn nervous about being on what almost seemed like a date.

He unzipped.

<Go for it, Danny! She wants you!>

"Shut up," Danny said, as he took aim.

<Come on. You've barely looked at a girl since we got sent back to this miserable excuse for a year! Have some fun!>

"It's not that simple."

<Of course it is! You've got a hot girl sitting there on the balcony just waiting for you to make a move!>

"Shut up!"

<So you're just going to sit around feeling sorry for yourself for your whole damn life?! Fuck that! You're trapped here! Make the most of it!>

"SHUT UP."

<Fuck you.>

"Shut. The fuck. UP!."

Danny shook, and zipped up. He opened the door.

"Were you talking to someone in there...?" Rachel said. She was standing just outside the toilet door.

<Heh. Busted.>

"Just... a bird. There was a bird on the windowsill..."

"It sounded like you were yelling."

"Well... the bird was looking at me funny. I wasn't going to take that crap from the likes of him..."

"...what?"

"I gotta go."

Danny left. In quite a hurry.

“I show you the complex, Edulcore” offers Shirley.

“Maybe later, thanks” I say, still watching the flying cows in the TV. “Can you tell me which room can I have?” I ask. “Preferably on the top floor. I need… to stay high.”

“Sorry, but the rooftop is for Turkish, and the fourteenth is… not usable right now. The thirteenth is available, but it was used by Sonja, which now is…”

“Is?”

“Well, I am not sure. We tough she died, right in that room, but later Naecken somehow implied… that she was not dead. Like he resurrected her.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me. Can you show me her room?” I ask, by instinct. The memories of the girl which revealed us where Danny was kept captive in Mandelovia suddenly returns, and I must see a picture of her. A suspect is arising in my mind.

The elevator is not, by any means, fast. “Doc has talked about upgrading it” explains Shirley. From what I have seen, this place is an interesting mix of old furniture and high tech marvels, straight from Malvan X. My first reaction to the place was bad, but I am starting to feel that I’m gotta be loving it.

The elevator stops with a “thud”. The door opens, a short corridors with a few doors opening over it, and a window on the end.

“That apartment was Sonja’s. I believe you can take any other.”

“Uhm…OK. But can you show me Sonja’s. I met her only briefly, before my… disappearance. Maybe there is a picture of her…”

Shirley opens the door.

The place is eerie. Dark, a blade of light comes from the nearly closed window. Shirley opens it, and I look around. Not many things.

There are three picture on the wall: one is of that boy that died when we took over the Tri Vex building, one is mine(!) and one is of a girl. They are hand painted, not really perfectly recognizable.

On a table, cosmetics, some books in Russian, a photo. I take it, it’s a group shot on a beach, I suppose it is one of the beach on the island.

Mick, a slightly fat man (that…Kit?), Shirley, Naecken, Tobias, Larry, Danny, a young man I never seen before, Kristogar and a woman, an Asian with blue eyes. I remember her, now, perfectly. I have seen her two times. That day in Mandelovia, when I “die”, and a few days ago, when she helped me (and Turner) to get away from the EPS. Only, then, she called herself Nadia.

I put back the picture, then, in an open drawer, I see another thing. A small circular disc, of which I totally forget the existence.

It was the so-called “future Eurostar” to give it to me, that same fateful day in Mandelovia. “In the day of the fire, the Red will become the Green. In time of need, put it on Naecken’s forehead”, he said. I still remember it, at last I remember when I heard it, if not when I pronounced it.

I don’t believe in Naecken’s death, and this, for me, is a proof of his survival. One day he will return, I am sure.

Now all the loose threads seems tied. I am back where I belong, I am ready for my responsibilities. There is still one thing I have to accomplish, the rescue of my son. But the time for that is near, I am sure.

I took from my pocket a small card. It’s an appointment in Paris, Jackie left it just before disappearing. A young woman, able to teleport. Like Nadia. Like Crasher. Pieces of a puzzle that took place. Someone want my help, and is evidently willing to help me in return.

With a Gaia Unit I could zap inside the EPS, take my son and be back here in no time. Will that work?

Probably not. Walker, by this time, will have changed the location of Eddie, and maybe of the whole EPS. Well, the latter maybe would prove difficult even for him, but maybe his personal offices could have been moved.

Who knows?

There will be time for investigations.

Shirley is looking at me.

“Sorry” I say. “I was deep in though. Ok, I will take the room facing east. Let me put there my sack, and I will come down with you. I want to see the parade”.

Time to see my old friends, and meet the new guys.

[ 08-28-2002, 04:40 AM: Message edited by: The Eurostar ]

Baker street:the end of the Parade rout.

At the end of the line stands a man, or should i say a giant.
he stands heads above the crowd and is wearing black Leaather Pants and a simple black Vest. His skin is a Purplish grey, like the colour of a sedimentary bruse, the crowd dosent seem to notice or care about that. Thay’re waiting for the parade.

The stranger seems to sniff the air.
He begains to turn and Notices something, like he is almost possed.
He seems daised and confuse for a second.
He begains to walk away from the crowd.
He passes a boy in a green sweater and the boys says”are you a Meta Mister?”
The Giant just reply with a grin.

A few blocks down the road in a ware house:
“He is here master he has come the Harbringer is here.”
“Begone with you, bring me a virgian. and Begone”
This would be Claus Von Feznek, or Baron Von Feznek to his followers. this lanky Pale placid excuse for an excestance is all he has left .

“Shraek, Bring me........”

But even before Claus could finish he is interuped by a young women.

“You sent for me Sire?”

“Yes! Yessss. I did indead.”

[ 08-25-2002, 03:51 PM: Message edited by: Blackwulf ]

I am walking down the street, toward the lane crowded by the people looking for the Parade. There are flying cows, flashing lights and screams.

Screams?

The people is running, screaming, trying to leave the course of the Parade.

What’s happening?

I take flight, and wave my wings fast to get above the scene.

The sight is unbelievable.

There is a dozen of giant inflatable Smurfs walking above the crowd, their foot pushing over the people, not harming them only because they are still lighter than air.

The giant Smurfs are running, too, because they are pursued by an event bigger Gargamel, and by his cat.

Why I ever forget about that cat’s name?

Danny stood in the hallway outside Rachel's apartment, having just made an utter fool of himself and feeling the strong- and understandable- urge to get the hell out of there.

<Smooth, Danny. Real smooth.>

"Shut. Up."

<Yup, the women are like putty in your hands...>

"Please. Shut up."

<Beating them off with a stick, you are.>

"I sense no shutting up in your immediate future. Why are you not shutting up?"

<Because giving you a hard time is the only fun I get. But now... we should really see to that parade outside.>

"Ah, crap... Mxy..."

Danny ran for the open window of the building. He divded out, yelling "wings" as he did so.

He soared above the street, looking down at the chaos below.

"Stupid Gargamel... stupid cat..."

<Azrael.>

"I know!"

<So what's the plan, chief?>

"We find Mxy. Make him fix this. Eagle vision, please."

Danny scanned the ground below, and soon found what he was looking for. A figure in a top hat, standing in the middle of the parade, looking up with wonder. Danny swooped down and landed next to his team mate.

"Mxy!"

"He fell from the sky, the boy with wings!"

"Mxy, what the hell is going on here?!"

"Elemental fury! AIR given form! Would you like one?"

"You have to make it stop. It's like the ending to the first Batman movie... except without the Joker gas..."

"You want them filled with Joker gas? I could fill them with Joker gas."

"Please... don't..."

<When did YOU ever see the Batman movie?>

"History in media class. The sixth movie was better, though. Fourth one was shit."

"Talk to your head, Danny. I'll talk to the wind!"

Mxy floated up slowly into the air, following the errant balloons down the street.

"MXY! YOU HAVE TO STOP THIS!"

Mxy floated towards a traffic light.

"Green means go..."

"MXY! PLEASE!"

The traffic light changed.

"Red means stop!"

Mxy stopped. The balloons stopped.

People around them stopped their frenetic running, making sure they were okay and looking around with confusion.

"All done!"

"I saw. Thanks, Mxy. You did good. Can we please go home now...?"

"Not before you hug me!" I exclaim.

Danny and Mxy turn and look up, to see me.

Danny's eyes widens, when he recognise me, while Mxy jumps in air, shutting: "High five, bro!".

Now really I am back. :)

[ 08-26-2002, 07:50 AM: Message edited by: The Eurostar ]

Danny ran to hug Euro, throwing his arms around his long-absent friend.

"Oh my Gob! Edulcore! We thought you were dead!" Danny yelled.

"Turns out that wasn't as true as you'd thought..." Eurostar replied, smiling.

"What happened?! Where were you?!"

"It's... a long story, Danny."

"Then come back to the hotel and share it with us!"

"Plenty of time for that. How about we just go for some lunch..."

"Fine, fine, that's cool. Sam showed me a great pizza place just near here..."

Danny, Eurostar and Mxy went for pizza. The way you do.

"Oh, and Mxy..."

"Continue!"

"If we're going to a crowded restaurant, it might be best if you say 'Mick' right about now..."

"Why would it might be best if I say Mick- Oh my Gob! It's Eurostar!"