From: cluther@morticia.cnns.unt.edu (Clay Luther)
Subject: Get This in LA, Part 3
Organization: University of North Texas
Date: Fri, 31 Jul 1992 17:19:15 GMT


The Deadliest Game of All, Part 3
An Adventure Synopsis in Tharkold Los Angelos (and other places)
 
Buffy and Mikki make it back after a rough night out on the town.
Dakota and Zenon make a forgery.  Hiroshi worries about his neck.
 
Dramatis Personel
-----------------
Dakota, Rauru Block agent and expert at Ninjitsu
Zenon, Ex-Yakuza enforcer and associate of Dakota's
Hiroshi, ex-MarSec grunt and Marketplace rebel
Buffy, Debuttante and latent nymphomaniac
Dr. Jack, inquisitive professor, all-around bad-shot, and Buffy's boy
Mikki, Techwiz, associate of Dr. Jack's
Francois, French street-punk-turned-world-freedom-fighter
 
Act III
-------
Tired and scared (scarred?), the Heroes regroup.
 
Scene I - Hell hath no fury...
------------------------------
 
It is sometime after midnight.  Buffy and Mikki ditch the body truck
off the Santa Monica freeway and begin the long trek back to down-
town LA.  Hiroshi, Jack, and Francois, having scoped out the 
security measures at Cosmicland (and riding Starforce Proxima), take
the bus back to LA.  The bus passes Buffy and Mikki trudging along
I-5.  It starts to rain...hard.  Mikki has no pants.  Buffy ties
her now ragged and bloody sport blazer around his waist.
 
"I zink zat I jist saw Mikki by ze side ov ze road!" comments
Francois lazily looking out the window.  "I deed!  I deed see
him.  See, zat ees Buffy, I know zat figure anywhere."
 
Hiroshi pulls the stop-cord on the bus and opens the window, yelling
for Mikki and Buffy to climb aboard.
 
"That'll be one dollar, please."
 
"Pay ze fellow, Hiroshi"
 
Hiroshi does.  Buffy slouches into the seat next to him.  Mikki sits
near the window and gibbers a bit.
 
"What's wrong with him?" asks Hiroshi.
 
"We've had a bad night."
 
The bus arrives in LA.  It is late. It is raining.  Greasy black rain
that doesn't so much pour from the sky as it oozes.  The gutters
gurgle like a chorus of choking cats.  The Heroes decide not to
return to Sheraton immediately, but instead walk to a seedy, but
brightly lit, Denny's a few blocks away.
 
The waitress dresses in green pastel, leather stockings, white 
reeboks, and has a two-foot orange beehive.  She smacks gum.
 
"I cannot go back to the Sheraton." says Hiroshi, "I cannot take the
risk that I will be seen there."
 
Mikki concurs.  "Aliens....aliens....aliens at the Sheraton...glub
glub gibber pth."  Buffy gives Mikki his orange juice.
 
The TV blares out, "...should be closed until about 5 this morning
until the police have finished securing the toxic laundry.  Late
breaking news regarding the mysterious Sheraton disappearances.  
The police believe they have a witness who can identify the man
suspected of killing at least two people last night.  Possibly
a dozen mysterious disappearances can be attributed to what some
people are calling the "Sheraton Maniac."  Consuella Venezula, a
maid at the Sheraton, says she was held at gunpoint by a madman.  
The man forced the women to wrap herself in a sheet and lie down in
a blood-soaked bathtub.
 
"Oh!  He was a maniac, si, I tell you, maniac.  He was crazy crazy!
He make me lie down in that bloody tub in a sheet.  He was gone 
shoot me, I think.  He den gone screamin' all crazy downstairs.  He
gone left me in dat tub.  I never forget his face."
 
Police have generated this computer rendering of the suspect..."
 
All eyes turn towards Mikki.
 
"Is there something you're not telling us, dear?" queries Buffy.
 
"Glub glub pth lllp."
 
"We haf ze probleem!  We haf ze probleem!" mumbles Francois.
 
Where to go now?
 
The Raddisson.  It's nearby, and a step up from the Sheraton.  They
agree.  Buffy and Hiroshi will get a suite, top-drawer, safe, with
cash.  No cards, no real names, no trail.
 
"May I help you?" asks the Desk Clerk.
 
"A suite please."
 
"I'm sorry miss.  We have no suites available."
 
"Are you sure?" asks Hiroshi.  The rolled up $100 bill slides across
the counter.
 
"Oh my, well, it seems I overlooked the bridal suite.  Is that 
satisfactory?"
 
"Any problems with the *pipes*?" asks Hiroshi.
 
"No sir, none at all."
 
"It will do just fine then."
 
The suite is nice.  The bellboy is eager.  Hiroshi sneaks Mikki into
the room.  Francois and Jack go back to the Sheraton to get any
stuff left behind and easy to get.  Buffy calls Dakota and Zenon at
Serge's Art Studio, telling them where they are.
 
Serge finishes copying the statue.  "Fine quality, plasplaster, 
almost as good as the original.  A little lighter...."
 
"It will do fine, honorable artist, sir.  Here is your payment."
 
Armed with the original hideous idol and their new copy, Dakota and
Zenon leave and make for the Radisson.
 
Scene II - You Gotta Have Friends in Hell
-----------------------------------------
 
Francois and Jack arrive in the Sheraton and go up to Buffy's room
first.  But since it is where Mikki "accosted" the maid, it is
roped off.  Unfortnuate.  They continue up to Hiroshi's room.  It is
dark, so they flip on the lights.
 
"Please, please, I have been waiting patiently.  Please come in and
sit down." says the business-like euroasian man sitting at the 
room's small table.  The overhead lamp casts a yellowish light 
across his chin and left check, the rest of face shaded by the
narrow-brim fashionable hat he wears.  Behind and to his left, a
larger man stands, business suit, arms folded.   Raincoat draped
casually over one arm.
 
The sitting man rubs his cigarette butt in the ashtray.  There are
seven or so butts there already.
 
"I'm sorry?" asks Francois, "What are you doing here?"  Francois
tries his best to cover his accent.
 
"I am an associate of Mr. Kazama.  I have something to give him."
The man speaks softly, slowly, deliberately, and lingers on his
esses.
 
"What is that?"
 
"Oh, I am sorry.  It is rather private between Mr. Kazama and
myself.  You wouldn't happen to know where Mr. Kazama is right now,
would you?"
 
"Oh no, not at all.  I haven't seen him in a very long time." quips
Francois.
 
"Really, sir, do not insult me.  I think you know exactly where our
mutual friend is."
 
"I do not.  I do not know where he is."
 
"This is very important.  Mr. Kazama would really prefer you to
tell me where he is, I am sure.  I think he would be most
disappointed if he did not receive my....gift.  And, I believe I can
make it worth your trouble."  A smile.
 
Francois leans forward.  One steel talon flicks out from his wrist.
"I told you, *sir*, I do not know where he is.  You will now leave."
 
The man flinches, but only for a instant.  Shaking his head slowly,
he hisses.
 
"Tsk tsk.  That is not very hospitable, or smart, young man.  You 
will kindly back *away*."  He is firm.  Francois' commitment wavers
a bit.  The large man with the coat shifts.  Francois retracts.
 
The man stands.  "When you do see Mr. Kazama again, you will tell
him I need to talk to him urgently.  He is my card."
 
                     Tetsuo Shugo
					   937-4244
 
937-4244, thinks Francois, WER-ICHI.
 
"If I happen to see him, Mr.....Shugo, I will be sure to deliver the
message."
 
"For both your sakes, my friend, I hope so."  That damn smile again.
Shugo stands, a quiet snap of his finger, the large man helps him
into the raincoat.  Shugo leaves, the large man turns and walks out
backwards to the door, then bows slightly, and leaves.
 
The balcony door slides shut.
 
Francois leaps, opens the door and runs out onto the balcony.  No 
one is there.  Look up, look down, look all around.  There, in the
conrete railing, carbon steel hook imbedded.  Thin black wire leading
out and down.  Francois produces a claw.  "Let's cut this little
trip in half..."  Then, a pop like a spring, the wire releases and
vanishes, leaving only the tiny hook.
 
"Damn.  I hate ninja."  He turns to Jack.  "Get everything.  Let's
go."
 
The go the car garage to get the Surburban, Zenon's pride and joy.
 
"Jack, you drive."
 
The suburban doesn't start.  It coughs.  It sputters.  Finally, it
starts.  Jack revs it.  He accelerates slowly out of the parking
spot.  Engine revs, car doesn't move.  It's in gear.  Then, like a
rubberband cut, the suburban's wheel shriek against the pavement,
the car lurches forward, Jack slams on the breaks.
 
"Damn!"
 
They get out, looking for signs of damage, rope, chains, slime.
Nothing.  Shrug.  "Let's go."
 
Scene III - Urban Hell
----------------------
By hook or by crook, Our Heroes finally rejoin in the Radisson
bridal suite and have a rest for once.  Hiroshi, true to his nature
wakes everyone up by noon.  Francois tells Hiroshi about the visit
from Mr. Shugo and gives him the business card.  Hiroshi decides he
should return the phonecall, but later this afternoon.
 
Mikki needs to stay low.  Hiroshi doesn't want to be seen in public
either, for a bit.  Buffy needs new clothes.  After all, all her
stuff is "police evidence."
 
"Time to shop!" comments Buffy, happily.
 
Zenon, Buffy and Francois take a trip to the mall.  The list is made.
New clothes, wire cutters, bolt cutters, maybe some new guns, if 
the opprotunity presents itself.  They take off for the Mall, and,
most importantly, Saks.
 
Hiroshi wanders down to the street and looks for a payphone some
blocks away from the Radisson.  He dials Mr. Shugo's number and gets
answered.
 
"Ichi Entertainment.  How may I direct your call?"
 
"I'd like to speak to Mr. Shugo, please."
 
(Pause) "I'm sorry, Mr. Shugo is in a meeting.  May I take a
message?"
 
"Yes, please tell him that Mr. Kazama called."
 
"Oh, Mr. Kazama, will you hold please?"
 
"Of course."
 
At which time the line switches to hold and some obnoxious elevator
music.  After waiting about a minute, Hiroshi hangs up the phone.
He quickly moves towards the Mall, and once there, purchases a
mobile phone.  He dials Shugo again.
 
"Please tell Mr. Shugo that Hiroshi Kazama would like to talk to
him."
 
"Oh, Mr. Kazama, we seem to have gotten disconnected last time.  I'm
sorry.  I will tell Mr. Shugo that you are waiting for him.  Please
hold."
 
"That's fine."  Hiroshi begins to wander about the city streets while
on hold.  More annoying elevator music.
 
The line clicks.
 
"Ahhhh, Hiroshi, I am so glad you called me." purrs Shugo.
 
"State your business."
 
"To the point, most American, Hiroshi.  You have spent to much time
in the States, I think.  I would like to bring you Home."
 
Home.  The way he said that, he didn't mean Japan, though Hiroshi, he means our
true Home.
 
"You left Home in such a hurry.  Many people were disappointed, many
people were very sad.  You were an valuable man, Hiroshi.  Valuable
to Home and, of course, need I say, MarSec?"
 
Hiroshi coughs.  "I no longer work for MarSec.  I quit."
 
"Yes, indeed, quit you did, yes, indeed.  But, MarSec is still
interested in you, Hiroshi.  They have asked me to deliver your
mustering-out benefits.  You failed to muster out, you know."
 
"You can keep your 'benefits.'"
 
"Now, now, Hiroshi.  That's no way to talk.  We only have your
safety in mind.  We just want to give you what is justly yours.  We
want to make sure you get everything you've earned, my friend, 
everything that you deserve.  Not to mention, we have one or two
questions..."
 
"Which are?"
 
"Why did you resign?  Who's side are you on?  Things like that."
 
"I am not a number." mumbles Hiroshi.
 
Shugo laughs.  "Indeed." he replies, with dripping indignation.
"You kid yourself.  Where are you, 65221?  Where are you?  Don't
make me have to find you again.  Tell me.  I'll find you anyway."
 
Hiroshi flips the power switch off on the phone.
 
"Hey kid!" he yells at a group of young boys.
 
"Yeah, mister?"
 
"Have a phone."  he says as he tosses the mobile phone to the kids.
 
"Hey...THANKS!"
 
"Don't mention it..." he mumbles, turning his back to them, hitching
his collar high, and walking slowly back to the hotel with the black
rain pattering like a million angry insects against his coat.  He
was a dead man.  A number.
 
Buffy, Francois, and Zenon arrive at the Mall and immediately head
to Saks.  Buffy purchases a slick black lycra jumpsuit, boots, and
leather jacket.  Francois decides to have a "punk makeover," in
purple.  He comes out looking like a cross between Alex of Clockwork
Orange, Prince, and Sid Nasty.  Complete with flourescent purple
leather jacket and pants, purple tower-spiked hair, jingly chains,
and nose-to-ear pain-chain.
 
The trio leaves the Mall and finds a gunshow.  Gratuitous gun and
ammo purchases occur (mainly to replace items lost in the
Sheraton).
 
Scene IV - Hell Park
--------------------
 
It is early evening.  Tonight is the night they must bury the statue
as they agreed (they could have buried it last night, as well).  The
Heroes decide to split up.  Buffy, Francois, Mikki, and Jack will
buy tickets and hang around the park, hiding in an agreed place 
after the park closes.  Zenon, Dakota, and Hiroshi will take the
suburban (with the heavy equipment) and cut their way into the park
after it closes.  They plan to rendevous in the park and then enter
Ardinay's Castle.
 
Zenon, Dakota and Hiroshi are in the suburban.
 
"This is strange." comments Zenon, noticing the gas is low.  "We are
almost out of gas."  He pulls over at the nearest gas station and
stops.  He gets out and goes around to the gas door and unlocks it.
The gas cap is off, though the cover door is closed.  Some kids must
have siphoned our gas off, thinks Zenon.
 
He starts pumping gas into the tank.  It fills up with 10 gallons,
then stops.  
 
Most strange, thinks Zenon, this is a 40 gallon tank and it was
almost empty.
 
Nevertheless, he has a schedule to keep.  He pays for the gas and
gets back on the highway.  No more than 10 minutes go by when the
gas guage drops suddenly, from full to half a tank.  Zenon stops at
a run-down gas station.
 
"What is wrong?" inquires Hiroshi.
 
"The gas.  I think there is something wrong.  I think, perhaps, 
there is something in our tank." replies Zenon.
 
Dakota and Hiroshi quickly get out of the suburban.
 
"Like what?" asks Hiroshi.
 
"I do not know...perhaps a *monsta*." says Zenon, half-joking.
 
"Urrrgh."  Hiroshi pulls his gun and points it at the gas tank.
 
"That will not help, Hiroshi." comments Dakota, cooly.
 
"Put that gun away!" barks Zenon.  "We will find a better way."
 
Zenon goes into the gas station and buys several two gallon cans
and a siphon.  Hiroshi hooks the siphon up to the handy Black &
Decker power drill they have and begins siphoning out gas.  They
fill up a few cans.
 
"If only we could see in there." says Zenon.
 
"Ah!  But we can!"  Hiroshi pulls off his ring.  "Something I got
from MarSec."
 
Dakota takes the ring from Hiroshi.  "Ahhh, very good.  A Nikota-
Samsuishta Mark II camcorder, ring version.  Fair to medium quality
pictures, poor sound recovery."
 
"But it will work." snaps Hiroshi taking the prized ring back.
 
"Not in the dark, my friend.  And inside that tank is very dark." 
Dakota says.  "Never fear...take this."  Dakota hands Hiroshi a 
penlight.
 
Tying to ring and penlight onto a length of string, they lower the
makeshift spy camera into the tank.
 
"Now what?" asks Zenon.
 
"Jiggle it around a bit."
 
Hiroshi does so, then pulls the camera out.
 
"Maybe...we could blow it out.  We could detach the gas tank, then
maybe somehow attach one of those CO2 canisters we use to blow up
the life rafts to the apeture.  Set it off, maybe blow whatever is 
in there out the other side." offers Zenon.
 
They look at each other and shrug.  Worth a try.  20 minutes later,
they set the canister off.  The gas rushes into the gas tank, but
nothing rushes out.  In fact, the tank begins to pop outward in a
most disquieting fashion.
 
"Gulp."
 
With a loud bang, the canister rockets off the apeture and sparks
50 feet along the pavement.
 
The trio exchange glances.
 
"What's going on here, eh?" comes a scruffy voice from behind.
They turn to see three street ruffians, one swinging a chain very
lazily, and dressed in scraps of leather, metal, and denim.
 
"Well, looky looky my droogs!  Pavshit!  Three nips!  Three fucking
yellow nips!" laughs the leader with the chain.
 
"Yeahhh...nips...boss gonna be happy happy happy with us huhuh."
 
"Hhehe, nips, boys...we found us some nips."
 
"I'm sorry, young sir, I don't much like your tone." says Zenon.
 
"You should show more respect to your elders." quips Dakota.
 
"I'm not that old..." whispers Hiroshi, leaning over to Dakota.
 
The leader smiles, his blackened teeth carved into wicked, twisting
shapes so that his voice hisses and spittles out when he talks.
 
"I think we want your bus, nippers." he spits.
 
"It's good to want things." replies Zenon.
 
"And better to have them!" growls the leader.
 
"If you touch my car, you will not live to regret it."
 
"Oooooh reeeally?"  The leader swings the chain lazily up onto his
shoulder and walks up to Zenon besides the car.  Slowly, with relish,
the thug licks his finger.  He slowly swings his hand over his head
and brings the wet finger down onto the car's hood.
 
"Sssssssssss!" mocks the punk.
 
Zenon sighs.  The blade comes out instantly from under his coat.  In
a single motion, Zenon pulls the katana from the scabbard and swings
it in a smooth, long, lightning fast arc towards the hood of the car.
 
The thug lets out a yelp as his finger skittles across the hood and
up the windscreen.  The Zenon brings the scabbard up and with a
low and painful crack slams it into the punk's jaw.
 
The punk falls to his knees, grasping at the hand, relishing the
pain.
 
"Arrrrrzzzghhhh!  Geeeeeet hiiiim!" he shrieks.
 
Dakota makes a quick move.  He trips one of the thugs and causes him
to fall over the open gas tank hole.  "Come'n get it!" he shouts at
no one in particular.
 
Zenon straightens up and stands over the leader, who scrambles for
his chain.  The chain comes up, arm held high, midswing, Zenon 
calmly twists his wrist, the katana flicks, snicks, snacks, and the
hand holding the chain bounces away.
 
Hiroshi, never one for showiness, gives a little grunt of approval
as his pistol appears in his hand and sends an ounce or two of lead
in the general direction of the third punk, knocking the fellow down
and out.
 
Dakota's punk decides three fist-punching, sword-wielding, and
gun-toting japanese aren't worth the trouble after all and runs away.
 
Hiroshi turns, levelling his pistol at the back of the fleeing 
teenager.  A loud bang interupts his aim.
 
"Now just hold it right there!" shouts an old voice.  Ker-chink!  A
bolt is pulled back.  Ting ting!  A spent catridge falls to the 
concrete.  "Ain't nobody coming onto my property and shooting the
place up!"  Behind them, an old man, the gas station owner, stalks
towards them with a shotgun.
 
Hiroshi lets the kid run away, sighs, and reholsters his gun.  Zenon
flicks the katana and wipes the blood off on the limp body of his
opponenet.  Dakota speaks up.
 
"We are very sorry, we did not mean to offend.  These youths accosted
us.  We were only fixing our car here."
 
"Well, don't you move.  I've already called the police.  They'll be
here any minute.  And I got you on film, so don't try nothing funny.
When the police get here, you can explain it all to them."
 
The old man retreats into the store.  Left with several gas cans 
full of gas, a disconnected gas tank, and a couple of streetpunks,
one bleeding to death, Our Heroes seem a bit lost.
 
Dakota gives the bleeding punk some help.  He is not murderer.
 
"You know," says Zenon, "we could leave the tank disconnected and
connect the siphon to the engine.  Use the gas cans as temporary
gas tanks."
 
"Perhaps we should question this fellow about who the 'Boss' is?"
notes Hiroshi.
 
Before either one of the young defeated gang members regains 
consciousness, however, a LAPD police car swoops down the street and
comes to rest nearby.  The PA blares out, warning Our Heroes to 
remain still and to put their hands in the air.  Only after they 
comply does the fully armored policeman, looking not something 
unlike Robocop, step heavily out of the protection of the vehicle.
 
"Scrrt.  OK.  Step away from the car, and move slowly.  Keep you
hands over your head at all times! Scrrt." barks the officer through
his helmet speaker, locking the bolt of his fully-automatic crowd
controller into place.  "Scrrt. Now, tell me what's going on here.
Scrrt."
 
"Well, you see, Mr. Officer, these gang members attempted to rob
us..." stammers Zenon.  "They threatened us."
 
"Scrrt.  And you saw fit to shoot them?  And *dismember* them?
Scrrt." growls the policeman.
 
"Well, they made the first move." lies Zenon.
 
"Scrrt. Any witnesses?  Scrrt."
 
"No sir..."
 
"I saw everything, officer." chirps up the old owner, coming out of
the station.
 
Oh god, thinks Zenon.
 
I should have shot him when I had the chance, thinks Hiroshi.
 
Maybe I should just sneak away, thinks Dakota.
 
"I saw everything, officer, and it's just like that nice Japanese
man says.  Those punks pulled their guns first, and these nice men
were maybe just a little too much for them young kids to chew."
 
The old man winks at Zenon.  A collective sigh ripples through the
three near suspects.
 
The officer thinks for a moment.  "Scrrt. Is that a fact.  Scrrt."
He turns towards Our Heroes.  "Scrrt.  In light of the fact that 
Mr. Bigelow here is a respected businessman, I'll take your
statements and take what remains of these boys downtown.  Scrrt."
 
The policeman takes their statements and loads the boys into the 
back of his cruiser.  After taking the requisite videos of the 
crime scene, he takes off.
 
Zenon approaches the old man.  "Thank you, elder, your helpful words 
have saved us a great deal of trouble.  And here is something for 
your time and the mess." He hands the old man a few hundred dollars.
 
"Don't mention it...and get off my property."
 
"Of course, and sir, Mr. Bigelow..."
 
"Yes?"
 
Zenon's voice turns low and threatening, he towers over the tiny old
man, "I am Chinese."
 
Scene V - Disneyhell
--------------------
 
With Dakota holding the siphon in the gas cans in the back of the
suburban and a "monster" in their disconnected gas tank, Zenon,
Hiroshi, and Dakota make it to Cosmicland sometime near midnight,
just about the time the park closes.  Parking a good distance away,
unseen and sneak up to one of the less patrolled fences of the
park and cut their way in.  Stealthily, they make their way to the
tree where Buffy, Jack, Mikki, and Francois are already waiting for
them.
 
Dakota has both the forgery and the original statue in his coat.
 
With caution and stealth, they slowly make their way across the
park to Ardinay's Castle.  It is easy to get into, and they make 
their way downstairs to the dungeon.
 
Dakota flips on the lights.  The wax torturers and victims come to
life, repeating over and over the grisly methods of the rack and
other devices.
 
"Nice place." snips Buffy.
 
"What'll we do know?" asks Mikki, nervously.
 
Dakota shrugs.
 
Zenon speaks up, "Francois, go upstairs and see if anyone is coming."
 
Francois heads towards the stairs.  As he begins to climb them, the
door at the top opens and Mr. Caspar silently comes in.
 
"Ah!  Excellent!  You made it, and on time.  Excellent.  You didn't
forget the...trinket...did you?"
 
Dakota holds back a smile.  "Of course!"  He holds the statue up for
Caspar to see.
 
"Excellent."  Caspar comes on down the stairs, heading towards 
Buffy first.  "I have so missed seeing you over the past day or so.
I was so looking forward to having you for dinner."
 
Buffy fakes a blush, "Oh, Mr. Caspar, I'm so sorry to have missed
you."
 
"Que cera, cera, my dear.  Well, down to business."  Caspar steps
off the paved visitor path through the dungeon and onto the dirt.
"We need a hole, about a foot deep."
 
Zenon and Hiroshi step forward with small shovels to dig the hole.
They dig down about 5 inches and hit concrete.  Ever resourceful,
Zenon pulls out a small amount of C-4 (he is always prepared) and
plants a charge.  One small pop later, they have a fairly nice foot
deep hole.
 
"What an excellent application of technology, sir!" comments Caspar
gleefully.
 
The statue is planted and buried.  Once done, Caspar turns to the 
Heroes.
 
"I'd like to perform a small memorial ceremony before we leave, and
I'd like you all to help."  He hands each of the Heroes a small 
piece of paper.  Each slip has a single word written in flowing
script.  "I'd like each of you to read your word out loud when I
point to you.
 
Uncomfortable, but game, the Heroes play along.  After all, they
still have the original.
 
Quietly, Caspar produces a small grey-black baton and begins making
slow, silent movements in the air as if he was conducting an
invisible orchestra.
 
He points to Hiroshi.  "Feth."
 
Then Dakota.  "Ihtah."  Deliberately misprounounced.
 
Francois.  "Uulh."
 
Mikki.  "Cha."
 
Zenon.  "Irtah."
 
Jack.  "Phepth."  Also, deliberately mispronounced.
 
Buffy.  "Kahto."  Service with a smile.
 
Caspar lowers his baton.  "Thank you so much, that's all.  The 
statue is now safely buried."
 
The Heroes look at each other.  For some reason, they were expecting
something more.  But then, they had substituted the forgery.  With
a collective shrug they watch Caspar leave, then follow him.  Caspar
exits the castle, and by the time the Heroes make it to the door and
outside, the mysterious pale man is gone.  Carefully, they sneak back
out of the park.
 
When they get to the suburban, Zenon checks the gas tank.  The gas
cap is off, lying about ten feet away from the car.
 
"I don't know, but I think the visitor left."  he says.  "We should
see if we can hook the gas tank back up.  There won't be enough
room for all of us and the gas cans in the car."
 
Dakota and Hiroshi go over the inside of the suburban, looking for
any signs of intrusion.
 
 
Scene VI - On the Road Again
----------------------------
 
Within half an hour, the gas tank is reconnected and refilled with
gas.  They leave the cans by the side of the road and hit the 
highway.
 
"I feel all itchy."  moans Buffy.  She scratches and feels a sharp
pain in her fingers.  She looks at her fingers.  They are cut and 
covered in blood.  "What?"  The itching is getting unbearable, 
painful.  She shifts position and feels a a thousands razors cut
into her skin.  Looking down, her lycra body suit is getting sticky,
warm, and red blood obviously welling up from her skin.  She 
screams bloody murder.
 
Zenon slams on the breaks on brings the suburban to a halt.  Buffy's
door flies open and she falls out of the car.  Each movement brings
a deeper cut and move blood from the invisible knives.
 
"My clothes!  My clothes!" screams Buffy.
 
Francois leaps out to help her.  He grabs at Buffy's jumpsuit, then
quickly pulls is hand away in pain.  1/8 inch of flesh is missing
from his finger tips and palms.  "Mon Dieu!"
 
Dakota glances at Buffy's bloodstained seat in the car.  It is
scratched and torn.  "Use a knife!"
 
Francois flicks out is razors and slices off Buffy's clothes.  Sparks
fly as he tears through the lycra.  Shavings of carbon steel, his
carbon steel, fall to the ground.   But, Buffy's clothes fall to the
ground, revealing her body, bloody and cut with a 2 inch grid of
razor thin slices from neck to feet.  Her underwear hangs in bloody
shreds.
 
Francois realizes someone had sewn a monofilament into the jumpsuit
and tells everyone.
 
"I'll kill her!" screams Buffy.  "I'll kill that bitch who sold me
that!"
 
Applying some needed first aid, they wrap Buffy in bandages and 
spare towels and put her in the back of the suburban with Francois.
 
With Buffy gnashing her teeth in anger, they once again hit the 
highway.  Zenon speeds up to 90.  Buffy may need medical attention.
 
There are times in a Hero's life when no matter what he or she does,
nothing works quite as planned.  This is one of those times.
 
The first indication Zenon had that something was amiss was the
slight shift he felt in the cushion of the front seat.  The second,
and more telling clue he received, was the ripping of the seat's
vinyl between his legs, followed by the lightning fast erection of a
slimy tentacle.
 
[Power of Fear results in players losing cards.]
 
[GM Fiat]
 
The tentacle grabs Zenon about the neck.  Another rips up between
Hiroshi's legs and likewise engages him in a stranglehold.  The back
of the front seat rips open and a number of similarly disgusting
psuedopods reach out and grab for Dakota, Mikki, and Jack.  Unable
to reach their weapons, the Heroes flail at the slimy arms grasping
at them.  Zenon decides he better try to stop.  Slamming on the
breaks, the suburban begins a mad swerve down the highway.
 
[GM Fiat]
 
The tentacle around Hiroshi's neck pulls him forward, banging his
head against the dash.  Hiroshi decides desperate times deserve
desperate measures. Blue energy arcs and crackles along his body.
He remembers how to use his martial arts.  He brings both hands 
down against the puss-ridden pod, hard.  The blow breaks him free.
Zenon fights to both control the car and survive the strangling he's
currently undergoing.  Jack brings his pistol to bear on the thing,
but decides shooting through the front seat, possibly into Zenon is
a bad thing.  Dakota's body also ripples with energy, he too desiring
to reknow his fighting skills.  But the energy he produces mixes
with that of Hiroshi and something strange begins to occur.
 
"It's raining...." gurgles Zenon as rain begins to slam against the
windshield.  "I...can't....ggrrrggl....seeee...."
 
"Mon Dieu!  It's raining in here!" shouts Francois.  Indeed, it is.
A thin film of black roiling clouds fills the roof of the suburban.
Tiny sparks of lighting strike out angily.  Rain begins to soak the
Heroes.  Rain from the roof of the car.
 
Dakota feels something move in his coat pocket.
 
"Hold it up!  Hold it up!" shouts Mikki.  Zenon responds, holding the
tentacle up and away from him.  Mikki strikes out with his knife,
slicing the wriggling tendril in two.  Free of the tightening grasp,
Zenon reaches for his gun with one had, the other still trying to
maintain control of the wheel.  The road becomes slippery.  The rain
outside pounds against the car.  Wind begins to whip the suburban
from side to side.
 
Buffy screams.  Francois begins to pray.
 
[GM Fiat]
 
Another bunch of tendrils leap out.  Only Mikki is grabbed.  "Oh...
grrrggl....not...aaaahhhhhrrrrg...again!"
 
Hiroshi pulls his knife and stabs into the seat.  Writhing tentacles
grab at his hand.  Zenon pulls his gun and completely lets go of the
wheel.  Standing up as much as possible, he fires straight down
between his legs.  Green and red puss explodes up and out from the
seat, blinding him.  Dakota punches and kicks at the back seat.
 
The suburban, now longer controlled, swerves towards the edge of the
road.
 
The tendrils stop moving.
 
"HANG ON!" shouts Zenon as he wipes the shit from his eyes and 
attempts to regain control of the car.  Squinting, he can't see 
anyway.  He gives the car a hard turn to the left.
 
There is a brilliant flash of light.  The suburban leaves the 
ground for a moment, then crashes down hard.  Something flat and
wooden looms up in headlights.  The rain stops.  Unable to stop,
Zenon hopes whatever it is gives.
 
With a crash, the suburban bursts through the flat wooden thing.
 
The car begins to bounce and jitter.  Nothing can be seen ahead,
they are in deep fog.  Zenon finally regains control of the car and
stops.
 
Dakota reaches for the statue.  It's gone.  "It's gone!"
 
"What's gone?!" shouts back Hiroshi, dazed.
 
"It's dead!"  shouts Mikki.
 
"Where are we?"  asks Jack, looking out the window.
 
They are silent.  Everyone looks.  A thich fog surrounds the car.  
A few feet away on either side, narrow, old looking buildings tower
two or three stories up into to grey soup.
 
"I'll check it out." says Zenon.  Wiping the last remnants of ooze
off his face, he carefully opens the slime covered door and steps
out.  Onto a wet cobblestone road.  The smell of sweat, rotting
meat, open sewage, and fish assaults his nose.  He climbs back in 
the car.  "We're not in California anymore."
 
"Well, then where are we?" shouts the hysterical Buffy.
 
No one knows.
 
Dakota leans forward and tells Zenon to drive on to see if they can
see anything.  They drive slowly through the narrow bumpy streets
of what is obviously a old but large city.  Eventually, after many
twists and turns, the arrive at a river.
 
"Go...left, downstream." proffers Dakota.
 
Following the river downstream, past large warehouses, long docks,
and old ships, all masted, docked, they come to a large bridge.
 
"I think that is London Bridge." comments Mikki.
 
"This doesn't look like Arizona..." says Jack.
 
They spy a policeman, wearing very old policeman clothes, 
bobby-style, wearing a short cape, swinging a long black club, and
carrying a oil burning lantern.  Zenon gets out of the car and walks
up to the man.
 
"Excuse me, sir."
 
"Eh?  What?  What's this?" replies the startled officer.
 
"Is this," pointing to the Bridge, "London Bridge?"
 
"Foriegner, eh?  Out late, eh?  Er, yes, Victoria's Own London
Bridge."
 
"Errr, I see.  And, um, I am a foriegner.  I have one more question."
 
"Yes, yes?"
 
"What year is it?"
 
 
"1992, Year of Our Lord." replies the somewhat confused officer.
 
"Thank you, sir.  I must be leaving now."
 
"Get yourself inside.  It's late."
 
"Yes sir."
 
Zenon walks back to the car and gets in.
 
"We're in London, he says.  1992, London.   And that is London
Bridge."
 
"This doesn't look like London." says Buffy.  "London has lots of
nice new buildings.  This place is old and dingy looking.  I don't
like it at all.  Zenon, I'm hurt and cold and wet, and I'd like you
to take us back to the hotel now, please."
 
"I think we're in a great deal of trouble." comments Dakota.
 
"Maybe we should hide or something?" offers Hiroshi.
 
For no better reason than it sounded like a good thing to do, Zenon
begins to follow the docks downriver and out of the city.  He finds
a muddy dirt road and drives into the country.
 
"You know, apart from the policeman, we haven't seen anybody
outside." says Zenon.
 
Hiroshi looks at his watch.  "It's still late, or early...3 o'clock."
 
They find a small grove of trees and park.  Getting out, they look
around.  The lights of a small village sparkle from the top of a 
low hill about a mile away.
 
Hiroshi and Zenon pull the slimy, ooze-soaked remains of the thing
out of the seat.  As they yank on it, it seems to dissolve into 
puss.
 
"Maybe we should get try some sleep?" asks Dakota.  "And then try to
find a way back home...before..."
 
"Before what, Dakota?" asks Zenon.
 
"Well, before we die, I think."
 
-- 
Clay W. Luther                                                (214) 994-1377
Internet: cluther@morticia.cnns.unt.edu                    Applelink: PDSDEV
Macintosh/Unix Programmer for Vortech Data, Inc.
"I think the word you're looking for is AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"