🚀 go-pugleaf

     "Day three," said Karen Moire, her voice calm and level as she spoke
into her recorder. "There's been no sign of Jack since he vanished days
ago, despite repeated attempts to locate him. All technological means of
tracing what happened to him have failed. We have been advised on all
fronts to give up the search..."
     Karen stopped talking as a squeal of protest sounded from her hands.
She looked down at the crushed recorder which had long since stopped taping
her voice. Angrily, Karen hurled the device at the far wall, knocking loose
a sizable chunk of plaster and shivering the tape recorder to pieces. The
rest of the team looked up suddenly from their quiet game of cards, as the
peace of the studio apartment was shattered along with the recorder.
     "But we're not GOING TO!" screamed Karen at the destroyed gadget,
which whirred once in a last gasp of technological defiance before
shuddering to a stop.

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               Chris Angelini/Frobozz Magic Productions

                            -present-

        THE UNTIL THE END OF THIS ISSUE UNNAMED OTTAWA TEAM #10

                      "Interlude and Fugue"

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Author's Note: In this story, mention is made of caverns. These are, of
course, the Caverns of Gratuitous Death, an excellent - albeit unfinished -
crossover that took place some time ago. All you need know for the story's
context is that the team entered said Caverns at one point, had a rather
mortifying experience within, and then got better.

     It was a sensation so utterly alien and at the same time, all too
familiar. The man was utterly disassociated from himself, and yet points of
connection struggled to assert themselves. Thought was a terrible
necessity, the only stable fulcrum of identity remaining to him and yet an
utterly foreign experience, himself divorced from himself. Summoning memory
and cognition seemed to require him to think not with a mind that was a
unified whole, but with a million tiny, subdivided brains, each of which
contained the barest sliver of the man's consciousness.
     Though many thoughts were conjured up during the long eternity of
disassociation, two continually recurred. One was a simple pleading with
the universe, a demand for a knowledge that all take for granted but which
is terrible when lost: 'Who am I?'
     The second was a statement, perhaps of resignation or of terrible
familiarity, an acknowledgement that all this has happened before and has
happened again: 'Oh no, not again...'
***
     The most obvious problem with making one's headquarters in a studio
apartment, though Karen, as she sat listlessly in an overstuffed beanbag
chair, was the lack of privacy associated with it. Even though she had
pulled partitions around herself, the sounds of the rest of the team
scraping around outside were clearly audible. Karen could almost picture
them, glancing at each other, wincing at each sound they made, wondering
what it would take to set off their temporary leader into another of her
angry fits. The woman nearly laughed at the thought, though she dared not
because the act would surely bring tears immediately after. They didn't
realise that their fumbling only made things worse; this was her pain to
work out, not theirs.
     And yet, Karen was touched by their concern. She knew that she would
appreciate it weeks, maybe months later. But for now, the pain of losing
her best friend was just too fresh. She wanted to slam her head into a wall
that wouldn't break and drive away the diffuse anger that she felt towards
everything. But the only walls of that sort within reach were the ones that
Karen was building inside herself. So she continued to batter against
those, unsatisfying though it was.
     "Hey, Karen?" came a voice from beyond a flimsy partition. Karen
looked up in annoyance, biting back an angry response.
     "What is it?" she managed, as another wave of black despair settled
onto her again. Boomer walked around the partition into view, the stump of
his half-regrown arm a reminder to Karen of all that had been lost in the
team's last battle. She sighed slightly, slipping into her newly discovered
'leader mode', even though there wasn't a trace of leader in her; rather,
her every command was driven by the thought of Jack standing invisibly over
her shoulder, judging and appraising each and every decision.
     "Boomer, you're still under doctor's orders. Go sit down and relax,
will you?" Karen wondered for a moment whether Jack was satisfied with her
decision and decided several moments later that he probably was.
     "I'll sit down in a minute," replied Boomer, resisting the urge to
scratch at his healing stump. "I've been on my butt for hours now. You
know, I _can_ regenerate while standing up."
     "Yeah," replied Karen, sighing. "What do you want, Boomer? If Avril's
been beating you in blackjack again, you don't get another advance on your
pay. That's my final word."
     "The kid's been counting cards!" protested Boomer. "It's not my fault
if she's che-- no, that's not why I came over."
     "What is it then?" asked Karen, barely keeping in check the annoyance
that wanted to creep into her words. Boomer sighed slightly, carefully
studying his friend's face.
     "We've been talking," began Boomer, as Karen snorted.
     "Whispering," she retorted. Boomer smiled slightly, then nodded.
     "Semantics, and that's not the point. We've been moping around this
place for how long now?"
     "Three days, six hours and twenty two, no make that twenty three minutes."
      "And though I know no one's been counting the seconds," continued
Boomer, rolling his eyes. "We've barely said three words about what
happened. I don't think it's healthy to keep--"
     "That's because I don't want to talk about it, okay?" ejaculated
Karen, her eyes flashing with the anger that had been a constant companion
for days. "Could we just drop this now?"
     "No, I don't think that we can," replied Boomer, his voice and manner
assuming a rare serious cast. "We're getting the heck(sm) out of this place
and going to go talk about things. You, my dear temporary leader, are
coming with us."
     "I'm not doing anything except looking for Jack," replied Karen, her
voice low with threat. "And you'll either help or butt the hell(tm) out,
you got me?"
     "Is that your final word on the subject?" asked Boomer, matching
Karen's gaze.
      "Yes," replied the woman, their eyes locked in anger like two rams in
battle. The air filled with tension as one waited for the other to give, in
some degree, and each refused to budge an inch.
     "You've left me no other choice, you know that," replied Boomer, not
taking his eyes from Karen's, even has he clenched a fist. Karen replied in
kind, the tendons in her hand producing a crackling noise as it flexed.
Boomer took a deep breath, licked his lips, and keeping his gaze firmly
locked... began to sing. "Ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety
nine bottles of beer..."
     "Argh!" shouted Karen, breaking the gaze. "Stop that!"
     "Take one down and pass it around, you've got ninety-eight bottles of
beer on the wall. Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-eight
bottles of beer..."
     "Boomer, you can't sing, stop it, stop it, just cut that out!" yelled
Karen, slamming her hands over her ears. Boomer smiled grimly and raised
his voice.
     "Take one down and pass it around, you've got ninety-seven bottles of
beer on the wall..."
     "I'll do anything, would you just stop that please, just cut it out!"
     "Gotcha," said Boomer with a grin. "We're leaving in twenty minutes.
Bring some bug spray." He walked back out from behind the partition, and
shot the others a weary thumbs-up. "Told you that reasoning with her would
work."
***
     The transition from disassociation to solidity was sudden and jarring.
A painful shock ran through the man's body, threatening to stop its heart
even as it reformed and began beating again. Dimly, he watched a blurry
form race by his eyes as they coalesced into solidity, faintly amused as it
resolved itself into a newspaper blowing in the wind. Slowly, he identified
the sensation of lying on concrete, his leg against a tall metal pole...
possibly a lamp-post. He managed to deduce that he was on a sidewalk before
a leather-clad foot gently nudged him on his side. The man rolled over to
look up.
     "Hey, buddy," spoke a voice that seemed to come from a blurry face
high above. The man tried to focus his eyes but found that they were still
tender from the transition. "Buddy, you okay?"
     "I'm... not really sure," groaned the man, resisting the temptation to
just close his eyes, fall asleep and forget that any of this had happened.
"Tired though."
     "Look, I saw you 'port, man, and you're not wearing the colours,"
continued the voice, a note of urgency entering into it. "We gotta get you
out of here before one of 'them' reports in. Can you walk?"
     "Walk?" muttered the man, chewing on that word for a moment. Slowly, a
meaning slipped into place. "Yeah... I think so. Can you help me up?"
     "Sure, buddy," replied the voice, offering a strong arm up. "C'mon,
this way." The two staggered into a darkened alley, down which they walked
for several moments before stopping.
     "Sorry bud," said the voice. "I'm going to have to blindfold you for
the rest of the trip. You understand, right?"
      "Sure, whatever," muttered the man with a groan. "Right now I don't
have much of a grip on reality anyway, so what's a little cloak and dagger,
eh?"
      "That's the spirit. Hey, I don't even know your name. Unless it's
Buddy, I've got to find something better to call you."
     The man considered for a moment. "I used to have a name... damn,
you're supposed to forget your birthday or your PIN code. But not that."
     "That 'port really shook you up, didn't it?"
     "Yeah... um... wait, I've got it, I think. Starts with a 'J'... Jim?
Jorge? Jord...Jack!" Jack snapped his fingers, grinning slightly. "Finally
got a handle on something basic. Now maybe I can look at you funny when you
put the blindfold onto me."
     "If you want, Jack," replied the man, pulling a string of cloth from
his pocket.
     "You carry a blindfold with you?"
     "I do this a lot. You got a last name yet, or is that going to take
more work?"
     "I think I do. Um... hold on. It's coming back... Wind, Winde, Wynn!
That's it, Jack Wynn."
     The man stared at Jack for a long moment, looking speculative. "The
deuce you say," he finally muttered. "C'mon, we've got to get you to a
safezone, stat."
     "Safezone?" asked Jack, pushing away the blindfold as it was
proffered. "Wait, where are we going? And who are we hiding from?"
     "The Eye, damn it," replied the man, firmly handing the blindfold to
Jack. "Look, don't ask me more questions 'cause I just got plenty confused
myself. Do what I say and we'll both live. Futz around and I will. Now put
on the damned blindfold!"
     Jack sighed and took the strip of cloth. "I really hope that this
isn't the dumbest thing I've ever done," he muttered, looping it around his
eyes. The man tied it securely behind Jack's head.
     "Can you see anything?"
     "Nothing except my feet," replied Jack, putting out a hand to steady
himself.
     "Good. You're allowed to remember your feet. Remember anything else
about the trip and it's on my head, which I'd like to keep."
     "Right, right," sighed Jack. "Let's get this moving, can we? I want
this thing off as soon as possible."
     "That's what Madonna said in a clothing boutique, wasn't it?"
     "What?"
     "Never mind. Let's go."
     Glancing around himself to make sure that they were unobserved, the
man pushed aside a dumpster, revealing a hole behind. He walked in, taking
Jack's hand and leading him into the darkness.
***
     "This is a stupid idea," muttered Karen, crossing her arms as she and
the rest of the team piled out of Boomer's van. Looking around, she took in
the sight of a vast park, unspoiled and dotted with trees and foliage. A
shining lake, far off in the distance, ran into the woods and small
hibachis were scattered throughout, painted an inoffensive brown. "We're
just wasting our time here. We should be out talking to scientists or mages
or something."
     "We've done all that, Karen," replied Boomer, stretching the kinks
from his seat-sore body. "Done precisely nada good. Or if it has, we get
the fun of waiting for it to bear fruit. You've got your cellular, right?"
     "Yeah..."
     "Right. Then we'll know the second someone comes up with a bright
idea. Meanwhile, time to stop focusing on our obsession and take a bit of a
break for ourselves."
     Avril nodded slightly. The young mage, dressed in a rather
period-confused leather-and-muslin outfit, looked up at Karen.
     "There are... times," she began hesitantly, as though the sound of her
voice would upset some delicate balance in Karen's mind and provoke an
attack. "When one... cannot heal what is without... unless... unless...
what is within... is first pieced together."
     "Thank you Master Po," snapped Karen, changing her stance to make it
painfully obvious to everyone that she was completely failing to enjoy
herself, and would continue to fail in this manner until removed from this
place. Avril blinked, looking confused and somewhat troubled.
     "I'm... not a Master... by any means..." she replied, flustered. "I've
just... begun my advanced studies..."
     "Karen, please, leave her out of your little tantrum," bit off
Angellica, "Just because she's trying to do something constructive doesn't
give you the right to speak to her in that--"
     "Oh dry up, Angel," shot back Karen, narrowing her eyes. "I said I'd
come along. I'm here. Isn't that enough for you? Or am I supposed to look
at the great outdoors, jump around in glee, shout how the Ghost of Healing
Future did it all to me in one night and buy a goose for Tiny Tim?"
     "You're _supposed_ to be our interim leader, damn it, and at the
moment you're more like our chief liability." replied Angellica, icily.
"Emotionally you have the balance of a tower in Pisa and in terms of
leadership, right now you have all the dignity and charisma of a rabid
penguin. Either you do this for the team, or I suggest that you--"
     "That I what, eh? Let me guess, you want me to--"
     The debate was suddenly cut off by a piercing blast of noise which
deafened all within earshot. Eyes turned towards Boomer, who stood holding
an organic nodule that vaguely resembled an airhorn.
     "Boomer, you know you're not supposed to be pulling gadgets in your
condition!" yelled Karen, as her ears slowly began to recover. Boomer
grimaced but looked at his temporary leader with disgust.
     "It's worth the pain if it'll get you two to start acting your ages
instead of your hat-sizes. Now can we start this over? Try to relax and
sort out our feelings before we manage to kill each other with the plastic
knives in the picnic basket?"
     Angellica pursed her lips; as usual, it was almost impossible to tell
what was on the woman's mind. Finally, however, she nodded. Karen's face
was eminently more readable, however: red and filled with anger directed
more at herself than anyone else.
     "Yeah... okay," she grumbled. "I'll try."
     "That's all I ask," replied Boomer, turning to the others. "Sign of
the fish!" he mouthed before moving to instruct Avril on the proper care
and feeding of a picnic blanket.
***
     "And here we are!" Jack heard the voice say. Then everything went
dark. Or to be precise, things stayed dark as Jack opened his eyes to
see... the blindfold.
     "Love the whole 'black' motif," replied Jack, dryly. "Not much to look
at but the colours really match."
     "Everyone's a comedian," grumbled the voice, as unseen hands fumbled
at the back of Jack's head. Light stabbed at Jack's poor corneas, forcing
him to blink in the light. "Welcome to Underbase."
     Jack looked around himself, blinking again, this time in confusion. He
was surrounded by concrete, but instead of being formed into bricks or
shaped into walls, it resembled nothing more than a cave, complete with
stalactites and musty smell. He stood in a long corridor which seemed to
branch numerous times further along. "Where on Earth?"
     "I just told you where. Underbase," replied the man, shaking his head.
He began to speak with an audible pride, smiling as the two of them walked
down the corridor. "_This_ is the first base that's gone more than two
years without being made by an Eye. And it's all due to the leadership
of... well, you'll meet her. I'm taking you straight there."
     "I'm a little foggy on why you're doing this," replied Jack, easily
keeping step with his saviour. "Or maybe to be more clear, I don't have a
blessed clue what you're doing, why you're hiding around in an underground
cave or who these Eye people are. If you think you could fill me in I'd be
_very_ grateful."
     The man shook his head, taking Jack's arm again. He began to lead them
down a side corridor. "No can do, Wynn, that information's not mine to
give. I'll take you to the head-lady, though. She'll make everything you
need to know clear as crystal."
     Jack did not have much time to look around as he was tugged through
the corridor, though he managed to catch brief glimpses down long,
off-shooting tunnels. Wherever he looked, people rushed along with crate,
tool or document, hurrying them to whatever final destination they were
intended. The way in which the people carried themselves spoke volumes to
the observant superguy. Not a one seemed at ease or able to relax. Even
when they stood and talked together by a wall, continually looking over
their shoulder, they would drum fingers against legs and wear expressions
of nervous animals scenting predators. No two people stopped to converse
without a moment's hesitation and a quick checking out of the other. Jack
frowned as he was led and wondered what threat could possibly spook every
last occupant of this Underbase.
     Finally, the two reached a hall which had doors set into its walls,
resilient steel gleaming dully against solid stone. Jack's benefactor
walked to the third, then knocked four times, twice, six times and ended
with a single rap. As the hollow echo of the last knock had just finished
ringing through the cold corridor, the door swung open to admit the two
men. Jack shrugged inwardly and followed the person who had led him this
far.
     "Hey, Jaquline," said Jack's companion, as the two walked into the
room. Like the hallways and rooms without, it too was hewn out of stone and
left in a natural state. But its walls were covered with charts, graphs,
maps and sheets of paper, hung just a little bit below comfortable
eye-level. A large oak desk, its red high-backed chair on the men's side of
the table and facing away from them, took up the bulk of the room's space.
A personal computer of a make Jack had never before seen, large file
cabinets and a table covered with random brick-a-brack that looked oddly
familiar took up the rest of the room's space. In as cliched a move as ever
he had seen, the chair slowly swivelled around to face the two visitors. It
completed its rotation to reveal a young, brown haired girl sitting in it,
dressed sensibly in jeans and blank tee-shirt. She could not have been
older than nine, though her eyes fastened onto the visiting man's sharply,
with a deep seated intensity. They then flickered over to Jack, widening
even as the girl gasped.
     "Um... hey, there's nothing to worry about," said Jack, bending down
to the girl. "I'm Jack... what's your name?"
     The girl's eyes flashed to the man, speaking with a well-developed and
polished voice, filled with more maturity than would be appropriate in a
child. "You were right to bring him here, Chad. Alert medical, kitchen and
rooming for procedures Visitation 221 through 228. Indefinite stay, of
course," her eyes flashed back to Jack as Chad stepped from the room. "Your
name is Jack Wynn, isn't it?" she asked with a curious and almost awe
struck voice.
     "Yes..." began Jack, wondering how he had become such a celebrity in
this place. But there was no way for him to discover anything more unless
he started making friends with the locals
     "Yes, I am."
     The girl nodded, standing slowly, her eyes still intent upon Jack's.
Jaquline stepped forward towards the hero, putting out her arms.
    "I... I'm so glad to see you," said the girl in a small voice, her
adult demeanour vanishing as she completed the step and hugged Jack with a
fierce intensity. "It's been so long, dad..."
***
[Continued In Part Two]