🚀 go-pugleaf

                              RADIAN & SHADEBEAM
                                  Episode 36
                  (Just Because You're Paranoia..., part two)
                                  "La Cabeza"
                                      by
                                 Gary W. Olson

                                    -<=*=>-

     *rrrrrlllllrrrrrrlllll...*
     "What was that sound?" Shadebeam whispered.
     "Sounded like your stomach," Akane whispered back.
     "My stomach?" Shadebeam asked.  "More like your stomach, you mean."
     "My stomach doesn't growl," Akane insisted.
     -It was my stomach, okay?- Andro purr-thought at them.  -And could you
scoot a bit?  I'm almost suffocating here.-
     "Breathe through the macrame," Akane instructed him.  "And stop
squirming."
     -I am not squirming,- Andro insisted.  -I'm too hungry to squirm.-
     "China," Akane whispered.  "What's going on out there?"
     *There are a number of people clustered around us,* China told her.
*They are arguing about whether you should be unwrapped here or shipped to
the capital.*
     -Of course, they might just carve you up and feed you to the penguins,-
Kyoko added.  -Though I think that option's been voted down.-
     "What time is it?" Shadebeam asked.  "We must have been in here for
hours..."
     "Can't tell..." Akane started.
     <<Akane?>> a familiar voice asked, faintly.
     "HAL!" Akane, Shadebeam, China, Kyoko, Andro, and Symon exclaimed.
     There was a pause, and HAL's voice came again, this time strong and
clear.
     <<There you are,>> HAL said, his voice echoing through their minds.
<<I intercepted satellite transmissions that indicated Dave Navigator's
VW minibus had returned to Earth, and was able to estimate where you might
land.  It took some time to patch through a new satellite feed for
communication...>>
     "HAL, we're in a bit of a situation, here," Akane said.
     -We've been hog tied and railroaded,- Kyoko added.
     *Actually,* Symon interrupted, *the railroading hasn't occured as of
yet.  It is as yet unclear whether any train tracks are close enough for...*
     -Symon?- Andro asked.
     *What?*
     -Sod off.-
     *Sorry, but I can't do that,* Symon answered, unruffled.  *No more than
you can, at the moment.*
     *They've made a decision,* China said.  *Hang on.*
     "Hang on?" Shadebeam asked.  "Hang on to what?"
     The question turned out to be rhetorical, as the macrame bundle that held
our renegade heroines securely was lifted off of the ground.  There was a
cutting sound, followed shortly by a spinning sensation combined with a short,
sharp introduction to gravity and, subsequently, a wooden floor.
     "Ow," Shadebeam groaned, as she rolled off of Akane onto her back.  She
noticed a number of faces staring down at her, few of which seemed friendly.
     "Rrrrr," Akane commented, opening her eyes and looking at her captors'
feet.  "Where'd the cat go?"
     -Get...up...- Andro purr-groaned, from underneath her.
     "Sorry about that," Akane said, as she pushed herself to something of
a seated position.  No sooner had she done so than strong arms had grabbed
her, lifting her up off her feet and pulling her into a furious embrace.
     She blinked.  Embrace?
     "Sister!" a voice exclaimed in her ear.  "It is so wonderful to see you
again!"
     "Kaoru?" Akane asked.  "Is that you?"
     "Yes, it is!" Kaoru Moroboshi exclaimed, as he let Akane loose.  She
gazed at his face, and noted that it had more color than it had when she had
last met him, eight months ago in Antarctica.  The sun had evidently been
kind to him.
     "Hmph," Shadebeam grumbled.  "Should have known you'd turn up again."
     -Like a bad penny,- Andro purred.
     *Or a garden vegetable,* China added.
     "You're just sore because I captured you so easily," Kaoru told her in
a good-humored manner.  Shadebeam flipped him off in a less-than-good-humored
fashion.  Kaoru ignored this, and turned to the peasants who had been, up
until a few moments ago, regarding them with unfriendly faces.  The faces
were no longer unfriendly, but they weren't very friendly, either, and they
were more than a bit confused.
     "I thought they were villains, here to attack the statue," one of them
said.  It took a few moments for Akane and Shadebeam to realize that the man
had spoken spanish, and that HAL had translated it for them.
     "As did I," Kaoru told them.  "I did not get a good look at them before
capturing them.  But now that they are revealed to me, I know them to be
heroes: my sister, Radian, and her twin, Shadebeam."
     "I hate to tell you this, K," another of them said.  From the rough,
beaten clothing he wore and his accent, which was slightly different than
the one the villager spoke with, Akane guessed that he, too, was an outsider
to the village.  "You got the right people, but they ain't heroes."
     "What?" Kaoru asked.  "How dare you say that about my sister..."
     "Sssssss," Shadebeam sssssd.
     "Sisters," Kaoru corrected.
     "I dare," the man said, as he raised his revolver, "because I know who
Radian is, and what she's done."  He looked directly at Akane.  "Ma'am, my
name is Don Don Donaldo.  Put your hands up."

                                    -<=*=>-

     The roar of the engines dragged him out of his fitful sleep.  It was well
that they had; Chad, the Violent, Bloodsucking Weasel of the Apocalypse was
just about to use his neuro-ray to replace his major internal organs with
coffee beans.
     Of course, many would argue, and often did, that Chad was simply a figure
who kept recurring in his dreams, probably symbolic of his repressed sex drive
or his desire to be abused by furry animals.  Paranoia often thought about
arguing back that the Weasel actually symbolized the many things that were out
to get him, but didn't, because that would be playing into the hands of those
who were arguing the former position in the first place.
     Instantly, it occured to him to put another coat of sunblock on.  When he
tried to move to do so, he found that his wrists were cuffed.
     He heard voices, and opened his eyes.
     "Robinson, what did I tell you?" Special Agent Rowan Atkinson said,
tersely.
     "I dunno, boss," Field Agent Robinson answered.  "I was applying this
sun block here, and I wasn't listening."
     "I was telling you to strap the parachute onto our soon-to-be-ex-
prisoner," Atkinson said.  "We've nearly reached the dropoff point."  He took
the bottle of sun-block from Robinson and looked at it.  "Doesn't this belong
to the prisoner?"
     "I think so, sir," Robinson said.  "I've been concerned, lately, about
being exposed to ultraviolet rays, so I borrowed some to protect my delicate
skin."
     "I don't see any on your face," Atkinson said.  "Or your arms..."  He
stopped, and frowned.  "Oh, Robinson, don't tell me..."
     "Well, sir," Robinson said.  "I figured that I'd apply the most sun block
to the places I wanted to protect the most..."  He stopped when Atkinson hit
him over the head with the sun block bottle.
     "Get the parachute!" Atkinson ordered.
     "Can't," Robinson said.  "Field Agent McInnerny has it."
     Atkinson glared at Robinson a moment before stalking off.  Seconds later,
Paranoia heard a yelping sound.  Atkinson stalked back, carrying the parachute,
followed by Field Agent McInnerny.
     "But, sir," McInnerny complained.  "I was going to use that."
     "Why?" Atkinson asked.
     "Well, I've always fancied having a pair of 'Hammer pants' for my very
own," McInnerny explained.  "And seeing as they've gone out of style, I
realized, quite cleverly, that I had to make some for myself.  So, I figured,
while we were on this plane trip and all, I would have a lot of time to
myself, so I decided to..."
     "Save it, McInnerny," Atkinson told him, pointedly.  "I'd rather hear
about the graphic uses the Ill Dudes might find for rabbit snot."
     "Well, actually, sir..." Robinson started.  Atkinson thwacked him, and he
shut up.  Paranoia was made to stand, and his wrists were unbound.  He stood
still, too frightened to move, as Atkinson strapped the parachute onto him.
     "Alright, you, listen," Atkinson said.  It took Paranoia a moment to
realize he was speaking to him.  "Your mission is absurdly simple.  You're
going to parachute down into the small Colombian village below, and start using
your power."
     "O-on who?" Paranoia asked.
     "Everyone and everything you encounter," Atkinson said.  "You're to push
your power to its maximum limits, and keep it at that peak for as long as
possible.  Passing out is not permitted."
     "You're just trying to get me to jump," Paranoia whined.  "There's a hole
in that parachute, I'll bet."
     "Actually..." McInnerny started.  Atkinson shushed him.
     "Of course not," he said.  "But if you don't start using your power within
five minutes of entering the village...the orbiting satellite will pound you
into a bloody pulp with its nuclear death beam."
     Paranoia started to protest that Atkinson had to be lying, but stopped.
He had suspected that an orbiting, nuclear-death-beam-emitting satellite had
been following his movements for as long as he could remember, though this was
the first time he had actually been threatened with one.
     "Okay," he said.  Atkinson tucked his half-empty bottle of sun-block into
Paranoia's long black cloak, and guided him to the cargo bay door of the plane,
which Robinson was pulling open.
     "I'm scared!" Paranoia exclaimed.  "What do I do?"
     "Just pull the ripcord!" Atkinson yelled, as he pushed Paranoia out of the
plane.  "And try to land feet first!"
     They watched Paranoia fall from the plane, seeing him grow smaller and
smaller as the wind whistled past their faces.
     "Um," McInnerny said, "does the M.I.B. really have an orbiting, nuclear-
death-beam-emitting satellite?"
     "No, of course not, McInnerny," Atkinson chastized.  "No more than that
parachute has a hole in it."
     They watched as Paranoia's chute unfurled, and it became quite blatantly
obvious that there was a large hole in it, in the shape of a pair of trousers.
     "Does this mean there is such a satellite?" McInnerny asked.
     Atkinson turned to glare at him.
     "If there is," he said, evenly, "I'll arrange a test, as soon as possible."
     "Will I be there?" McInnerny asked, excited.
     "You'll be the guest of honor!" Atkinson shouted.  Field Agent Robinson
closed the door of the plane, as it flew onward, away from Colombian airspace.

                                    -<=*=>-

     "Almost there," Juan Valdez said to himself.  In Spanish, of course.
     Andy, his faithful coffeeburro, brayed at him.  This was also in Spanish,
though it was just as unintelligible as it would be in English, or Portugese,
or Swahili, though it was far less unintelligible that it would have been had
it been brayed in Unix.
     He had been walking for hours, and only now did the familiar hills of his
home village seem near.  He felt more tired than ever, and thought again about
having Andy fly him the rest of the way in.  But Andy wasn't in any better
condition than he was, and besides, it was fitting that they walked these
last miles together, as they had walked so many miles before.
     Andy brayed again, and Juan looked up.
     There was a plane, flying off into the distance.  But that wasn't what
Andy had been braying at.  Someone had leapt out of the plane, and was
currently falling downwards at an increasing velocity.
     Juan squinted.  Even though his body wasn't what it used to be, his
eyes were still excellent, due to the powerful effects of the coffee molecules
in his bloodstream.  They focused on a flailing figure dressed in black, who
appeared to be wearing a parachute of some kind.
     He watched as the parachute opened, failing to slow the figure's descent
by a whole heck of a lot.
     "Hmmm," Juan mused.
     Andy brayed in a musing fashion.

                                    -<=*=>-

     She closed the door of the apartment, and immediately realized he was
gone.  His aura, which had once filled the penthouse abode overlooking the
bustling metropolis of Chicago, was totally absent, and Hecate knew that it
was due to more than him stepping out to watch the Bears game at Soldier
Field.
     "Dar?" she asked, despite herself.
     No reply.
     Things were missing, she realized.  The books he had been reading.  His
camera.  If she went into their bedroom, she'd find some clothing missing, as
well as his suitcase.
     Katsu's coffin rested on the sofa, and Hecate could sense that Katsu
was still inside, sleeping soundly.  In a few hours, it would be night, and he
would arise, ready to feed on the blood of the living.
     He'd have to settle for take-out, though.  Dar's sudden departure had
changed everything.
     Hecate thought that she'd convinced Dar not to leave, that they could
rebuild from where they had fallen.  They'd both begun with less, and at their
peak had commanded legions.  And with the economy starting to pick up,
getting financing for a new Brigade of Night couldn't be all that hard...
     "Fine," she said to the empty air.  "Just you wait.  You'll come crawling
back to me, when I'm Empress of the World, and I'll just pretend I don't even
know you."
     The clock ticked woodenly.  She looked out the picture window at the
skyline.
     She was losing her touch, Hecate decided.  Now, even she didn't believe
her lies.

                                    -<=*=>-

     The response was faster and more startling than Shadebeam had expected.
Kaoru raised his arms, brandishing his long, razor-sharp talons.  They started
moving, blurring into a series of flashes and clicking noises too fast for the
eye to follow or the ear to decipher.
     When it was over, Kaoru had Don Don Donaldo's gun, and Don Don Donaldo's
wrists were chained to his ankles with macrame handcuffs.
     "Er," Akane said.
     "Wow," Shadebeam offered.
     -Hoo,- Andro added.
     "How about that?" Kaoru asked them.  "This is what I have been doing
ever since we parted company in Indonesia!"
     "Er," Akane said, again, in case she wasn't being clear.
     "You remember that I told you that I sought to become heroic, like you,
so that you would respect me again?" Kaoru asked.  Shadebeam and Akane nodded,
too befuddled to do anything else.  "Well, while I and my penguins made the
long journey across the Pacific to Chile, I pondered my situation, and wondered
what good long, razor-sharp talons could possibly be in foiling the criminal
element."
     "Well, actually..." Shadebeam started.
     "Then it dawned on me!" Kaoru exclaimed.  "Macrame!"
     Silence reigned in the small, wood hovel.
     "Macrame," Akane finally said.  "How...um..."
     -Lame?- Kyoko offered.
     *Weird?* Symon interpreted.
     *Wrinkle-free?* China asked.
     "Brilliant!" Kaoru finished for her.  "Upon arriving in Chile, I sought
out the wisest of the wise.  I scaled mountains!  I scoured valleys!  I
answered complex opinion surveys!  Finally, I found an old, wise man who
offered to teach me the complexities of the ancient art of macrame, if I would
only give free full body massages to three other area wise men, who were
apparently convincing villagers for miles around him not to go see him with
their questions.  I gave the wise men the required body massages, and they
did not seem to appreciate the surface."  He paused.  "In fact, they screamed.
Odd, now that I think back on it."
     "I can't imagine why," Shadebeam commented.
     "He taught me the complex inner mysteries of macrame," Kaoru said, getting
back up to speed.  "Once I had mastered them, I bid goodbye to my master, who
was already starting to collect money from all the villagers who were suddenly
showing up to ask him their questions.  I journeyed far and wide, searching for
a place where I could learn to take my macrame talents and turn them into a
force for good.
     "When I arrived here, I saw the statue of Juan Valdez, and knew I had
arrived."
     "Why *is* there a statue of Juan Valdez here, anyway?" Akane asked.
     "It's his home village," Don Don Donaldo interjected, helpfully.
     "Oh," Akane answered.
     "The villagers learned that I wished to be a hero, like Juan Valdez,"
Kaoru said.  "They agreed to help me hone and refine my talents.  Watch!"
He opened a couple boxes, which happened to be lying near his feet, and
subsequently stuck his talons in.  He withdrew them seconds later, trailing
a different colored macrame string on each tip.
     "The strings have been treated with Juan Valdez's Special Caffeine
Extract," Kaoru explained, helpfully.  "It makes them far sturdier than
ordinary macrame string!"
     They watched, mainly because there was nothing better to do, as Kaoru
began to weave the strings, using his flexible talons to bead and hook the
string.  He moved slowly at first, so that they could see what he was doing,
then sped up, his fingers moving far faster than fingers could reasonably
be expected to.
     When they stopped again, it was to display a macrame penguin.  It took
several minutes for Akane to realize that he was offering it to her.
     "Um...thanks," Akane said, as she accepted the faux bird.
     "Now," Kaoru said, turning on Don Don Donaldo.  "As for your lies..."
     "Er..." Shadebeam said, feeling a bit silly, as she and Akane had been
saying things like 'um' and 'er' and 'oh' for most of the episode.
     "He wasn't exactly lying," Akane said.  Kaoru stopped, and turned back
to look at her.
     "Excuse me?" he asked.
     "We sort of aren't heroes, in the accepted legal sense," Akane explained,
carefully.  "You see, I kind of attempted to destroy the world and kill
everyone last year, and they didn't take well to the notion."
     "I see," Kaoru said.
     He was silent, for quite a while.
     "Well?" Shadebeam asked.
     "Well what?" Kaoru asked back.
     "What are you going to do?" she inquired.  "Turn us in?  Let us go?"
     -Make us into decorative pillowcases?- Andro asked.
     "I...I will have to think..." Kaoru said.  "Perhaps the answer will hit
me out of the blue."
     Predictably, five seconds later, Paranoia crashed through the roof and
landed upon Kaoru.

WHAT WILL KAORU DECIDE?
WILL IT INVOLVE VIOLENT SLASHES AND GALLONS OF BLOOD?
WILL IT INVOLVE A NUCLEAR-DEATH-BEAM-EMITTING SATELLITE?
IF IT DOESN'T, WILL THE SATELLITE BARGE IN ANYWAY?
WHEN WILL JUAN REACH THE VILLAGE?
WILL HE HAVE A VILLAGE LEFT TO REACH?
MAYBE A MACRAME REPLICA OF ONE?

The answers to these extraneous questions will be completely besides the
point on an upcoming...SUPERGUY!

        Gary W. Olson         <^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v
swede@drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu  >  "If you're so special, why aren't you dead?"
     swede@drycas.bitnet      <      - The Breeders, "I Just Wanna Get Along"