🚀 go-pugleaf

     The mid-day light reflected off his mirrored sunglasses as he gazed at
the top of the Harxxon Building, a graceful, towering structure that loomed
alongside the other skyscrapers of Mexico City.  The heat rising from the
cement and asphault below made it shimmer, slightly, but he took little note
of this phenomenon.
     It was the time of day that many in the city were enjoying a siesta,
avoiding the incessant sunlight and stifling air.  A hypothetical observer
might think that the man was engaged in siesta as well, if it were not for
the fact that the man was standing (and if the hypothetical observer wasn't
taking a siesta itself), looking out of an observatory-level window.
     The man wasn't napping, not out of disregard for the national custom, but
because he did not require, or desire, sleep.  The few people, tourists, mostly,
who were on the observation deck at that hour gave him a wide berth, and did
not stay on the deck for long.  His body was fairly massive, at least seven
feet tall, with an impressive musculature evident under his thick coat.
     Despite the coat, he wasn't sweating.  A cigarette dangled from his
dry, scarred lip, from which he took a puff, every three minutes, as though he
had to remember to inhale.
     They had a history, the man and the Building.  Two encounters, the first
and the current, seperated by forty years.  He had died, twice, in the
interval, and wasn't taking precautions to avoid a third.
     The cigarette was finished, only a smouldering stump left.  He dropped it
to the floor, and stepped on it.  The tile cracked, slightly, under the weight
of his foot, as he turned to leave.

                                    -<=*=>-

                              RADIAN & SHADEBEAM
                                  Episode 40
                          (Zero Tolerance, part one)
               "You Never Hear the Tentacle With Your Name on It"
                                      by
                                 Gary W. Olson

                                    -<=*=>-

     "Hoo," Shadebeam commented, as she craned her neck back.  "Bit of a climb
to the top."
     "We *can* fly," Akane said.
     -That's what the cigarettes are for, ain't they?- Andro asked, from her
shoulder pack.
     "I can't fly," Kaoru protested.  "Though I could make a macrame rope..."
     "We'll carry you," Akane assured him.
     "I'm not going up," Paranoia whined.  "You'd drop me."
     "No we wouldn't," Shadebeam said.  "And how can you stand it in that coat?
I'm surprised you're not sweating like a hog."
     "I don't sweat," Paranoia told her.  "That way, they don't see me sweat,
and they don't get me."
     -I already don't get you,- Kyoko commented.
     "You'll stay in the hotel while we're away," Akane told him.  "Once we
get a room, of course."
     "Well, that's great," Shadebeam said.  "What are we going to do tonight?
Zero ain't gonna be here until tomorrow evening."
     *You could try sleeping,* Symon suggested.  *It's been a while since you've
done that, hasn't it?*  Shadebeam looked balefully at him, which confused Kaoru,
who was in her line of sight and couldn't see Symon.
     "We can recon the top office of the Harxxon Building tonight," Akane said.
"This may be our only chance to catch Zero."
     *What kind of name is Harxxon?* China asked.  *What is it supposed to
represent?*
     "Some big holding corporation, I think," Akane told her.  "One of their
subsidiaries got into a bit of an ecological blunder a few years ago - a ship
of theirs dumped a few thousand gallons of floor wax into the ocean off the
coast of Alaska.  Their lawyers argued, 'Sure, the spill devastated the
ecology in the sea and along the shore, doing tremendous damage and ruining
the lives of thousands of people...but look at that shine!'  The judge didn't
buy it."
     Shadebeam snorted.  "I'm not sur..."  Her voice trailed off.
     -Nor are you madam,- Andro told her.  -Your point, please?-
     "Alexei?" she asked.
     -You're asking us?- Kyoko inquired.
     "Alexei!"
     Akane, Kaoru, and Paranoia turned their heads to look at the person that
Shadebeam was exclaiming at.  He was leaning against the brick wall of the
base of the Harxxon building, and looked like he had been there for some time,
observing them without comment.  His hair was short and blond, and he had a
slight sunburn.
     "Alexei..." Akane whispered.  Vague images swam into her mind's eye, too
muddy to discern.
     "Hi, Shade," Alexei said, in perfect English.  "Been a while."
     "Um, yeah, I guess," Shadebeam said.  "About seven months, right?"
     "What are you talking about?" Akane asked.
     "Oh, Akane, this is Alexei," Shadebeam told her.  "Remember, I told you
about meeting him, back in Moscow?"
     "That's right," Akane answered, as she stared at him.  "Kinda coincidental
encountering him seven months later, halfway around the world, don't you
think?"
     *Read the book,* China suggested.
     "I'm sure you've guessed that it was more than a coincidence," Alexei
told them.  "My last name is Rasputin.  I'm a PoD, like you, Akane, and you,
Paginini."
     "I knew it!" Paranoia shrieked, alarming the passers by.  "You're all
getting together again, just to take your revenge on me!  Well, it won't
work, do you hear me?  It won--OOOFFFFF!"
     Kaoru extracted his elbow from Paranoia's stomach.
     "It...will work," Paranoia wheezed.  "That's what I meant."
     "Would you care to spend the night at my apartment?" Alexei asked.  "We
have much to talk about, and a city street is hardly the place to go about it."
     Akane raised her eyebrow.
     "Don't worry," Alexei told her, smirking slightly.  "You're not my type.
Besides, your attempt to capture Zero can't begin until tomorrow night."
     "You overheard us," Shadebeam said, accusingly.
     "I knew before you reached the city," Alexei replied.  "That's why I'm
contacting you now...to see if I can dissuade you from your present course."

                                    -<=*=>-

     "Okay, thanks," Hecate said.  "Call me if you see him."  She set the
black phone back upon its hook, and slumped back into the corner of the couch.
"Nedderel, The Dark Sorcerer of the Ten Realms, hasn't seen Dar in months.  But
he said that if we saw him, to tell him that the gang missed him at their
regular Wednesday night poker game and sacraficial lamb roast."
     "Okay," Katsu said, flipping through the rolodex.  "Let's see, next one
is Oscar Nehavia, the manager of the Dark Evil Tome Discount Book Store in
Walla Walla.  His number is..."
     "I can't make another call," Hecate told him.
     "Hmmm," Katsu responded.  "Well, the next one after him is the Neville
Brothers..."
     "I don't think we're going to find him this way," Hecate said.  "I don't
think he's gone to see anyone he's seen in a long time."
     "So where *would* he have gone, then?" Katsu asked.
     "I don't know," Hecate said.  "But I'm not giving up."
     "But you just said..."
     "I'm not making another call tonight," Hecate repeated.  "At least, not
from that rolodex.  He has to have left some clue behind.  We just have to
keep looking until we find it."
     "Oh, joy," Katsu answered, taking another sip of blood from his wine
glass.

                                    -<=*=>-

     Special Special Agent Richard Less stepped into Karina Selanova's office,
noting that she didn't look up from her work as he approached.  This time,
it seemed that she was actually absorbed in what she was doing, rather than
simply snubbing him.
     He cleared his throat.  She didn't look up, but Less could see the muscles
in her shoulder tensing, becoming slightly more knotted than before.
     "Yes?" she asked, as her fingers rattled her powerbook keyboard.
     "Pleased to see you too, Karina," Less told her.  "I just learned that
you've expanded your mission profile.  Given that I'm the one who originally
defined the mission profile, I would say I'm entitled to an explanation,
wouldn't you say?"
     "Certainly," she said.  Her fingertips continued to move.  Graphics
flashed, appearing and disappearing on her monitor as fast as Less could
perceive them.
     "Well?" he asked.
     "My pursuit of Radian to date, including my brief captivity at her hands,
has led me to believe that her running is not aimless," Karina said.  "Rather,
as she is pursued, she is in turn in pursuit of someone else.  Furthermore,
there is evidence that other entities, beyond our usual competitors, are
interested in acquiring Radian, and learning their natures and aims is as
important as obtaining Radian for the Director's pet project."
     "That kind of talk will keep the Directorship out of your hands," Less
told her, without condescension.
     "Special Special Agents have wide latitudes of discretion for a reason,"
Karina reminded him.  "Anyone with a serious interest in leading the M.I.B.
knows that kissing up can only take you so far."
     "Are you at least going to arrange for the retrieval of Paranoia?"
Less asked.
     "No reason to," Karina told him.  "With his implants, we know his location
at all times, and so long as he stays with Radian and Shadebeam, we'll know
where they are, as well.  By monitoring their unguarded conversations, we
stand to learn a great deal about their aims."
     "'We' are still a bit miffed about your lifting of him from where 'we'
had him securely stashed," Less said.
     "You know the bureau's Maxim."
     "Yes," Less said, sighing.  "'Finders keepers, losers weepers.'  I made it
an agency standard."  Her fingers moved continuously, and she grew silent again.
When Less left, she didn't utter a word.
     He looked back at the door, and smiled.
     It was going even better than planned.
     "Finders keepers, losers weepers," Less muttered to himself, smirking, as
he started down the corridor.

                                    -<=*=>-

     "What'dya suppose he's doing in there?" Luis asked the guard next to him,
pointing at the door that sported a name plate that read 'Pedro Bebida, Vice-
President in Charge of Operations.'  "Searching for his Waldo?"
     Tomas, the guard in question, laughed a security-guard laugh at Luis's
joke.  Luis, being a security guard like Tomas, laughed as well, and flicked
the butt of his cigarette into an ashtray in a patently security-guard-like
manner.
     The two were seated in the decidedly unsecurity-guard-like environment of
a posh outer business office.  Several monitors, which had been hastily rigged
with the help of their security-guard skills and patched into the security
monitoring system of the Harxxon Building displayed important areas in the
ten floors below them, which comprised Harxxon's Mexico City office.  There
was no movement on the monitors, hence Luis and Tomas's chance to indulge
in security-guard-esque homor.
     Their window of levity closed moments later, as an indicator light
flashed, signaling that someone was using the elevator.  Luis watched the
floor indicator l.e.d, expecting that it would stop somewhere in the middle
floors, which were comprised of law offices and strip-o-gram message centers,
both of which saw plenty of action, even this late at night.
     The elevator didn't stop.  It continued to rise, and Luis felt his
muscles tensing, even though he knew there was nothing to worry about.  The
elevators were locked out of the Harxxon floors at this time of night.
     Moments later, the elevator reached the lowest Harxxon floor, and passed
it, continuing steadily upwards.
     "Shit," Luiz said.  "He's walking right in.  Where's the goddamn
security system?"
     "Don't worry," Tomas told him, hefting his uzi.  "He won't get far."
     The elevator stopped, on their floor.  The doors opened.
     "Hello," a man said, as he stepped out.
     "Get your hands in the air," Tomas said, as he and Luis aimed their
weapons at him.
     The man didn't raise his arms.  He simply regarded them with curiosity,
through his sunglasses.  Luis guessed that he was Asian, though it was hard to
tell -- his face was partially covered with long hair and the upturned collar
of his coat, and what wasn't covered was scarred and weathered.
     Despite himself, and the fact that the man was obviously unarmed, Luis
felt himself tremble.  Even though he matched the man in physical size,
Luis felt small when looking at him, as though the man was a mountain compacted
into human shape.
     "We have two questions for you, before we mow you down," Tomas told the
man, oblivious to Luis's shaking.  "First, what's your name?  And second,
why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?"
     The beginnings of a smile appeared on the man's face.
     "To answer the first question, my name, as far as you're concerned, is
Beowulf."
     He reached up and removed his sunglasses.  Luis shuddered when he saw
the man's eyes.  They were a sickening shade of green, and seemed to squirm
in his sockets, straining to stay in.
     "And, to answer your second question..."
     Luis screamed when one of the eyeballs shot out from the man towards
Tomas, expanding into a massive, violently alarming tentacle.  The eyeball
mutated into an eight fingered hand, each finger tapering off into a honed
needle that chopped into Tomas's face.
     Tomas fired his guns as he died, spraying the man with enough bullets to
turn him into powder.  The sounds of ricochet filled the room as the bullets
bounced off him, not even knocking him back.
     The green wave expanded, and the other eye shot out to join it.  A
tentacle ripped Luis's guns away from him, and Luis fell to the floor, a part
of his mind noting that he was slipping into shock.  The green tentacles...
there was far too much mass in them to have come from the man, even a man as
big as him.
     But there they were, slipping back into the man, through his eye sockets.
Tomas's headless body was allowed to collapse to the ground.  The man
replaced his sunglasses, and regarded the now-dead security guard.
     "...I've got sensitive eyes," Beowulf informed him.
     Luis took that moment to mercifully pass out.

DOES BEOWULF HAVE SENSITIVE EYES, OR ARE THEY JUST THIN-SKINNED?
ISN'T HE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD OR SOMETHING?
WHY DOES ALEXEI WANT TO CONVINCE RADIAN AND SHADEBEAM NOT TO MEET WITH ZERO?
WILL PARANOIA TAKE A SHOWER?
WILL LESS FIND SOMETHING?
WILL SOMEONE WEEP AS A CONSEQUENCE?

A few surprises and more cool tentacle action on an upcoming...SUPERGUY!,
where fresh is the taste.

        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"