🚀 go-pugleaf

The Tribe of Behn #6:Fly By Night

     "You've been avoiding me.", accused Milton.
     "I'm sorry. Really I am John.", replied Aphra. "But it just came as
such a shock to me. I'm trying to deal with the fact that we're...married."
     Milton bowed his head a degree. "I understand. Completely. I was
even going to ask Liz out. And I guess the middle of an interview show
wasn't the best time to bring up that particular memory. But we've got to
deal with this...somehow."
     Aphra heaved a sigh. "You're right. I know that. You know, we've
been zipping around ever since we lost our memories. Maybe we should go
out somewhere, get to know each other a little better. Try to figure out
where we stand. Sound good?"
     Milton smiled shyly. "Yes. It does. Where would you suggest?"
     "Hmm...why don't we just head out. We'll go where the impulse takes
us? Maybe that's the best way to find out who we are."
     "Maybe. Let's do it."
     The two smiled at each other. At the core of each stomach was a
small pit of fear. But also excitement...and the thrill of discovery.
***
      Milton threw the overnight bag into the Jaguar's back seat. Aphra
was sitting up front, waiting for him impatiently. "Must be nice to just
make your luggage as you go along..." he muttered.
     Aphra sounded the horn. Milton looked grimly at the mailbox from
where he had come, and walked slowly around to the side door. "I guess
I'm the patient one in this relationship."
***
     "This is ridiculous!", exclaimed Jonson. "We've been conscious less
than three weeks, and those two go off on a pleasure jaunt!"
     "Ben.", smiled Dickens. "They need this. We're all adjusting to our
new lives.  They've got something special to reclaim...I say let them.
And in the meantime, we can catch up with our own lives!"
     "I think Ben's just worried that we'll be ineffective without
Aphra's leadership. Right Ben?", winked Doyle at Dickens.
     Ben was ruffled. "Of course we don't need them. But they are two of
our more powerful members. What if something more impressive than Byron
shows up?"
     Doyle shook his head. "Oh come on. We didn't even need our full
strength against a sticky jam jar! What could possibly happen?"
***
     Doyle should have known that invoking those words activates a well
known metaphysical rules: Murphy's Law. Consider it activated.
***
     The Jaguar sped down the street, its occupants lost in conversation.
Two strange individuals noticed the car, and recognised the driver.
     "Hey that's Aphra!"
     "Yeah, that superguy!"
     "You know, if we could kill a superguy, I bet they'd let us train
with a REAL clan!"
     It must be mentioned at this point that both individuals were
strange for a very evident and tangible reason. They were dressed head to
toe in black...in the middle of the day. They were, in fact, ninja, of
the dreaded Wannabe Clan. Feared, not for their prowess, but for their
sheer numbers, the Wannabes trained themselves with cheesy ninja movies
and bargain bin books on martial arts. This group was very similar to
their counterparts in the United States...
     One of the Wannabes climbed into the clan's Ninja-mobile, while the
other slipped back to inform the rest of the group. That night, two
superguy heads would grace their mantles, and they would truly be ninja.
     At least that was the plan.
***
     "So", began Cherri. "You have designs upon the Earth too."
     "Not I.", replied Nineteen. "My master. I am but a servant of his
plans."
     "Forgive me. I am part of a united race. Telepathic contact is
ubiquitous amongst our kind. I often fail to distinguish between one's
goals and the race's goals."
     "Forgiven. Yes, my master has instructed us to seize control of this
planet."
     "I see. Why?"
     Nineteenth smiled. "That isn't the way the game is played, to use my
host's terminology. First, I would like to know your plans for the Earth."
     "We also intend to control the Earth. It is now my turn to ask a
question. Why do you seek this control?"
     "It is a simple punitive measure. One entity on this world dares to
summon other minion-demons, incurring the master's attention and wrath."
     "You punish the entire world for one's mistake?" Cherri smiled
wryly. "It sounds a trifle...extreme?"
     "It is the way of my master. This world shall serve as an example to
others. Also, we need a new theatre of operations. This world will
function adequately in that regards. You?"
     "It is what we do. We travel the universe, looking for suitable life
forms. Then we bring them politically into our control, at which point
they are altered."
     "Altered?"
     "Into more of our own."
     "I see. My master wishes to know more. Perhaps our goals are
compatible. Or can be made as such. It would be a shame to have to fight
our battle on two fronts."
     Suddenly, there was the smell of brimstone and printer toner. And
standing in the middle of the room was the president of Grey Lupine himself!
     "I'm glad to see I didn't miss this historic moment. Hello all.
Don't mind me. Anyone care for a game of Magister?"
***
     Aphra and Milton were sitting in a riverfront park. It was the
middle of the day, and a cold sun shone down upon them. Like most park
frequenters in these winter days, they wore thick jackets, but they also
leaned closer to each other, trying to absorb warmth from the other. A
futile endeavour...but the trying is fun. Their blanket was spread over
the frosted grass, which sparkled brightly in the glow of the sun (which
currently seemed to be nothing more than a decoration in the sky. 2.)
They had been sitting there for over an hour, watching the peace
fountain, or the boats which chugged up and down the Detroit river...just
enjoying life and togetherness. Once they had given it a chance, being a
couple again seemed a very natural, easy thing for the two authors.
Throughout the morning they had talked over a hot cup of cocoa, becoming
familiar with each other. Aphra had suggested an adjournment to the park,
and it had turned out to be a wonderful, if cold, idea.
     Milton turned to Aphra. "How could we ever have forgotten us?"
    Aphra thwacked his nose lightly, teasingly. "We've been blaming our
memories for everything else, why not this?"
     "You know, I'd love to stay here, like this, forever, but I think a
vital part of me has gone completely numb."
     "Mmm. Its a little cold."
     "A little cold? Its absolutely frigid!"
     Aphra smiled, and produced a flat, papery object. "Well, maybe you
don't have a chemical heater pack."
     Milton gaped. "How long did you have one of those?"
     Aphra pretended to consider her answer carefully. "About fifteen
seconds." She handed hers to Milton. "I'll make another one. Seriously,
the cold is starting to get to me too. Want to go?"
     "Where to?"
     "Hmm...that Motor Inn in Lemington?"
     "Its a long drive..."
     "I bet I can make it worthwhile..."
     "I'll get the blankets."
***
     "Its really simple. I play a Caramel Critter card, which causes all
of your Dental Association Approved spells to go out of play."
     "Your game makes no sense!", bellowed Nineteenth. "I don't even know
why we didn't kill you as you entered!"
     Cherri nodded. She wondered that too. "In fact, why don't I convert
him now?"
     The Grey Lupine smiled. "I'm afraid you gave up that choice when you
touched those cards I handed you. They're laced with a very powerful mind
control spell. Oh, and don't try to shrug it off...I've included an
Ultra-Mega Rare card in each pack, no Magister player could ever pass
that up."
     Nineteenth struggled confusedly. "Impossible! Magic has no
consequence when directed against my race!"
     Grey Lupine's smile broadened. "You little twat. You think you've
been operating under this world's axioms? Ever since I entered this room
I've imposed Magister laws upon both of you! And in that game, no one is
fully immune to magic!"
     Cherri piped up. "So, when you depart, we'll both revert, and you'll
no longer have control!"
     "Sorry, but thanks for playing. You are mind controlled. Whether the
laws which imposed it upon you depart or not is irrelevant, you will
remain mind controlled. I can see why you're so worried. A telepathically
linked race...I can almost feel the addiction spreading through the
link...my God...your whole race is falling under my control! This is
better than when I published Vampyre:The Bloodbath!"
     Cherri struggled against the addiction, knowing too that it was
being transmitted. But there was no sanctuary. She and her entire race
were passionate about Magister Cards, and would violate any societal
stigma to obtain them. As a side effect of this, they were completely and
utterly subservient to the man who created such cards: The Grey Lupine.
     "This is wonderful. I was originally content to take Earth and its
Astral Environs. But now...now a thousand planets are at my beck and
call! (Author's Note: The Grey Lupine has shifted gaming universes again.
He is currently under Torg rules, and has played a Monologue card. Just
thought I'd clear that up.) An armada, millions strong, which will race
to the Earth when I call it! Googleplexes of individuals now follow one
destiny: the one which I lay out before them! They will convert others,
who will in turn convert others, until the Universe is only an extension
of my will! And from there, other universes! I will rule from the base
all the way to the apostrophe!"
     The Grey Lupine suddenly turned to face Nineteenth. "Ah, very
clever. Attempting to use your devotion to your master as a carrier on
your passion for Magister Cards. You almost got through to him. No
matter, I'll see to it that he too falls into the fold, somehow. But the
two of you are too dangerous as is. Allow me to rectify the situation."
     GL held up a thick tome, with the words Magister: The Promotion
scrawled across the front. A Magister card decorated the front cover. He
flipped to page xx, and recited eldrich words scrawled there.
     Nineteenth and Cherri screamed in agony. They twisted and
writhed...and shortly, where the two had been standing, two sheets of
paper rested.
     The Grey Lupine picked the sheets up. He looked over the statistics
written upon it.
     "Wow, you'd never have guessed Nineteenth's social skill would be
that high, not after that pickup line he used on Cherri!"
    Cackling to himself, the Grey Lupine returned himself to his office,
knowing now that he would not have to worry about that unpaid parking ticket.
***
     The place could not be described, as length, breadth and width were
not dimensions in this realm. It was a third-dimentional universe,
composed of only thought, time and energy. Each being which resided
within referred to each other by complex thought permutations which
reflected their intended target's energy pattern. I have given the
important ones  silly names to avoid a 1.45 meg file which contains their
energy patterns, and a 29.63 meg file which explains how to interpret
such patterns.
     "Aewan. Have you sensed this world?"
     "Yes Trillings. And I have detected its subtle shifts in reality."
     "You understand the consequences?"
     "Yes. If reality is allowed to fluctuate in this manner, all higher
realities will begin to fracture."
     "What is your suggestion?"
     "I will assume a fifth dimensional shape, journey to this lower
universe, and put things right."
(I assume we're in five-space. Length, breadth, depth, time and that one
that my physicist friend keeps trying to explain to me. If we're
not...well nyyyyaahah!)
     "It is a great sacrifice. I certainly hope you will be successful in
returning to your two-space form upon completion of your task."
     "It will take me a while to prepare. But I will commence those
preparations immediately."
***
     Meanwhile, back in five or so-space...
     Several black clad figures milled about outside the motor inn.
Despite its name, it was several levels high. These figures tried to look
inconspicuous: reading a newspaper, examing papers blowing past...but you
just couldn't get past the fact that these figures were dressed in black
head to toe, in a very cinematic ninja outfit, and decked out with long
Ninja-to and Shuriken. The police had been called, several times, but
they were all tied up in racing down Highway 11, testing the new
photo-radar trap, over and over again - very important work which simply
couldn't be interrupted.
     "Psst..." stage-whispered one Wannabe to another across the parking
lot. "Is everybody here?"
    "Yep! Let's begin!"
    "Who's got the rope?"
    "Umm..."
***
     The room was dark. A bottle of champaign (opened) sat on a dresser,
next to two half-full glasses. There were two human-sized lumps in the
bed (which the reader can be forgiven for thinking that they are in fact
humans under the covers. Mainly because they ARE humans under the
covers), and the sound of soft, meaningless, yet tender conversation
emerged from the sheets, whispered in a way that only two people in love
can (in other words, softly, yet without that rasping sound that makes
you walk over to the whisperer and yell "Shut the bloody hell(tm) up!").
One of the bed's occupants was suddenly altered to wakefulness.
     "Did you hear something?", whispered Aphra.
    "Hmm..?", whispered Milton.
    "Wait...it sounds like people stage whispering."
    "Oh, its probably just some actors somewhere else in the hotel."
    From outside, the following could be heard:
    "Shhh....don't let them hear you!"
    "Got it?"
    "Got it."
     "Okay, aim carefully."
    "I am."
    "And don't make any noise when you throw it, to alert them."
    Silence. More silence. Silence.
    Dead silence.
    Suddenly, a large grappling iron crashed through the window, and into
the hotel room!
     Silence.
     Aphra and Milton looked at each other in exasperation.
     From outside: "Damn."
     The two authors silently slipped out of bed, and threw on courtesy
robes.
     From outside:"Hufff...puff...rattle...rattle" (the sounds of an
out-of-shape ninja climbing a rope, while his armaments rattle around."
     The two authors slipped into different parts of the room, waiting
for their assailants.
     From outside: "Aiiiiiiiieeeeeeee.....*thud*" (the sound of an
out-of-shape ninja falling off of the rope he was climbing.)
     The two authors choked back a chuckle.
     From outside: "Okay, get the ladder. (scuffle scuffle, thunk) You
first Mort."
     Seconds later, a black masked face appeared in the window. He
surveyed the room, but as it was dark, and Mort had no experience seeing
things in such conditions, he leapt to a rather natural conclusion that
any truly stupid person would leap to.
     "They didn't hear nothing!"
     Within seconds (these seconds are really adding up!), twelve black
clad figures had climbed gracelessly into the room. They raised their
Ninja-tos over the bed, and thrust into the bed with the long knives!
     "We got them! Gus, get the heads!"
     "No way! You get the heads."
     "I'm not getting the heads. That's gross!"
     "Gross is your job, you're a school teacher!"
     "Okay, okay, I'll get the heads...holy crap they're gone!"
     "Pathetic." intoned Aphra, as a cage appeared around the startled
ninja. She turned to her husband. "You get the idea that we should head
somewhere that's got some REAL problems?"
***
     Again, a character managed to inadvertently activate Murphy's Law.
***
     "Well, thanks for the help, Ms. Behn.", spoke the OPP officer, who
had arrived that morning. "These guys have been a nuisance since last year."
     Aphra smiled faintly. "No problem. By the way, do you have any
casing being investigated? Ones which involve really powerful villains?
Maybe ones that can hit what they're aiming at?"
     The officer scratched his head. "Nope, not at the moment. We'll give
you a call if any come up, though."
     "Got our number?"
     "Yep. Well, I'll see you later."
     "Boy THAT had the feel of a wrap-up..."
***
    But Aphra was wrong...there was a little more to go.
     Driving home, Aphra turned to Milton.
     "Well?"
     "Well what?"
     "Did you enjoy it?"
     "If you mean the driving -watch out for that truck!"
    "No.", chided Aphra, as she nimbly avoided the eighteen wheeler which
Milton was acting like such a baby about. She would have seen it in
time...probably. "I mean yesterday. What do you think?"
     Milton smiled (a little weakly though, due to Aphra's driving). "I
really enjoyed it. I enjoyed you. Your company, your
conversation...everything. I think this is really going to work."
     Aphra smiled too. "I think so too. I really wish those idiots in
black would have picked someone else to harass, though. But yeah. Oh, and
I love you."
    "I love you t...red light!!!!"

As usual, this story is trademarked, all rights reserved 1994 to Chris
Angelini (email:cangelin@uoguelph.ca). Everything alluded to is intended
as satire, and no trademark infringement is intended nor implied. Why?
Because we like you.

2. Thanks to Suzanne for the suggestion.