🚀 go-pugleaf

     The two policemen escorted the prisoner called Unorthodox Girl (known
alias, Unorthodox Lass) into the receiving room.
     "I thought we already did her batch?" the Desk Sergeant asked.  It had
already been a long day, and it seemed like it was just going to get
longer.
     "She was out of it when they dragged her in here," Officer Crumpkee said.
     "I do get one phone call, don't I?"
     The Desk Sergeant sighed and handed her a quarter.  "In back."
     Unorthodox Girl walked over to the phone.  She glanced over to the
policemen.  None of them were paying any attention to her.  She lifted the
receiver, and punched in an 800 number from memory.
     "Hello?" she asked.  She grinned.  "I'd like to place an order for
delivery...."

        *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *

     Dar groaned, and pulled out another goop-encrusted clump of hair.  He
didn't know if the goop that Ginsu World Class had sprayed on him was
supposed to cling to his hair like that or not.  Dar suspected that a stray
spell had altered its chemical composition slightly.
     He and Hecate were the only ones awake in their cell at this hour of
night.  In the cell next to them, Deadman watched impassively as Captain
Non-Sequitor painted the cell bars to look like candy canes.  The sound of
She-Devil snoring echoed through the cell block loudly, yet none of those
who it was keeping awake dared to wake her.
     "We could just teleport out, you know," Hecate suggested, again.
     "Every mage here would gladly report that fact," Dar said.  "We would
be renegades from the law."
     "We're evil, remember?"
     Dar paused.  This was the twelfth time this argument had come up in
the past two hours alone, and he still hadn't thought of a good rebuttal
for it. Instead, he used his standby evasion.
     "It's not that," he said.  "I just don't know what I have left to
escape *to.*"
     "Not this again," Hecate groaned.  "You've got a penthouse apartment
in Chicago, a good quantity of savings, a healthy stock portfolio, and a
low cholestorol count.  You've got an ally in me and a pupil in Katsu.  We
can *rebuild* our forces, and go on to new heights of power!  You and I,
former enemies, working together!  Think of the opportunities!  Think of
the terror! Think of..."
     As Hecate continued to exposit on the things to think about, Dar's
mind drifted.  She was right, of course.  He had all those things waiting
for him, if he got out of here.  He had contacts who could give him a whole
new identiy, complete with computer records, false papers, and so on.
There was nothing to stop him.
     Nothing, save for a feeling that it wouldn't matter.  His life was
drawing to a close, and it didn't bother him at all, no more than it
excited him.
     He thought of Radian, the stepsister of his brother, Rad.  His
stepsister, in fact.  She had not been taken into custody, instead, if
Spectrum could be believed, choosing to run off with her twin, Shadebeam,
in a psychadaelic VW minibus with an odd gentleman who called himself Zen
Navigator.
     It had been at that point, when she had left, that he had lost the
will to live.
     Hecate still dreamed the old dreams, dreams she had not been able to
bring into being when she had led the Sixth Brigade of Night in the Magic
Wars, and which certainly were beyond reach now.  Radian had destroyed
those dreams, destroyed so much that used to be his...
     "...think of the money!  Think of the tax breaks!  Think of...er, hello?"
     Dar looked up.  It seemed awfully...misty...in the cell.
     Moments later, the mist coalesced, becoming Katsu.
     "Katsu!" Hecate exclaimed.  "What are you doing here?"
     "Shhh!" Katsu said.
     "Katsu!" Hecate whispered.  "What are you doing here?"
     "I'm here to help you escape," Katsu said.
     "Don't bother," Hecate said.  "I've been trying to talk him into it
all evening, but he won't have anything to do with it."
     "So why not just dump him?" Katsu asked.
     "Yes, go on," Dar said.  "Leave me to my...rrr!...misery."  He pulled
out another clump of hair, along with more goo.
     "Not without you," Hecate said.  "Leave, Katsu.  We will summon you later."
     "But..." Katsu started.
     "Go," Hecate said.  Katsu shrugged and dissolved into mist again, and
floated through the bars, out of the Bob City Jail.  Hecate sighed, and sat
down.
     "That is a good question," Dar said.  "Why *don't* you go without me?
What do you need a washed-up evil mage for?"
     Hecate looked at Dar, evenly.  Then she stood, walked toward where Dar
was seated, on the floor of the cell, and sat next to him.
     Then she kissed him.
     There wasn't any magic involved, but it sure felt like it.

        *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *

     Being juveniles, the members of the Teen Team were sequestered in
more-or-less private cells, a bit away from the various magi, bubbi, and
other participants in the War.
     In war, there were injuries. Oftentimes, there was even death.
     The Teen Team had suffered both. Daydream Believer was recovering
nicely  from her injuries, thanks to the timely intercession of Wonder
Grunion (and  hadn't it been a thrill to actually meet one of the first
superguys of the  current era? Or were there too many other wonders and
horrors dampening the  effect?), but Deckmaster would never recover from
his.
     There wasn't enough of him left to recover.
     Mental walked over to where Phobos was sitting. Phobos was still
holding the  box that held Deckmaster's remains. The police had attempted
to remove it  from him, but had decided quickly enough that it wasn't worth
the trouble.  It wasn't a very large box.
     "Penny for your thoughts?" Mental asked.
     "You're the telepath, you tell me."
     "I don't need to be a telepath to know what your going through,
Phobos.  Something along the lines of 'all these powers, and I couldn't
even save  him,' right?"
     Phobos turned and looked at Mental. "Close enough, I suppose."
     "Yeah, well, I know how you feel, bud. Keep in mind one thing, though.
He  died saving others, and we fought for the right. And we won. Okay, keep
in  mind three things, then."
     "Yeah, well..."
     "I know," Mental interrupted. "It isn't enough. Never is."
     *Timmy, tell me something: why are you sitting in jail, and why am I
sitting  in the pound?*
     "Because, Mighty Dog, we're the good guys. We can't just run from the
cops  at every little setback, now can we?"
     Phobos said, "Tell him to keep the Nightmare company. She's probably
very  unsettled after what happened to Daydream Believer."
     "Did that earlier. Seems that the Nightmare decided to leave and keep
an eye  on Dreamy. They kept trying to separate the two, but..."
     "Ah." Phobos paused, listening. "Do you hear someone singing?"

        *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *

     Sergeant Callahan had heard a lot of things in his fifteen years on
the force.  He had heard lots of things which surprised him.
     He had never heard this before.
     Down the hall, in the Cell Block, T hit the second opening chord.  The
backup band (mostly Magi with a few Revolutionaries thrown in) all around
him in different cells nailed the chords as though they had rehearsed it.
The instruments had been summoned by the Magi, according to the Masked
Bruce's instructions.
     T leaned forward and snapped out the opening lines:

         "The warden threw a party in the county jail.
          The prison band was there and they began to wail.
          The band was jumpin' and the joint began to swing.
          You should've heard those knocked out jailbirds sing--"

     Revolutionaries and Counter Revolutionaries alike paused in their
bickering, and cocked their heads to listen.

         "So let's rock!  Everybody let's rock!
          Everybody on the whole cell block,
          was dancing to the Jailhouse Rock!"

     Toes began to tap along, and mortal enemies began to grin as the
music, perfectly played by the incomparable T himself, filled the entire
room through the sound systems cobbled together by Superuser and the Masked
Bruce out of their own equipment.

         "Spider Murphy played the tenor saxophone,
          Little Joe was blowin' on the slide trombone.
          The drummer boy from Illinois went crash, boom, bang,
          the whole rhythm section was the Purple Gang.
          So let's rock!  Everybody let's rock!
          Everybody on the whole cell block,
          Was dancing to the Jailhouse rock!"

     The band hit a long stretch, and revolutionaries,
counter-revolutionaries and captured lemurs alike began to dance.
Rainy-Day Woman stared at the Masked Bruce.  "I don't believe it," she said
with a grin.  "It's working."
     "Never underestimate the power of Elvis," he replied.
     In the anteroom, the Sergeant watched his officers begin to dance
along. Two began a complicated Jitterbug-type thing.  He shook his head.
"What is going to happen next?" he asked.
     In answer, from outside there came a racket as loud and potent as a
stealth bomber equipped with VTOL coming to a landing.  As it died down,
the Sergeant watched with a stunned expression, as a man in a tee-shirt and
jeans walked in pulling a dolly with about two hundred pizzas stacked on
it.
     "Bunzai Pizza," he said.  "I have an order for the Industrial Revolution?"

        *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *

     The five at the table had been joined by the five at the table
Scholarman had walked past.  Most were getting pleasantly buzzed, although
Polly Anna Burns didn't choose to imbibe.  "Let me get this straight,"
Steven Skidmore said.  "You were in a pool of water at midnight and a full
moon, *naked*, with Akane Moroshobi and you were kissing, and you let her
*go?*"
     "Yup," Scholarman said, drinking more Satan's Own Porter.
     "*Idiot!*" Skids shouted, and threw peanuts at him.
     "Hey," Miche said, "are you trying to tell me you found that skinny
pale woman attractive?"
     "Huh -- oh, not when I was alive, dear," Skids said, smirking.
     "Hey!" protested Batsman.  "What's wrong with skinny pale women?"
     "Well, nothing," Skids said nervously.  He glanced back and forth
between the two glaring women.  After giving him a momentary scare, they
grinned and turned away.
     "So why did you let her go?" Batsman asked.
     "Well, because, like, I'm--"
     "You were," the Decrepit One pointed out, as he drank more beer and
bought a round for Lightnin' Hopkins.
     "I *was* the Sorcerer Superfluous.  I didn't fit into the destined
plan, so like, if I started dating Akane -- I mean Radian--"
     "Like we care about secret identities up here," Doctor Bizarre said,
and Polly barked agreement.
     "--I'd be knocking her away from her destined love, you know."
     "Quite right," the Decrepit One said.
     "So, because you figure she's meant to love someone, you couldn't let
her love you?" Batsman asked.
     "Right."
     "What crap!"
     "Hey," the Decrepit One said.  "Come on now."
     "No, I'm sorry.  I think you should live your life--"
     "Lived!" Doctor Bizarre cut in cheerfully.
     "--lived your life as it came to you, and the Hell with Destiny.
Destiny's nothing.  What about Free Will?"
     "It's an illusion," said the Decrepit One, "except where the Sorcerer
Superfluous was."
     "Then he should have stayed.  And I don't buy that."
     "You seem awfully interested in this, Ellen," Miche said, looking at
Batsman curiously.  She received a casual shrug in reply.
     "Who needs a refill?" Acathi, the waitress, called out.
     "Me!" the whole table shouted, except for Polly, who barked emphatically.
     "Oh great.  That's all that I need.  Hey Beez!  We got some live ones!"

        *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *

     The Magistrate, the most powerful embodiment of the Law in Altiverse
000SUPERGUY, more the Law than Judge Dredd could dream of, the epitome of
manners, the scion of taste and decorum, leaned close to the microphone as
the music slammed around him.

         "We were at a beach," he sang, "Everybody had matching towels!
          Somebody went... under a dock
          and there they saw... a rock!
          But it wasn't a rock... .
          It was a rooock LOBSTER!!!!!"

     Unorthodox Lass and Rainy-Day Woman, both hopping like madwomen with
perfectly straight legs, and tossing what hair they had from side to side,
started singing in harmony into a mike in their cell.

         "Ooooooo... OOOOOOOO... *OOOOOOOO*  ***OOO!!!!***"
         "Rock Lobster!" the Magistrate hit.

     "All right, three Primo Pepperonis!" Jun shouted.
     "Here!" Shannon called out.
     "Two Deluxe Delights and a Cheese Superior?"
     "That's in here," said Andy Awesome.
     "Ten Lemur-chow and grain ecstacies?"
     "FRINK FRINK FRINK!!!!  PTANG!  WOOOOOO!"
     "Got it.....
     Spandex Babe watched as the Magistrate sang "Down... down...." and
Spectrum and the cute bubba in the next cell started sinking to the floor.
All around her, everyone was eating pizza, dancing, having a good time.
Hardcore revolutionaries were making out with druids in their cells.  It
had become a mixer.
     She wished she could relax and let it go.  She wished she could just
let herself enjoy herself.  But she couldn't.
     Wilhelm wouldn't be enjoying himself, would he?
     And if she got up and tried to dance... Mike would see her.
     Spandex Babe couldn't take that.
     "Espresso?" a cackling old crone asked her.
     She shook her head.  "No, thank you."
     "Suit yerself!"  The old woman hobbled off happily to flirt with Sarge.

        *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *

     "This espresso is *great*!" Nora said.  "Anna, you're a miracle!"
     "Just what I needed for a pick-me-up," Unorthodox Lass said, nursing
her mocha.
     "Perhaps we shouldn't have given the lemurs doubles, though,"
Figuremaster commented.
     "FRINKFRINKFRINKPTANGPTANGWHOOOOOOOOO!" shrieked a cluster of lemurs
as they leapt back and forth across the cell, catching the bars, turning,
and leaping right back.
     "Nevertheless, this must be the best cappacino I've ever had," Rat said.
     "This latte..." said Andy Awesome.
     The others fell silent, turning to him.
     "...is..." he continued, before taking another thoughtful sip.
     Anna stared at him, her attention complete.
     "...awesome," he proclaimed.
     "Listen," said Figuremaster, "are we going to be out of here anytime
soon?  We've got to get to the hospital."
     "Why?" asked Thane.  "Were one of you hurt?"
     "No," said Andy.  "A very brave, noble man is, however.  And I fear
that even Bob City's finest medical practitioners will be unable to save
him.  Not to fear, Daniel...Chris will be here within half an hour with the
bail.  I, and the entire Awesome Force, will then do everything in our
power to save Scholarman's life.  I swear it."
     "If he's still alive," added T.  "I mean-"
     "YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE," came the Desk Sergeant's voice over the
intercom.  The music stopped at once, and the prisoners fell silent.
     "Ladies and gentlemen -- and I use the terms *very* loosely -- it is
my distinct displeasure to announce your imminent release, as of 5:45 this
morning, on the orders of the Federal Government of the United States."
     The silence lasted moments before excited murmuring threatened to
drown out the remainder of the announcement.

(Continued in Part Five, following)


===========================================================================
| "There were promises to break and dreams to kill."                      |
|                                          -Elvis Costello, "20% Amnesia" |
|                                                                         |
| "He'll rekindle all the dreams it took you a lifetime to destroy."      |
|                                          -Nick Cave, "Red Right Hand"   |
|-------------------------------------------------------------------------|
| William R. Dickson, M00se Illuminatus...................wrd@beer.wa.com |
| Co-Author, Internet Explorer Kit for Macintosh..........iek@tidbits.com |
| Author, "Team Cynical," Superguy Digest......listserv@ucf1vm.cc.ucf.edu |
===========================================================================