🚀 go-pugleaf

     It was the dawn of a new day, that much was clear.  The rain clouds that
clung to Bob City were being burned away by Dawn's fire.  One could just make
out the cold rock of the full moon, barely visible in the dawn light.  A cold
new crater stared down at the new day like a bloodshot eye.
     It was a new day.  The new day.  The day that began the new era.
     By the light of dawn, a man stumbled towards the cold prison walls of the
Bob City Correctional Institute.  He waved his arms, shaking his head -- he
seemed unable to speak.
     His name was Wilhelm, and he was a mage.  A prophet, to be exact.  He knew
how to read the entrails of a dove and toss the bones and scry the tea leaves
and see visions in his dreams.  He had no spells for attack or for defense.
Only spells that revealed the secrets of the world.
     Wilhelm, terrified, spun around and looked at the single oak tree in the
yard.  It was dead, overwatered.  So there was no foliage to block his sight.
He could see the armored figure with the sniper's rifle.
     It spat once, and Wilhelm's head exploded like clay skeet on the range.
     "There's one, Mother," Adam Douglas said, tears running down his cheeks, a
feral grin twisting his mouth behind the helmet's plate.  "There's one for
you."  The pangs of remorse that grew inside him weren't enough to block the
bitter pleasure of the act.
     Inside the walls, no one heard the gunshot.  No one would care.  The
battle had raged for God knew how long, now.  A man's was shouting from a radio
in the room.  "We're almost patched in -- we're almost ready.  Get the picture
stabilized and we can tie it in.  We're about ready to go...."
     As though the reporter were himself psychic, around the world people were
indeed ready.  Neighbors called and woke each other up.  Families climbed down
dark stairs and stared at the television screen.  They could feel something in
the air... something that would change their lives.  "We are attempting to get
a live feed now," the announcers said in a hundred different languages.  "Radio
Free Hero has arranged a live television pickup for worldwide broadcast....\"
     High above in the dawning skies, a sleek, badly damaged airship was
fighting an aerial duel to the death, a duel it appeared to be losing, to
something that managed to be both hugely monsterous and oddly cheap-looking at
the same time.  The airship was on their side, but it would not reach them in
time.
     Andy Awesome and some of his Awesome Force teammates were fighting
through a horde of metallic warriors, desperately trying to get to
Figuremaster, before--
     Andy saw Bulletproof turn towards Figuremaster.  He seemed unstoppable
-- nearly out of ammunition, but still fighting.  Always fighting.  He turned
and the twenty millimeter cannon oriented at Figuremaster.
     "Dan!" She-Devil screamed at the screen.  "God damn it, take cover, you--"
     The cannon fired its last shell.  The light unpowered combat armor
shattered easily when the shell hit, and its explosion ripped apart the meat
inside.
     Andy stared.  "No..." he whispered.
     A half second after that, the last technical problem was resolved, and the
battle glowed into life around the world.  "We are live!" Radio Free Hero
cried.  A half-second too late to see Figuremaster fall, but just in time to
see Radian, a look of pure rage on her face, leap into the air, radiation
burning off her hands.  Radian, the woman who had nearly destroyed the world.
Radian, the hated.  "You *Bastard!*" she cried, searing towards Bulletproof.
"You--"
     "I have had *enough!*" Bulletproof cried, and he fired the last 7.62 mm
round at her.
     Across the world, Radian's face was blown off by a bullet.  She crumpled
to the ground, and this time she didn't get up.
     "My God," Radio Free Hero said to the world.  "Bulletproof has killed
Radian."
     And everywhere, men and women felt their hearts leap -- the fear that had
clutched them for months broken by one decisive act.  The images come faster
now, men and women breaking out hunting rifles, pistols kept against burglars,
pitchforks... they burst onto the streets, flashlights and torches in their
hands.  They swept through the libraries, the old storehouses of knowledge.
They killed the old women who they didn't understand, the young women they
feared.  They destroyed the churches they didn't agree with and the old
monuments they couldn't rationalize.  In Terrania, a Unicorn lay dying.  In New
York, a child of the waters died on land.  In Salem the stakes went back up.
     It was the dawn of a new day -- the dawn of a new era.  An epoch.  The
Sixth Mayan Age, the Age of Aquarius.  It was the new day of science and cold
functionality.  And then weeks passed, and when no more works of magic could be
found, then creativity was made suspect.  Poets and poetry died together.
Curators were burned along with the art they protected.
     It was the birth of a new age, all births are bloody.
     "Wilhelm!"
     The voice snapped the prophet out of his reverie.  "What?" he asked,
fumbling for his glasses.  What time was it?"
     "Wake up.  We're about to fight," Thane said.  "C'mon, it's not as bleak
as that."
     It was three hours to dawn.  Three hours before the revolution.  Wilhelm
had been dreaming.
     But Wilhelm's dreams always came true.  Always.
     They were going to die.  They had no hope at all.

                                   ***********

                        A SYMPHONY FOR TAROT AND BUZZSAW
                                 First Movement
                              "Destiny's Iron Hand"

                                   WRITTEN BY
                             (in alphabetical order)
                  Lawrence Brown, Eric Alfred Burns, Bill Dickson
                      Rob Furr, Chris Meadows, Gary W. Olson
                 Daniel Pawtowski, Jesse Taylor, and Dominic White

                            EDITED INTO COHERENCY BY
                                 Gary W. Olson

                                   ***********

     "*fssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhclick* hey! Are we on? What? No! Don't--
*fsssssshhhhhh*"

                                   ***********

     The rain had almost stopped by the time the first fingers of the dawning
sun were stretching through the windows of the Baskin Robbins that had become
the camp of the counter-revolutionaries, a mass of mages and their sympathizers.
Despite the long night, the sleep that many had gotten was spotty at best -
even now, most of them were up and about.  The clouds were still thick over
the sky, despite the sun's best efforts.
     Radian continued her meditation, feeling the sunlight fall on her face.
Each portion of the spectrum, from visual to ultraviolet to infrared, had its
own particular feel, a special flavor that her pale skin savored.
     She wondered if this would be the last morning for her to enjoy the
feeling.
     Dar and Hecate were already up, engaging in a complicated ritual to
magically prepare themselves for the combat that was to follow.  The ritual was
hardly necessary - strength spells were hardly difficult to come by, for mages
of their power and calibre - but it helped to focus their minds.
     The Magistrate was at a table in the far corner, going over strategy with
The Superuser, Phobos, and the Masked Bruce.  Figuremaster was also there, but
he seemed to be halfway out of it, having spent the whole night awake painting
new figures to replace the ones he lost while helping Ramrod, Mr. Bad Example,
and his mysterious charge escape.  Every once in a while, the Masked Bruce would
look up at her, as if to keep track of where she was at the moment.
     Rainy Day Woman seemed pensive, as she sat at her table with the mages who
had brought her here.  One of them - Thane, she thought - was telling a joke,
though it was clear from his delivery that he was covering up his own concern.
Justin and Miles, the mages who had taken it upon themselves to contact the
Awesome Force, and had only gotten one of their number to join, were drinking
coffee, forcing themselves to be calm.
     The members of the Teen Team were seated closest to her.  Mental seemed to
be a bit depressed, which Phobos had assured her was not unusual.  Mirror Maid
was seated across from her, next to Daydream Believer.  Mighty Dog, the least
concerned-looking of the lot (though it was an open question as to just what
would constitute a concerned look on a sheep dog's face).
     Team M.E.C.H.A. wasn't present, as they were getting into position for
their assault on the Metropolitian Bob Correctional Institute from the outside.
Or, at least, that was what they hoped.  No contact had been made with them
during the night, which concerned her.  The air assault was a critical portion
of the plan, and it wasn't certain that the other flight-capable heroes present
could pick up the slack.
     Radian adjusted her comm chip, which was securely fastened to her collar.
Dr. Odd Science had provided them, and she could hear the tests of the system
that were currently under way.  Superuser had had an idea about the code they
would use, a code that would require an infusion of power from the Masked Bruce
to successfully pull off.  They'd know soon, if it would work.
     There was one mage who was seated next to Thane who looked troubled...
almost resigned, to what would happen.  Radian remembered his name - Wilhelm.
He was a prophet of some kind, a dreamseer.  Scenes from the realm physical
leaked back in time, through the realm nocturnae, to be perceived by his mind.
Time flowing backwards...
     Dar and Hecate finished their ritual, and looked at her.  Radian stood,
bringing her mind to the here and now.
     The time for waiting was almost over.
     The circle was ready to close.

                                   ***********

     Spandex Babe smelled the thick air.  It was cool and moist, heavy with the
night's storm.  She could smell beauty in Bob City, no matter how dark it
seemed to other people.
     She shivered, though her bioengineered body and the Neophotonic weave of
her spandex bodysuit kept her from being cold.
     "Hey Spandy, we're getting into position."  It was Unorthodox Girl.  Her
voice was anxious.  She wanted this fight a lot.
     Spandex Babe nodded.  "I'm on my way," she said.
     She looked out at Bob, too.  There were millions of people in that city,
and hundreds of millions of people in the country.  And billions on the globe.
And every last one of them was nearly killed by Radian.  Spandex Babe had
fought Radian in Ithaca.  That woman was dangerous, but Spandex Babe was
confident she could have beaten her.  The Radian she had fought wasn't capable
of killing a world.
     It was magic.  It was the power no one could explain.  The mystery no one
could solve.  Magic had driven Radian to that point.  Magic had driven them all
close to extinction.
     Spandex Babe had no fear of explosions, or Earthquakes, or nuclear war.  A
man with a gun didn't frighten her.  Even an alien killer like Benedict didn't
frighten her.  She understood them -- understood the hard scientific principles
they followed.  She knew who and what they were.  They could kill her, but they
couldn't scare her.
     But Magic she didn't understand at all.  It made no sense.
     And that scared the Hell out of her.  She wanted to run.  She wanted to
hide.
     But she had to stay.  For those billions of people.  She had to fight to
stop them once and for all.  Because no matter how much she feared magic, she
feared the world of the magi more.
     With a sigh, she turned and walked back into the Fortress.  She had to
prepare.
     Inside, she bumped into Spectrum, who was walking out for a patrol run.
He stopped and looked at her. "Spandex Babe, did Unorthodox Girl tell you..."
    "Yes Spectrum, I just got the word."
    Unhelmeted, she could see his face.  He wasn't looking forward to the
fight, but there was a hardness in the set of his jaw.  His expression
softened and he put his hand on her shoulder.  "Miss, I wish we could have met
under better circumstances.  You've been at this hero-biz longer than I have.
I wish we could have had time to just talk."
    "Maybe after this is all over, you can buy me some coffee."
    He grinned.  "Maybe.  Its been good to meet you anyway."

                                   ***********

    Lincoln Douglas, Sarah Conner, Summer, and Robert stood in shock in the
wide, empty Bob City Streets, before the wrecked hulk of a Bahamode motorcycle
battroid (or battloid, depending on your choice of anglicization) as the
nightly Bob City rain gently gave way to the oncoming morning.  The battroid
was empty, but the interior was stained with blood.  The blood of Mike, their
leader.  Ironically, this was the Mike's second Bahamode to be trashed in a
battle in Bob City.  But the first time, Mike hadn't been trashed along with it.
    "Dr. Zwarghoff..." Sarah Conner murmured, "...the Invid, the Zoomers, Dr.
Zwarghoff again, the Mighty Muddy Power Grangers, and Mike came through without
a scratch.  And then one of our own teammates..."  She broke down sobbing.
    Summer stood there, feeling powerless to think, to speak, even to MOVE.
Mike was...critically hurt.  He would have been dead, but for the quick action
by Deckmaster, whose Samite Healers had stabilized him long enough for an
ambulance from Bob City Municipal (Best Bandages in Bob) to arrive and collect
him.  They'd promised him the very best of care.  Summer had wanted to go
along, but had stopped herself before climbing in.  Mike wouldn't have wanted
that, not when there was a job to be done.  Their allies, the mages and
superguys of the Counter-Revolution, were counting on their mecha power to
help them win the battle.  And by all that was sacred, Summer was not going to
let them down.
    Her fist clenched in resolution, Summer turned to Deckmaster.  "Thank you."
    Deckmaster squared his deck and slipped it into a pocket.  "Sorry I
couldn't do more, but..."
    "I understand," Summer replied.  "You need to save your strength for the
battle to come."
    Deckmaster nodded.  "So how long 'til it starts?"
    "At dawn," Lincoln said.  "Soon, I--I guess."
    Summer turned to him in alarm.  "Lincoln, snap out of it!  With Mike and
Adam gone, you've got to take charge!"
    Link looked up.  "Me?  You can't be serious.  I--I'm not a leader!  I don't
know anything about it!"  And it was my brother, my own flesh and blood who *I*
let escape who did this to Mike, he thought.  How can I step into his shoes
after that?
    Fortunately, Sarah Conner felt differently.  She stepped over to where
Link and Summer stood, shoved her visor up.  Glistening streaks down her
cheeks bore mute testimony to what she'd just been put through.  "I'll do it,"
she said.  "I'll take charge."  Hydraulic microservos whirred as she lifted
her right arm, laden with missile launcher shoved into a storage posture on the
outside of her forearm, in front of her and clenched her fist.  "And when I
find Adam Douglas..."  She left the last part unsaid, but her armored fist
clenched all the tighter, until her knuckles were surely white under the
Cyclone glove.

                                   ***********

     The Masked Bruce's eyes were closed.  He was focusing as hard as he could.
There were many ways his Monty Python powers had been used over the past
months.  But this was an entirely new one.  He had to try to get it to work, if
the Counter-Revolution was going to have any chance to succeed.
     The problem was one of coordination and communication.  There were many
spells of communication, of course, but they were not nearly sophisticated
enough to coordinate small unit tactics.  They didn't have time for the Masked
Bruce and Superuser to whip up communications equipment the Revolution couldn't
detect.  So it had to be radio.  Which meant they needed a way to code their
transmissions so that their opponents couldn't counter their plans.
     They didn't have time to teach everyone a new code.  But if this plan
worked, anyone who entered the battle on the side of the Counter-
Revolutionaries would become a part of the code, while none of their enemies
would.
     But that was a big if.
     He opened his eyes slowly.  "All right, Bill," he said to Superuser.
"Tell them to try it."

                                   ***********

     The Radioman in the heart of the Revolution's headquarters looked puzzled.
His Lieutenant stepped over to him.  "What is it," the Lieutenant asked.  "Are
those mages broadcasting?"
     "Well, you tell me," the radioman said, and gave the Lieutenant the
earphones.
     "G'day Bruce!  Where's Bruce?"
     "You mean Bruce?"
     "Naw, Bruce."
     "He's with Bruce, Bruce, Sheila and Bruce!"
     "Those are all Cricketers!"
     "What about Sheila?"
     "She's with Bruce and Bruce!"
     The Lieutenant set the headphones down.  "They're all talking in
outrageous Australian accents," he said.  "And they're calling everyone Bruce
and Sheila."
     "Is it a code?"
     "How could it be?  Ignore it."

                                   ***********

     Dianna Potentiate knew war.
     The sky was beginning to color, ever so slightly.  The rain had
up.  She knew it would all begin very soon.  She could feel it. Behind her, she
heard some muttering.  She should have cracked down on it, but  in the end,
she understood it far too well.  It was part of being a soldier.
     She wondered if that was the difference between the Revolution and the
Adjusted League Unimpeachable.  Here she wasn't a superguy.  Here she was
infantry.  So was Unorthodox Girl.  Ginsu World Class was Artillery Support,
Bulletproof was armored cav.  And Benedict was Special Weapons.
     A few weeks of training wasn't a lot for these kids.  Spandex Babe had to
hope it was enough -- that the training edge balanced the sheer chaos of the
threat they would be facing.
     "Targets," Spectrum's voice crackled into life over the comm.  Spandex
Babe waved the troops into position.
     It had begun.

(continued in part two, immediately following...)