🚀 go-pugleaf

(continued from part one...)

                                   ***********

     Prizm dashed through the bubbas, flinging their weapons aside as she
bowled them over with her speed. Rounding a corner, she was suddenly transfixed
in mid-stride.  Spectrum held her in a blast of kinetic energy. His armored
hand grabbed her by the throat and he lifted her clear of the ground.  Her
fists pounded him in a lightning stacatto, but against the armor there was
no effect.  She quickly switched to lasers, and Spectrum gated the beams away,
wincing a little as she switched without warning to flash-pulses. He tighened
his grip around her throat.  Too weak to struggle, she spit on him defiantly.
He glared at her. "You are way out of your league, little girl. Isn't
tonight a school night?"
     "Get a life! Like, you super-powered maniac!"
     Spectrum punched her, hard, knocking the teenager unconsious.  He grabbed
one of the bubbas, and growled at the man.  "Watch her. If she wakes up, let her
go, but I don't want a single one of you to lay a hand on her."
     "NnBut..."
     "Thats an ORDER! Touch her and I'll crush every bone in your body! She's
too damn young to be fighting in something like this."
     "Y-yesser!"

                                   ***********

     Meanwhile, somewhere far, far to the North.....
     "NAIL 'EM!!!"
     "LET HIM HAVE IT!!!"
     "EAT LEAD, FURFACE!!!"
     The trio of gunmen leaned over their weapons, pouring automatic fire into
the air.  Despite their rather respectable accuracy, the target was not
impressed.
     "SURRENDER, BANK ROBBERS, OR YOU SHALL FEEL THE MIGHTY BLOWS OF SPACE
MOOSE!!!!!"
     He stood alone in the shattered glass doorway of the downtown bank,
grinning proudly as the bullets whined and bounced off his Moosely Chest.  The
gunmen soon realized that their hour-long standoff with the police SWAT team
outside was not going to end with the delivery of the ten million dollars and
the getaway car they had requested.  Unless...
     "Hold it right there, Antler-Brain!  Or the bimbo gets it!"
     The bank teller in question seemed entirely too upset by the H&K MP-5
barrel shoved under her chin to object to his rather non-Politically Correct
comment.  The other two gunman, also remembering that they had hostages,
ceased fire and aimed their weapons at the crowd of terrified bank employees
and customers.  The Antlered Arctic Avenger froze in his hoofs.
     "By the Northern Lights," he muttered mooseily, "If you so much as harm
one hair on that young lady's head, I shall...."
     "Axe the cheesy dialogue, I've heard it all on Saturday-morning TV!" the
leader grinned, "You may be fast, Moose, but you can't stop all three of us if
we shoot."
     Space Moose clenched his fists tight enough to grind his hooves together
audibly.  "What.....do you want?"
     "I've changed my mind.  I don't want no little getaway car anymore.  If
I'm gonna have the likes of you on my tail, I'm gonna need more than some
clunker from the County motorpool.  I want the MooseWing."
      The Antlers of Steel paused, seemingly startled.  "The what?"
      "You heard me.  That fancy jet of yours.  I'll bet no Superguy on this
planet can catch that thing."
      "I fear you are mistaken, criminal scum, if you expect to outrun such
mighty heroines as Relativity Woman or The-..."
      "Then I'll shoot her with the Moose-Lasers, or whatever it's got!  Now
quit stalling and gimme the- YYYAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!"
      The robber yelped in terror at the sound of tearing metal and falling
concrete, then yanked down on the trigger of his gun.  But he was too slow,
far to slow.  Neither he nor either of his partners managed to get off a shot
before the trio of mighty tentacles that had burst through the back wall had
crushed their weapons into twisted shards of steel.
      "I got 'em, Space Moose!  Just like you said!"  The squid leaned over to
peer into the room through a window with his enormous eyes.
      "Good work, Clyde!  I knew they would not expect a surprise attack from
that direction."  Space Moose's pride at his sidekick's flawless performance
practically radiated from his antlers.  The local police and SWAT units
cautiously approached the building.
      "Er, Space Moose, is it....?"
      "The situation is secure, good officers!  You may come and take these
miscreants away to face the penalties for what they have done!  The situation
is safe, thanks to my good friend.....what....what is....I feel....."
      Space Moose staggered slightly, as if suddenly (and without warning)
deafened by a loud, but distant sound.  Outside, Clyde crawled around to the
front entrance.
      "Space Moose?"
      "My Moose Sense...is calling...."  the Heroic Herbivore muttered to
himself, "calling me....south....to America....to....Bob City?"
      "Hey, Space Moose!  Whatcha doin'?"
      Having forgotten to shrink himself, Clyde squirmed around in the doorway,
clumsily trying to fit his giant squid body into the rather small bank lobby.
Both police, criminals, and former hostages alike looked around in alarm as
the building's structural girders groaned in complaint.
      "Bob City..."  Space Moose whispered, "There is danger in Bob City, a
great danger that threatens this entire world....in Bob City...."
      "Hey!  What're you...oops, sorry."
      Realizing his mistake, Clyde blushed and even deeper shade of pink and
quickly shrunk himself down to human-size.  Still muttering, Space Moose
quickly glanced over his shoulder at his approaching sidekick.
      "Perhaps...the Power Grangers have returned?" he murmured, "I cannot
allow Clyde to come, they nearly killed him last time."
      "Space Moose?  Is something wrong?"
      Unsure of himself, Clyde approached his mentor carefully.
      "Space Moose?"
      "Clyde!  You must remain here and see to it that these miscreants are
properly dealt with.  My Moose Sense is calling my, I must be off!"
      "Hey!  Why can't I come-..."
      "The danger is far from here!  And although we are duty-bound to battle
the forces of evil wherever they may strike, neither we free to cast aside our
vows as the sworn defenders of Canada!  You must return to MooseLodge yourself
and monitor the scanners for trouble.  I must fly!"
      "But Space Moose, I don't...."
      "There is no time to argue!  This is a time for heroes!  You must do your
job, and I must do mine!  And my Moose Sense tells me that THIS IS A JOB FOR
SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSE!!!!!!!!!!"
      Then, with a roar of supersonic thunder and a crackling of crumbling
walls (which hid the crashings sounds of cars overturning in Space Moose's
wake), he was gone, leaving Clyde sputtering through his beak.
      "...I don't know how to find MooseLodge from here, I flew with you..."
      But the Antlered Arctic Avenger had already vanished from sight.  The
squid nervously turned to one of the police officers who were standing nearby,
looking puzzled.
      "Er, hi.  My name's Clyde.  You wouldn't happen to have a map I could
borrow for awhile, would you?"

                                   ***********

     Crossbow ducked down in the small hole he had dug. The day, so far, had
not gone well. As soon as he had gotten near the recruiting center of the
Revolution, he had gotten caught up in a full-fledged battle between the
Revolution and their opponents. This would have been good, except both sides
appeared to think he was their enemy.
     He poked his head up to take a look, and nearly got it blown off by a
concealed sniper.
     "No, today has definitely _not_ been a good day..."

                                   ***********

     In Earth orbit:
     "Initiate final descent!"
     On Benedict's command, the massive ship shuddered.  It wasn't much to look
at- from every angle and vantage point, the heavy Dalek battlecruiser managed
to somehow look like a cheap cardboard and plastic model suspended over a
spray-painted black matte with phony star sprinkles.  How it managed this
appearance despite the awesomely real vista of the Earth hanging below was a
feat of illusion that would baffle even Criticalman.
     Despite it's apparent cheeziness, the ship was definitely real.  Hideously
ugly, it's overall proportions were those of a rectangle assembled by gluing a
pair of empty paper towel tubes to two empty toilet paper rolls (the astute
Reader may very well realize that is exactly what the BBC did to make the
original model :), leaving the ship with heavily curved sides and a flat top
and bottom.  Various protrusions and odd bits had been stuck on seemingly at
random- the vast majority being gun turrets.
     They were everywhere- the largest gun emplacements and missile tubes were
concentrated on her underside, intended for bombarding heavily fortified
planets.  Lighter, more maneuverable antiship weaponry was scattered both
above and below, as well as along a band around the ship's midsection.  And
the even smaller point-defense energy weapons and micromissile launchers were
everywhere, covering virtually every part of the ship's hull that wasn't
needed for some other purpose.  Towards the aft end of the monstrosity, a
small distorted lump rose from the twisted expanses of hull in some faint
semblance of a bridge.
     The heavy weapons were locked into their storage positions- Benedict was
planning to only attack airborne targets and provide supporting fire for
ground troops, not level a continent.  The medium-ranged antiship weapons
were the preferred instruments for use against his chosen Awesome opponent,
with sufficient point-defense to keep any irritating flying metahumans or
mages at a safe distance.
     Already in a low orbit, it didn't take long for the forward braking
thrusters to drop the 2402 into the tangible regions of the Earth's atmosphere.
Antennae retracted, the nose of the ship glowed only slightly from friction-
not wishing to unnecessarily strain his newly-repaired, irreplaceable
starship, Benedict was expending more fuel than was strictly necessary to
negotiate a slower descent (It can hardly be called "re-entry", since the
ship in question had never *been* to Earth in the first place).  Downwards-
mounted hoverthusteres flared to life alongside a dim glow from the antigrav
coils as the cruiser slowed from orbital to atmospheric velocities, a
brilliant display of fireworks that continued until the ship dove into a tall
cloudbank to the west of Bob City, where a storm front had been building in
preparation for that night's inevitable rain.
     "Secure from atmospheric entry!  Initiate flight protocols!"
     All over the ship, the robot Dalek-drones and automated systems moved to
follow Benedict's orders- antennae were deployed, thrusters were reconfigured
from zero-gee to planetary flight, etc.  Although the system response was
considerably more sluggish than if real, sentient Daleks were manning the
stations, it was enough to satisfy Benedict.
     "Increase power to sensor cloak and initiate hull charge!"
     Interior lights (which weren't really necessary anyway) throughout the
ship dimmed as two power-hungry systems spun up.  The first was the in-
atmosphere version of the cloaking device that had allowed the cruiser to
approach Earth nearly undetected by all but visible sensors.  The second was
a new system, recently retrofitted by Benedict- a highly modified force field
generator began running a series of high-voltage charges through the ship's
skin.  Pulsed in a series of precomputed patterns, they were intended to
severely disrupt any application of magic to the ship- anything from a simple
attempt to teleport inside to a spell designed to reduce the hull to swiss
cheese.  Or that was the theory, at least.
     "Activate visual scan!"
     The front viewscreen lit up with a view of the interior of the dark
thunderstorm, which did not seem to care in the least for the alien starship
flying through its midst.
     "Scan for Awesome Force One!   Seek!  Locate!  Seek!!  Locate!!"
     And the view changes, leaping miles ahead along the cruiser's flightpath.
Benedict's droids swiftly and obediently called up the image their master
demanded, filling the screen with a picture of the famed airship hanging in a
rare patch of sunlight in the sky near Bob City.  There was no need to call up
the target-profile database for a match- only one craft in the Galaxy could
possibly cast such and Awesome image.
     Awesome Force One.  The sensors were registering other threats in the
area- the familiar form of Ray Sterling's Alpha Fighter, Mighty Dog, Phobos,
and a variety of other flight-capable mages and heroes.  In the distance, the
sensors could just barely identify the heavily stealthed Team M.E.C.H.A. jet.
But all of these threats, as powerful as they each were, paled in comparison
to Benedict's chosen opponent.
     The Dalek's eyestalk irised nearly closed in concentration.
     "Lock all forward weapons on target.  Estimate time to combat."
     "We obey," one of the RoboDaleks replied, "Estimate two point six minutes
until detection."
     "All weapons stations have target locked!" shouted another.
     "Confirmed," Benedict's eye cycled open.  "We shall remain in this
cloudbank for two point one minutes, then descend and commence attack.  Dalek
Land Assault Units prepare for immediate drop."
     "Land Assault Units report ready."
     "Begin final attack run!"

                                   ***********

     "Red Four, this is Red Two -- Tina, snap down your snoopers, and check six
o'clock!"  Red Two smiled and waited for his partner to do so.
     "Jeez -- there must be ten of those damn wizards.  Where did they come
from?"
     "Who cares -- just don't let them see you've spotted them . We don't want
trouble... easy... easy... *now!*"
     The two Revolutionaries spun, and began to hose down an area with their
H&K 227 Submachineguns.  It looked like they were shooting at open air... until
the air began to drip blood.  Hazy forms became distinct, until there were
eight corpses and two wounded lying on the ground.  The Revolutionaries
approached.
     "How..." croaked one of the two survivors.  He looked Jewish -- big beard,
hat, black coat.
     "Simple, Spell-boy," Red Four said, aiming the submachinegun at his face.
"If you want to go invisible... better hide your heat traces.  You guys show up
on Infrared just fine."
     She squeezed a burst out.  Red Two took out the other survivor.  The two
then beat feet to rejoin their unit.

                                   ***********

     Wayne exulted -- he had gotten his armor to tune into KSUX, a local
station that played loud, obnoxious, garage bands' music almost constantly.
Not surprisingly, they played a lot of Styx. Currently, they were playing a
rather engaging tune by some band called 'Tyler and the Lewzers'.
     "Texaaaaaas Chainsaaaaw!" Wayne sang along. He slashed with his arm-
mounted vibroblades, sending some random human staggering back, clutching the
stump of a severed hand. "Chaaaaaaainsaw Massacreeeeeeee!"

                                   ***********

     Adam half-stumbled back to the Bob City Correctional Institute.  He had
told himself fiercely that he couldn't cry -- he couldn't let himself cry.
Mike had brought it on himself!  If he was going to team up with a bunch of
mages--
     Sarah hated him.  They all did.  His best friends... his own brother--
     His brother?  His brother ought to be with him, avenging their mother!  If
a bunch of mages were more important to him than his family, than Link deserved
to get it just like the rest!  Just like--
     God... Mike....
     Adam was nearly to the building now.  He had to get inside -- get ready
for the--
     He heard an explosion -- a blast strong enough to shake the building.
They were already fighting, and he was a gap in the ranks!  He had to get in
there, had to--
     His motion detector spotted something.  He turned.
     A man was wandering closer to the building, looking all around himself in
fear.  Adam wasn't sure how, but he knew... he knew he was a Mage.
     Adam climbed up into a tree.  His rifle fell easily into his hand.  The
armor's targeting systems began to lock onto his opponent.  It was all the
mages fault.  All their fault.
     And he would make them pay.

(continued in part three, following...)