🚀 go-pugleaf

     As he watched the sun rise over the horizon - the slender Beanstalk at
his back - Jack Wynn marvelled at how dawn could manage to be so peaceful
amidst complete and utter chaos. High speed transports were hurriedly
fuelled and prepped; superguys rushed hither and fro, making preparations
for that day's assault; and leaders were barking orders to scurrying
troops, preparing them for the battle that lay ahead.
     And in spite of this noise and confusion, just watching the sun rise
made the day seem still with anticipation. Somehow, the going ons of a
major paramilitary operation seemed to fade in importance when compared to
watching a new day compose itself. Jack decided that watching the rising
sun was the perfect way to clear one's mind before rushing headlong into a
fight from which he might not return.
     It was also the perfect way to burn out one's retinas, but that's
hardly as poetic.
     Abruptly, Jack was pulled from his reverie by a soft hand placed on
his shoulder. Craning his neck around, Jack smiled slightly as he saw his
fellow teammate and friend, Karen Moire looking down at him. The tall woman
raised a quizzical eyebrow at Jack, who sighed and stood.
     "Just wool gathering, Karen," said Jack, working a few kinks out of
his neck, "I can't believe the planning session went all night."
     "Hmmm," replied Karen, looking past Jack at the brightening sky, "You
picked a good day to be dreaming, then."
     "Oh yeah," replied Jack, smiling slightly, "Too bad we have to wake up
now, and face reality." He sighed. "I wish..."
     "What?"
     "I dunno. Most of all, I wish I knew what was coming. I wish there
were some way to keep people from getting hurt. I wish I didn't have this
overwhelming sense of dread that the sun's going to set on a very red
landscape."
     Karen sighed, but didn't reply. She stared at the sun herself, until
it rose too high to be looked at without discomfort. Finally, "C'mon Jack.
I think everyone's finished prepping. Chronosphere's going to give us our
big 'talking to' and then it's time to get this show on the road."
     Jack smiled, and followed Karen as she led him back towards the
Beanstalk. He stopped and shook his head, laughing a bit.
     "What's so funny?" asked Karen, turning to look back. Jack shrugged
helplessly.
     "I feel a lot better, Karen," replied Jack, "I'm not worried anymore.
Just... anticipating what's going to be coming. Thanks."
     "For what?" asked Karen, with a smile. "The sun's the therapist you
want to thank."
     "Maybe," replied Jack, wearing a slight smile of his own. "Now let's
go. The sooner we get this started, the sooner we can all have our life
insurance premiums raised through the roof."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

               Chris Angelini/Frobozz Magic Productions

                             -and-

                        Eric Alfred Burns
                            Don Cook
                          Mike Escutia
                         Greg Fishbone
                         Louise Freeman
                        Brendan LeFebvre
                          Gary Olson
                         Jon Robertson

                 -through inspiration provided by-

                       Mademoiselle Muse Inc

                       -in association with-

           'We Didn't Mean To Colour The Sky Pink, Honest!'
               Computerised Special Effects and Magic

                              -and-

       The Overworked and Underpaid Lisa MacDougall (producer)

                              -with-

                    Memorable Stunt Choreography

                            -present-

                 THE AS YET UNNAMED OTTAWA TEAM #9

                           "Crossing"

                    Winner Take All - Cacophony

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Author's Continuity Note - Picture, if you will, all time since Earth was
formed represented as a clock. Given this image, the amount of time that
humanity has walked the Earth is represented by the very last second before
midnight. Therefore, this story takes place at 11:59:59.

     Jack and the rest of his team joined the assembled mass of superguys
and STOP troopers who had gathered outside Task Force Aurora's massive
surface-to-orbit elevator. The troopers, arranged in their tight
formations, served as strange counterpoint to the hero teams which milled
about almost randomly. Some of the heroes - seasoned veterans that they
were - chatted casually with each other, trading jokes and quips. To most
of them, saving the world was old hat. For the most part, they knew better
than to be complacent and give Murphy an opening, but nevertheless they
were fairly confident that whatever opposition they might meet would be
dealt with handily, all would be put right with the world, and everyone
would be able to head out for bowling and drinks by mid-afternoon. Other
heroes, the newer breed, found themselves with a good deal of nervous
energy to work off. Some paced, others tapped fingers against flat surfaces
until stopped rather forcefully by irate superguys, who explained in terse
terms that such behaviour might become a tad annoying. Some ran through
combat exercises to take their minds off of what was to come. Not a one of
them smoked a joint, a fact surprising in itself, given that this was a
crossover.
     The early morning sun glinted off of Chronosphere's gleaming white
armour as he stood in front of the assembled forces. As he glanced over the
faces of a good number of Earth's mightiest defenders, the temporally
othered man idly wondered which of them would be coming back with their
shields, and which would be carried on them. The man turned on his suit's
external speakers and began to address the crowd.
     "Well kids and kiddies, it's moment of truth time," he began, his
voice sounding slightly hollow in the open air. "Time to save the world or
die trying. You have your orders, your fighting plans and contingencies.
Our top priority is to protect Commodore Amiga and get inside Maladroit's
office to knock him out."
     "Wouldn't it be smarter to leave Amiga here where he'd be safe?" asked
Mr Morbid, shrugging his shoulders slightly.
     "Ordinarily, yes," replied the white-clad man, "But we've got to
assume that Maladroit knows what we've done to Amiga. If we leave Amiga at
the Beanstalk and the minister diverts a number of his enslaved superguys
to attack while most of our forces are gone, we'd be back to square one. So
for now, we're keeping the Commodore where we can see him."
     "Wow, Amiga, surrounded by the buffest guys and the sveltest women in
town," said Unorthodox Girl... Lass... WHATEVER!, pole vaulting over to the
commodore, a notebook suddenly in hand. "Gush, gush and all that. You must
be some kind of celebrity! Insert swoon here. If I could get'cher
autograph, why I'd just _die_! Giggle, bounce, vapid smile."
     Amiga smiled slightly at the unorthodox hero, holding back a sigh. The
woman waggled her eyebrows at the naval officer for a moment before she
faded back into the crowd, searching for a suit of Tornado armour on which
to slap a 'Wash Me' sign.
     "Returning to matters at hand," continued Chronosphere, "We've got
final cuts on the two missions. The main group is going to be paying
Maladroit a visit. The second group is smaller, for damned good reason.
They get to visit Gggthxtsth's hell(tm)-away-from-home. Their mission -
should they choose to accept it over having the fun of watching the total
enslavement of the Earth by an army of rejects from 'Hellraiser' - will be
to put a stop to his arm of the invasion. Y'know, some days I really think
we should all just pack it in, let the aliens and criminal geniuses fight
over who gets Earth, and move to Partyworld."
     Julie Baker perked up immediately. "It was only a joke," muttered Ben.
     "What's needed are people who can dodge out of the way of Ultimate
Bolts 'o Death on this mission, not physical powerhouses who think that
they can soak up anything thrown their way. That's one of Gggthxtsth's few
true weaknesses: he has to target what he wants to hit. Grey Leopard and
Travelling Man will accompany the Tribe of Behn as they try to secure
Gggthxsth's home world. They have their orders as to how to do this... not
to mention a man who can turn the trick for us."
     Chronosphere stopped suddenly, and looked at the Tribe of Behn. Behind
his helmet, the man's expression was impossible to see. But several of the
assembled superguys would swear that even the expressionless face mask had
a haunted look to it. Then the tension broke as the helmet shifted
slightly, and Chronosphere continued.
     "Night Owl and Synapse will remain behind at the Beanstalk
laboratories. Legend, I presume this means you will have some extra room on
the Rectijet to transport reinforcements to Ottawa?"
     "But I wanna go, too!!!"  whined Synapse.
     "We've discussed this already!"  Legend shot his young charge a
warning glare before addressing Chronosphere. "Certainly!  I can take
several more people."
     Grey Leopard looked alarmed.  "But Legend, you're infected!  You
should stay behind, too!"
     "Mate, Night Owl has scanned and bled me sufficiently already.  And
Chronosphere's right, we need air power as much as we need a cure at this
point."
        "But..."
        "And Night Owl will take good care of Synapse," finished Tony,
fully anticipating Cory's next objection.
        "All right, it's settled," continued Chronosphere.  "Preteen
Patrol, you're with him."
        "No FAIR!!!!!" protested Mary Agnes.  "How come *they* get to go
and I *don't*?"
        "Synapse, I've already explained.  *Any* one can storm the Canadian
Parliament.  Only you can give us advanced warning of Maladroit's
intentions! And you might also come in handy for the research into a cure.
Imagine that... you'd be a hero!"
        "Whooppee." pouted Synapse with little enthusiasm.  "More needles.
And it's so *BORING* in the lab..."
     "Besides, you're too little!!!" sneered Sporkboy, with all the
arrogance of his 10 years.
     "I am *NOT*!!!"  Mary Agnes shot back.  "I'm *eight*!!!"
     "That's practically a *baby*!" retorted Mickey.
     "No, it's not, you, you ol' *BOY*!" shouted Mary Agnes, hurling the
final word at him as if it were the gravest of insults.
     "I think I preferred working with teenagers," Spoongirl commented to
herself, as the two continued to trade insults.
     "Kids," muttered Chronosphere to himself, "Sidekicks were okay, but
why did they go and let 'em think that they're full-fledged heroes? Comics
do rot your brains... I blame the 'Titans'."
     "*GIRL*!"
     "*BOY*!"
     "Cootie-infected *GIRL*!"
     "Ooooooh!  They're *NOT* cooties, you, you... *BOY*!"
     "Enough of that!" chirped Liberty Richards, taking young Synapse by
the arm.  "C'mon, hon, we need to prep you for the PET scan now..."
        "ANOTHER one?" groaned Mary Agnes, as she reluctantly shuffled off
after the professor, still grumbling about the unfairness of the situation.
        Tony raised an eyebrow at the trio of ten-year-olds.  "So, it's the
Preteen Patrol, is it?"
   "That's right!" exclaimed Sporkboy.  "The Preteen Patrol, defenders of
the world!"
   "Yay!" AquaRegia chimed in.
   Spoongirl just glowered.  "Look, I'm only here because I'm being forced,
coerced, bullied against my will by cosmic forces beyond my control.  When
this mission is over--"
   "We'll all go out for ice cream?" asked AquaRegia.
   "We can go home and start working on our secret headquarters?" Sporkboy
suggested.
   "Oooo!  We can install a hot line to Bunzai Pizza!  In case of
emergencies, you know."
   "Don't push your luck, Dorkboy," Spoongirl snapped.  "And as for you,"
she said, addressing Aquaregia, "we may be on the same team now, but I
still don't have to like you."
        "That could be a mistake, Spoongirl," cautioned Legend.  "The
Guardians of Rectitude have found young Aquaregia to be a valuable ally in
the past!"
        Mickey whirled on his cousin in surprise.  "When did you work with
*them*?" he asked.
        "Back in Dillweed City.  You see, Legend owns the cmxu bk shmm..."
her voice was suddenly muffled.
        "Here, kid, haffa Toasty Tart!" boomed Battletank, snatching up a
box that happened to be lying about nearby and shoving the pastry in her
mouth.
        "Toasty Tarts, yay!" the blonde girl mumbled, crumbs spilling out
of her mouth.
        Spoongirl rolled her eyes in disgust. "Let's just *GO*, already!"
she said, stamping her foot.  Legend gallantly gestured towards the waiting
atomic jet.  Spoongirl was at his heels, followed by Ludge and the two
cousins.  Windswimmer brought up the rear.  "Well, *this* should be a fun
trip!" she remarked to no one in particular. Chronosphere sighed.
     "Right," he said. "Having set the level of maturity for the day, I'm
sure you're all ready to go out, fight the good fight, and scream
'mooooooom, he started it' once the dust settles. Go to your assigned
transport, good luck... " He muttered the last few words, "...and someone
start warming up the pabulum."
***
     Commodore Amiga stared into space. All around him, people bustled
about, preparing for the imminent invasion.
     The past several days had given the commodore much to think about. For
years, he'd sought to deny his true nature, hiding it behind the proud
colors of the U.S. Navy. It had seemed the best course of action. But the
Deep Throat incident, as well as this trip to Canada, had seriously shaken
that belief. He'd unconsciously referred to himself as a "superguy" in that
briefing for the first time in ages. Perhaps...
     Abruptly, Amiga leapt to his feet and rushed over to Sergent Graham.
"My rhino!"
     "Pardon?"
     "My superrhino. I left him in the commuter lot down the street. Can we
keep him here? He doesn't eat much. Really. Well, he likes donuts."
     "Er... I suppose," Graham replied, somehow taking the commdore's
request in stride. "We'll take care of it right away. I'm afraid we're
undergoing a severe donut shortage, but there's sure to be something he can
eat."
     "Great... thanks."
     Across the way, Victor sat in a state of introspection similar to that
of his superior, musing quietly as he picked at his braces. Would he be
able to perform effectively in the big honking fight scenes that were
surely in his future? His stomach churned, his head pounded, and it took
him altogether too long to notice that his symptoms went beyond those of
mere nervousness. By the time he did, he was unable to walk, overcome by
the Windsor plague. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the
commodore rushing to his aid....
***
     "Let's get moving!" cried General Anaesthetic, overseeing the loading
of his troops onto the TFA transport. Each man or woman obeyed immediately,
falling into step with one another and taking their assigned places. The
time for joking and kidding around was long since over; the troopers knew
their job, and how to do it well. After this was all over they would be
able to laugh, reminisce... and mourn.
     Anaesthetic watched the troops dispassionately, satisfied that they
knew their business. Although the STOP soldiers were encased in Tornado
suits, he himself had eschewed it, preferring the armour provided by a
stout heart, a brave soul, and odious personal habits which tended to keep
all but the strongest willed at bay. When the last trooper had boarded,
Anaesthetic motioned sharply to the assembled superguys.
    "Move, move, move!" he shouted, hustling superguys on board. Finally,
after the undisciplined paranormals had been loaded, the General stepped
onto the jet, pausing only for a single look back at the Beanstalk, its
metal gleaming in the day's light.
    With a tight salute to the structure - and everything it represented -
the General turned and entered the transport, closing its hatch behind him.
***
     "Excited?" asked Angellica of her team, as she buckled into an
oversized crash couch. The rest of the group followed suit.
     "Nah," boasted Boomer, his everpresent grin looking just the slightest
bit pasted-on. "What's to be worried about? We go in there; fight our way
through a cloud of superguys that'll probably be bigger than most swarms of
mosquitoes or ninja; get our heads handed to us and zip back in time for
the news. Simple."
     "If you say so..." murmured Avril, uncertainly. Angellica smiled and
put a hand on her charge's shoulder.
     "He's making a joke, Avril," said Angellica, prompting Avril to blink
up at her for a moment.
     "I think we'll be fine," said Karen, flexing her muscles uncomfortably
against the couch's restraints. "What do you think, Jack? Jack?"
    "Hmmm?" asked Jack, blinking twice and turning to look at his teammate.
"Did you say something, Karen?"
     "Daydreaming _again_?" asked Karen, rolling her eyes. She looked at
Jack for a moment, then cocked her head curiously. "Something bothering
you?"
     "No... well, maybe a little," admitted Jack. "Someone I've admired and
respected for most of my career is going to be at this battle, and," he
sighed, "she's going to be on the other side."
     "The Dash," said Karen, with a nod.
     "Yeah, word got around?" asked Jack.
     "Sorta. Also, given your Dash news clipping scrapbook has now reached
its sixth volume, it was a pretty safe bet."
     Jack sighed again. "Right. I don't know how I feel about having to
fight someone who... damn it, who inspired my career from the start!"
     Boomer nodded, looking slightly more serious than his usual self.
"Sort of like a kid hearing on the news that Big Bird was moonlighting as a
hit-man, and just took down Mr Rogers."
     Jack involuntarily snorted at the image, then nodded. "Exactly. I know
it isn't her fault that she's been turned. I just feel really... doubtful
about the fight now."
     "I wouldn't worry," said Angellica, "You probably won't even see the Dash."
     "Right, because I'll be unconscious seconds before I'd get the
chance," said Jack with an ironic half-grin, "Maybe she'll agree to
autograph my bruises."
     "Who's to say someone else won't subdue her?" asked Karen, shrugging.
"I know that doesn't change how you feel about fighting against her side,
but at least that's a bit of piece of mind."
    Jack leaned back against his couch. "There's a lot of debate about how
to take down a speedster. Most of it doesn't apply to me, because I don't
have the fast reflex speeds that real speedsters do. But currently, the
theory is to send a speedster to catch a speedster. Or in my case, send an
anti-speedster."
     "No other speeders around, are there?" asked Karen, seeing Jack's dilemma.
     "Nope," replied Jack, shaking his head, "Just me."
     "Do you think... you can handle this, Jack?" asked Angellica, as Shard
pulsed in concern. Jack shrugged.
     "Not sure, really. I've been working on a few new tricks with my
powers, but that's all they are: tricks. If the Dash gets serious, I'm
toast. I might be a speed killer, but she has years of practical experience
on me, plus reflexes, plus faster speeds..."
     "Plus your own fear, Jack," admonished Karen. "You have to get rid of
that now, or it'll be her best weapon against you. Trust me on this," she
finished with a small grin.
     "I'll try," replied Jack, nodding slightly. He turned his head
slightly to look out of a pane of armoured glass. "Looks like we're taking
off, guys. Good luck."
     "Luck," replied the rest of the team.
***

[Continued In Part Two]