🚀 go-pugleaf

        In a small dark room deep in the sub-sub-sub-sub-sub basement of a
huge office building belonging to the Big International Corporation, there
lurked a rather large, bald man wearing thick, horn-rimmed spectacles. He
sat in front of the conventional Large Glowing Computer Screen, the light
making his already shiny, sallow face even more shiny and sallow. He
scratched his arm where his wool cardigan bit into his flesh through his
thin sleeve, and wiped the sweat from his brow. He tapped nervously at the
keyboard, switching screens quickly to show the progress of the subjects
being monitored.
        When his superiors found out what had happened, they would not be
pleased, and all would not go well with him. Apparently, one of the
subjects had come in contact with the Enemy shortly after being discovered
by the corporation's agents. This Enemy had once been a member of the
Company, but had gone rogue. Perhaps he could still be swayed to
rejoin...after all, his intellect would be a shame to lose.
        He watched the dots move across the map, and saw that they were
beginning to converge. No, this was not good....

                        %N #4 - "Run Away"
                         by Author Crash
                        In Accordance With
                Author Crash Productions, Ltd. And
                         the ShadowyPlot

***** New Deli, California

        Buddha walked down the street, savoring the huge kosher pickle he
had just bought at the delicatessen down the street. He felt more than
slightly apprehensive...that old man back in the deli, behind the counter,
had seemed rather odd. And he was -positive- he'd heard a telephone
receiver click as he exited. But, he thought, it's probably just paranoia.
        He sauntered along obliviously, having discarded his doubts in a
fit of fancy. He immersed himself in the glory and salty tang of his giant
dill pickle, blissfully unaware that he was being shadowed by a dark,
unmarked car and a man in a trenchcoat.
        Waving his non-pickle hand in the air, he hailed a taxi and waited
until it pulled up next to him. He got in and settled himself into the
plush seat. Hm, he thought, nice taxi. He was completely unaware that a
full medical examination was being performed on him as he sat, and
electronic scanning devices were analyzing his calculator.
        "Where to?" rasped the driver, watching him from under the rim of
his hat.
        "Uhh...what state is this?" asked Buddha.
        "California," said the driver noncommitally. "Where'd you think
you were, kid?"
        "New Jersey," answered Buddha promptly.
        "Which exit?" asked the driver, deadpan, then cracked up.
        "Ha, ha," said Buddha sarcastically. "Why'n't you just take me to
the nearest video arcade?"
        "Sure, kid, sure," replied the cabbie, still laughing, and pulling
away from the curb.
        By this time, the number of observers following Buddha had
increased considerably. There was now a helicopter circling overhead,
focusing its telescopic camera on the teenaged boy. Also following were
several more unmarked cars, a chartreuse microbus, a woman on a Lambretta
motorscooter, an errand boy on a ten-speed bike, and a girl on
rollerblades.
        "So, ah, nice piece of tech you've got there, son. What is it, a
calculator? A TI-82, by any chance?" asked the taxi driver, seemingly by
way of conversation.
        "Yeah," said Buddha, finishing off his pickle and licking his
fingers off.
        "Really," said the cabbie, watching him through the rearview
mirror.
        "Yeah," said Buddha.
        They rode the rest of the way in silence, until the driver pulled
up in front of Fogarty's. It was a garish, neon-bedecked establishment,
with ads for different games, movies, and computers plastered in the
windows. The cabbie held out his hand and said, "That'll be $12.55, kid."
        Buddha paid and got out of the cab quickly. That driver is creepy,
he thought to himself. He anxiously looked to and fro to see if he was
being watched, and somehow totally missed the entire entourage. In
addition to the previously named agents, there were now two hot air
balloons, a GTE phone truck, a man dressed as a giant chicken, several
young kids with vidcams strapped on in the fronts of their tricycles, and
a Frank Zappa lookalike.
        He entered the arcade, looking around interestedly. Near the front
were children and teens of all ages playing videogame classics like
Paclad, Terrace, and Spacey Invaders. A little further in, they graduated
to theme games like Star Warts, Dependence Day, and Exterminator. In the
back were the Morbid Combat, Shake, Boom, and Blasphemer. Buddha gazed
wistfully at these, but kept his attention focused (amazingly) on his
objective: a small door in the darkest corner of the room, bearing the
label 'No Admittance'.
        He knocked rather timidly at first, then bolstered his courage and
knocked louder, fearing that the occupant mightn't have heard.
        "Password?" called a sleepy voice from inside.
        "Uhh..." said Buddha originally, "I don't know the password."
        "Then you're not 3133+, and you're probably useless. Go away,"
said the voice, rather peevishly.
        "I am *not* useless!" replied Buddha indignantly.
        "Are too," came back the voice.
        "Am not!" yelled Buddha. "I have a TI-82!"
        About forty heads turned from their games to stare at Buddha. The
door opened quickly, and Buddha was ushered quickly inside. "Oh, Authors,
keep it down!" hissed the source of the voice.
        "Why?" asked Buddha curiously. "It's only a calculator."
        He faced a pale, out-of-shape older teen with long, pale hair and
pale hazel eyes with huge bags under them. The guy obviously didn't sleep
much, nevermind actually go outside.
        "Where...did you get this?" breathed the boy, unable to tear his
eyes away from the banged-up piece of mathemagical marvel.
        "Radio Shack," shrugged Buddha.
        "Be serious. You can't get these -anywhere-!" exclaimed the older
boy. "Tell me, honestly- where did you get this?"
        "I was -telling- the truth," said Buddha, annoyed. "Anyway, I'm
trying to find my friends. They have TI-82s, too..."
        The boy looked up, his face trying to conceal a pent-up feeling of
amazement and joy. "If that's true...then this is the technological find
of the century!"
        Buddha once more shrugged. "I have to find Gina, though. She's the
one who got me into this mess. Dragging us all around the multiverse...she
must be crazy."
        "Hmm. Gina. I know I've heard that name before..." said the boy, a
distant look on his face. He suddenly looked at Buddha and said, "My name
is Fogarty. Also known as Kraker Jax, but someone once told me that that
was a really dumb handle. So just call me Fogarty."
        Fogarty began pacing the small room, thinking aloud and
essentially ignoring Buddha. "I can't let this find fall into the hands of
B.I.C....these should stay in the hands of the underground. Or at least,
as long as BIC continues to piss me off...wait!" He turned quickly toward
Buddha. "Did you talk to anyone or buy anything before you came here?"
        "Yeah," said Buddha. "I bought a pickle at a Jewish deli
downtown...and I took a taxi ride here. The driver was weird, and the guy
behind the counter at the deli was weirder."
        If at all possible, Fogarty grew paler than he already was. "Oh,
sh*t," he whispered, and began digging in the corner of the room. Throwing
aside piles of junk, he gestured frantically for Buddha to join him. He
found an iron ring partially embedded in the linoleum floor, and pulled
hard. "It's -stuck-!" he whispered urgently.
        At that moment, many voices began congregating on the other side
of the door. Many were angry, but more were conspiratorial. Someone began
banging on the door, and another person yelled. A distinctly loud, clear
voice stated matter-of-factly, "If you rabble don't clear away now, I'll
have to kill you all." The crowd sounds immediately died down.
        Buddha watched in amazement and stupefaction as a clear plastic
tube slid under the door, and a green gas started pouring out of it and
filling the room.
        "It's just plain rusted shut!" cried Fogarty in despair, as the
two of them watched their oxygen being quickly replaced by a toxic gas.
        "Damn," observed Buddha expressively.

*****  Somewhere in Kansas...

        Dust, bits of charred grain, wood, and melted metal rained down
from the heavens like sifted sand and covered everything thinly. Mother
birds sheltered their babies in the nests, rabbits hid in their dens, and
all waited until the air would be breatheable again. All was still.
        Soon, a faint, constant cound could be discerned, if anyone who
cared had been listening for it. The sound grew steadily in volume and
clarity. It could soon be recognised as a chorus of three different
voices, screaming in abject terror. The voices became louder and louder,
and more and more fearful as their owners came closer and closer to
being human pancakes.
        The first figure hurtled out of the sky, his clothing in tatters.
He stopped screaming...but not because he was dead. He found himself up to
his knees in the ground, but very much alive. He could hear his two
friends coming closer, and decided quickly that -they- might not have his
incredible luck. Completely against what he thought was his survival
instinct, he pulled himself out of the ground and caught the second
plummeting figure.
        "*gulp*," said Stinky, landing in Mike's arms. He looked up and
said, "Oh, gee, I didn't know you felt that way, Mike!"
        Mike dropped him unceremoniously on the ground, making a horrible
face. He didn't have time to say anything, because at that moment, Taryn
dropped into his waiting arms. She looked into his eyes, gazed
thoughtfully at him, and said quietly, "You..."
        "Yes?" asked Mike equally quietly, but eagerly just the same.
        "...have spinach in your teeth," she finished, and jumped down to
her feet.
        Mike rolled his eyes in absolute disgust. "What an anticlimax.
Don't you know that you're not -supposed- to do that? That was supposed to
be a romantic scene or something."
        "Something?" asked Taryn, grinning. "Well, I just couldn't think
of anything else to say."
        "Bah," observed Mike.
        "By the way...why aren't we dead?" asked Taryn.
        "Probably because I caught you," replied Mike.
        "Oh, gee," said Taryn, rolling her eyes. "I knew -that-. But no
one caught -you-!"
        "Hm. Shades of _Superman 1_," grinned Mike.
        "Gah. Are you going to tell me, or not?" griped Taryn.
        "Well, I was hoping you wouldn't notice," sighed Mike.
"Apparently, after all that posturing Ted and I did back in Real Life, I
actually ended up invincible. And this isn't just another ego trip."
        "But...back when we were in that silo, we were pretty much at the
front of the blast. We should have been fried, and I -know- I'm not
invincible because I stubbed my toe when you let go of me," protested
Taryn.
        "Well, I was probably standing in front of you two," said Mike,
and mumbled something unintelligible, turning red.
        "Ooh!" squeaked Taryn happily. "You're -embarrassed-! Because you
jumped in front of us, and saved our lives! You're a hero, Mike! Don't
feel like that!"
        Mike shook his head, saying "Empathy, indeed..."
        Taryn looked down at Stinky. "What are you doing, Brian?"
        "Hmm," said Brian from the ground. "Look. It still works." He
pointed to his TI-82, which was still on and hadn't been turned to slag.
        "Weird," said Taryn, and took out her own. It, too, worked. She
called up the graphing function, and lo! there was a map on it! "What the
nass...?!"
        Peering over Taryn's shoulder, Mike gasped in amazement, "How did
you do that? I know you didn't draw it, because your '82's memory was
empty this morning, and we haven't had enough time..."
        "Mine has one, too!" called Stinky.
        Mike pulled out -his- TI-82 and turned it on. He followed Taryn's
steps, and found that his calculator had the same map. Fearful that it
might have replaced one of the pictures he already had stored in there, he
went to check the memory...
        "Oh...my...god," he breathed.
        Empathy and Stinky turned to look at him. There was an air of awe
totally surrounding him, and permeating the moods of the two other
teenagers.
        "Yuck. Tell us what it is before you get any more of your awe on
us," said Taryn, wrinkling her nose.
        "There's...there's a spitload of programs in here...and I didn't
write -any- of them...and the memory is almost limitless!" he said,
dumbfounded.
        "Cool," said Brian, noting that the same thing was true for his.
        "Well, what do we do with it?" asked Taryn.

***** Northfield, Vermont

        "We check out what the other programs do," said Jen.
        "But...*sigh*, okay," mumbled Sonic.
        Jen fished through her calculator's memory, and came up with a
program called 'tracking'. "Hmm..." said she, calling it up. Suddenly, on
the map, there appeared seven dots. There was a dot in California, one in
Quebec, three in Kansas, and two in Vermont. Across the bottom of the
screen were the words, 'Tracking TI-82s...'
        "Gods," gaped Mary Anne, "That can only be us! But...seven?"
        "I know...I wonder who's missing. And I wonder how we get to the
others...we should probably get to New Jersey somehow...at least it's
familiar territory," thought Dusk aloud.
        "Maybe there's a way to get in touch with them? Another program in
the memory?" asked Mary Anne.
        "Hmmmmm....good idea, Sonic..." said Jen, looking through the
memory again. "Talker? That might be it..." She called it up, and chose
the function 'broadcast'. She typed in a message...

***** Between Verdun and Montreal, Canada

        Ted's calculator beeped. He would have been much surprised by
this, considering the lack of any kind of speaker inside the device, had
he not been more surprised by other things.
        "Muahahahaha!" he laughed, floating a good ten feet off the
ground, surrounded by an aura of electricity. He pointed a finger at a
grassy spot on the ground, and a bolt of lightning arced from his
outstretched finger. When the afterimage faded, there was a scorched spot
on the ground.
        A second time his calculator beeped, and Ted sighed and took it
out. Across the screen scrolled the words, "TED, GINA, MIKE, TARYN,
BUDDHA, AND STINKY: MEET IN NEW JERSEY. -JEN AND MARY ANNE"
        Ted made a face. "Like Hell(tm) I will. This is too good! I can
conquer Canada!"
        He turned off his calculator and flew off, headed for Montreal.

***** Northfield Again

        "Now...how to get to Jersey..." thought Jen aloud again.
        "Think to yourself," complained Mary Anne from the ground.
        "What..?" said Jen confusedly, looking down at Mary Anne.
        Sonic lifted about a foot off the ground when Jen spoke, but fell
down on her, ah, posterior again when Jen stopped. She got to her feet and
said, "Talk a little longer this time..."
        "I'm talking what should I talk about I don't know what to talk
about this is ridiculous!" said Jen all in one breath.
        Mary Anne floated upward when Jen started talking again, and
landed gently on her feet when she stopped. "Anything...talk about
anything! My voice doesn't work for this, so you have to talk. I don't
care if you use run on sentences, split infinitives, or nonexistant words!
Just -keep talking-!"
        "Right. But if you think you can actually fly this way, you're
messed. Or at least sadly mistaken. I might get hoarse, or run out of
things to say. I couldn't just talk and talk and talk, could I? I wonder
how this works...aiee! Don't pick me up, you might drop me or something!
Anyway, maybe it's your nickname? Sonic...maybe you're riding on sound
waves! I wonder if you can use your own sound waves to do anything...If
you have a power, I might, too! Dusk, dusk...I wonder what kind of power
that'd be?" wondered Jen.
        The two girls, now about two hundred feet in the air, began to
plummet when Jen stopped talking. "Say something! TALK!" screamed Mary
Anne in a blind panic. Jen shreiked when they began to fall faster, and
the sound momentarily held the girls aloft. Jen hurriedly began talking
again.
        "Maybe you should get a pair of headphones or something. This is
too dangerous. I wonder...if you covered your ears, would you fall?
Or...hey, don't try it! We're too high up, and besides, you're carrying
me. What the Hell(tm) am I going to talk about all the way to Jersey?
Grife, I'm starting to sound like Gina on Jolt. I wonder where she is
right now, anyway..."

***** Kansas Again

        Taryn finished cleaning herself off and began trying to piece
together Mike's shirt. "You know, you should wear Kevlar or something.
Cotton doesn't cut it in catastrophies. Plus, you need a better codename.
Where did 'Spud' come from, anyway?"
        "My potato mortar," explained Mike. "Spud launcher."
        "Ah," Brian said, nodding knowingly. "The one that doesn't exist?"
        "That's the one," agreed Mike.
        "Aha. Well, we have to think of a way to get to Jersey. None of us
can fly, I don't think. And since we're the only group of three on the
map, we're the ones in Kansas. And I don't feel like walking all the way,"
sighed Taryn.
        "Well, I could blow something else up..." offered Stinky.
        "What, is it some kind of power?" asked Mike, looking at Stinky
warily.
        "I think so," said Stinky, closing his eyes. "I'm gonna try and
blow up that rock over there."
        Nothing happened.
        "Um," said Taryn, "Try something combustible."
        "Er, right," said Brian. "How about that dead tree?"
        "Try it," said Mike.
        Brian closed his eyes again and concentrated on an image of the
tree in flames. Still, nothing happened. "Maybe I have to touch it.."
        "Do you think that's a good idea?" frowned Mike. "You're not
invincible."
        "He ought to be invulnerable to his own power," said Taryn.
        "Ought to. But you can never be sure..." said Mike.
        "Good point. Come here, Mike," grinned Stinky.
        Mike sighed. "That's not quite what I had in mind, but fine."
        Mike stepped in front of Stinky, who laid his hand on the tree and
concentrated. At his touch, and with his energy focused on it, the old
dead tree burst into flames. Brian looked kind of disappointed. "It didn't
blow up."
        "You must be a pyrokinetic," said Mike matter-of-factly.
        "Then why did the silo blow up?" asked Stinky, frowning.
        "Grain is highly explosive. It's the difference between setting a
match to a piece of wood or a can of gasoline. Didn't you read that
exposition last episode?" asked Mike.
        "No," confessed Brian.
        Taryn had been silently watching the whole time, and now spoke up.
"Try emitting flames from your hand," she said. "Your power -shouldn't-
affect you."
        "Okay," said Brian, and held up his hand. Heh....BOOM! His hand
burst into flame. "Ahh, comfy," grinned he. "Muahahahahahahaha!"
        "Yeesh," exclaimed Taryn, jumping back. "Remind me to stay away
from you near a burst gas pipe."
        "Easy there, Stinky. I opt for a different mode of transport. Too
bad none of us is a teleport or a speedster..." sighed Mike.
        "I wonder if any of the others have powers like us," said Taryn,
gazing off into the horizon.


WILL THE BRAINPACK FIND EACH OTHER?

WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO BUDDHA AND FOGARTY?

IS FOGARTY TO BE TRUSTED?

WHERE THE HELL(TM) -IS- GINA, ANYWAY?

CAN JEN TALK ALL THE WAY FROM VT TO NJ? -I- THINK SO! (*AC ducks!*)

WILL TED TAKE OVER CANADA? IS HE DEAD? IF SO, _CAN_ HE CONQUER CANADA?

FIND OUT NEXT TIME RIGHT HERE, ON...

                        SUPERGUY!!!