🚀 go-pugleaf

  Rain cascaded from the airdock as it extended to connect with the jumbo
air liner.  Star listened as the light staccato rhythm of the slow, heavy
drops rebounded off the rooftop.  She nodded to herself as she walked down
the long corridor.  The pitter-patter of the rain was an appropriate
cadence for the occasion, solemn and droning.  Her compatriot had other
notions about it, however.
  "Man, just my luck.," griped the other woman.  "You offer some 'no
strings' vacation time, and Ma Nature dumps down.  I should have gone with
Ted and Syl after all."
  Star smiled wanly.    Sometimes, outlook was all just a matter of
perspective. "I'm sorry, Reba, but especially with Mr. Douglas's
recommendations, I thought a break from the normal routine would help."
  Reba Barrister muttered.  "'S'not like I'm going to try to over strain
myself again." She kept quiet for a second as the reminder brought back
some memories for a quick moment, and then pushed them away. She brightened
a bit. "Oh, well, if nothing else I can scout out the Palindrome early, and
save us some time."
  "No music clubs, Reb,"  Star stated absently.  "Look, I'll help get the
bags in the hotel, then I've got to get to the viewing."
  "Er, right."  Reba's voice became subdued as she recalled the reason Star
was making the trip in the first place.  "You going to be okay?"
  Star nodded, still not quite there, as they started looking for their
luggage.  "Well enough.  Jean's death was ... unexpected."
  "Who _was_ he anyway?" Reba stole a curious glance at Star then focussed
back on the rotating conveyor.  "I mean, I know you called him from time to
time, but that's about it.  Oh! And you and Ted went up last Christmas."
  Star irritably brushed a stray, jet-black curl that had worked its way
loose.  "Jean used to be my sensei."
  Reba paused for a bit, as she quickly grabbed her suitcase before it
vanished into the Great Unknown.  "Er, Star, Jean Renaulle doesn't even
sound _vaguely_ oriental."
  Star laughed at that.  "He wasn't.  And he'd be the first to tell you
that.  It's a habit I picked up from my first sensei."
  "Okay, whatever.  You think we can hurry before we get stuck with a
Grendel for the best choice of rental?"
  "Right."

   Angellica crumpled the small telegram that she held, her face betraying
no hint of emotion as she thought over the news which she had just read.
People in her life seemed to have a habit of passing on, leaving her
without a past to cling to. Sometimes the woman entertained the grim
fantasy that she walked down a yellow brick road toward her final
destination in life. But one by one her companions faded to black until
finally she reached the Emerald City alone and could not remember why she'd
bothered with the trip.
   Jean Renaulle had not been a particularly important part of Angellica's
life, nor had they kept in touch after she had left his savate classes. But
what he had been was a comfortable non-presence. Just knowing that a marker
from happier times was still alive, vital and doing exactly what he had
always been doing was important to Angellica. Even the guilt which she felt
for not writing or calling on occasion was of the exquisite sort.
   And now Jean was dead. The first contact in years that Angellica would
have with her old mentor would be to say goodbye to him forever. To bid a
piece of her past adieu. For a moment, the beautiful superguy felt the urge
to simply toss the telegram away and procrastinate until circumstances made
it impossible for her to attend the funeral. But only for a moment. With a
small sigh, Angellica picked up her phone and dialled a familiar number.
   The voice on the other end of the exchange belonged to Jack Wynn -
Alternator - leader of Mythos, and had been recorded months ago. Angel
smiled ever-so-slightly; Jack was sometimes so concerned for the rest of
the human race that he occasionally forgot about the little things, like
batteries for his remote controls or changing the voice on his answering
machine.
   "Hello Jack," began Angellica, her voice clear and collected. "This is
Angel. I'm going to need several days off; please inform Aurora." She
stopped, wondering if enough had been said. Had this been anyone else,
Angellica would have said yes - she owed no more explanation and would not
consider giving it. But this was Jack, and for Jack Angel did not hang up.
"An old... friend has died, Jack. I need to go to his funeral. I... Just
thank you, in advance."
   That was more than enough. Angellica hung up the phone and stood, to
find her ward Avril, to explain that she would be away for a while.

************************************************************************

                      Frobozz Magic Productions

                        in collaboration with

                      Ghost in the Mecha, Xltd.

                               Presents

                                Mythos

                                 and

                            Rhythm Masters

                                  in

             M A T T E R S   O F   P E R S P E C T I V E

                             Chapter One
                     "Requiem and Recollections"
                                  by
        Chris "Frobozz" Angelini and James "Mechaman" Rinehart


************************************************************************

   Jean's viewing, appropriately enough, was in the training studio proper.
As Star looked about, things took an almost comically surreal aspect, as
if someone had taken a photo-negative toward most of the people present.
Instead of white gis or sweats with black or colourful trims, almost all
were in black suits or dresses, with the occasional white shirt or blouse
acting as counterpoint.  She caught herself as she reached to take off her
shoes, looking to the left before suppressing a chuckle.  More than twenty
pairs of shoes were laid to the side of the door.  Some habits stayed
forever, it seems.. and rightly, she decided as she slipped off her shoes
and walked toward the front.
   As Star made her way down the throng of consolers, she slowed as she
found who she was looking for.  Jean's wife was close to the sealed cherry
casket.  "'Miko?"
   Himiko Renaulle turned her head slowly. Her face was almost a mask in
its own right, a rigid smile and unseeing eyes showing how little true
emotions was coming through the shock.  Star worried, for a moment, if
Himiko had followed her husband in spirit and left an empty shell behind.
"Yes?"
   Star leaned down a little bit to make eye contact with her friend,
throat caught at the numb autonomy of Himiko's actions.  "Oh, 'Miko, I
tried to get here sooner..."
   Himiko's brown eyes slowly focused on the dancer, her face and stance
shifting slightly. Where the smile had been artificial, now it held genuine
warmth and gratitude. "Chelsea, thank you for coming. I'm so glad that
you're here."
   Star gently took the widow's hand, then looked carefully at her.
Propriety be damned.  Jean knew better, and that was whose respect counted.
She embraced Himiko, quietly but firmly.  "How did it happen, 'Miko?"
   Himiko held onto Star, her tight embrace the only concession to the
grief that she surely felt. And if she trembled a bit with checked sobs,
well, Star was not about to say anything.  "He was a hero, Star. For one
last time, he was a hero..."
   Star blinked at this a bit, and then, lightly broke the embrace so she
could again make eye contact with Himiko.  "He always was, 'Miko. But I'm
sorry that he had to go so soon... and... I'm holding up the rest, right
now. But I'll be close by.  Just call on me."  She smiled sadly. "I wish
you could have when he needed me."
   Himiko smiled a touch, glancing at the casket with a fond smile. "You're
right. It was who he was... Star, thank you again... I can't tell you how
much this means to me... I'm just feeling so alone."
   Star shook her head and looked about at the assembled mourners. The
studio was moderately crowded with the number of people about.  "I don't
think you are, 'Princess'.  It really looks like you had a lot of people
who cared about both of you."
   Himiko sighed and slowly shook her head.  "Star...  I'm trying to think
of it that way.  Not about how many are parents of the students he saved,
or students he taught last session or..."
   Star interrupted gently.  "Or the pain?  'Miko, they cared enough to
come.  I can't imagine your loss, but don't think you're alone. Ever." She
glanced back at the growing line and sighed.  "We'll talk again later.  I
promise."  She smiled again, reassuringly and moved away to let others in.
   The widow smiled slightly, hope momentarily cutting through the haze of
pain she'd felt over the longest week of her life.  "Yes, I think we do,
Star."

   Angellica walked through the crowded room, her slightly dragging
stocking feet  the only clue to the dilemma with which she wrestled. Should
she turn and run?  Leave this part of her past behind? Again? There were so
many memories for her to deal with... possibly too many. Gradually,
realisation settled upon Angellica: she could not simply leave. She'd sworn
to face what had been left behind so long ago, and so here she would stay.
Angellica sighed and straightened, looking around for any familiar face
that she could place through the hazy cloud of far too much memory and
time.
   Up front, the diminutive form of Jean's wife and a former classmate,
came into view. Angellica saw that she was still being consoled by other
guests, and her resolve flagged. Himiko hadn't precisely been her best
friend back when they had had a chance to speak regularly. But then again,
there had been so many bright moments that both had shared.  Slowly,
submitting to the inevitable conclusion of an emotional tug of war, she
stepped closer to the woman, letting the good times past overshadow the
fear.
   Angellica looked at the floor, then raised her eyes to look at Himiko's.
"Hello Himiko. It's... been too long."
   Himiko looked up and sighed a bit.  Again, the numb facade broke, as she
looked over the lithesome beauty with a trace of guilt on her face.  "Not
since Roger's funeral....  And now, it seems things are on the other foot.
I miss him so much, Angie."  Himiko's last sentence was little more than a
harsh rasp as she tried to swallow back the tears that she'd been holding
within for too long.
   Angellica nodded slightly. "So do I," she said quietly, her meaning
double. She shifted for a moment, feeling uneasy. "I'm sorry, Himiko. About
everything. Can you forgive me for leaving things this late?"
   Himiko dipped her head for a moment, then smiled sadly as she brought it
back up to look at Angellica.  "Only if you forgive me, Angie.  I think I
failed you as much or more.  But then, maybe we can talk?"
   Angellica paused for a moment, a denial on her lips. She stopped, then
smiled a hair. "Yes. And yes, Himiko."
   Himiko's smile grew as she relaxed a bit herself. "I'd like that a lot,
Angellica.  Thank you."
   Angellica looked around for a moment, then focused on Himiko's face.
Focused on the past. Somehow, it hurt just a little less now.. "Thank you
too, Himiko."
   Himiko nodded quietly before turning her attention - a little
regretfully - to yet another consoler.
   Angellica smiled slightly, then turned away from Himiko. With two
fingers quietly touched to her forehead, she saluted the casket and old
friend whom she would never again see.

   Star looked about as people milled here and there.  Sadly, most of the
faces seemed to be local and of the younger set: current students, local
instructors, and the like.  Had it truly been that long since her days in
this room teaching some smaller students the basic routines?  Or practising
with a tape deck, a partner, and Sensei? She grimaced,  then sighed.  No
matter what, 'Jean' and 'Sensei were inextricably intertwined in her mind.
Ironically, some of the current instructors or students probably called him
that because that was "in" now.  She wondered if they knew what it truly
meant.
   Quietly, she picked her way about the room, trading words of grief and
consolation with face after face, a sea of grieving humanity. She began to
wander toward the casket, her only point of stability in the room.
   As she made her way along, Star tried to recall those who'd been there.
She'd taken great pains to keep in touch with Sen- Jean -- She reminded
herself firmly.  Old habits, indeed.  A shock of pale blond hair caught her
eye as she moved.  She paused, nearly staring. It couldn't be.....
   Angellica stared back for a moment, then gasped at the face that was so
painfully familiar and for so long consigned to the dusty closet of her
memory. "Star?" she asked, eyes widening slightly. "I...."
   "...haven't seen you in ages?" asked Star, grinning as though the two
old friends had only parted company the day before. "Angie, you look
_marvellous_."
   Angellica smiled slightly, fighting against the vertigo of the past to
keep her balance. "Star, how long has it been? You're looking well too, I
mean..." Angellica paused, at a loss for words.
   "I guess too long then," replied Star, with a sad smile. "I'd thought
you left the area. Sen--Jean said he hadn't heard from you or Crystal or
Renee in ages."
   "I did, for a while," replied Angellica, staring at Star, following the
almost unnoticeable laugh lines around her mouth, noting the determination
in her eyes... taking in everything that had changed. It was a less than
she'd imagined, yet the small details helped to define and redefine
features hazed by memory's passing. "But sometimes things draw you back,
and you've no choice but to go. How have you been keeping yourself busy?"
   "Doing what I said I would," said Star, with a smile. "Dancing. I ended
up in a road crew company, thanks to father's inheritance and a spate of
odd luck.  And you?"
   Angellica's expression flickered slightly at that. "I... didn't," she
shook her head, as though to clear it. "Not much, Star. Drifting, mostly.
I've only just settled down again."
   Star's smile waned a bit at that.  "'Miko said you'd gotten married,
though.  Where's the lucky beau who caught such an angel?"
   Angellica's eyes flickered to the side even as they filled with tears,
quickly blinked away.  Memories and a gaping void were narrowly skirted by
her mind, as the reminders hit in full.  "He's gone now, Star."
   What was left of Star's smile faded quickly.  She felt the heat pool in
her cheeks.  "I'm so sorry, Angie.... I didn't know...."
   "You didn't, please... it's not your fault. I didn't tell many people,
Star. I couldn't at the time," she shook her head. "It's behind me now,"
she lied.
   Star looked at Angellica carefully.  "I'm ... glad.  Now, if we can help
Himiko...."  She words trailed off as her mind raced on what words to say
next, and what was verboten.  "I'm staying at the Royal, but will be here
tonight.  Are you staying nearby, or do you live here again?"
   Angellica nodded. "I'm in the Four Pines... not very far away."
   Star nodded absently as Angellica drifted off, and looked about for
anyone else.  "The more things change..."

                                -<*>-

   "Hie! Whoa!" *thump*
   Chelsea suppressed a bit of a smile, as she came in.  It sounded like
someone was getting instruction, and she wanted to watch, so maybe she
could see why Haruka-sensei thought so much of this man.  Or at least
enough to send her to him.  She looked in as an man in his mid-twenties
helped a girl her own age to her feet again, smiling as he lifted her up.
"Not bad, Angie, but don't overextend.  The longer the arc, the more time
the other has to intercept.  With, I might add, time to redirect."
   Chelsea sighed a bit.  One of the assistants, it seemed.   Ah, well.  It
still was someone to watch and learn from after all. Besides, she noted, he
seemed to have a good banter and rapport. Handsome, too, or at least not
ugly.  She paused and shook her head. Another reason why she wasn't upset
about leaving Manhattan.  The business aspect of dancing had gotten a bit
too thick lately, and time away....  well, time away would help decide it,
she supposed.  Chelsea focussed her attention back onto the spar partners
as the woman got up and nodded.  "Yes, Master Renaulle."
   The new student blinked at that choice bit of information, as she
watched the blonde lady spin in a fast kick a few times, modifying it
according to the instructions that her partner gave her.  Well, this was a
bit of a turn of events.  But then again, age didn't always mean wisdom.
She snorted.  -Nothing- "gave" wisdom: another lesson of the past few
months.  But, she noted as he stopped the set, at least he seemed to be
competent; a good sign.
   Again the man helped the lady to her feet.  The woman was a lithe,
slender limbed woman with an easy grace about her. She made a formal bow,
causing her loose hair to cascade about her face even after she had gone
back to a fully upright position.  With a toss of her neck, her pale blonde
mane settled itself into a more normal position.  Both turned to face the
six or seven others in the studio, then noticed Chelsea in the doorway.
   "Good evening, miss, may I help you?"  Jean asked the question
tentatively, as he looked her over.  Maybe it was the simple white blouse
and pants that seemed out of place, or perhaps it was the pink vest and
matching hair colour.  Whichever, he seemed to be unsure if there was any
conceivable way that this lady would be interested in the rough sweat and
tumble of the school.
   "Oh, excuse me, sir.  Haruka-sensei sends his regards.  My name is
Chelsea Montrose.... you were expecting me?"  Chelsea swallowed back
another comment about books and covers.... spouting platitudes to teachers
probably wasn't a good thing for first impressions.
   The instructor smiled.  "Oh, so you're Hiroshi's special referral. I'm
sorry, he neglected on giving me a description and said I wouldn't miss
you."
   Chelsea rolled her eyes at that.  "Yes, that sounds like him."
   "Hiro's one to give a haiku instead of telling you the sugar's on the
top shelf."  Jean chuckled.  "But he's still one Hell of a teacher."
   Chelsea smiled and nodded slowly.
   Jean turned his attention to his students.  "Well, at any rate, we're
out of time this session, so I want all of you to practice a bit on your
own time and I'll see you all on Wednesday."  He bowed; the class returned
it and started to disperse.
   As the students began to file out, the blonde woman who had so recently
met the floor walked up to where Chelsea was standing. She leaned against
the wall, smiling a crooked smiled, and said, "I thought red dye only ran
in the washing machine, not in the shower."
   "No, I'm just a charter member of the Candy Brigade," replied Chelsea,
returning the grin.
   "Funny," replied the woman, "I just can't see you as a candy striper.
Hi, I'm Angellica, Angie for short, Angel if you want to make an enemy for
life." The woman ended with a wink. "I haven't seen you around before. Just
joining up?"
   Chelsea grinned and shook her head. "Actually, I'm a dancer," she
replied. "And unfortunately, the cotton-candy look was 'in' on the last
job." She grimaced at the memory.
   "Good thing they let you keep your hair for this one," replied Angie,
"Gives your opponents something to grab while sparring. What level are you
supposed to be starting at?"
   Chelsea shrugged. "I've been at this only a few months, but
Haruka-sensei says I'm a fast learner."
   "Oh, you hit the ground a lot too?" asked Angie.
   "Mmm, somewhat," replied Chelsea. "I usually made a three point landing
at least."
   "Oh, I know the feeling," replied Angie. "Except I'm all cat... all four
limbs or nothing."
   Chelsea nodded, grinning.
   Angie started to pack away the practice mats and Chelsea stooped to
assist. "Say, is there anything I can help you with?" asked Angie, as the
two stacked away the equipment.
   "Well... you wouldn't happen to know where Mama Leone's on Bloore is,
would you?"
   "The boarding house?" asked Angie, nodding slightly. "Yes, I know
someone there. She works at the studio too. Come on, I'll show you where it
is and introduce you."
   Chelsea grinned, placed the last mat in the equipment locker and
followed Angie out of the studio, stooping to grab her travel bags. "I'd
like that.  And call me Chelle or Star.... Chelsea's just so...."
   "Formal?  And 'Angellica' slips off the tongue?  No problem, Star."
Angie grinned and held the door for the baggage-laden dancer.

                                -<*>-
[Continued In Part Two, Immediately Following]