🚀 go-pugleaf

CONTINUITY NOTE:
This issue takes place immediately before Chris Angelini's "Task
Force Aurora #24", which should be hitting your mailers real soon
now.


THE BEANSTALK
ESSEX, ONTARIO

     "Look, Ronnie, I'm sorry I woke you from your nap," said Stoner,
leading the reluctant rhino into the Beanstalk hangar. "But I've got
to get home, you understand? Amiga can tell you how important it is."
     The winged rhinoceros cocked his head, his body pausing
completely as he initiated a telepathic exchange with his master.
Finally, he gave a curt, snorting nod, and allowed Stoner to climb
onto his back.
     "OK, Ronnie. Let's hightail it for Orca Springs, New York!"
     The superrhino's immense wings began to flap, sending the hangar
extras diving for solid objects with which to support themselves as
Ronnie whipped the surrounding air into a frenzy. When he'd reached
flight-level bpm's, Ronnie hauled himself up to a low hover and aimed
himself towards the exit.
     Instinctively, Stoner dug his heels into the hovering beast.
     "Giddyap!"
     And in an eyeblink, they were gone, leaving the fragile extras
to contend with Ronnie's backwash.

     "Grey Leopard!  You're baaack!!!!"  came the delighted squeal as
Synapse burst onto the helicopter landing pad.  Cory scooped her up
in his arms and she buried her face in his shoulder.  "Is everyone
OK?" she asked, a bit tearfully.
     "Everyone's fine, Kitten," Grey Leopard assured her, ruffling
her hair as he set her down.
     "But what's wrong with Battletank?" she asked, pointing at the
big man who was at that moment being toted away on a stretcher by TFA
medics.
     "He got a bit burned, is all, but the doctors say he'll be fine,
real soon." said Legend, kneeling by the child to embrace her.  "And
congratulations, little wallaby!  I hear you helped the Commodore get
control of the entire army!"
     "Yep!  I got to see a man's naked butt, too!"  Mary Agnes beamed
with pride.  Tony shot Liberty Richards a strange look, and the
physician mouthed back that she'd explain later.
     "So can we go home now?  Please?" wheedled the child.
     Legend patted her head.  "Well, repairs on the Rectijet
shouldn't take too long, but it will take a while to find a dog sled
team big enough to haul it back to civilization.  And I think the
doctors here still need you..."
     "Aw!"  Synapse was clearly getting tired of all the
examinations. "But I feel fine!"
     "But you still are 'talking' with Commodore Amiga, right?" asked
Legend.
     "Yeah..."  the child admitted, reluctantly.  "But I don't mind
him thinking at me!  He's a lot nicer than that mean ole Maladroit
man!"
     "Nonetheless, I think we'd better stick around here, at least
for a few more days!"
     "But you won't be going away again, right?" Synapse pleaded.
     "Not anytime soon, no!" interjected Night Owl.  "You," she
pointed at Grey Leopard. "...need stitches in your forehead!  and you
two..." she indicated Legend and Windswimmer, "...need to be examined
for possible frostbite.  Medlab Three, right now!" she directed.
"Mary Agnes can stay out of trouble until I get you three patched up.
Then, I need to look in on the Commodore."
     "He's fine," Mary Agnes assured her.
     "I'll be the judge of that!  Now, come, all of you!"
     "How long has she been in charge?" wondered Windswimmer, as she
was hustled downstairs.
     "You know what they say about doctors' orders," smiled Tony as
they left the landing dock.


SOMEWHERE IN CALIFORNIA

     Todd looked up and down the stretch of desert highway as he
gently massaged his wounded left shoulder. Fortunately, the
large bruise was the worst of the injuries he'd sustained when the
Buick had crashed. His inadvertent transformation earlier in the
week, at the hands of the demonic invaders, had left his body quite
resistant to damage. And the fringe benefits of that transformation
made his new Master's request that he actually fight the slobbering
pseudoHell(pseudoTM)-critters seem downright reasonable, if overly
time-consuming. A good deal of money hung in the balance; time was
critical now. And this little mishap hadn't helped matters.
     "Don't worry," came the gravelly voice from over near the
wrecked LeSabre. "They're a little banged up, but they haven't broken
anything. They should be just fine."
     Todd nodded. This was good. Dead, the girls were worthless, some
clients' fetishes notwithstanding.
     "All the same, it's lucky I stopped," continued the Samaritan.
"Not too many people come out this way, not even the cops. Anyway,
let me go try and call this in. My kid just got me a new car phone."
     "There's no need, really."
     "Pardon?"
     Todd raised his right hand and propelled it towards the man,
compressing the air into a force-blast that snapped the man's head
back with an audible crunch.
     He knelt to examine the stunned corpse. A frightened wail arose
from the ground near the disabled car as Mireille realized what he'd
done. He ignored it, and dug in the back pocket of the dead man's
khakis to retrieve his wallet.
     "Sorry, friend," he murmured, reaching next inside the man's
front pocket for the car keys. "But I simply haven't got time to
chat."
     Lying on the rocky ground, Mireille whimpered as Todd
approached.
     "I wanna go home..."
     "Of course you do," he replied, reaching down to pull her up by
the arm. "Come on."
     She shrieked and recoiled at his touch.
     "You *hurt* that man!"
     "What? That's ridiculous," Todd soothed. "He's just taking a
nap. And now we're going to borrow his car."
     "No!"
     She scrambled to her feet and was off. But Todd caught up to her
in a matter of seconds and grabbed her around the shoulders, jerking
her back towards him.
     Another force-blast, this one just strong enough to silence her
in mid-shriek. He scooped her up as she fell and brought her to the
Samaritan's car (also a Buick, coincidentally; this one was a dark
blue Riviera). He went back to the spot on the ground near the
wreckage, picked up Patty, and put her in the back seat next to
Mireille.
     Todd took his place behind the wheel and stomped on the blue
Buick's gas pedal.
     Todd put the keys in the ignition, turned them, and tried
stomping again. This time, the Buick obediently screeched off.


THE BEANSTALK

     Amiga jolted upright as the brief scream of terror blasted
through his mind. That was Mireille; he was almost sure of it. But
her voice was gone, disappeared back into the gleaming mindsea
as quickly as it had emerged. Amiga growled, angry at himself for
failing to catch it.
     He spared a moment's concentration towards the part of the
mindsea where the D'Obliques waited. As he expected, they were
growing more anxious by the minute. But he wouldn't contact them
again. Not yet. Not until he had something to say.
     Amiga opened his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm
himself. Then, he re-entered the sea, and began to scour the general
vicinity where he thought he'd heard (or was it "seen"? he wondered
absently) Mireille.



DM's ASComIIcs proudly presents:


               ** THE ADVENTURES OF COMMODORE AMIGA **
                            Episode Nine:
                           "On the Mount"

                                 by
                          Brendan LeFebvre


     Victor and Margaret stood outside the door to his room, staring
at the floor.
     "So," Victor said. "Guess I'll... see you later."
     Margaret nodded mutely.
     Victor shifted his weight from one foot to the other, subtly
leaning in the direction of the door.
     Margaret took a deep breath. No more hesitation; Stoner had
assured her this would be all right. She opened her mouth to speak--
     "Do you, uh, want to have dinner? Or something?"
     Margaret blinked.
     "OK," she replied faintly.
     Victor nodded. "OK, then."
     He shifted his weight back again; Margaret counted the speckles
in a floor tile. In the distance, a Foley cricket chirped.
     "Tonight?" Victor finally asked.
     Margaret sighed. "No, um, probably not. I need to get back to
the lab soon. Will you still, uh, be here in a couple of days?"
     "I... I guess so."
     "So I'll, um, talk to you later... I guess."
     "Okay."
     Mercifully, at this point, the scene break made its entrance.


DERELICT AIRSTRIP
SOMEWHERE IN CALIFORNIA

     Todd nodded to himself as he spied the parked Cessna. Perfect.
     As he pulled the Buick up beside the aircraft, his contact
stormed out of the aircraft to meet him.
     "Where have you been, dammit? I have to take off in five
minutes!"
     "Calm down, Jake. I'm here, aren't I?"
     The other man peered in the rear window of the Buick, surveying
the merchandise.
     "They don't look too well," he observed.
     "We had some trouble on the way up. They'll be OK," Todd
reassured him.
     "OK, then. Let's get them on the plane," Jake said.
     Todd nodded. "Right."
     They quickly carried the girls into the Cessna's cabin and
strapped them in. The fee was paid, and the men parted ways.
     Todd gunned the Buick's engine and sped away from the airstrip
as Jake powered up the Cessna.
     {What the Hell(TM) did you do, you sick bastard?}
     {Buh-- I--} stammered Todd, startled by the mental intrusion.
     Amiga plunged deep into Todd's mind. He located, without much
effort, the cold knowledge of where these girls were going, and what
would be done to them when they got there.
     {Turn the car around, Todd,} he commanded, strangely calm.
You're about to commit the first good deed of your whole pathetic
existence... and for your own sake, you'd better hope I found
Mireille in time.}
     "Yes, my liege," replied Todd, ever the obsequious follower,
swinging the Buick around in a spectacular doughnut maneuver.

     Jake spied the returning Buick out of the corner of his eye as
he taxied the Cessna into takeoff position.
     "What's he want now?" Jake pondered, opening up the Cessna's
throttle. Whatever it was, he didn't have time for it. He turned his
attention back to the rolling airstrip and adjusted the flaps.
     Suddenly and without warning, the Cessna shuddered and veered
off to one side. The force of the rear impact caused Patsy, still
half-unconscious in the rear of the cabin, to whimper softly.
     Jake pulled the Cessna back in line with the airstrip, powered
it down, and applied the brakes until it rolled to a stop. Cursing,
he threw off his seatbelt and clambered out of the aircraft to survey
the damage.
     Todd had inexplicably rammed the Cessna's tail section with his
Buick. Neither vehicle would be travelling any time soon.
     A tap on Jake's shoulder, and his rage exploded. He whirled
around, clenched fist poised to swing, but Todd was already chopping
the air in front of his face, the resulting force-blast crushing
Jake's nose. He slumped to the ground in agony.
     {Good. Now, call the police. Tell them where you are, and what
you've done. And make sure they get Mireille back to San Diego,}
Amiga instructed Todd.
     "Right away, sir."

THE BEANSTALK

     "That's wonderful, Commodore!" exclaimed Night Owl, when Amiga
finished relaying the incident that evening. "So, Mireille's all
right?"
     Amiga nodded. "Her parents are waiting for her in San Diego. And
the information Todd and Jake will provide should go a long way
towards breaking the rest of the operation."
     Night Owl nodded her approval. "It'll save a lot of lives,
Amiga. Way to go."
     "I hope so. I just... wish there was more I could do."
     "Don't sell yourself short, Commodore. You've done a great deal
as it is."
     Amiga nodded.
     "I have to get back to the lab now," Night Owl continued. "But
with luck, we'll have the cure figured out in a couple of days. Try
to get some rest... we'll wake you if everyone starts to sing again."
She smiled and turned to go.
     The commodore stretched and leaned back in his chair, prepared
to relax, when a pinprick in his mind interrupted the calm. In an
eyeblink, he was alert again, adrenalin pumping. Night Owl stopped at
the door and looked at him inquisitively.
     Amiga winced. One of the puppets had, quite suddenly, "popped"
out of his thoughts. And there went another, and another... they
continued to "pop" away like corn kernels, more and more, faster and
faster... And yet, at the same time, new minds were joining his
legion as the devastation came down upon previously-infected
normalguys, creating an agonizing strobe-like effect in his mind.
     "What the Hell(TM) is going on?" he howled.
     Night Owl crossed the room and took one of the commodore's
quivering, liver-spotted hands in hers.
     "Shall I get Synapse?" she asked, alarmed.  "Could she help you
again?"
     "NO!" insisted Amiga, his mind still raw with his glimpse into
the grisly fate that little Mireille had so narrowly escaped.  "I
must do this on my own!  Please, doctor, there are some things
children just shouldn't be exposed to..."  Liberty Richards could
only nod grimly and agree.
     "It's all right, Amiga. It's all right," she soothed, not sure
what else to say. "Just hang on. I know you can..."
     Amiga took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.
Surveying the mindsea, he finally determined that the fluctuations
were concentrated in certain geographic regions... urban centers,
apparently. He chose one, and entered a random puppet's mind for a
closer look.

     Amiga's chosen POV zoomed through the air, clutching a Smith &
Wesson pistol in each hand. He chased another airborne puppet through
a maze of run-down buildings with both guns blazing. His prey fired
back with small, star-shaped fire bursts from his hands, but these
were slow and easily evaded by the pistol-packer, whose wild shots in
response were going all over the place. Between the two of them, they
were causing a fair amount of collateral damage...
     ...which paled in comparison, however, to that caused by the
group Amiga shifted to next. These puppets' enhancements had not left
them flight-capable, but they'd been significantly bulked up by their
symbiote reactions, and were now locked in a ferocious melee that
threatened to bring down the apartment complex hosting it...
     As he continued his survey, Amiga noted an intense loyalty
among the combatants-- but not to each other. Their violence was
proudly committed in the name of one organization or another...
namely, he realized, the street gangs to which they'd sworn their
allegiance, and their souls, long before.
     The symbiotic enhancements enabled these self-proclaimed urban
warriors to broaden the scale of their petty, long-standing feuds,
and the abilities that had helped them save the world just days
before now wrought only more destruction.

     But the violence was not confined to these urban warzones. Amiga
pulled back once more, and was able to detect smaller flashpoints of
viciousness and evil across the continent....
     This one gleefully used his new pyrotechnic powers to further
the arson hobby he'd enjoyed as a normalguy. With the point of a
finger, he set entire rooms ablaze, laughing madly as the dwellings
of innocent people were torched by the dozens....
     {Stop!}
     And these two, rather unimaginatively, were about to stage a
small-town bank robbery....
     {Stop!}
     And this disgruntled postal worker huffed and puffed and sent a
mini-tornado blasting through the mail room where he'd worked for
years, barely containing his glee as the carefully-arranged piles of
envelopes and catalogs and packages were flung into disarray, his
perpetually annoying colleagues smothered by the paper deluge...
     {Stop!!}
     And this trio of avaricious children began a daring raid on a
prominent chocolate factory...
     {STOP!!}
     Even his most trusted aide was falling from grace, as she
surreptitiously purloined from the laboratory's last precious box of
Toasty Tarts, even though she knew it was nearly dinnertime....
     {EVERYBODY STOP!!}
     Across the continent, Amiga's puppets halted in mid-action and
looked vaguely skyward, their eyes clouding over as they received
their master's words.
     {Everyone listen to me, and listen good, dammit! Stop killing
people! Stop stealing! Stop being so Author-damned cruel to one
another and give kindness and honesty a chance for once in your
lives! We've worked too hard for it to come to this!}

     "Commodore?"
     He opened his eyes. Liberty still held his hand, watching him
with concern.
     "Are you all right, Commodore?"
     "Yes, Night Owl, I'm fine now," he said softly. "Everything's
under control...."
     "All right, then. Let me know if you need anything. Remember...
only a couple more days."
     Amiga nodded, and turned his thoughts back to the mindsea. Night
Owl closed the door softly behind her.

THE UNIVERSE

     A sliver of time came and went.


<<Continued in part 2>>