Blue Light Productions presents

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       [Cover is of Morph, Softcentre and Silence standing on the right 
        side of the cover, looking up at a big laser cannon type thing 
        that extrudes from the top left hand corner. Underneath the 
        title is a speech bubble, originating from someone off panel: 
                        "BWAH HA HA HA!"]
"Thread!" the Net.Elementalist yelled, his body suit, normally a
non-reflective black, flooding with a pale blue colour. He looked out
through a similarly blue visor, and raised his hands above his head. 
        The air above him filled with a black line, that quickly grew into
a ball. Sweat formed on the Net.Elementalist's head as he struggled to
keep it steady, but the newly created killfile suddenly expanded and
exploded, luckily dissipating as it did so. 
        "Damn," whispered the Net.Elementalist to himself, and closed his
eyes for another try. 
        "Barry... is that really you?" came a voice from behind him. He
turned around to see Joe, Retcon Lad, exiting onto the roof where he
        "Hi, Joe," said Barry wearily. He had been practicing his new
powers for a while, and it always drained him. Now he began to get an idea
of what Payton must go through. His outfit reverted back to its normal
blackness as he relaxed his concentration. 
        "Wow, weird new look," said Joe, staring at Barry's covering. 
Barry had no idea what had happened to the clothes he had been wearing at
the time, but now all he had was a totally body covering of this strange
material. It even padded his feet, although Barry could never feel
anything when he touched it. The fact that the stuff also covered his
hands didn't help. 
        "It takes some getting used to," said Barry. "Took me a while to
figure out that if I concentrate hard enough, I can make it disappear.
Useful if I want to have a shower," he grinned. 
        "You sure this suits you?" asked Joe. "This stuff looks a lot more
powerful than what you previously had to deal with." Joe considered the
suit for a while. "You been near any alien parasites lately?" 
        "Er, what?" 
        "Nothing, just a Venom reference." 
        Barry spread his arms proudly. "I like this. Finally I can wield
power like all of us want to." 
        "Well, some of us have too much trouble with the powers we already
have. Nearly caused my own death through depression with mine." 
        Barry gave Joe a slap on the back, knowing that talk like that was
not good for his friend. "Just as well you met me, then. I got more
enthusiasm now than I know what to do with." 
        Joe grinned, but Barry suspected that it might be a little forced.
"You were right about something." Barry looked askance as Joe paused. "It
is useful to have a shower." 
        "Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're just jealous. Watch this!" Barry
exclaimed, then posed again. 
        "Net!" The Net.Elementalist's costume bloomed white, as Barry took
command of the net element equivalent to air. "Actually, I think it's more
concentration than just shouting the word, but the shouting is more
impressive," said Barry. 
        "So what can you do like this?" asked Retcon Lad. 
        "First time I've actually tried it. I prefer to try to get the
feel of the flow of things around me first, before I try anything." The
Net.Elementalist closed his eyes, and just let his mind flow, picking up
resonances in the air, in the way the net element was structured, and its
place in this world. 
        "You look like a hippy," joked Retcon Lad. 
        The Net.Elementalist smiled. "You should try it sometime. Very
peaceful, and very beautiful." 
        "Well, at least you aren't wearing spandex anymore," said Retcon
Lad, pulling at his own jumpsuit. 
        The Net.Elementalist was about to reply when something attracted
his attention. There was something strange in the way a certain part of
the net felt in his mind. Some distortion in the natural flow of things.
The Net.Elementalist turned his head this way and that, trying to fine
tune the feeling, but couldn't get more than a vague direction, far away
east somewhere... 
        "What is it?" Retcon Lad's voice interrupted. 
        "I'm not sure. Just something that isn't quite right. I'll go and
check it out." 
        "You want me to come with you? I should be able to get a
flight.thingee easily enough. We've got plenty after Queen Enterprises
delivered a load. And we pulled the remote controls out," Retcon Lad
added. [QE delivered some new net. and flight.thingee's after the others
were destroyed in _Fan.Boy #19_. Retcon Lad and Fan.Boy found out about
the remote control circuits the hard way in _Fan.Boy #22_. - Footnote
        The Net.Elementalist shook his head. "Shouldn't be anything much.
I can easily fly over there. I hope," he added. 
        "Let's see," he muttered. "How is this done?" 
        The Net.Elementalist reached out with his abilities, lagging the
air below him, and shot into the sky due to the pressure difference of the
slowed air. "Catch you later," he called down to Retcon Lad, as he
continued lagging air to keep himself airborne. [This is the Bernoulli
effect. Flying this way by lag is similar to the way that an airplane
flies. - Footnote Girl]
        Concentrating, the Net.Elementalist flew away eastwards, leaving a
very worried Retcon Lad looking concernedly after him. 
Softcentre and Silence were in Softcentre's room in the LNHQ, talking. 
Actually, Softcentre talked and Silence listened. They were still in the
LNHQ, though they were part of a team involved outside normal events, as
the Alt.Riders had no real base of operations yet. 
        "The Ultimate Ninja didn't seem too happy about us," Softcentre
said. "Partly because the LNH is pretty much split up enough as it is, but
I think its mainly because we aren't taking orders from him. You could
slightly call him a control freak." 
        Silence smiled at the thought, but, predictably, said nothing. 
        "Still, it's not as if we've actually gone out and conquered all
the weird and wondrous monsters the universe has to offer," Softcentre
continued, more rambling than anything else. "Haven't even had a mission
yet. Just got together and got these communication thingees." She held up
her bracelet as proof, and was surprised when it started glowing bright
        "Speak of the devil," she said, touching her bracelet. "What's
up?" she asked. 
        "Nothing much." Despite visual aid, Softcentre recognised the
voice as Morph's. "I was just wondering if you wanted to get together for
lunch. Just so we can get to know each other better." 
        Only Silence saw her bitter expression. "Sure," Softcentre said,
keeping her distaste out of her voice. "How about the Pizza Pit?" 
        "Urm, not really," replied Morph. "Too many old aquaintences meet
there, if you know what I mean." 
        "Yeah," said Softcentre, her voice hard. "I know." 
        "The Waffle Palace? The Waffle Queen's making a mint in royalties,
I hear." 
        "Fine. Silence and I will meet you there soon." 
        "Silence is there? Urr.. okay. See ya." 
        Softcentre let the connection break, and caught Silence's
understanding look. 
        "Yeah, I know. Sometimes I can stand being around him, other
times... I remember what he's done in the past, and it gets to me. Come
on." Taking Silence's hand, Softcentre pulled him off the bed they'd been
sitting on, and out of the room. 
The Waffle Palace was a pristine example of classic burger joints with the
bias on a certain kind of breakfast product. Most people would have been
surprised that waffles could be a main constituent of later meals in the
day, but most people thought that living in Net.Ropolis was a good idea. 
        While they stood in line, waiting to reach the counter, Softcentre
ran an eye over Morph's new outfit. A basic one-piece jumpsuit, a subdued
red, covered his body, and heavy, sturdy shoes covered his feet. As he
walked, the suit rippled slightly, suggesting it was more than mere
apparel, and Softcentre guessed that it was simply Morph's skin which he
had changed to resemble clothing. It would make shape-changing a lot
easier when you didn't have to worry about ruining your only coverings
between here and wherever your home was, and Softcentre suspected that he
did this sort of thing generally. It was an understated outfit, set off by
the black communication bracelet, but then again, since she and Silence
were part of a team, neither of them kept wearing civilian clothes either. 
        Softcentre had chosen something that could be taken as civilian
though, if need be, namely a heavy top and a pair of denim overalls. Even
if she was able to survive impacts to her body, thanks to her powers, her
clothing couldn't, so Softcentre went for something tough and
long-lasting, and something that hopefully wouldn't fall apart when she
was forced to crash into the ground from ten stories high. 
        Silence's outfit stayed more in line with normal superhero garb,
but it wasn't anything that gave away his powers. Instead, it suggested
that he was capable of something other than his influence of sound waves
and flame wars. It was a dark body suit, whether black, dark blue or a
deep green it was hard to tell. Mauve piping ran up the sleeves and legs,
and Silence also wore gloves that seemed more like gauntlets. Like most of
the members of the Alt.Riders, he didn't hide his face. 
        (In fact, the only exception was the Net.Elementalist, but he
didn't have much choice in the visor that covered his eyes, as it had
appeared with his outfit, but as it also corrected his vision as his
glasses previously had done, and also, to some degree, improved it, the
Net.Elementalist wasn't doing very much about changing the situation.) 
        "Hello.Whatwouldyouliketoeat?" the sentence rapid-fired into
Softcentre's thoughts. 
        "Er," she said, her mind jerking into the situation at hand, but
taking a moment or two. "Double cheese waffle with extra syrup, thanks."
She looked at Silence, who held up two fingers, then indicated something
large with his hands. "Meal number two, for my friend here, queen size.
        "Number seven, thanks." 
        Morph paid for, and carried the tray over to an empty table. He
slid onto a seat on one side, Softcentre and Silence taking the other. 
        "What did you want to talk about?" asked Softcentre, distributing
the food. 
        "You don't trust me, do you?" said Morph. "You don't even like
        "I know what you've done," replied Softcentre. "That takes some
explaining. Until I can appreciate your reason, there's no way I can ever
let my guard down around you." 
        She paused to make another comment, when she felt a grip on her
arm. Looking over, Silence was looking towards the door of the fast food
joint, which was behind Softcentre, his hand the one on her arm. As she
turned to look, she heard Morph gasp. 
        "I think I know those people," he said, surprising Softcentre. 
The people in question were dressed in business suits, but made specially
to fit over their somewhat largish frames. And the guns in their hands did
not point to generic business relationships. 
        Softcentre turned back, preparing to slip out from the table. 
"Why is it we can never seem to have a proper meal together?" she asked. 
        "Don't move," whispered Morph, his eyes on the gangsters. 
Softcentre could tell by the noises of the other patrons that the goons
were coming their way. 
        "Friends of yours?" 
        "Friends of someone I thought I put away." 
        "Let's take them, then. We are supposed to be a team against this
sort of thing." 
        "Actually, our function is more esoteric than that, but-" 
        Morph was interrupted by having a semi-automatic machine pistol
jammed in his face. "You're coming with us." 
        Softcentre glared at Morph meaningfully. Silence was contemplating
the gun pointed at him. 
        "I think it would be better if we went with the nice gentlemen," 
said Morph, standing slowly. "Besides, I want to know why this is
happening so soon." 
        "I so glad you're not put out by this," said Softcentre, standing
as well. 
        The thugs ushered them to the door, and the team members could
hear disparaging comments as they went passed. 
        "Not exactly doing much for our image," pointed out Softcentre. 
        "Just makes protecting them that much more worthwhile," said Morph
as he was pushed out the door. 
        Waiting for them outside was a remodeled armoured car. 
Hours later, the Net.Elementalist was flying over, now wobbling
less in flight after the experience he had just clocked up. However, due
the concentration required, he was now hungry, and stopped off at a nearby
restaurant, ordered some food, and found, to his embarrassment, that he
wasn't a) understood, b) carrying any money of any kind, and c) carrying
any kind of identification, and although his suit should have been enough,
the Germans hadn't dealt that much with the LNH, and so weren't impressed
by his proclamation of superheroness. 
        With a grumbling stomach, the Net.Elementalist had no other choice
than to abandon lunch, and proceed to the source of the disturbance he
sensed many hours ago. 
        It was a village to the north of Bit.lin, a place now completely
isolated due to its strange property. The Net.Elementalist landed on a
hill overlooking the village, and his senses were fairly screaming at him
due to the nearness of the problem. 
        This village had an extremely warped lagnetic aura, one which not
only effected normal movement, but the flow of time itself. While the rest
of the world was in 1996, as far as the Net.Elementalist could judge, this
one village was in 1876. 
        The Net.Elementalist wasn't sure how this came about. It's one
thing for a village to be isolated, another for everyone to ignore it so
completely that it could fall back in time and have nobody notice. The
only explanation he could think of was that the lagnetic aura not only
affected the village, but also the human mind. Even coming within ten
kilometers of the valley this village was set in must have set off
internal danger signals that kept everyone at bay. 
        Similarly, any thought of venturing outside this valley must have
been just as abhorrent to those living inside it. The valley must be
plentiful in itself of food and water for these people, or some by now
would surely have ventured out if only for survival. 
        Only due to his current lagnetic powers could the Net.Elementalist
hope to stay anywhere near this place and retain his sense of the natural
flow of time. 
        Which was slowing down. The Net.Elementalist became aware of
himself being lagged by some external force. It wasn't this place, as he
blocked it on an almost subconscious level now. This was a new attack.
Bending the lagging around with his new abilities, the Net.Elementalist
managed to return to normal speed by the time he turned around to see
where this source of new lagging came from. 
        Just touching down on the ground in front of him was a tall man,
obviously more at home in lagnetic manipulation than he was. The arrival
stepped past the Net.Elementalist as if he wasn't there, or worse, as if
he didn't matter, and observed the village for himself. 
        "Not many people would be able to visit here," the newcomer
commented. "Or resist my power," he added. 
        "I'm not many people," was all the Net.Elementalist could think to
        "Who are you? How did you come to be here?" 
        "I'm the Net.Elementalist," the Net.Elementalist said. "I'm..  new
to this." The Net.Elementalist thought it best to keep his LNH affiliation
out of sight until he knew who this stranger was. "When playing with the
net element, I felt a warping in the lagnetic aura around the earth, and
traced it to here. Who are you?" 
        "To some I am known as... Lagneto," Lagneto pronounced. "I have a
fair bit of experience dealing with the Lagnetic force myself, although I
wasn't aware that many other people had similar abilities. Unless you're
another clone of me?" 
        [Lagneto had a mystic clone, L-2, who was more an elemental of the
net. - Footnote Girl.]
        The Net.Elementalist was mentally reeling at hearing the name
Lagneto. He knew of him, knowing about the exploits of the Generation Y
team, and knew that he was Pizza Girl's father, but never expected him to
show up here. Last the Net.Elementalist knew, Lagneto was supposed to be
on Asteroid L, heading up the Brotherhood of Net.Villains, or something. 
        "Um, a clone?" said the Net.Elementalist, trying to remember what
Lagneto had just said. "No, not of you at any rate." 
        Lagneto waved a hand at the village. "Yes, this is a very
interesting place. Tell me, what do you make of it?" 
        "An quirk of nature," said the Net.Elementalist. "A strange quirk,
but it doesn't excel the realms of possibility." 
        "'A quirk of nature'," Lagneto repeated. "My, aren't we the
philosophical one today. Perhaps it would interest you to know that I had
a hand in creating this. This is what my power can do." 
        "What? Rubbish, you were never that powerful," said the
Net.Elementalist, somewhat impulsively. "Yes, you are capable of some
astounding feats involving lagnetic forces, but I think this is a wee bit
too much, even for you." 
        "Oh yes? Then you know of me?" 
        "Ah, well, I've heard things," said the Net.Elementalist,
realising that he was standing on shaky ground here, and trying to
backpedal furiously. "Read in the papers, you know. They said you were a
        "What do you think of me, hmm?" Lagneto turned slightly, and the
Net.Elementalist caught a glint in his eye. "What would you say if I
claimed to be using this village as a base of operations for the
Brotherhood of Net.Villains." 
        The Net.Elementalist's jaw dropped. Could this be true? 
        "An excellent base. No-one comes here, and no-one else leaves
here, except for my people of course. And, they're entirely dependent on
me to do so, for, without my powers, they would be trapped in this
lagnetic drag forever. An ideal situation with no drawbacks." 
        "I think that would be a very bad idea." 
        Lagneto turned fully, confronting the Net.Elementalist. "Any why
is that? Morality? You one of those cursed LNH members?" 
        "Yes," hissed the Net.Elementalist. "And now I know your scheme, I
can make sure it never comes to fruition. Once I tell the others, you'll
have no chance whatsoever." 
        "Then you'll have to excuse me, but, as you'll be forced to agree,
I'm going to have to stop you then." 
        Lagneto sounded almost apologetic, but the Net.Elementalist was
more so. He was already apologising to Pizza Girl in his head as he
shouted "Flame!", and sent a burst of heat and fire to burn Lagneto. 
A plane touched down on the tarmac, and the wheels screamed as friction
bit into them. The plane slowed, and, after coming to a full stop, the
cargo bay opened its door, and discharged an armoured van. 
        Sitting in the back of the van, Softcentre continued to glare at
Morph, as she had done the entire trip. Several times she had indicated
that they should take their capturers, but each time he had raised his
hand, and she had relented. Not for much longer though. 
        The van drove through back streets, winding its way towards its
destination, and finally through a pair of heavy gates that closed after
its passage. 
        Softcentre looked up at the clang, which was the door to the back
of the van rising. At the thugs' motioning, she stood up, a troublesome
problem now that they were fitted with manacles. Just another annoyance
that she would demand pay-back for later. Unfortunately, while she could,
given a few moments of peace and quiet, extract herself from her
enprisonment, and though Morph could easily do so more quickly, that let
Silence still bound, and she wasn't going to do anything to jepordise his
safety, not when she couldn't count on Morph for support. 
        Morph happily followed their guards, although Softcentre was
pleased to see an underlying frown of worry on his face. They trooped
through corridors until a large door marked their arrival at the main
center of operations. 
        Softcentre looked around, amazed at the equipment set up against
each of the two long walls of the room. There was someone at each station,
spaced only a meter from one another, doing something she couldn't
recognise right now, but either involved watching a computer screen, video
screen, or just issuing instructions of one sort or another. Softcentre
caught Morph searching for someone in particular, and followed his eyes
when he located the person in question. 
        The man he sought was mildly fat, in a fairly expensive suit that
he thought obviously fitted him well, but the strain of containing such
bulk was beginning to tell. The man eventually deigned to turn around, and
immediately fixed his attention on Morph. Softcentre felt just a little
bit more than just a little miffed at not even being looked at. 
        "You," the man murmured. "I do not take kindly to people
interfering in my business, nor punching me out." 
        "What happened?" asked Morph, more relaxed, probably with the
knowledge that he could easily escape, thought Softcentre. "Not enough
food in prison for you?" 
        "Prison is only as effective as those who guard it, and they are
only as worthy as the size of their paychecks," said the man, coming over
to them. He reminded Softcentre of a mad duck. "And I pay all such
paychecks around here." 
        "Oh yeah, a reoccuring villain with the judges in his pocket," 
muttered Morph. "How original. 
        "So, Frank, what can I do for you this time?" he asked in a louder
        "That's Sir Bennington to you," Bennington growled. "And you can
do me the simple pleasure of dying." 
        [Morph encountered Frank Bennington before, in _World Tales #9_ -
Footnote Girl.]
        "Sorry, but I don't think I can fit that into my schedule today. 
I left my calendar at home," said Morph, then moved. "Now!" he shouted,
and leapt for Bennington, retracting his hands from the shackles, then
extending them in lethal blades. 
        Softcentre yanked at her chains, and succeeded in pulling herself
free, but cutting her thumb off at the same time. But she was far too slow
to help Morph as twenty high projectile darts hit his body, collapsing him
onto the floor. 
        Bennington turned to stare at her as she looked at Morph's body. 
She slowly raised her gaze to meet his, aware that there wasn't much she
could do, and she was still surrounded by unfriendlies, all too ready to
hit her with similar darts. Softcentre wasn't sure if the darts would have
any affect on her, but didn't want to take the chance. 
        "You know, I joined this team to be effective as a team member," 
she commented, holding her other hand over the exposed wound where her
thumb used to be. It didn't hurt, and given time and sustenance she would
grow it back, but self-consciousness made her hide it, and she didn't want
to give any indication that she could survive wounding. "But, with the
three of us, pretty much only he is any good." She nodded at Morph. "Don't
suppose you could let the rest of us go?" 
        "Unfortunately, my dear," said Bennington. "By association, I'm
going to have to get rid of you as well. Nothing personal, just the way it
has to be." 
        "Right." Softcentre turned away. "Silence?" 
        Silence closed his eyes, and Softcentre heard the lack of rush of
noise, and watched with amusement as people realised that they could no
longer hear what was going on. 
        Bennington yelled something, but no-one could work out what it
was. He moved towards Silence, but Softcentre jumped in the way, and hit
him. He hit back in reflex, and although he twisted Softcentre's head
around, she twisted it back with an evil grin on her face. She was able to
get one more hit before a large number of darts hit her body. 
        Evidently, they did affect her. 
"You really don't know me that well," said Lagneto, watching as the flames
flashed towards him. "With such awesome powers of lag that I possess, I
can easily stop any attack you try to throw against me." He stepped to one
side, and let the lagged flames pass harmlessly by. "You really should
give up now." 
        The Net.Elementalist slowly turned his head, and Lagneto patiently
waited for the Net.Elementalist to face him. "Try again," Lagneto
enunciated. "Little boy." 
        "NNNNeeeetttt!!!!" Lagneto watched the Net.Elementalist's blinking
rate increase to normal speed.
        "You can't take me out that easily," the Net.Elementalist said. 
        "So, how're you going to attack me then? You can't lag me, it
won't work on me." 
        "No, but I can hit you." The Net.Elementalist strode forward and
swung at Lagneto, who concentrated and easily avoided the slowed punch. 
        "And I can break through your own concentration and slow down any
part of your body." 
        The Net.Elementalist started sweating as he fought the effects of
Lagneto. "You can't touch me, little boy," Lagneto sneered. "And you're
more of a fool than I thought if you even try." 
        Lagneto poured on the lag, and the Net.Elementalist was hard put
to even move at half speed. With a look of contempt on his face, Lagneto
wound back, and threw his own punch, and laughed as blood spurted out of
the Net.Elementalist's nose. 
        Lagneto moved back. "Go back home, little boy. Cry in mummy's
skirt." Causally, he raised his leg, and smashed it into the
Net.Elementalist's stomach. Lagneto dropped his power, and in over
compensation, the Net.Elementalist dove into the ground. 
        "Shall we continue this charade?" 
        "I am not a little boy!" the Net.Elementalist yelled. He leapt
into the sky, and focussed all his power on getting through any lag
barrier Lagneto might try. As a result, he crashed into Lagneto, sending
him to the ground in a satisfying thump. 
        "You dare to hit me!" Lagneto roared, as he pushed the
Net.Elementalist off. "Then you shall face the proper use of such powers." 
        The Net.Elementalist staggered back as a hundred punches hit him
at once, His body was protected from any real damage by the outfit he
wore, but that was small mercy as he felt several teeth loosen. 
        "No more. I came to test you, little boy, and I find you sadly
lacking," Lagneto said, pausing for a few moments. "I could sense your
presence, and so I came to see the source of the beacon you show up as." 
        Lagneto kicked the Net.Elementalist over and over again in the
space of a few seconds, never letting up and never letting the
Net.Elementalist get a breath. 
        "I shall suffer no pretenders in this game!" Lagneto reached down,
and grabbed the Net.Elementalist's head. "No-one!" 
        He smashed the Net.Elementalist's head into the ground. 
Ten minutes later, there was a traffic jam on the autobahn as the battered
and unconscious body of a self-proclaimed superhero landed, and bounced
off a car. The body had come from straight above, as if someone had
carried it, and dropped it directly from a great height, but why would
anyone do that? 
	No-one heard the laughter as ambulances raced to the scene. 
Softcentre groaned, and rolled over. It took her a few minutes to realise
that she was free to roll over, and the surface underneath her was cold
and hard. She opened her eyes with difficulty, the drug they used on her
still leaving lingering traces in her. 
        She looked to be in a circular corridor, about a meter wide, and
it extended as far as she could see, before the curvature cut it off. In
front and behind her were Silence and Morph. 
        Groggily standing up, she made her way, with the help of the wall,
over to check on Silence. He stirred at her touch, and she helped him to
sit up. 
        "Remind me not to let Morph get knocked unconscious next time," 
she said, drawing a small smile from him. 
        Movement alerted her to Morph rising, which he did with ease. 
Softcentre wondered how long he had actually been awake for. 
        "Where do you think we are?" he asked. 
        "Who was that guy?" asked Softcentre in return. "I like to know
who's beating me up because of you." 
        "Apparently I once destroyed a warehouse of his when I was
possessed by the Master of the Net, and he's been against me ever since."
Morph shrugged. "It happens. I'm more concerned about this place." 
        Softcentre watched in some surprise (although she told herself she
shouldn't be) as Morph's head extended away from his body, and zoomed off
down the corridor on a lengthening neck. She waited a few moments, then
nearly jumped at the "Hello!" from behind her. 
        She and Silence turned to see Morph's head looking at them. 
"Completely round," he said. "No exits as far as I can see." His head
zipped back, and was soon back on his body as normal. 
        Silence had a thoughtful look, but didn't say anything. 
        "So how do we get out, then?" asked Softcentre. "Or should we even
try? How many other people are trying to kill you, aside from LNH members
and small time hoods?" 
        Morph winced. "Aside from those, no-one I can think of." 
        There was a click, and a hum as a PA system activated. "I'm so
glad you're awake," said a voice that could only be Bennington's. "I would
so hate for you to miss this next event." 
        "You're not scaring us," Morph shouted back. 
        "But I don't want you to be scared. Then you wouldn't be fully
aware of what's about to happen. You see, this is a piece of equipment
that was sold to me by Acton Lord." All three started at the name. "I take
it you've heard of a cyclotron? This is a more... life-sized model. With
it I shall bombard your bodies until there is no two original atoms left
        Silence closed his eyes and shook his head. 
        "Excessive, much?" commented Softcentre. 
        "Nothing is too far to go to ensure that people never disturb me
more than once," proclaimed Bennington. 
        "I'd say that you're already disturbed, and not by people," said
        "Too easy," said Softcentre. 
        "Everyone's a critic," said Morph. 
        "Enough! Let it begin!" 
        There was another, much quieter click. 
        "10 seconds to activation. 9. 8." 
        "Why is there-" started Softcentre. Morph started running, Silence
took off after him. 
        "Always a countdown?" continued Softcentre, running after them. 
        "Why can't-" Morph looked left and right, trying to find the entry
point of the beam. 
        "Things start-" 
        "At zero?" 
        Silence caught Morph's arm, and pointed. Morph followed and
spotted the hole, ten meters away. 
        Morph stretched out an arm, expanding his hand so that it would
plug the hole. Eight meters. 
        Five meters. 
        Two meters. 
NEXT ISSUE: Heh. Will there be anyone left alive for a next issue? Or do 
I continue in my blood-lust for pointless deaths? (Heh heh heh.) And what 
has Agent been up to?
Find out, if you can, in _The Alt.Riders #3_.
Lagneto is owned by Jef Kolodziej, use okayed by Martin Phipps, who also
supplied the reasoning behind lagged flight.
Rest are mine. :)
I've planned this. Oh how I planned this. :-)+)
Back to the Index.