________ ____ _ _____ _ _ ____ _ | | | | | | | | | | | | BLiP | | | | | | -|-- | | o | | | | |--| |--| |---| | | |--~ |--| |--| |--- ---- | #2 | | | | | | | | | | | \ | | | | | | |___ | | | | | |~~~ | | | | _ | | | | | |~~~ | | ~~~~~~~~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~~ ~ ~ ~~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~ ~~~~ [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!"] -------------------------------------------------------------------------- "R.T.F.M" "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 stood. "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 Girl.] 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 blue. "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. Morph?" "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 me." "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 Germa.net, 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 say. "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 villain." "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 voice. "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 together!" 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 Morph. "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. "7." "Always a countdown?" continued Softcentre, running after them. "6." "Why can't-" Morph looked left and right, trying to find the entry point of the beam. "5." "Things start-" "4." "At zero?" "3." Silence caught Morph's arm, and pointed. Morph followed and spotted the hole, ten meters away. "2." Morph stretched out an arm, expanding his hand so that it would plug the hole. Eight meters. "1." Five meters. "Zero." Two meters. FOOOSH! -------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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_. Credits: -------- Lagneto is owned by Jef Kolodziej, use okayed by Martin Phipps, who also supplied the reasoning behind lagged flight. Rest are mine. :) Notes: I've planned this. Oh how I planned this. :-)+)Back to the Index.