________ ____ _ _____ _ _ ____ _ | | | | | | | | | | | | BLiP | | | | | | -|-- | | o | | | | |--| |--| |---| | | |--~ |--| |--| |--- ---- | #39 | | | | | | | | | | | \ | | | | | | |___ | | | | | |~~~ | | | | _ | | | | | |~~~ | | ~~~~~~~~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~~ ~ ~ ~~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~ ~~~~ [The top half is the postcard picture of Boston. The lower half reads "Wish I was never here, Peter"] -------------------------------------------------------------------------- "What I Did On My Holidays" "Silence" "Silent Warrior" Peter could remember the bar. He shouldn't, not after the amount of drinking he had indulged in, but he could remember the bar. But he couldn't remember her. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't recall meeting the blonde woman there. He must have, either at the bar or right after it, but nothing would bring that memory forward. He did remember the next morning. Waking up in the bed, his mind still hazy from the night before. Blearily rising, struck by the unfamiliar layout of the motel room, staggering into the bathroom for urgently needed relief. And then back out. Seeing the bed properly for the first time. Seeing the blonde hair in disarray, her face barely visible. He could remember her beauty, even after only that small glimpse of it. She was beautiful, that was a given, but why couldn't he remember anything other than that look in the morning? Then he saw the stain. Pulling back the sheet revealed the rest of her body. Peter had spun around, the contents of his stomach already spraying out before he could look away. Even now, his clothes still stank. The police broke in at that point. Held him at gun point while cameras photographed indecently. A blanket was thrown over him as he was moved to the car, some of his clothes gathered and tossed in with him so he could gain some sense of decency, although that was just a joke now. At the station he had been booked with amazing speed. His fingers had been scanned, quick injections gathered blood and DNA material, and then his previous arrest history came up, along with his personal details. Peter Gregory, also known as Inacoustic Kid, also known as Silence, also known as Dva. Reservist in the LNH. Current member of the Alt.Riders. Previously imprisoned for attempting to assassinate the President. That last had gone down well. Immediately jokes abounded comparing Peter's peccadillos with the President's. Peter didn't bother rising to them, making the jokesters angry. Getting him a few 'accidental' bruises. Then he was thrown in a cell. They said his lawyer would be along soon, but Peter doubted that. Mainly because he never said who his lawyer was. Now he sat, having gone from one bar to many, left alone with no companies but his memories. Or rather, his lack of memories. And those lack of memories showed him to be a murderer. And for all he knew about what happened, that might well be true. _-~-_ Peter found out that her name was Laverne Pauley. This piece of information came from the detective assigned to his case, Detective Ashley Croft, who had a tendency to sweep her dark hair back from her face even when it wasn't in the way. Detective Croft was the first person to actually make sense to him since this nightmare started, but that was mostly because she wanted answers from him, so had to make sure Peter was capable of answering sanely. The first point Peter made, which confirmed his sanity as well as irritating Croft, was asking for his lawyer, Mr. Hugo Marshall of Creel, Paring, Marshall and Pank. To be honest, they weren't, technically speaking, his lawyers, but they were the only ones he knew and knew that there was a lot of money behind them, money which he had influence over. That, at least, would get their attention. In the mean time, while arrangements for Mr. Marshall were proceeding, Peter said that he would be happy to answer some questions. Upon being asked if he knew the woman, Peter had to relate what he did know, which didn't amount to much. Then he found out her name was Laverne, that she was 27, and worked at a temping agency organising jobs for others. Witnesses, of which there were plenty, said that they hooked up together at the bar, that she had approached him (which sounded likely to Peter), and they had left together around 1am. None of this sparked the slightest memory inside Peter, leaving Croft with just his continual story of going to the bar, some drinking, then waking up the next day next to Laverne. This negated the need for Croft to ask him if he committed the murder, so she went on to the evidence. Semen fluid indicated that she had had sex recently, and typing proved that it was Peter who she had had sex with. (Peter thought that that was obvious, but would have been rather confused if it had turned out otherwise.) However, and this was the snag, there was no indication that Peter had actually committed the murder. There was no blood on him, and no evidence in the wounds of Peter having touched them at all. The wounds had been caused by something like a large knife, or possibly an axe, but so far the murder weapon hadn't been found. The police had been called after the manager had brought up breakfast. Peter was surprised they had ordered any, but apparently they had, and when the manager brought it up, there was no answer at the door. Opening it, he had seen Peter and Laverne, and the large pool of blood that had soaked into the sheet. At that point, he went to call the police after closing and locking the door. That must have woken Peter, since that would explain why the police arrived so timely, he realised. And from then to now everyone knew. Not a very successful interrogation from Detective Croft's point of view, and Peter wondered if she believed his memory loss, or thought he was just using that as a convenient excuse. Either way, the session was over, and it was back to the cell until legal representation arrived. _-~-_ The first thing Mr. Marshall accomplished was to give Peter a chance to clean himself up, and get into fresh clothes. Peter did this under supervision of at least three guards at any one time, clearly considered a major threat to national security. Which, Peter thought after consideration, was possibly the case. Being considered a major threat, that is, not actually being a major threat. He was a superhero, after all, one with a history of attempted assassination (okay, once, but once was enough) and one now accused of murder. He wasn't the first superhero to go bad in the LNH, but he was the most current, and he was here in their city. After that, he held a private session with Mr. Marshall, who wasn't entirely pleased to be called as his personal lawyer. Peter brought up their previous meeting, and his connections. Mr. Marshall agreed, this would be a high prestige case after all, but warned Peter that the bill would be large. Mr. Marshall also pointed out that his connection were wanted for conspiracy and murder herself, so it might not be best to play up that angle. The good news was that since the evidence did not directly point to Peter as the murderer, there was a chance that Mr. Marshall could get Peter off. Peter wasn't sure if he wanted to be cleared on a technicality, and would rather be cleared entirely by the real murderer (presupposing Peter didn't kill her himself) being found, or at least pointed to. Finding the murder weapon without his fingerprints on it would do, for example. That could prove to be a problem, however, as the police were wanting to move fast on this. As far as they were concerned, the case against Peter was clear-cut, and there was no need to waste time and tax-payers money with a long drawn out investigation. At that point, Peter wondered about the 'innocent until proven guilty' concept, and Mr. Marshall informed him that under the Homeland Security Act, 'reasonable doubt' had become somewhat looser, and could easily be replaced with 'merest suspicion'. Apparently, "Land of Freedom" applied only to non-blacks, non-Hispanics, non-poor Ame.rec.ians. Who weren't Democrats. That said, the law, while being an ass, could be made to sit up and beg, and Mr. Marshall had a few scraps up his sleeve. Peter wondered that the metaphor wasn't slightly tortuous, but decided not to complain as the alternative to annoying his lawyer sounded like the firing squad, or the electric chair, whichever was closest. Ultimately, unless new evidence came to light in the next 24 hours, Peter would be released but advised not to leave the city. Well, it wasn't like he had anywhere else to be right now. _-~-_ The toxicology report was a particularly damming piece of evidence, when it was finally completed. But for Croft's case, not Peter's. Laverne's and Peter's bodies were swimming in residues of a list of chemicals Peter couldn't even pronounce. Detective Croft expressed surprise, and conjectured that Peter had only been able to get it up due to the presence of Viagra in his system. Peter demurred from comment. It would explain his memory loss, and why someone could kill the woman next to him without his knowledge. Still, it also proved that Peter couldn't have had the ability to kill Laverne, so for the moment he was released. As he suspected, he was asked not to leave the city. In the end, Detective Croft offered him a lift back to the motel, to help him collect his things. While there, they didn't have anything else to talk about except the case, and who might do this. Peter knew he had a few enemies, it was inevitable in his line of business, but someone who would go to these lengths to frame him? Surely, if they wanted him out of the picture, it would be simpler to kill him, which would be easy enough if they could drug him. No answers were readily forthcoming, and Peter didn't have a lot to pack. This did raise the question of where he would stay while remaining in town. Detective Croft solved this problem, and the problem of keeping an eye on him, with the simple solution of Peter staying at her place. Some might have seen it as a potential conflict of interest situation, but on the other hand if someone was out for Peter, what better way to ensure his safety? That, at least, was a half-decent rationalisation. As they drove to her house, Peter realised that he was attracted to Detective Croft, to her self-assuredness, her sense of not really needing him, but enjoying his company. Was this what he felt with Laverne? He would never know, but it would be nice to know that that meeting was more than a set-up, influenced by drugs. On the drive to Ashley's house, Peter was amazed by how quickly she was laughing. Just this morning he was under arrest for the murder of a woman, and now he was going to spend the night with the detective of the case. That line of thought didn't quite run as he had intended. He hadn't quite meant for the innuendo to be there, but now that he noticed it, he couldn't deny those thoughts. Doing his best to put them aside, Peter concentrated on being a gentleman, and quickly earned a commendation for being a good listener. Not wasn't too surprising given his natural tendencies, but it did earn easy points with women. Ashley's house, when they arrived, was sandwiched between two others, the whole block looking like a mass produced housing complex. Inside, Ashley's personality had come out, and Peter admired the posters of several rock groups he had heard of (but hadn't listened to), and more than one piece of memorabilia of The Doors. Ashley gave him a quick tour of the house, then left him to get settled in while she returned to the office for a few hours, promising to pick up something for dinner on her way back. Peter declined the offer, just asking her to let him know when she was returning so he could be fully prepared. That piqued Ashley's curiosity, so Peter was left with dinner duty. However, on examination of the fridge and freezer it was obvious that Detective Croft grabbed dinner on her way home often, and that a trip to the shops was necessary. _-~-_ Peter was no slouch when it came to housekeeping. He had lived by himself since leaving home at thirteen, and was used to keeping a place tidy, as well as cooking for himself, and sometimes others. But none of that prepared him for having to go shopping after having had his face plastered everywhere as the leading suspect in the murder case. Reactions ranged from puzzled looks, to slow dawning recognition, to deep suspicion, and in some case, extreme anger. It was only by applying his powers in subtle ways that he managed to calm the situation down enough to escape without harm. As it was, it was a graphic reminder of the fickle nature of people's memories, as well as the power of the media. Last year, he could have walked around here receiving nothing more harsh that a congratulatory slap on the back. Now, he was a hardened criminal, a cancer in their society, at best ignored, at worst to be dealt with by mob justice. It also meant that his dinner plans were in the pot. And not a stew pot. Okay, bad joke, but Peter found the need to find humour wherever he could at the moment. Arriving back at Ashley's home, he found the message on the ansaphone, and debated briefly about listening to it. Rationalising that it was most probably one for him, letting him know that Ashley was coming home, and promising himself to stop if it was anything else, he pressed play. It was indeed Ashley, but the message was that she wouldn't be home for a while, and he should go ahead and eat without her. Something had come up in some other case she was dealing with, and had to sort that out. This left a small dilemma. There was nothing to eat here, he couldn't go out. Hopefully, there was a decent pizza delivery place somewhere... _-~-_ When Peter woke up the next morning, it was to a very odd sensation. There was something pressing up against his back, and something other than the sheet was wrapped around him. Peter moved, startled, not recognising where he was or what was happening. Then his memories returned, but by then Ashley Croft was already waking up. It was obvious that nothing had happened last night, since Ashley was still clothed, but Peter felt more than a little embarrassed, partly for her, and partly for himself, as he usually slept in the nude. Ashley felt the need to talk, sitting on the edge of the bed while Peter was wrapped in a sheet. She hadn't meant to do that, it was just that it had been a while since she had anyone to hold, and when she looked in on him after coming home last night (or rather, early this morning), he had looked so innocent and comforting. Peter pretended that he understood, and didn't mind, but it was an awkward moment all around, one that was only partially solved by Ashley telling Peter that she had to get back to work, would only take a few minutes to freshen up, then she would be gone. When she left an hour later, Peter found himself flipping through stations on the TV, not being able to settle on anything. There were only small pieces on the San Francisco bombing, and only a brief mention of Agent's rather absurd speech, but they were quickly becoming old news. But not so old that the manhunt for Marsha was called off yet. And, of course, on local news his own events gave plenty of news mileage. Worse, on Fox.net, it looked like there was going to be an expose on the Alt.Riders. Great, just what they needed. But now that his thoughts were on Marsha, Peter couldn't help wondering what he was doing here. Not so much staying in what amounted to a slightly unusual form of house arrest, but with Ashley as his arrester, as it were. It seemed inevitable that something would happen between him and Ashley. Not necessarily sex, but there were sparks between then, tension building, and that would cause a release to happen sooner or later. It might be that she ended up kicking his ass up and down the street, but there would be a climax one way or another. But... And that was the problem, the 'but'. He felt a certain obligation towards Marsha, towards the other person he shared his body with. Did he have a...a duty to not be involved with anyone while there was this complication? (Not that 'complication' was the best way to express just how screwed up their situation really was.) Obviously that hadn't stopped him with Laverne, but that was, basically, another mind control situation, and all of them had long ago decided not to get too hung up on those. But him and Ashley. Was there something there? Was it nothing more than some form of Helsinki syndrome where they bonded over a shared emotional experience? In many ways, that also described the situation between him and Marsha. She had helped him escape from Queen Enterprises, and they had journeyed together back to Net.ropolis, and that kind of close intimacy can lead to other intimacy. On one occasion, about as intimate as it was possible to get, but that had been a highly unusual situation and neither of them were clear on what exactly happened let alone if that meant anything. But it did lead to Marsha having feelings for him. Feelings which he didn't reciprocate. He considered her a close friend, that was all. He couldn't say if there might have been something more, but then there was the...complication. Not so much a detour in the road but a thick brick wall across the highway. He had his feelings for Marsha, Marsha had her feelings for Peter, opportunities were there to potentially develop things further, but *blam*. Two people, same body. And although they could communicate mentally, they would never be able to see each other again, never be able to truly interact properly. Which meant that it was impossible for them to continue to develop their feelings, to find out if they did have anything between them at all. (Not to mention that if there was something, how would they do anything about it?) That, and that Peter was an intensely shy person. The one time when they were separated, back in the dreamlands, he had run away rather than deal with Marsha. But with Ashley...well, to be honest, why did he feel better with Ashley? Was it because he couldn't run away from her? Not only was he not allowed to legally, but he couldn't even escape into being someone else as Marsha was in worse trouble than he was. He had nowhere else to go, so he had no choice but to stay here, and to open up to her. On the other hand, there was no real reason he couldn't find another motel or hotel room to stay in, he was sure Ashley could arrange a police guard if the public became too incensed. So that wasn't really an excuse. Did any of that mean it was right to stay here? Right to stay with Ashley, see what happened, possibly create an infinite amount of problems when certain truths came out. In the end, Peter admitted that he did want to stay with Ashley, find out more about her. He was attracted to her on many levels, and there was a chance that they could have something. He wanted to try. Beside, it wasn't as if women were lining up to get to know him... Peter, sitting alone in Ashley's house, sighed. Sometimes he envied the simplistic family life Barry had. _-~-_ Ashley came home at a more sensible time, still apologising about the morning. Peter replied that it was more a surprise than an unwelcome presence, which raised, rather than relieved, the tension. No movement had been made on Peter's case. The murder weapon was still missing, and no trace evidence had been found in the motel room to point to anyone else. On the other hand, no more evidence had arisen to point to Peter as the murderer, so the playing field was still level. Ashley suggested eating out, Peter responding with his previous experience. Ashley knew of a discreet restaurant they could go to, and it fortunately didn't require an excessively formal dress code, so Peter was left with no excuses. The dinner was exquisite. Although the portions weren't large, they were extremely well prepared, and filling enough in their way. The candle-light and free-flowing wine helped the meal to pass pleasantly, and they managed to talk without getting bogged down in work. Peter found out that Ashley liked to paint when she wasn't busy, although he hadn't seen any examples of her art. That would be, she explained, because she painted miniatures, and kept them in her cellar. Peter agreed that that would explain it. Peter, in return, told Ashley of his appreciation of the works of Michael King, Alan Duff and especially Witi Ihimaera, although they weren't easy to find in Ame.rec.a. Ashley didn't believe him, thinking it more the sort of line a guy says when he wants to sound intellectual, but Peter quoted some of the books to prove himself. Ashley commented that lines like that were likely to get women into bed with him, causing Peter to splutter into his wine. Ashley laughed over that, and Peter knew he always wanted to hear that laugh. The only tense moment during the meal was at the end, when the bill arrived. Peter insisted on paying it, but Ashley said she should, otherwise some people might think he was trying to bribe the detective. The comment was said lightly, jokingly, but it soured the atmosphere, and the drive home was in silence. Returning home, Peter said he had enjoyed the night, but he wanted an early night. He wanted to talk to his lawyer tomorrow, see how long he would be needed here for. He lay in bed, his thoughts whirling, trying to get to sleep but knowing he couldn't. He could hear Ashley moving around her house, just as restless as him. After an hour, he heard his door open then shut. Ashley lay down on the bed next to him, behind him, and draped her arm over him, like she had the previous night. Peter took her hand in his, and brought it up to his lips, noticing as he did so that she was still clothed. She pressed against him harder, and together they drifted into sleep. _-~-_ Mr. Marshall told him that he had to stay until at least the inquisition, to hear what the court had to say. Since they were still investigating, that wouldn't happen until next week. Off the record, Mr. Marshall told him that staying with Detective Croft could bias the case, which might not be a bad idea if Peter could pull it off. Peter managed to refrain from hitting Mr. Marshall, but only just. A beat cop, Officer Jack Frankson, was assigned to escort Peter around, and Peter took the opportunity to do some shopping. Frankson told Peter, in no uncertain terms, that he knew about Croft and him, and that he better leave the detective alone if he knew what was good for him. Peter took refuge in his typical silence, knowing that nothing he could say would put Frankson on his side. That evening, Peter had dinner ready when Ashley arrived. Before Ashley's eyes, Peter mixed up steak, onions, pickles and capers, and arranged it perfectly before her, with an egg sitting in the middle. Ashley said that she preferred her steak at least introduced to the heat if not actually cooked, but Peter tempted her to try steak tartar, which she grudgingly admitted was edible. This time, there were no problems at the end of dinner, and while doing the dishes, they managed to soak each other as the plates. Ashley attempted to dry Peter off with the tea-towel, but they found it simpler to simply remove their clothes. Ashley later protested that the counter top was too cold. That night, Ashley didn't wear clothes and Peter did more than kiss. _-~-_ Peter snapped back to awareness as the door slammed open. He spun around to be hit in the eyes with a beam of light, raising a hand to block the glare. Redness dripped from his hand, and as the main lights came on, he stared at horror at the blood. A punch to his head snapped him around, making him drop the axe, and before another punch knocked him senseless he saw the naked, butchered body of Detective Ashley Croft. Oblivion was a mercy after that. _-~-_ This time there was nothing Mr. Marshall could do. Peter was found with the axe in his hand, standing over the body, her blood on him, and their two prints the only ones in the room. Frankly, Peter was lucky to get any formal booking at all, as often these sorts of cases ended with a bullet from an outraged friend. Cop-killers were treated harshly, and the only thing stopping his immediate execution was that Peter was with the LNH. But that could only go so far. Fearless Leader, on behalf of the LNH, had already denounced him, claiming no responsibility, but asking that justice was followed with due process. The hearing was a matter of formality, and no-one doubted the outcome. Sentence would be carried out in two days time. Peter stared at the world numbly. How was this possible? He hadn't... what of Laverne? This time the toxicology report was clear, there could be no answers that way. Peter even asked Marsha, but she knew nothing of it. It had been Peter all the way since San Francisco. The two days passed too slowly, time seemingly stretched so Peter could contemplate what he had done all the more. He refused to eat during that time, refused the priest when he came, merely sat on his bench like a puppet with broken strings. When he was taken along the corridor, the final steps he would ever walk, Peter still couldn't believe this was happening to him. The finality of it wouldn't sink in. He kept expecting Ashley to appear, to say something had been wrong but it was all sorted out. He just wanted to hear her laugh one last time. As he was strapped into the chair, the metal contacts attached securely in place, he was asked about final words. Peter shook his head. What could he possibly say? In the end, as the switch came down, Peter could only close his eyes. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Coming soon to Fox.net: They're here for your protection, but who protects you from them? "I was trying to get out of the way, then everything around me exploded into flame!" They can save you one moment... "If it wasn't for her, I would have crashed into the ground!" ...then leave you the next. "That guy in the coat...he just walked away!" They are the front line guardians, but who are they? The Alt.Riders Exposed. Only on Fox.net. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- %What I Did On My Holidays% %Missy% %Kula Bocca Says So% It was three days after the Casema rally, and Missy could barely move through the streets without coming across a demonstration against the Chubs, insisting that Ramsey be freed. Missy had only met Ramsey once, during the Elmwurst rally, when his band, the Big Bubble, had first sung their song %Cry for the fire%. The song which had illegal Mohelmot lyrics, which got Ramsey arrested at the Casema rally, leading to the current protests. Which wasn't the worst part, Missy knew. The worst part was that Ramsey's arrest was arranged by Kula Bocca, leader of the Zinkenite movement to establish a Mole nation without a Chub ruling power. The arrest provided Kula with a focus point for his people, and that was what he wanted all along. Missy collapsed outside a cafe, breathing deeply. She didn't want to go back to her laboratory, but knew she had to. That was were she had set up an area where she could give birth. That was also where Kula Bocca was currently living. But before that she had to make it through the demonstrations and the riots. She could hear %Cry for the fire% playing on the radio, complete with Mohelmot. The public was speaking, and she could only hope that the Chubs would listen before worse happened. %Listen to me, listen to me,% a voice broke through on the radio. Missy could hear this on other radios, as well as sounding throughout the city. Slowly, the noise quietened down, and all could hear what was being said. %Listen to me. We have questioned Ramsey, and have learnt that this incident was not meant as an illegal act. As such, we are releasing him so that he may return to society and will not-% The rest of the speech was drowned out as the people around her cheered. Missy sighed with relief. She had no doubts that it was the rioting and outcry that forced the Chubs to let Ramsey go, but they had to save face. %Not meant as an illegal act% indeed. How else was deliberately including Mohelmot lyrics in a public song meant to be interpreted? But hopefully the city would calm down now. As the people slowly cleared the streets, Missy was able to make her way back to the laboratory, but she had to go carefully. Her time was near, and it was taking an increasing toll on her body. Finally she reached the laboratory, and gratefully ducked inside. It was cooler in here, and she could breath easier. Making her way to the main living area, she slowly became aware of two voices up ahead. %...soon do you want to begin?% This voice she recognised as Kula Bocca's. %It'll take me some time to get everything set up,% a voice she didn't recognise said. %Give me about a week, and we can get started.% %Very well, I'll-% Kula broke off as he caught sight of Missy. %Ah, Missy, come on in.% This was a very gracious invitation, Missy thought, especially considering it was really her home. %This is Frankie DuVall, of Black Shroud Records.% Frankie DuVall nodded to Missy, who bowed in reply. Frankie was a Chub, which surprised Missy. %He's a big supporter of the Zinkenites.% Ah, that explained it. %How do you do?% Frankie asked politely. Ignoring the pleasantries, Kula continued, %I've just arranged for him to release an album of the Big Bubble. We'll be able to make sure everyone can hear their music, and make sure that some of the other songs have Mohelmot on them.% Missy gaped at Kula. %Have you heard that Ramsey's been released?% Kula nodded. %Indeed. That's why I got Frankie over here to finalise the deal.% %So you've had this set up for how long?% %A few days ago. Why, is there a problem?% %You have no idea, do you? Everything is for your movement.% Kula looked puzzled over this. %Of course.% %Have you been outside?% Missy asked. %Do you know what it's like out there?% Kula grinned. %It's fantastic.% %Are you trying to kill everyone?% Missy accused. Kula looked at Frankie. %Perhaps you should go,% he suggested. %I'll catch up with you later.% After Frankie was out of the way, Kula turned on Missy. %I will do as I see fit to ensure that my people have their say. No longer will we live under Chub oppression!% %This isn't the way!% Missy replied. %When I tried to help before, I created peaceful ways. I created a machine to help the Mole people, something to make their work easier. I didn't try to stir them up, or create a war.% %There is a war coming,% Kula said darkly. %The Chubs will not listen to us, so we must make our point by whatever methods work!% %Does that include death?% %If we can avoid that,% Kula said slowly, %of course we will. But to not think of the possibility would be naive in the extreme.% %To only plan for that contingency would be to make sure it happens,% Missy insisted. %You must try for peaceful means.% %They don't want peaceful means!% %No, you don't want peaceful means,% Missy snapped back. %You just want what's best for you, and damn all the others.% %If that is what you believe,% Kula said quietly. %Then so be it.% %I think it would be best if you leave now,% Missy said, turning away from him. %But, you need help...% Kula started. %Not from you,% Missy snapped. Before collapsing to her knees and screaming. %Missy.% Kula was at her side, despite whatever words had just been spoken. %What do you need?% %It's time,% Missy cried out, clutching her stomach. %Get me to...to...% Missy screamed again. %It's going wrong. No!% %What...what can I do?% Kula asked, helpless. %It's all happening...% Missy whispered, before fainting away. Kula laid Missy down, but didn't know what else to do. And was completely unprepared for the blue glow that consumed everything. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- NEXT ISSUE: They say travel broadens the mind, but how far do you have to go before your mind expands indefinitely? CREDITS: All mine. NOTES: Unfortunately, that's as far as The Big Bubble goes in terms of story, so it's going to be very interesting to see what I come up with in Part Five. By the way, I realise the names seem a bit odd, Kula Bocca, Ramsey and now Frankie DuVall, but that's what was on the album, so that's what I'm using. Certainly makes 'Missy' fit in well.Back to the Index.