Blue Light Productions presents:

              F L A M E  W A R S  I I I  - PART 3 OF 6
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       [The cover is focusing on a man with a glass skull. He is holding 
        Net.ropolis in one hand. In the other can be seen Barry Knewbee 
        and Contraption Man, standing zombie like. The man is saying in 
        a large speech bubble "ALL THAT I HOLD, IS MINE!"]


"Mmm. Mfp." Fan.Boy woke up, grappling with something in his mouth. He 
tore a piece of cloth off, and held it, peering at it. It moved in his 
hand, and he threw it away, startled. He heard it scamper off.
        Fan.Boy groaned. This was not how he wanted to start the day. 
However, as he was now awake, he may as well get up. He reached for his 
glasses and slid out out of bed.
        While getting ready, he considered his duties. He had spent the 
rest of the previous few days cleaning the hanger bay, as due penance for 
stealing a net.thingee. While he had got to know Captain Cleanup quite 
well by then, he knew he couldn't face another day of it.
        Perhaps he could sneak out with out the Ultimate Ninja noticing. 
Yeah, and Guitar Man might play something people could listen to. 
Speaking of which, perhaps he'd better check up on GM's goldfish.


Downstairs, Barry Knewbee crept through the hallways. In an attempt for 
anonymity, Barry had decided to go for a non-spandex look, leading to 
jeans and a t-shirt with "I survived a Constantine" printed on it.
        As he passed the reception desk, he waved to Mike Nilsen, a new 
        Outside, he had barely enough time to get down the steps before 
he heard someone say "Ah, just the sort of person we've been searching 
for," and then something over took his mind.


An explosion had occurred here, not too long ago, but the damage had been 
erased. It was amazing what money could achieve these days.
        Light filled the room, a bright luminescence, which slowly 
lessened from the outlying areas to concentrate in the centre of the 
apartment, taking on a shape as it did so. Soon, an outline hung in the 
air, a form of anti-silhouette, outlining a man's body.
        The radiance died, revealing a man frozen in position with his 
eyes closed. His eyes snapped open, and he looked around the room.
        "Bah," he muttered. "Alive again."
        Although he knew there were things he should be doing, he sat down 
sulkily on the couch. He folded his arms and stared ahead, refusing to 
acknowledge anything.
        #GET ON WITH IT#
        "Shan't" the man said, in a childish voice. Although there was 
no visible response he eventually stood up. "Oh, all right, but stop 
doing that. What do you want me to do?"
        #YOU KNOW#
        The man nodded moodily. That was the problem. He did.
        "Buffer," he sighed. He hated going to the Legion of Net.Heroes'
Head Quarters. He generally considered the place beneath him. This time, 
he needed to fetch something.
        He walked out of the apartment. He opened the doors to the lift 
shaft, and peered down into the darkness.
        Taking a deep breath, he jumped.


Barry Knewbee turned around. At least, his body did. His mind was doing 
something more like 360s.
        "Boy, we require your aid."
        Before Barry stood three individuals. Two of them were similar in 
appearances. They wore long blue cloaks, had orange skin, and the tops 
of their heads were made of plastiglass, allowing Barry to see the 
brains inside. Barry received the impression that one was male and the 
other female, but this was not obvious from physical observation.
        The other figure lay at their feet, in a huddled mass. Although 
his body was that of a 19 year old, his attitude was one of a whipped 
dog. His clothes were dirty and torn, and his body was in a state of 
severe food deprivation.
        Barry thought he'd like the hurt figure more than the masters.
        "We are Pjack and Pjill, come back to now to sample the delights 
of your wonderfully quaint city," the male figure, Pjack, said. 
"However, as we don't really know our way around, we decided to pick up a 
guide." Pjack smiled faintly. It wasn't a nice smile.
        Barry managed to control his body enough to gesture towards the 
figure lying at their feet. "Who's that?"
        Pjill deigned to look down at Barry's interest. "Him? Oh, he's 
our pet. Dreck, say hello to the nice insect."
        Dreck looked up, and Barry's heart immediately went out to him. 
The bruises and sores on Dreck's face made Barry want to hold and 
comfort him. "H... hello," Dreck croaked.
        "There," said Pjill, smiling sweetly. Sickeningly. "Isn't that 
        "We wish to be amused," said Pjack. "Show us the... night life."
        "But, it's early morning," replied Barry. "Nothing will be open."
        "Don't worry," said Pjill. "They will be."


It was a room in the LNHQ that belonged to an LNHer. In the general 
sense. Of being an LNHer, that is. The room contained a bed, a chest of 
drawers, a few chairs, a goldfish bowl, with goldfish, a large stuffed 
panda holding a sign saying "Has anyone got a pot of hot water?", and was 
decorated with dried flowers.
        Out of the closet stepped a man. He looked around through 
squinted eyes. People actually lived like this?
        Oh well, better get started. First, however, the man carefully 
moved the goldfish bowl onto a chair, and put it out of the way. No 
sense in incurring more trouble than usual.

Brittany, or Weirdness Girl as she preferred to be called, opened the 
door to her room into a mess. It wasn't her usual sort of mess. In fact, 
she had recently tidied her room. It had been done by accident, she had 
really only been looking for a pencil, but, nevertheless, it hadn't 
looked like this.
	She had only just helped Savannah back to her room, after they had 
gotten back from fighting some chick with wings. Being rather on the worn 
side, Brittany had decided to change her outfit for something fresh. And 
now found this.
        Her bed was on its side, with slashes in the material. Her 
drawers had been emptied, then tossed onto the floor. The frame of the 
chest of drawers had been broken into little pieces.
        In panic Brittany looked around for Binky, a cosmic being 
currently incarnated as a fish, and breathed a sigh of relief when she 
saw him sitting in his bowl, perched on a chair away from the rubble.
        The sound of splashing reached her ears, and Brittany noticed that
the door to her bathroom was open. She started in that direction, almost 
dreading what she might encounter, when a man came out.
        He was wearing dark trousers with sensible shoes. He also had a 
white shirt on, but had the sleeves rolled up. His arms were wet. 
Brittany couldn't immediate imagine why this man was here.
        Fortunately, the man wasn't wasting any time. "Please, where is 
        At least he was a polite burglar. "Where's what?" Brittany asked 
sweetly. The kind of sweetness usually followed by a round of bashing 
by, say, a large plush fish filled with rocks, or, perhaps, sitting down 
with your significant other, and showing them your baby pictures in 
        "That damned sword. I know it's around here somewhere." The man 
peered around.
        "I don't know what you're talking about," said Brittany 
carefully. "Why don't we sit down over a cup of arsenic and discuss it."
        "No, thank you. I'm trying to give it up."
        Brittany slowly manoeuvred through the room, circling around the 
man who seemed more interested in strewing the debris than her. When she 
reached the closet, she opened it carefully, but the man saw her.
        "Ah, it's in there. Of course."
        Brittany quickly opened the closet fully and reached onto the 
top shelf. "Get back," she said, grabbing what was there, and pointing 
it at the man. "Or, I'll attack you with this... note?"
        Brittany got a good look at what she was holding. It was indeed 
a note. She read it:
        "Dear Brittany,
        I was up here going through your underwear, and trying
        on your clothes when I came across this great sword. I
        have borrowed it for a while. Hope you don't mind.
                Cheesecake Eater Lad."
        Brittany crumpled the note in her hand. "Of course," she 
muttered under her breath, "you realise this means weirdness."
        She ran out of the room, ignoring the man, with far more 
important business on her mind.

The man looked upwards. "Was that really necessary?" Not receiving an 
answer, he went over to the closet, reaching upwards. He grasp a handle 
and drew out a sword named Dirmawr.
        "You and me have a little business to discuss." The man entered 
the closet, pulling it closed behind him.

Brittany reentered a few moments later, to yell at the man to get out, 
and... and noticed everything was back to normal. Her bed was back in 
position, and her clothes were back in their proper drawers, which lay 
in an unbroken frame.
        She cast a look at Binky, now back on the chest of drawers, but 
he just burbled happily.


Below her, on the second floor of the HQ, Contraption Man limped into a 
tech lab. He winced slightly at the pain of his injuries, but determined 
to ignore them so he could work on this black box he carried.
	He had found the black box in a sub-basement of the LNHQ, as well
as a heavily armoured man by the name of Flashback. The black box had been
part of his equipment he had come back to retieve, but Contraption Man had
fought him off, with the somewhat help of a newbie called Kid
SqueezerCheeze or something. Thanks to Limp-Asparagus Lad and Footnote
Lass, he had been taken to the Sick Bay in time to be saved from death. 
The kid was in Sick Bay, still shaken up after having a ceiling fall on him.
	Now, Contraption Man had left Sick Bay (still feeling slightly 
dizzy), and was investigating the device that had sparked a memory in 
him. He knew about the black box, but couldn't remember where from.
        He placed it on a bench, and studied it thoughtfully. It sparked 
a memory in his mind, but the spark wasn't bright enough to enlighten. 
As he thought, he kept his hands busy, cannibalising parts to make 
something like a large microscope. He wasn't sure what devices the thing 
contained to defend against its contents, but he knew the five prongs on 
the bottom weren't just for adornment.
        The five prongs! That was it! Five prongs were used on 
information dumps many years ago. As least, years ago as far as he was 
concerned. These things won't come about for a few years yet.
        Anyway, these information dumps were in vogue a while back as 
memory modules, a sort of electronic diary. The five prongs were a 
safety feature. Hook it up to a terminal in the wrong order, and kaboom!
	Contraption Man remembered that he had one of these things in his
room somewhere, and a decoder for it. He wouldn't be able to use it for 
this one, 'cos the code would be different.
        Contraption Man finished the device he was building, a particle 
reverser. Always useful for looking at the inside of the forbidden. What 
was on the outside would be on the inside, and what was on the inside 
would be outside. Well, for a few moments anyway. These devices were 
rather unstable. As an afterthought, Contraption Man focused a camera on 
the object to catch whatever was revealed.
        He threw the switch and watched in smugness as the box inverted, 
exposing the circuits inside. All too soon, the particle reverser 
exploded, showering Contraption Man in sparks. But, now he had a copy of 
the insides, and would be able to access the box in safety.


The niteclub was indeed open. Now. Not many things remained the way 
Pjack and Pjill didn't want them to be.
        Barry had tried to raise a protest, something along the lines of 
"There wont be anyone in there. They've all gone home." but got no 
further than "Ther-" before feeling his throat constrict painfully.
        In fact, there were people in there, either asleep or 
unconscious on the floor. Several chairs and tables were broken, 
signalling that a rather violent, albeit pointless, brawl had taken place.
        "My, my, my," Pjack commented. "What a messy establishment. 
We'll just have to tidy things up a little."
        He waved his hand and things jumped. Chairs unsplintered, and 
fused together in normal wholes. Tables righted themselves, and glasses 
jumped back onto them, the contents pouring themselves back in.
        The people on the floor also moved. They were lifted and placed 
in chairs, on the stools at the bar. Their eyes opened, and 
consciousness returned. Control over their bodies didn't though.
        Barry could see confusion, panic, and just plain terror mirrored 
from their souls.
        "Stop this," he said, partly surprised he could say anything. 
"You're hurting them."
        "No, we're not," replied Pjill. "We're enjoying ourselves. 
That's far more important, don't you think? And so much more appropriate 
for a _bar_, a place of fun, is it not?"
        "Not like this," Barry pleaded.
        "I do think we need to let him onto a secret," Pjack said to 
        "I do think you're right." She turned to the figure at her feet. 
"Dreck, darling, do teach him the lesson."
        Dreck rose pathetically, using the table to help right 
himself. With a broken look in his eyes, he made his way towards Barry.
        "No," instructed Pjill. "Choose someone else. We haven't 
finished with him."
        Dreck swerved to one side, but kept his attention on Barry. He 
stopped in front of a man, sitting in a chair, but who was nearly going 
to the toilet in his trousers.
        "Dreck, here, is a rather amusing experiment that the more 
clinical of us thought up," Pjack commented, as Dreck reached out and 
placed a finger on the man's chest.
        "Essentially, Dreck is electricity made form." Dreck's fingernail 
glowed, then his finger, his hand, and his entire arm became a blaze of 
light. Energy licked over the man's chest, and the man juddered as power 
coursed through him.
        "At times, he does have to rest. We keep him in a battery." 
Pjack smiled. "One of his very own."
        Barry's face became one of disgust as the burning smell permeated 
the air. He tried to look away, but was unable to turn his head. His 
eyes were riveted to the body of the man, now the corpse of a man.
        "You see," Pjill said. "We can do anything we like. Any_way_ we 
like. Do not presume to tell us how we may conduct ourselves. Dreck, 
darling, that's enough."
        Released, the man's remains fell to the floor with a sickening 
thump. When they were freed, there'd be a of of sick patrons.
        "Come," said Pjack, standing. "We've tired of this little game. 
I feel like..."
        "Spot the invisible bomb," said Pjill brightly.
        Pjack's eyes gleamed. "Yes. I do believe that would be next."
        Pjack and Pjill swept out of the bar, Dreck following them, and 
Barry was forced to keep up.
        Outside, Pjack was scanning the skies. Without a word, he lifted 
off the ground, and floated up through the air. Barry was surprised to 
find that he was rising as well, all four of them were.
        When they reached the tops of the surrounding towers, they 
stopped, hovering in mid-air.
        "What.. what are you people?" Barry gasped.
        "Haven't you worked that out yet?" said Pjack, sounding 
disappointed. "I had so hoped you could arise above your own stupidity. 
Oh well, I should never hope for the impossible."
        Pjill responded. "We're from the future. Well, a future. We are 
beyond the limited concept of a single timeline. We'd heard that this 
time period was so primitive when compared with what they could have 
been. Unfortunately, they do appear to be right."
        "Time travellers? Oh dear. You are in a lot of trouble."
        Pjack snorted. "Come, my dear young thing. We are beyond being 
hurt by anything in this period."
        "But, there a psycho out here. He's on the look for time 
travellers. He wants to kill them-"
        "Enough," said Pjack, waving his hand, and silencing Barry. "I 
have spotted our bomb."
        He extended a magnificently coiffured finger, pointing at a 
aeroplane as it roared through the sky, coming in for a landing at 
Net.ropolis aeroport. Pjack blinked, and the plane vanished.
        "What have you done to it?"
        "It's invisible, dear boy," said Pjack. "Light just passes right 
though it."
        "But, how will they land? The aeroport can't see them."
        "My dear boy. _They_ can't see _themselves_. As I said, light 
just passes right though them."
        "They'll crash!"
        "Yes, but who knows where? That's what makes it so fun!"


The man stood nearby in an alleyway, only keeping half an ear on the 
conversation. He was looking upwards, staring at a patch of sky that 
seemed to contain nothing.
        Absently, he hefted the sword, weighing more than just metal, 
and slid it across the palm of his hand, letting it bite and draw blood.
        The blade soaked the blood up, not letting a rivulet away.
        The man looked down at the sword. Soon, they'd be able to have a 


Barry and the time travellers landed back on the ground, and settled 
down to wait. Sooner or later, the aeroplane would hit the ground, 
somewhere, and there was nothing Barry could do to stop it. He had no 
useful powers, just to be a fan to every superhero he could find, and an 
ability to stun people by pronouncing punctuation. He had tried to stun 
Pjack and Pjill by swearing, but had ended up having to go a minute 
without a mouth. Or a nose.
        "Imagine their panic," breathed Pjack. "Their fear, their hopes 
as the search turns up nothing, their terror as they think of the plane 
crashing. All these emotions, all over one little scrap of metal and a few 
useless lives."
        "How do you you wont be wiped out?" asked Barry. "One of those 
people might be your ancestor." Perhaps he could paradox them into 
freeing the plane.
        Pjack shook his head. "Our future has already split. 
Technically, we are from another dimension, but we never let 
technicalities get in the way of a good holiday. One company," he held 
up a finger as emphasis, "one company in your history stopped 
experimenting on people, stopped creating superhumans. That never happened
in our timeline. They kept on going. And we, and Dreck here, are the 
products of those experiments. We are separate from this timeline, so we 
can do whatever we like to it."
        Pjill spoke. "I can feel the tension in the air. These people 
are pathetic. They'll never find it in time."
        "Is that part of the game? Actually finding the plane?"
        "It adds to the fun."
        "Then," said Barry, hope coming to him, "let me make a phone 
call. I'll get more people onto searching. That'll increase the game."
        Pjill clapped her hands. "Why yes. That would be nice. To have 
an actual challenge. Very well, you may call."
        Barry hurried to a nearby phone booth, digging in his pockets 
for a quarter. He picked up the phone and dialled. "Ah, Mike, Fan.Boy 
here. Put me through to the Ultimate Ninja.... No, I don't want to hear 
about your dreams of being forced to watch cheesy movies with two 
robots. Put me through to the UN... Uh, hi, sir, Fan.Boy here." Barry 
held the phone away from his ear as the shouting came through. "Yes.. 
yes, I know.. yes, I... Sir... People are dying!" Well, it was one way 
of getting his attention.


Contraption Man watched the computer run through the last few 
possibilities. He had the module interfaced with the computer, and was 
now trying to access the passworded files. Finally, the combinations 
settled, and the computer opened the files.
        They were encrypted. Of course.
        There were many programs Contraption Man knew to decode the 
files, but they all took time. He sighed as he instructed the computer 
to begin, wanting to do more than just wait.
        A beep from a nearby intercom drew his attention. He flicked the 
com channel open. "Contraption Man here."
        It was the Ultimate Ninja. "We've got more time travellers. 
These ones are very advanced mentalists, but that's not the problem."
        "Flashback is bound to go for them."
        "Yes, but they've made a plane invisible. Completely undetectable
to radar. It's somewhere above the city and could crash into anything, 
anywhere." Contraption Man drew breath. This was serious.
        "I've got Kid Kirby, Continuity Champ Junior, and Search Lass 
out looking for it. Doctor Stomper and Deductive Logic Man are trying to 
work out where it is by logic. If Errand Boy was here I could send him to 
help as well, but we can't find him."
        "What do you want me to do?" asked Contraption Man.
        "Get to where the time travellers are. Fan.Boy's with them. Try 
to get them to keep the plane from crashing. Keep an eye out for 
Flashback, and keep him away. We don't need his interference to mess 
things up."
        "On my way."


Barry tried to hop from one foot to the other, but Pjack kept him still. 
It was this waiting, how could anyone stand it? Something had to happen 
        On cue, something did. A man in a power suit came around the 
corner, the sunlight being swallowed up by his black armour. Pjack and 
Pjill took no notice of him until he backhanded Pjill across the face, 
knocking her backwards.
        The response was immediate. Dreck's upper body dissolved into 
energy tendrils that wrapped themselves around the suit, trying to short 
        The man ignored this attack, and shouted. "I am Flashback, and I 
have seen the death of all. You shall not be the cause of it." He leapt 
at Pjack.
        And made about a metre.
        Pjack's will power blasted Flashback into immobility. Although 
Flashback strained his power units, he was unable to move a muscle.
        "Naughty, naughty, don't get haute," warned Pjack.
        Pjill sat up, her hand touching her bleeding lip. "Make him 
suffer, slowly."
        "No, wait."
        Barry managed to turn his head to see the newcomer. Barry 
immediately recognised him as Contraption Man. If Flashback recognised 
him, and was sdurprised to see that Contraption Man was still alive, Barry 
was unable to tell.
        "Don't hurt him."
        "And who are you that dares give us commands?" asked Pjack slowly.
        Contraption Man finally realised what sort of people he was 
dealing with. "I.. I meant, he under my care. I'm supervising him, and 
he escaped. He's not quite all there, if you get my meaning."
        "Oh, I get your meaning," said Pjack. "But, I like my meaning 
better. Not all there, you say? Well, let's see what happens when his 
arm isn't there."
        "No," cried out Contraption Man.
        "Silence," ordered Pjack, and Contraption Man was. "Never tell 
me what to do. The more you plead, the more your friend," Pjack 
indicated Flashback, "will suffer."
        "In that case," said Contraption Man, struggling to get the 
words out. "Kill him."
        "Don't worry," advised Pjack. "I intend to."
        He turned his attention back to Flashback, when both he and 
Pjill felt something slice across the napes of their necks. They put 
their hands up, and brought them in front of their faces to see their 
hands wet. With blood. Their blood.
        "Who dares?" Pjack said hoarsely.
        "I dare."
        Pjack and Pjill turned around to see a man holding a sword 
standing in front of them. Although the sword must have gotten blood on 
it, it was gleaming clean.
        "What does your kind have to do with this?" asked Pjack.
        "With him," the man replied, indicating Flashback. "Your not 
going to stop him from doing what he has to."
        "Hah. Dreck," Pjill ordered.
        Electricity passed from Dreck to the sword, earthing itself 
through the man. He grimaced in pain, and fell to one knee, but no 
        Barry could see the sword glowing from the power that passed 
through it, and had to give grudging admiration to the man that withstood 
the pain.
        Dreck ceased, staggering slighty. Recent events had drained him 
somewhat, leaving him not a powerful as he should be.
        The man took full advantage of this. "Here," he said, "catch."
        He threw the sword, and Pjack and Pjill automatically reached 
out to grab it.
        They both touched it at the same time.


Power. He could feel their power as he stepped into them. True, it 
wasn't magic, but it was still power. Power he could take, power he 
could use.
        Dirmawr possessed Pjack and Pjill, and ravaged their souls.


Contraption Man saw the man swaying slightly, as if caught in some kind 
of backlash. However, he was now free of Pjack's control, and turned to 
take care of Flashback.
        Who was already acting. Flashback had somehow grown a heavy duty 
laser pistol from his armour, and drawn a bead on Pjack and Pjill.
        "No," screamed Contraption Man, lunging at Flashback, and 
feeling rather surprised when a large object crashed into him, knocking 
him to one side. He looked up to see the man, his head still jerking 
        "This must be done."
        Contraption Man heard one blast, then another. Two thuds. He 
didn't want to look, but knew there was someone else to also look out 
for. He took a gamble. "Get Dreck out of here," he yelled.
        The next thing he heard was "Oh ^&^!, !(&@, and #@&*."

[                               _-~-_

Barry pulled Dreck along after him, slightly hampered by Dreck's stunned 
body. Once they were away from the scene, Barry waited for Dreck to come 
        "Wha? What happened back there?" Dreck asked muzzily.
        "You're free," Barry told him. "Free now. Free to do whatever."
        "I.. I don't understand. Free?"
        "Yes," Barry insisted. "Pjack and Pjill are gone. You're free now."
        Barry sighed. "Look, what do you want to do?"
        "Rest. Need rest." Dreck staggered and fell against Barry. Barry 
held onto him, lingering his hands on Dreck's body.
        "Where do you rest?"
        "Power source. Need electricity."
        "Right, I know just the place."


        Mmmm. Mmmmmm. Wha? What?
        What's happening? Is someone there?
        Is there someone there? Please... please answer me? Is there 
anybody there?
        Please. Is someone there? Anyone? Please. I'm so alone down 
here. Please. Is there anybody there?
        Hello? Anybody? There's no light here. Is there no-one there? 
        Is it happening again? Please, not again.
                 SYSTEM--ENGAGE--SYSTEMS ON LINE-----


Contraption Man kicked the wall in disgust. He had a perfect opportunity 
to take out Flashback, and he'd let it go.
        True, the man had winded him so the man did have time to 
retrieve the sword (what was that thing, anyway?), and then threaten 
Flashback into leaving, so there wasn't much he could have done anyway. 
But, still. He should have done something.
        At least Kid Kirby had managed to get the plane done safely 
after Search Lass had found it. Doctor Stomper and Deductive Logic Man 
had worked out had to return the plane to normal.
        Contraption Man turned his attention to memory module. The 
computer had decrypted the first file. He quickly brought it up. It read:
        "This... this is my first recording. I'm not sure if this thing 
is working or not. I took it from Contrap.... Oh gods. *sounds of sobbing* 
I took this from Contraption Man's room. He won't miss it. He's.. he's 
dead. Oh gods, they're all dead..."


Barry crept through the power station, dragging Dreck with him. This was 
the only place he could think of. The Net.ropolis Power Station. The 
city's source of electricity from geothermal vents.
        He propped Dreck up against a wall.
        "Listen to me. This is where you can rest. Do you understand me?"
        As Dreck came round, he strengthened somewhat. "Yes. Yes, I can 
fell it here. Power." He felt the wall, hugging it, trying to draw the 
energy into himself.
        Barry looked on concerned.
        "Is there something that you need? Some way of accessing the 
        "Yes, yes. A socket of some kind. An access port to the 
        Barry looked around. Fortunately, there was a wall socket close. 
"Here," he said, guiding Dreck. "Will this work?"
        "Yes," said Dreck, feeling the socket. "Yes." He looked up at 
Barry. "Thank you." Dreck converted himself to pure energy, and flowed 
into the socket.
        Lights flicked on and off as Dreck settled himself in. Barry 
threw them a look worried.
        Splashpage: A momentary flicker in the lights reveals Barry's 
face. A tear runs down one cheek. He is whispering "Goodbye."

        "...Pjack fell down and broke his crown, and Pjill came tumbling 
        by Jamas Enright

NEXT ISSUE: Well, first off, Flame Wars III continues. The next exciting 
installment is in _Writer's Block Woman (and Mouse) #21_. Find out what 
secrets are held in the memory module.

Then, Fan.Boy starts a journey of self discovery, as the Ultimate Ninja 
orders him to investigate the Peril Room's final collapse.

All in FAN.BOY #12: "The Little Room of Perils"


Fan.Boy belongs to me.

Pjack and Pjill belong in the ground.

Dreck doesn't belong to the power station, but they've got him anyway.

The man wielding the sword belongs to me, but the sword belongs to 
Mistlock, as does Brittany ("Weirdness Girl!").

Contraption Man belongs to no-one, 'cos he's Public Domain.

Flashback belongs to the Flame Wars III crew (and they can have 'im :), 
and what a crazed bunch they are.
Back to the Index.