Blue Light Productions presents

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       [Fan.Boy and Dr. Bill Jates toast each other with drinks,
        while in the background is a screen-shot from _Indiana 
                     Jones and the Last Crusade_]
"No more," Fan.Boy growled. "No more."
        "What is it?" Dreck asked, looking at Barry fondly.
        Fan.Boy was sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling on his 
freshly cleaned outfit. After leaving the cavern where they had taken 
part in a rendition of the Thuggee ceremony, they had found themselves in 
a sub-basement of the LNHQ. Surprisingly, only the lower levels of the 
building had been damaged by Dr. Bill Jates's machinations, and 
Fan.Boy's room was perfectly all right.
        They had collapsed into bed, and immediately fallen into a deep 
sleep. After a sound sleep, Fan.Boy was now severely annoyed.
        "I have been forced through a parody of _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ 
and _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_. Now, it's gonna be _Indiana 
Jones and the Last Crusade_ and I'm not going to follow the plot line 
        Dreck looked at Fan.Boy, confused (and half-stunned) by what 
Fan.Boy had just said.
        "Dr. Bill Jates has placed me in situations that mimic scenes 
from the movies. This time, I'm gonna preempt him." Fan.Boy frowned. 
"Now, if I can just remember what happens..."
It was to this end that Fan.Boy and Barry were now in Demon Boy's room, 
searching his wall for a copy of the required video.
        "Come on, come on, it has to be here somewhere..." Fan.Boy 
muttered to himself. He leafed through the titles, all jumbled and in no 
sensible order. "Perhaps Mr. Matinee has it."
        Fan.Boy jerked his head up at the sound of Dreck's voice. He 
looked for his partner, but saw no-one. Fan.Boy had a dread feeling that 
he knew what was happening, and Dr. Bill Jates's entrance into the room 
confirmed it.
        "Good morning, Mr. Knewbee. I would like to talk to you about 
acquiring your services again."
        "If you harm him in any way," Fan.Boy threatened.
        "Who are you talking about?" Jates asked.
        "You know damn well. Dreck. Leave him alone."
        "You mistake me, Mr. Knewbee. I know nothing of your companion. 
I have other ways to force you into my bidding. Perhaps his 
disappearance and my request have a connection other than my 
        Fan.Boy snorted. "Like smeg. What the hell do you want this time?"
        Dr. Jates sat down calmly, a counterpoint to Fan.Boy's barely 
suppressed anger. "I have misplaced a package. It's rather important to 
me. I want you to find it for me."
        "Why? I suppose it's dangerous, deadly, and terminal. Heaven 
forbid anything ever harming you. I mean, even a scratch would be so 
        "Mr. Knewbee," Jates said sharply. "Your sarcasm ill-becomes 
you. This is a most delicate matter, and it looks like your companion 
has fallen prey to the other interested party. If they were to get their 
hands on this package first, the consequences would be catastrophic!"
        Jates was so sincere that Fan.Boy found himself believing him. 
"Just what is this package? What makes it so special that the future of 
the world hangs on it?"
        Jates barked a short laugh. "The fate of the world? Nothing so 
mundane, Mr. Knewbee. I refer to a power that could affect countless 
realities far beyond this tiny existence."
        Fan.Boy could hardly believe his ears at what he next heard. 
"That is why I want you to fid the Holy Mail."
        Fan.Boy didn't know whether to burst out laughing, or cry in 
pain. "You have no idea how truly bad that pun was."
        "Pay attention! This is no matter to be taken lightly. The 
future depends on it, as does the life of your companion."
        "And just who are these people that want this..." Fan.Boy could 
barely bring himself to utter the words. "...Holy Mail?"
        "I believe you already know of them as Bizzes. With the contents 
of the package, they would subsume this and every other reality they 
could get their protubances on."
        "Bizzes? As in that business with Mr. Gain and Rotanna and the 
Vaxx and all that?"
        Jates looked puzzled. "I know nothing of them, but their threat 
is all to real."
        Fan.Boy sighed. He knew when things were getting beyond him. 
"Fine, fine. Where should I start looking?"
        Jates blinked, as if the answer was obvious. "Why, the post 
office, of course."
Fan.Boy walked down the steps of the LNHQ, then stopped. He realised 
that he didn't even know where the post office was. He'd never sent any 
mail, and had never any large packages sent to him that he had to go and 
collect (or mail of any other kind, even).
        He crossed the lawn that spread out in front of the LNHQ, and 
decided to find te nearest Tourist Center for information. Of course, he 
had no idea where that was either.
        The building behind him, the LNHQ, the symbol of all that was 
absurd and wacky in the LNHiverse, exploded, sending rubble flying in 
all directions. Out of the dust and ruins of a once proud structure, 
hundreds of little black things flew.
        Fan.Boy lay sprawled on the pavement where the blast had sent 
him, and listened to the buzzing in his ears.
        He slowly worked out that the buzzing in his ears was in fact 
buzzing *outside* his ears, and he turned to head to see what was 
causing the noise.
        He threw is arms over his head protectively as the mass of wasps 
that had escaped surrounded his body. Fan.Boy scrabbled with one hand, 
and pulled his cape over his head.
        Tiny pin pricks speckled his body, and he stumbled to his feet, 
running. He sprinted onwards, his face covered by his cape, unable to 
see where he was going, but hoping he wasn't going to collide with 
        The pain in his back increased as the wasps attacked more 
ferociously. I thought Bizzes were supposed to be sheep or something, 
Fan.Boy thought.
        Fan.Boy impacted with something, and it gave way before him. 
Fan.Boy heard the sound of breaking glass as he smashed through some 
shop front window. He kept going, hoping to avoid any shards that were 
flying around him, and he felt glass crunch under his feet.
        His feet slipped on a stray piece, then his breath was forced 
from his body as something slammed into Fan.Boy's body.
        I don't remember this in the movie, thought Fan.Boy wildly as he 
tumbled to the ground. He lay there, his ears ringing from the fall and 
the buzzing of insects, and concentrated on getting some sense of sanity 
restored to his mind.
        A few moments later, Fan.Boy realised that he couldn't hear the 
buzzing of insects any more. He raised his cape slowly, and looked 
around, ready to cover his face again if need be.
        He was in a small grocery store, completely alone. It occurred to 
him that he hadn't seen any people while out on the street, but then he 
hardly had time to look.
        There were no signs of the wasps, so he threw his cape back, and 
carefully stood up. His back was now dull pain, and he winced as his 
cape brushed against it.
        He looked around the store, taking in the rows of cans and 
packets on the walls. He had narrowly missed crashing into a display of 
tins when he entered through the window, and it was the counter that he 
had knocked himself against.
        Fan.Boy swung himself over the counter and looked around on the 
other side, searching for something. With an "Aha!", Fan.Boy drew out a 
map of Net.ropolis from under the counter. He opened it up, and scanned 
for the post office.
        According to the map, it was just a few blocks away, but a worry 
struck Fan.Boy.
        Like the LNHQ itself, Net.ropolis had a preponderance for 
transmogrophication. It moved around like a living thing, changing the 
streets and annoying shop owners. (You try to make a living when you 
can't even find your own store from one day to the next.)
        Burying his misgivings, Fan.Boy set out to where the post office 
was supposed to be, trusting in the plot to get him somewhere useful.
        To his surprise, the post office was right where it was supposed 
to be.
        Fan.Boy opened the door and entered. Like before, there was 
nobody in there. The room was well spaced, with a row of teller desks 
along one wall. There were racks of postcards, normal cards, envelopes, 
Handy Boxes and large padded envelopes. A few booths to one side held 
telephones and there were telephone books outside and inside them.
        Nowhere was there any sign of the "Holy Mail".
        Fan.Boy spied a door behind the desks leading further back, and 
headed for it. It opened into a sorting room, complete with franking 
machines, p.o. boxes and mail sacks.
        Fan.Boy looked around idly for a while, randomly checking mail 
sacks, looking for a large package that could destroy the universe. 
During this time, a thought kept hammering at his mind, but he couldn't 
work out what it was.
        Then it clicked. "Of course," he said to himself. "If I'm 
following the movie, I wont find the package here. This is that library 
scene. What happened? What happened?" He thumped the palm of his hand 
into his forehead, trying to remember.
        An envelope caught his eye, and he crossed to it. Fan.Boy picked 
it up, and examined it to see what made it so note-worthy. The address 
        "Agent Sculder
         J. Edgar Hoover Building, D.C."
        "X-files," Fan.Boy muttered to himself. "X-files, X-files, X... 
        That was it! X marks the spot!
        Dropping the letter, Fan.Boy searched for an X somewhere. Seeing 
something of interest on the floor, he shifted the mail bags out of the 
way, revealing a drop chute where the mail was placed. The hatch joined 
together to form an X where the edges met.
        Grinning, Fan.Boy looked for a lever or something to open the 
hatch with, but found nothing. He stomped on the hatch itself. "Open, 
you bastaaaa..." Fan.Boy dropped quickly as the hatch disappeared from 
underneath him.
        He continued screaming as he fall into a mail cart, squashing 
the bags under him.
        "I've had better days," Fan.Boy moaned as he climbed out.
        He peered around in the gloom, making out stacks of packages, 
and passages leading off. "Reminds me of a hive," he muttered, shaking 
his head, trying to clear it.
        Signs above the corridors indicated the contents down them. 
Intercity. Intracity. Special Delivery. Courier. Bulk. LNH.
        Special Delivery sounded about right, so Fan.Boy headed that 
way. As he walked, he saw alcoves off to each side, each containing 
packages to be distributed under certain conditions. That fact that many 
of the alcoves were covered in cobwebs did not improve the post office's 
        One alcove had "X" written above it. Taking this as a sign, 
Fan.Boy entered it. He touched the far wall, and it crumbled away. 
Poking his head through, Fan.Boy could dimly make out a tunnel or 
something. Liquid splashed around the bottom. He touched it, and brought 
it up for examination.
        "Oil," he said. "Peanut butter oil." Fan.Boy wondered how many 
jars had the excess oil poured out of them to create this. Probably just 
one, thought Fan.Boy. Those jars hold gallons. And no matter how many 
times you turn them over, or try to mix it with th real peanut butter, 
there's always a swimming pool of oil to get through.
        He stepped through, and stood on the edges of the tunnel. 
Lighting here was incredibly low, but Fan.Boy could still just make out 
something ahead. He walked forwards carefully, shufflingly along the 
sides. He came to the end of the tunnel without much trouble, and saw 
something on the wall.
        Moving very slowly, trying to create not one small breeze that 
could destroy this important clue, he reached out and took a piece of 
paper off the wall.
        He was studying it when he heard a scampering sound. He looked 
back to see small objects running towards him.
        That's right! Rats! Pleased by remembering what else was in the 
scene, it took a few moments for Fan.Boy to work out that the rats were 
coming for him.
        When he did work it out, Fan.Boy yelped quietly, then dived into 
the oil beneath him. He found another passage leading off, and swam 
through it.
        His lungs were beginning to give out when he shot upwards, and 
bumped into a man-hole cover above him. He managed to heave it out of 
the way, and climbed out onto a street.
        He lay on the street, panting, and glanced at the piece of paper 
in his hand. Completely ruined. Fan.Boy sighed and threw it away. Bits 
of it stuck wetly to his hands, and he picked them off.
        The eerie silence of no people got to him, and Fan.Boy finally 
rose. He peered at a nearby signpost, and nearly jumped out of his skin.
        "Victoria Street??" he asked out loud. He knew a Victoria Street 
all right. Back in New Zealand.
        Tumblers clicked as another part of the movie came back to him. 
"I get it, I get it." Net.Zealand, land where the Bizzes came from. He 
was here to rescue Dreck, just like Indiana Jones went to where the 
Nazis were to rescue his father. No, wait. Fan.Boy frowned. He went to 
Berlin to get the diary, not his father.
        Fan.Boy shrugged. Whatever works.
        He also remembered the delivery order that he had got from the 
post office, before it was destroyed by his swim. The package was sent 
from somewhere around here. Quay. That was it. Now, which way was that?
Twenty minutes later he stood in front of a large building, wondering 
what his attack plan was. This was the building that was specified in 
delivery order. Obviously the package had never been sent.
        Fan.Boy had seen quite a few animals coming and going from the 
building, although fortress would have been a better word. It looked 
like ten inch concrete walls, with steel reinforcing. This impression 
was gained by seeing the doorframe that held the large titanium door 
that was the only entrance to the place.
        The Bizzes were busy ransacking the place, going through it 
slowly, searching every floor for the package. Fan.Boy could also tell 
that they brought Dreck here. He could feel him.
        Unfortunately, Fan.Boy could see no way of getting into him. 
There was chance of going in the front door and brazening his way in. 
While that may have worked for Indiana, Fan.Boy hadn't seen any humans 
to bluff.
        Then a more obvious, but also more dangerous route occurred to 
        Fan.Boy gave a nearby rubbish bin a flying kick and managed to 
nearly break his ankle. He also managed to tear it off its metal 
housing. With a grunt, he picked it up, and heaved it through a window 
on the bottom floor on the building beside the one he wanted.
        Knocking the remaining shards away, he entered and ran for the 
lift. Although he had chosen a side away from the entrance of the 
building, he couldn't be sure that the Bizzes wouldn't come to 
investigate the sharp noise.
        He took the lift to the sixth floor and searched for a room with 
a view to the building he wanted. He found it, but had to go up to the 
seventh floor to get what he wanted. Once there, Fan.Boy opened the 
window, and climbed out onto the ledge. Leaning out carefully, he took 
his whip and flicked it out. The end wrapped around the balcony rail 
that was outside an eighth floor window, and Fan.Boy aimed himself for 
the window underneath it.
        Kicking out, Fan.Boy sailed through space for a heartrending 
moment before crashing through the window on the other side. He stumbled 
to a halt, and unwrapped the whip.
        Something smashed over his head, and Fan.Boy reeled. He fell 
against a wall. He held an arm up, and his opponent moved into the 
light, ready to hit him again.
        It was a human, a rather frightened looking man.
        "Hey, stop," said Fan.Boy.
        The man halted abruptly. "What? Hey, you're human."
        "Yeah, I know. What'd you do that for?"
        "I thought you were an animal, one of them."
        "Do they come in through the window?"
        The man shrugged. "Probably could."
        Fan.Boy frowned. He though the dialogue went a bit differently 
in the movie, but gave it up.
        "I don't suppose you know where I could find a package that was 
supposed to be delivered to Net.ropolis?"
        The man pointed. "Over there. I was supposed to send it, but 
then those animals attacked and I've been stuck here ever since."
        Fan.Boy crossed to the desk the man indicated. "Do you know why 
there isn't anyone else around here?" he asked idly.
        "Not really. All I know is that I'm being paid overtime to come 
in and deal with this. Not enough in my opinion."
        Fan.Boy looked on the desk for the sacred Holy Mail, and groaned 
when he saw it. He picked the package up, and turned it over in his hands.
        He'd been concentrating so hard on remembering the movie that 
when he'd heard "Holy Mail" he thought it was like the Holy Grail. 
However, he should have been thinking of _Batman Forever_. The packing 
paper was wrapped tightly around the object, even when the object's 
surface took unexpected turns.
        The package was Holey, not Holy. It reminded Fan.Boy of those 
Irish calculators. A piece of wood that fitted over the fingers with 
numbers written on it and such. It was a handgrip of some sort, but felt 
heavier than wood. Fan.Boy gave the wrapping an experimental tug, but it 
was fastened securely.
        Noises down the hall brought Fan.Boy back to reality. He was 
currently trapped in a building with hundreds of animals looking for the 
package he held in his hind. Not a pleasant scenario.
        "Where does that lead?" Fan.Boy asked, pointing to the door.
        "Out into a main corridor. They'll spot us in seconds," the man 
        "Then we'll just have to not be here."
One minute later, a bear knocked the door to the office down. It 
shuffled in and sniffed around for the package. It spotted the open 
window, and crossed over for a look.
        The bear shuffled back out.
        The search went on.
One floor lower, Fan.Boy and the man stood quietly, hoping no-one heard 
the smash as they entered through the window. After counting to one 
hundred in his head, Fan.Boy decided to take the risk.
        He gently eased the door open, and poked his head out. Plenty 
of animal tracks still around, but no signs of the animals themselves.
        "Right, we're outta here," Fan.Boy said.
        "I can't leave," said the man.
        "Why not? Now's the safest time."
        "I can't give up my overtime pay," replied the man, miffed.
        Fan.Boy cocked an eyebrow at this, but let it go. He didn't have 
time to worry about things like that.
        Letting himself out, Fan.Boy crept to the stairwell, and 
listened carefully. He could hear plenty of noise from above, but the 
curving stairwell hid him from any observers.
        With exaggerated care, Fan.Boy stepped down the stairs. Pausing 
at each level, he listened for sounds before continuing to the next level.
        He was at the seconds floor before he asked himself how he was 
going to find Dreck. If Dreck was on one of the floors above him, he had 
passed straight by without even thinking of checking.
        Still, the first floor would be the most sensible choice. But, 
having guards would also be a sensible choice. Still, that would enable 
him to find the room.
        On the first floor, Fan.Boy found himself ducking in and out of 
rooms as he tried to avoid being found. Eventually, he located one where 
no-one was going in or out, yet there were horses outside it. That must 
be the one.
        Remembering one of the rooms he had been in, Fan.Boy backtracked 
until he found a tearoom. A little bit of searching revealed what he was 
looking for.
        Returning to the horses, he strode into view, and they whinnied 
at him. He held out his hand, and that became their centre of attention.
        "Good horsies, nice horsies," cooed Fan.Boy. "Horsies like some 
sugar?" He fed each horse a couple of the sugar cubes he had found. They 
nayed softly, and Fan.Boy eased past them into the room beyond.
        Inside, the room was completely blocked off. No air vents, no 
windows, only the one guarded door, which fitted like an airlock. Just 
the sort of room to keep someone hostage in.
        And Dreck was the hostage in it.
        They hugged each other warmly. "Oh Dreck," Barry said. "I'm so 
glad to find you."
        "I tried to escape," said Dreck. "The walls would not let me 
        "Never mind. We can get away now."
        Exiting the room, Fan.Boy wondered just how they going to 
achieve that.
The animals and insects around the door swirled and scattered as two 
horses, one bearing Fan.Boy, the other Dreck, charged through. Their 
hooves clattered on the road as they raced away.
        "Where are we going?" Dreck called over the wind.
        "To the airport. We got to get away from here."
        Conversation proved too difficult as they were forced to 
concentrate on their riding or fall off. Although they were chased, 
Fan.Boy led them a merry dance through town before shaking all of them 
        Out at the airport, they saw a plane taking off as they arrived, 
and another one landing. However, when they got inside, they saw no-one 
at all. No-one behind the desk to buy tickets from, and no-one carrying 
luggage around, looking at the duty-free items.
        They walked through the building, their shoes clicking loudly on 
the steel floor.
        "Who is flying the planes?" Dreck asked.
        "I think they must be automated. That's the only explanation I 
can think of. Come on, we'll board the first plane out of here."
        They entered a the departure terminal, and soon broke through 
the barriers and were sitting on the plane. Once it had taken off, they 
decided to go up to the cockpit.
        Dreck looked at the readouts. "Wow. This plane is headed for 
        "Net.ropolis?" Fan.Boy asked, dreading.
        "Yes," replied Dreck, surprised. "How did you know?"
        "It would have to be," Fan.Boy said, a smile twitching at his 
lips. "It's gonna take a while to get there."
        "What should we do?"
        "I think we'll come up with something," said Barry, pulling 
Dreck to him.
Fan.Boy and Dreck were walking down Rackham Avenue when Dreck finally 
asked "Where are we going?"
        "I have absolutely no idea. With the LNHQ destroyed, I can't 
really think of a suitable alternative for the meeting." To their right 
lay the still smoking ruins of the strangest building in Net.ropolis.
        "Meeting? What meeting?"
        "The meeting with me," came the reply from behind.
        It's amazing how many villains turn up behind the heroes, 
thought Fan.Boy as he whirled around.
        "Greetings once more, Mr. Knewbee," said Dr. Jates. "I see you 
have the package for me."
        Behind Dr. Jates stood all the creatures that Fan.Boy had 
encountered so far. Bears, wasps, horses, snakes, giraffes, even 
        "You," accused Fan.Boy. "You were behind the Bizzes all the time."
        "What a better way to cover all bases, Mr. Knewbee," said 
Jates. "Now, if you will follow me?"
        "Where are we going?" asked Fan.Boy.
        "To the Town Hall. With our usual accommodation denied to us, it's 
the next best substitution."
        "And what exactly do you plan to do once we get there?"
        "Why, the final confrontation, of course. It's so dramatic, 
don't you think?" Jates held out his hand. "The package, please."
        "Never," growled Fan.Boy.
        Jates put his hand away. "As you wish."
        Eyeing Dr. Jates warily, Fan.Boy asked Dreck out of the side of 
his mouth "What do you think?"
        "I do not see that we have much choice."
        Indeed. As they had been talking, the animals and birds had 
slowly surrounded them on all sides but one. Taking the only route left, 
Fan.Boy and Dreck fell in behind Dr. Jates as he led the way.
        "This place is so fascinating, don't you think Mr. Knewbee? All 
this variety and choice, all within an easy walk of your local hero base."
        "Just how do you know my name?" asked Fan.Boy, finally getting 
to something that been bugging him for a while.
        "I know all about you, Mr. Knewbee. I've had my eye on you for 
quite some time now. I must admit that it comes as something of a slight 
disappointment that you do not remember me."
        "I've never met you before this. I'm sure I'd remember a raving 
        "Ah, but you do not know me like this. Never mind. It shall all 
become transparent later on."
        It was Dreck's turn for a question. "Why are there no people 
        "Too... tricky. I've always had trouble getting the mindless 
drongos just right. It was far easier to create a program with only the 
essential population real," Jates said.
        "Create a program?" repeated Fan.Boy. "What do you mean by that?"
        "Oh, come now, Mr. Knewbee. Surely you've worked it out by now. 
You're in the Peril Room still. All this is but a fabulous fabrication." 
Jates indicated the town around them with a wave of his hand.
        "The Peril Room. But I left there," said Fan.Boy.
        "Have you never seen that dreary _Star Trek_ episode 'Ship in a 
Bottle'? That really could have worked, you know, but it came out quite 
flat. Still, that's _Star Trek_ for you."
        Fan.Boy's mind reeled. It had never occurred to him. Still, that 
would explain how he got to Net.Zealand so easily. And why Dreck 
couldn't get through the walls. They had to be that energy type they 
came across in the lost park. And it also meant...
        "The LNHers," Fan.Boy said. "They're all right. It was just a 
copy of them that was killed."
        "Quite," said Jates, somewhat amused that Fan.Boy had taken this 
long to realise it.
        "Now, in here if you will." Fan.Boy looked up to see them 
standing outside the town hall.
        "First challenge, a maze. Quite simple, but something to be 
traversed. You go first," Jates commanded.
        Fan.Boy looked through the door. It gave into a short corridor 
that bent after a few meters. Fan.Boy could also see a slot that a sword 
would probably come flying out of.
        "Why should I?" Fan.Boy bluffed.
        Jates's hand moved light lightening, and in an instant he had a 
gun pointing at Dreck's head. "Because if you don't, I shall kill your 
        "If you do, I shall hunt you down, and kill you time and time 
again," Fan.Boy threatened through gritted teeth.
        "No need for heroics. Just lead the way."
        Fan.Boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He entered the 
doorway and started down the passage. Near the slot he saw before, he 
ducked, and the blade missed his head by inches.
        "Very good, Mr. Knewbee. Go on."
        In this manner, Fan.Boy led them through the maze. It took only 
a few turns before they were through.
        The room in front of them held a small table and two chairs. On 
the table was a Scrabble set.
        "First we walk down a trap filled corridor, and now we play with 
words," muttered Fan.Boy. "I can't wait for the non-existent bridge."
        Despite Fan.Boy's growing apprehension, Jates and Fan.Boy sat 
down and played a game of Scrabble against one another, Dreck's life as 
the prize.
        Fan.Boy won with the final word 'zyzzle'. "That's what you get 
for playing with a trick set," he commented.
        Next was the bridge. It was every bit a chasm as Fan.Boy thought 
it was.
        "You first, Mr. Knewbee," said Jates.
        "Hey, I know how this works." Picking up some nearby gravel, he 
threw it out into the chasm. It fell right through the point where a 
bridge was supposed to be, and on downwards.
        Fan.Boy watched the dirt fall out of sight, his stomach going 
with it.
        "Umm, maybe you should..."
        "You first," Jates said firmly, pressing the gun harder into 
Dreck's head.
        Fan.Boy closed his head, and took a step out. His foot went 
down, down, down... and touched something solid. Fan.Boy opened his eyes 
and looked down. He couldn't see what he was standing on.
        "A mass initiated force-field, Mr. Knewbee. Once enough mass lies 
on it, the bridge/force-field comes into play."
        Fan.Boy led the way over, and through the far door.
        The next room was, as Fan.Boy expected, full of cups. Cups of 
all shapes and sizes, and made of all kinds of materials. Also, they 
were filled with all kinds of liquids. Some bubbled, some lay there, and 
some where eating through their holders.
        Also, in the center of the room, was the ceremonial box that 
Fan.Boy and Dreck had found in the park, still unopened.
        "What's that doing here?" Fan.Boy asked.
        "It is almost time for its use," Jates said. "Now, if you want 
to know everything, I suggest you choose your drink wisely."
        "You really want me to go through with this?"
        Jates cocked the gun. "You don't have a choice."
        "Be careful, Barry," was Dreck's comment.
        Fan.Boy looked for one cup in particular. He finally saw a small 
wooden one. Picking it up, he saw it contained clear liquid.
        "This is the one," he said, and took a quick swing, downing its 
contents in one go.
        Splash page:
        Fan.Boy lies collapsed on the floor, his body spasming. Dreck is 
kneeling beside him, cradling him, a horrified look on his face. Jates 
stands behind them, laughing, saying "That was the wrong cup, Mr. 
        "The Post Cause Raid."
        by Jamas Enright
Next Issue: Everything comes together as more gets revealed about 
Fan.Boy than you thought possible. What's in the package? What's in the 
ornate box?
Find out in _Fan.Boy #15_: "Wet Dreams"
That's right. It's time for a give-away! The question I want answered is:
What is in the ornate box?
All winners shall receive advance copies of _Fan.Boy #15_.
Rules of the house: One answer only, please, per person. Competition 
closes January 31th. Prizes sent out on February 1st.
All mine. Easy, eh?
Back to the Index.