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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
anymore."
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."
"Ba-"
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
intervention."
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
devastating."
"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
anything.
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
read:
"Agent Sculder
F.B.I.
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washing.net, D.C."
"X-files," Fan.Boy muttered to himself. "X-files, X-files, X...
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
reputation.
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.
Lampto.net 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
him.
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
replied.
"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.
Nothing.
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
through."
"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
off.
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
Ame.rec.a."
"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
elephants.
"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
megalomanic."
"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
here?"
"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
lover."
"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.
Knewbee."
"The Post Cause Raid."
by Jamas Enright
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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"
COMPETITION TIME!
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.
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Credits:
All mine. Easy, eh?
Back to the Index.