Episode #10: Strawberry Fields
Or, How I Spent My Weekend Kicking Crime Butt
Darkness. Rain. Something was pulling at her, pulling—
She looked beneath her, at the fast-approaching ground. Gravity was pulling her down inexorably, to be smashed against the rocks below. She looked up through her rain-spattered vision at the people above her, peering over the edge of the cliff as she fell farther and farther away. Among the crowd was a girl, strangely clear and detailed among the smudgy grey haze. She stared coldly from where she stood at the edge, as if, as if—
As if she were waiting—
* * *
Jen awoke with a start as the alarm clock near her head clicked on and began playing the radio. Groaning, the sometimes-Argonaut, sometimes-student rolled over and irritably pushed the snooze button, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep before having to get up and face another day.
She had dreamed last night. Straining her drowsy mind, she couldn’t remember any details besides a cold greyness. Ah, well, it probably wasn’t a very happy dream anyway, so she could stand forgetting it. She grimaced, however, as something gnawed at the back of her mind, as if she were forgetting something. Something in the dream? Naaahh . . .
The alarm clock began to play again, and this time she managed to pull herself out of bed. As she washed her face and got dressed, the uneasy feeling dissipated to the point where she decided that it must’ve been in the dream and, the dream being over, it didn’t matter anymore. With a clear mind, she shoved her English books into her backpack and headed off for class, ready for anything.
* * *
Josh sat in his tiny excuse for a room in Catfish Hall, Mozart playing from his stereo. He tapped away at his computer (which was hooked up to the Crime Computer, so he didn’t have to go down to the Dungeon whenever he wanted to do some research), desperate for a lead as to where this implicit ‘big boss’ was. He knew Darth wasn’t it, as he’d come up rather suddenly and, in the end, had said he was going to withdraw his power from Moadville. He also was fairly sure Darth wasn’t a minion of the big boss—whom they’d nicknamed ‘The Boss’. No, Darth was too independent to work as an underling to anyone else; it just wasn’t his style.
Josh drummed his fingers on the small amount of desk space next to his keyboard—the tiny space he’d cleared away among pewter miniatures and psychology textbooks. There must be something he’s missing, some basic clue that could fit everything together. Bringing up the Crime Computer’s specialized search engine, he began to look for listings of Darfeld Senshire’s connections.
Most of it was really standard to Senshire—investments in historical societies, sponsorships to museums. Josh rubbed his chin. Maybe, instead of looking for where he placed his money, a better question would be where he got his money. After all, working for an Evil Overlord, he must’ve received some salary.
Several names came up: Tsunami Heavy Industries, Evvil Badgai Inc., Double-A Cybertechnologies, and others that Josh suspected were mainly dummy corporations. He set the search engine to comb through the backgrounds of all the businesses, hoping to root out which were the real ones.
The phone rang. Josh jumped, then grabbed the receiver. "Hello?"
"Hello, Joshua Park. This is a warning that your requested budget form is due at the next treasury meeting, Wednesday at midnight. Come alone." *click*
Josh mulled over the sound of the dial tone at the other end, then growled and hung up the phone. The only downfall of being treasurer for the on-campus gaming club was that he was the go-between to the Student Government. He shuddered. Their meetings always raised his banality rating by at least two points and left him feeling queasy and cynical, as they harped on every little detail of any document he put forth. And the fact that they’d sponsored the administration’s requirements that all students take economics courses didn’t help his opinion of them. Then again, what did he expect from politicians-in-training?
Sighing, he picked up the budget forms that lay on the corner of his desk. Putting aside thoughts of saving the city from evil villains, he hunched over the paper to attempt to cut through some red tape instead.
* * *
They’re here, Linnea smirked to herself. They’re right beyond this door; I finally have them trapped! She eased around the doorjamb, and slid into the room, blocking the only entrance. "Hold it!" she demanded, bringing her pistol up.
Brian, Keibert, Jen and Charlie looked up from where they sat at the table in the middle of the activities room, chatting about the latest episode of Tenchi Muyo. "Um…yes?" Brian asked.
"Okay, now no one’s leaving until I get some answers."
"Ooh, ooh!" Jen said, waving her hand above her head frantically.
Linnea sighed in exasperation. "Yes?"
"Francis Scott Key!" she exclaimed. "Am I right?"
Linnea blinked.
"You said you wanted answers. You didn’t say to which questions," Jen pointed out.
The beautiful bounty hunter frowned, and yanked out her whip, cracking it once across the table. "That’s enough of your wise-cracking! I want information! What do you know about the Argonauts?"
"The ones in Greek Mythology?" Charlie asked. "Weren’t they going after the Golden Fleece or something?"
"No, these Argonauts!" She whipped out a bunch of photos and threw them onto the table. They were obviously pictures of Brian, Jen, Keibert, Charlie and Josh, but since they were in their respective costumes, there was no way the Average Citizen could tell.
"Hmm…never seen one of them before," said Charlie, picking up a picture of Flip. "But this guy sure looks very cool!"
Linnea growled in frustration. "Fang!" she called for her wolf. "Fang, where are you?" She turned around and her eyes widened. Her trained attack wolf, who would never get close to anyone besides Linnea without biting their hand off, was sitting next to Keibert on one table, the latter scratching him casually behind the ears.
Whirling on Brian, she growled and began pacing. "Damn it! Your forces are impenetrable!" Her thoughts were running a mile a minute. She was sure that Brian, even if he were probably too incompetent and foolish to be an Argonaut, knew something about them, at the very least. But so far her attempts to get information from him had her running in circles. Questions led to more questions, and answers were always ambiguous.
"Don’t you worry," Linnea finally said, turning on Brian once again and whipping her long, blonde hair over one shoulder. "I’ll find the Argonauts one day, just you wait." And with that, she turned to walk gracefully out of the room. "Come on, Fang."
The wolf bounded after her, followed closely by Keibert. "Sure thing," he drooled, gazing in the direction of the well-endowed bounty hunger.
"Not you, Keibert," Jen said, grabbing him by the collar.
"Aww man…"
* * *
The library was quiet that afternoon. Jen hefted her filled-to-capacity bookbag and walked between the aisles of old books in the direction of the study section. There, desks and tables were arranged neatly, and chairs were arranged facing out of the large windows, commanding a full view of the valley spread out before the college. It was a beautiful view, and extremely tempting on a sunny day like this. Giving in, Jen sank into a nice thick chair in front of one of the windows and pulled out her copy of Huckleberry Finn. If she was going to be inside reading, it might as well be a place with a nice view.
The only problem with reading in front of a large sunny window is that after a while it gets harder to read. Finally, rationalizing that she needed a ten-minute break, Jen put aside the book and gazed out over the small town of Moadville. Women pushed baby carriages, children ran home from school, men walked their dogs. And among it all—
Someone was watching her.
She gazed out of the corner of her eye. A girl stood on a street corner, looking at her. She knew that girl, that cold, cold stare—
Falling. Jen fell back in her chair as the sudden sensation gripped her, forced the air out of her lungs. She gasped, but all the air seemed to be cold and wet, drowning her as she plummeted—
The sensation disappeared. Jen sat up again, a chill creeping up her spine at the thought of what had just happened. She looked out the window again, but the little girl was gone.
"Weird…" Jen breathed, then sank back into the chair.
* * *
Meanwhile, in a place that was very evil (you could kind of tell by the creepy orchestral music playing in the background), evil people were making evil plans for an evil crime and a good bake sale (just kidding; I threw in that last one to see if you were paying attention). In fact, it was a very evil bake sale they were planning. But that’s beside the point. What was really important was the evil crime they were planning.
"Has the Boss gotten the funds yet?"
"Yup; transferred them over from his Swiss accounts just this morning."
"You do know most of it’s going to be transferred to the Splicers," one of the men pointed out.
"Doesn’t matter, as long as we get our fair share."
"We’d better, after this job." The man laughed bitterly. "Here we are, the greatest thieves in North America, and we get stuck as ‘bait’ duty for one of the Minions!"
"Quit yapping!" their leader cut in harshly, smacking the offender against the side of his head. "If the Boss wants us to do our thing just to be ‘bait’, then we’ll be the best damn ‘bait’ he’s ever seen!" His voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "Besides, let the Minion stand in the line of fire. You heard what those Argonauts did to the last one, D. S."
The other three nodded.
"So the rest of you get your stuff together," their leader barked, "and let’s get to it!"
* * *
"Can’t sleep, need coffee…can’t sleep, need coffee…can’t sleep, need—"
Josh was in his usual sleeping position: draped over the keyboard of a computer, piles of unfinished assignments and unread essays laying scattered around him. Such was the life of a college junior.
The screen near him clicked on to reveal a shadowed silhouette of a rather rotund man with a cowboy hat. "Hello, Josh—" he began, but cut off. He leaned closer to the screen. "Hey, the kid’s asleep," Bill the Commissioner said. "In that case…" and he pulled out a French horn, took a deep breath, and played the highest and loudest note he could.
"Can’t sleep, need—WWAAAAAHHH!!!!!" Josh jumped straight up out of his seat.
"Wow, didn’t know you knew how to cling to ceilings like that," Bill crowed jovially.
Josh, his face embedded about two inches into the ceiling, made only a muffled reply. Removing his face, he groaned, "Lots of practice," before dropping to the floor with a crash.
Bill sat back for a moment to let Josh get his bearings and climb back into his chair. Then he let loose with the news. "There’s a robbery in progress at the Double-A Cybertechnologies Warehouse down on 7th Street. I was lucky to have caught you already here in the Dungeon instead of having to call your room."
"What time is it?" Josh asked groggily. The name of the company sounded oddly familiar, but in his current mental state, he couldn’t place it.
"Only three a.m.," Bill said casually.
"Three in the morning?!" Josh half-exclaimed, half-groaned. He sighed. "All right, I’ll call the others."
* * *
A short time later, all five Argonauts were standing outside the specified warehouse, all looking like they’d just woken up (which, in fact, most of them had). Brian, however, was actually entering the hyperactive stage of sleep-deprivation, so he seemed perkier than the rest.
"What’s the deal?" Super Jen demanded. "I’m gonna pound these guys good, just for waking me up this early!"
"The fist of justice can never sleep in a world of evil," Flip intoned dramatically.
"Yeah, well, that too," Brian said off-handedly.
Seeker was busy priming the weapons on the Soyokaze. "Let’s get this show on the road, then; and we can all get back to school and sleep." He aimed the laser rifle, and blasted the door open.
"Um, couldn’t we have tried the handle first?" Super Jen asked.
"No time for details," Pouch hedged smoothly and moved into the warehouse. The others shrugged and followed him into the shadowy interior.
* * *
"Let’s go!" said a dark-clad figure, moving among the scattered boxes of the warehouse. "Open up those crates and let’s get the goods!"
One of the other three figures, her long red hair pulled up and hidden beneath her hat, produced a crow bar and slid it between the slats on the first crate, marked "Highly Advanced Weapons Technology". One of the men, the requisite buff, broad-shouldered goon with blonde hair slicked back, caught the side of the crate as it fell apart from the box, before it could clatter loudly on the floor. The third figure, leaner of form, his black hair pulled back in a ponytail, got down on all fours and shuffled through the popcorn Styrofoam in the box, revealing an odd-looking laser cannon.
"There it is, boss," the woman said gleefully.
"Get the straps ready, Switch; we’ll haul it to the docking bay," their leader said. He was not quite as tall as the big blonde goon, of medium build with a brown, well-trimmed goatee.
The pony-tailed man, Switch, pulled from his belt several strong straps, unrolling and wrapping them around the cannon, which was a transparent tube mounted on a wheeled base, about the size of a large dog. Switch practically salivated at the wires and buttons surrounding the tube; he couldn’t wait to dissect it, once they got it to base. The large goon-type thief had lifted it to the electronic lift, and the woman jumped down from the catwalk to go outside and start up the truck that waited at the loading dock. The leader oversaw the whole operation, placing one foot casually on the catwalk’s railing and looking out over the whole of the warehouse.
"Shade?"
The leader looked up. "Yes, what is it, Switch?"
"Looks like we might have trouble." He pointed to the door on the far side of the warehouse. Or, more precisely, the smoking hole where the door used to be.
Shade looked up decisively. "Rock, get that thing onto the lift, then take care of them. And remember, don’t completely engage them; remember, we’re just the bait."
"Sure thing, boss," the muscle-bound goon grinned. He dropped the machinery onto the lift with as much delicacy as any muscle-bound goon had, then let Switch take over the controls. Jumping off of the catwalk (for Rock had always preferred the direct approach), he landed on the hard concrete floor very loudly, considering that his size had caused ripples of cracks to spread from where his feet impacted.
The Argonauts waited patiently for the smoke to clear but, as said before, Rock was one for a more direct approach. Hurtling into the smoke before anyone could notice him (although they had noticed the very loud sound of concrete being crushed), his huge ham-fist pounded into the first available target, making a rather loud dent in the Soyokaze’s outer armer.
"What the—?!" Was all Seeker could mutter as he frantically worked the controls to compensate for the damage, at the same time trying to identify what had just attacked him.
"Ah, it’s ze big goon . . ." Pouch said, grinning and locking his feather-sword into position. "And vhere’d he go?" He peered into the smoke-cloud.
The fist came out of the clouds again, and smashed into Pouch’s chest, throwing him back onto the floor. Pouch rolled as he fell, landing in such a way to lessen the damage, then rolled back onto his feet. His perpetual grin was still playing on his lips, though now he was staggering. "So, ye vannah play rough, eh?"
"Who are you?!" Super Jen demanded, trying to see through the haze. Getting annoyed, she fixed a glare on the cloud of raised dust. "Get out of the way!" The cloud sweatdropped and meekly rolled away.
At that moment, three more black-clad figures jumped from the catwalk like streaks of shadow. But before they landed, one of them had spread open his half-cape and sent a barrage of smoke bombs onto the area in front of the Argonauts. By the time the smoke cleared, those three figures were arrayed dramatically with the big goon.
The red-haired woman grinned and indicated the group. "We are . . ."
"The Black Dogs!" they declared in unison.
"The greatest thieves in all of North America!"
There was a pause. " . . . Wha—?"
"Scout!" the woman said, posing.
"Switch!" said the man with the ponytail and half-cape, doing the same.
"Rock!" the big groon growled, flexing his gratuitous muscles.
"And Shade," said the man with the brown goatee, bowing slightly. "At your service."
Brian scratched his head. "Wow, if these are the only villains we’re going up against this week, we got off pretty easy!"
A vein popped out on Shade’s forehead. "How dare you insult us! We are the Black Dogs!"
"And this is supposed to impress us how?" Super Jen asked. Suddenly, out of nowhere came the heavy scent of strawberries. She looked around, seriously weirded out by that smell; last time she had experienced it, something had possessed her.
"It is the scent of our princess," said a tall, long-haired woman in a black leather bikini, who was suddenly standing behind her.
"Oh, shut up, Sailor Star Maker!"
"Sorry."
Anyway, back to the scent of strawberries. It was so heavy now that it was starting to give her a headache. She began rubbing her temples as her surroundings began to blur into a grayish haze. She could barely hear voices around her—
"Hey, Super Jen, are you all right?" "Do you smell something?" "It’s like strawberries…" "I—I can’t move!" "Can’t…stay…awake…or…speak in…complete sentences…"
"Guys…" Super Jen muttered, sinking to her knees, "we gotta…fight it…"
The Black Dogs merely grinned as the Argonauts collapsed, one by one.
"Well, boss?" Switch asked. "She’s taken them; should we get out of here?" Although he tried to offer it up as a purely logical suggestion, he nonetheless couldn’t keep all the anxiety out of his voice.
But before Shade could answer, a cold voice carried through the air like a night breeze. "Leave . . ."
"I wouldn’t be inclined to argue," Switch said, smiling.
"Let’s go," said Shade. He turned and quickly strode to the far exit, where their escape van waited, carrying the highly-experimental laser cannon. He could already feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as the temperature dropped severely. Once he got to the door, he glanced quickly over his shoulder—
And saw an image of a small girl, her skin gray, her eyes cold, her cheeks sunken. She slowly looked up to face him, and Shade could feel his spine go stiff like it were encased in ice. He barely managed to pull his vision away and, putting one foot in front of the other, managed to stagger out of the warehouse.
"Boss? You all right?" Scout asked as Shade slid into his seat in the van.
"Yes, yes," he said, trying not to focus on what he’d just saw. He was out of the warehouse; that was all that mattered. "What are you waiting for? Let’s go!"
Scout nodded and hit the gas. The van peeled away from the loading dock and disappeared into the night.
* * *
Flip opened his eyes to face darkness. At once, every muscle was tensed and ready for action. He got into a crouched position and surveyed the area around him. More blackness, stretching off into infinity in every direction. He didn’t like this at all.
Something appeared behind him. Tensing for action, he turned around very slowly. It was a young girl. She was wearing a pale pink spring dress and a bonnet, and her brown hair hung down to just below her shoulders. And she was soaking wet from head to toe.
She cocked her head at Flip and eyed him for a long moment. "Will you play with me?" she asked him, in a quiet, cold voice.
Flip raised an eyebrow. "Play with…?" Suddenly, he was knocked back as something punched him several times in the chest. He fell back into a semi-crouch and looked around him, but no one was there except the girl, and she hadn’t moved.
She blinked. "You don’t like this game?" she asked him. "You haven’t even played it enough to really tell if it’s fun." Several more punches. Flip moved back several feet.
Flip’s mind raced. The punches were fiercer this time, but…
He braced himself. "Very well. I’ll play your game."
"You will?" The girl looked genuinely interested, as if that hadn’t been the answer she’d expected. "Good!"
Several more punches. This time, Flip continued to keep himself still, bracing himself against the impact. When the attack was finished, he smiled, and launched himself at the girl. The punches hadn’t been lacking in force, but each attack had been in the same pattern. Which meant, now that he’d confirmed that pattern—
He could feel the air pressure around him change as the invisible punches came, but now he knew where they were aiming, so dodging was a snap. With a deftness akin to shadows, he darted left and right, all the while headed for the girl. He pulled back one fist, and slammed it with all his might at her shoulder.
"I don’t like this game anymore," came the voice as Flip’s fist passed through her. Suddenly, she was behind him, and he was off-balance and falling. He hadn’t expected an ordinary punch to hurt her, anyway; she didn’t seem like a normal girl. But he’d at least expected some physical substance. But now it was too late; the nonexistent ground gave way, and he was falling through space, with nothing to grab onto. He saw her above him in the distance, looking down at him like he were some detestable insect. "Let’s play something else."
Flip looked up. He’d landed in something soft and fluffy and, from the sound of it, it squeaked. Trying to gain a foothold in what seemed to be a mass of fur, he managed to get to his feet and look around him.
Large, dewy eyes stared back. The room, wherever he was, was piled with cute, fluffy little animals.
"KAWAAAIIIIII!!!!!!!!" he exclaimed, going superdeformed and waving his now-chibi appendages all over the place in his excitement. Enemy forgotten, he danced around the room to savor in the unbelievable cuteness of it all. "KAWAAIIIIIIIIII!!!!"
"Now," said the little girl, "for the next game."
* * *
Seeker was seated patiently in his mecha, pushing buttons. Actually, to the untrained eye he was merely pushing buttons. But, to trained eyes—namely, his own—he was trying to make the best of his time, ever since he regained consciousness to find himself in a strange room. It looked like the warehouse, as far as he could tell, only—warped somehow. The sky outside was storming, and everything generally seemed creepier and damper. He couldn’t get any readings from outside of the warehouse, which meant that either he was surrounded by some sort of field which was interfering with outside communications, or he was in a broken-off section of subspace. Either way, he really couldn’t do much. Since he was also broken off from connection with the main Crime Computer, that meant that he couldn’t spend his time looking up the backgrounds of the so-called Black Dogs, perhaps who had recently hired them, and from that possibly extract the identity of his mysterious attacker. As it was, he was taking readings on the strange environment, hoping to gain some clue as to how to escape.
Whoever it was who’d trapped him wasn’t to be underestimated, he decided. Anyone who could either set up this kind of distortion field or create a pocket of subspace was bound to be formidable.
Suddenly, all of his screens went static, and were replaced with the image of a pale-skinned girl who was soaking wet. "Play with me…?" she asked over the speaker system, overriding his WinAmp, which had currently been playing Moxy Fruvous’s ‘King of Spain’. Drat! And he’d liked that song, too! Well, down to business.
The girl appeared suddenly in the room, in front of him. She raised one arm. "Meet my friends! You can play with them first." At that moment, several skinny, clawed demon-things leapt out at the Soyokaze.
Seeker was jarred around in his seat as the creatures rammed bodily into the mecha. He armed the laser cannons and began firing at them as they leapt and darted around him, hissing and grinning maniacally (the demons, not him—although the image of Seeker hissing and grinning maniacally is not without its humor). He managed to take out a few with a hail of shots, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep up with all of them at this rate. He needed them to spread out, so he can take them out one by one. Engaging the booster engine, the Soyokaze half-flew, half-jumped out of the mass of demons, who turned around and jumped after him; as he’d expected, they didn’t move all in one clump, allowing him to shoot down several more of them as they came at him individually.
The girl frowned, and the rest of the demons disappeared. She lifted her head to glare at Seeker, then she slowly smiled. "I know your seeec-ret . . ." she said in a sing-song voice, then disappeared.
Seeker blinked. That wasn’t good, he thought. Mind racing, he began punching buttons furiously, checking all of Soyokaze’s defenses and weak points, increasing shielding in areas that the enemy might exploit.
"I’m not theeee-eere . . ." came the creepy voice after Seeker double-checked a knee-joint. Her cold face appeared on the viewscreen again. Seeker squinted, trying to figure out what was behind her. His eyes widened. If that was so, then…not only had she shrunk herself, but she was inside the Soyokaze. And behind her, in a tiny, inaccessible (or so Seeker had thought) space inside the mecha’s control unit, was the Soyokaze’s emergency Off Switch.
"Oh, shoot—" was all he managed to say before she pushed it. At once, the mecha’s power shut off, and it sank to its knees, unmoving. Inside the cockpit, Seeker pounded on all the controls and power switches, to no avail. The Soyokaze wasn’t going anywhere. With one last futile pound on the keyboard, Seeker dropped his head, swearing under his breath.
Over the intercom came a creepy, frozen laughter, followed by a quiet voice saying, "I’ve won, Argonaut . . ."
* * *
Pouch sat Indian-style in the middle of the void, smiling ever-so-slighty. "Vell?" he asked the person whom he knew was there. "Vhat are yeh gonna do now? I’m vright here." He looked up and around at the endless blackness. "And I know ye’re here, too."
The blackness wavered, and was replaced by a warped version of the warehouse, as if it had fallen into neglect and had been left to the elements for twenty years. Pouch stood up just as the concrete buckled, and thick vines shot out, wrapping around him. Strawberry vines.
They tightened around him uncomfortably, but Pouch still smiled. As he’d expected, his attacker appeared before him then: a sodden girl with sunken, empty eyes and pale, dead skin.
"Why do you still smile?" the girl asked him. "I can kill you." The vines squeezed harder.
Pouch bowed his head. "Return to zee earth, spirit," he said. "Your time in this exiztence has ended. It’s been over for a long time."
The girl frowned. "No," she said in a cold voice, her eyes glowing slightly. "I’m not leaving. I can’t leave, so I won’t ever."
The vines squeezed tighter. Suddenly, in a motion too quick to track, the vines were slashed apart by Pouch’s sword, falling to pieces on the broken concrete. The Argonaut held his sword out to the wraith. "Return to Mother Earth, spirit; I humbly beseech you."
"Shut up!" Her eyes flared, and an invisible fist clamped around Pouch’s neck, lifting him up off the ground.
Pouch choked for breath, but even as his air was cut off, he still managed a weak smile. "You don’t . . . belong here . . ." he managed to gasp out, before everything went black.
The invisible hand slammed Pouch against a wall as the little girl frowned in the middle of the shadow-warehouse. She glared at the unconscious Argonaut and mentally kicked him, then turned and walked away.
* * *
Brian put down the empty half-pint container just as the girl appeared and approached him. "Looks like I’m out of Chunky Monkey. So since I haven’t got anything better to do," he said as he stood up, "I might as well fight you."
"What game do you want to play?"
"Well, I was thinking about that," said Brian, "and I’ve decided to settle for
a Brian Hykes Special Attack: Frying Pan to the Back of the Head!!" With that, he pulled from behind his back a giant frying pan and brought it down on her—
Only to have it pass right through her and impact rather solidly against the ground.
"Oh shoot," said Brian. Then he put the frying pan back into mallet space. "Well, since I’m only allowed one useful action per episode, look’s like I’m out of luck. Oh well." He sat down on the floor again.
The girl blinked a few times, trying to puzzle out this one. When he didn’t seem to be getting up or even planning to, she simply held out a hand and pointed at him. Suddenly, he was surrounded—seemingly—with piles of Chunky Monkey half-pints. Brian shrugged, pulled out his spoon and began digging in. Well, that was easier than she thought. She turned and walked away, headed for the final Argonaut.
* * *
Super Jen was wandering around the warped warehouse, trying to track down who had put her here. The main villain obviously wasn’t one of those demon-shaped things; angry at first being woken up at three a.m. and then placed in what looked to be an alternate dimension, she’d already yelled at three of them, who had all creeped away quietly, sweatdropping.
A shot came at her suddenly; before she could react, she was thrown back, a terrible, painful cold filling her mind. A mental attack . . . ? She opened her eyes and scanned the warehouse, but no one could be seen. Regaining her balance, she waited for the next attack to come, hoping to use it to pinpoint the location of her attacker. Even mental attacks, which could be generalized over an area, could betray a point of origin if one concentrated enough . . .
Another shot came. Super Jen whipped out her umbrella and opened it, shielding her left side; the attack slammed against it and broke apart.
The temperature around her took a sudden dip, and the air in front of her went hazy, before something appeared in front of her; a little girl. Surrounded by the scent of strawberries.
The girl . . . ?
The girl from her dream . . .
Darkness. Rain. Something was pulling—
"You broke my attack," the girl said, cocking her head to one side, her eyes wide and blank. "How did you do that . . . with an umbrella?"
Super Jen shrugged. "I . . . I guess I really wanted it to." Or maybe . . . her mind worked frantically. If this wasn’t reality, if it were some kind of mental projection, then everything in it was a mental projection as well, which meant that everything which seemed physical could actually have a mental effect.
Which meant . . . She bolted for a pile of crates. If she could duck behind them, then she’d have more shielding—
The attack hit the wooden crates, and passed right through them, hitting Super Jen like a bucket of cold water. With a cry of pain, she was thrown onto the concrete floor, unable to move. Flashes of gray crossed her vision; a field of strawberries. She felt cold and wet, and there was a tremendous aching in her chest, like drowning—
The attack had gotten through. It had passed right through the crates. Then how did her umbrella—
She couldn’t afford to stop and think about that now. She stepped out from behind the crates and brought up her umbrella in front of her. As long as it protected her, at this moment she didn’t need to know how. Another attack came, and she braced herself as it impacted against the umbrella. The force was enough to push her back a couple of feet, her sneakers skidding along the concrete. That attack was followed by another, and another, pushing against her like waves of force, cutting into her umbrella and slicing the sails.
That was it; her defense was failing. Well, she couldn’t just stand there while her umbrella was being shredded. Snapping it shut after the attack ceased, she charged forward and swung at the girl. It missed, passing right through her. Super Jen tried again; again the attack failed. She swung the umbrella again, and again, and each time the girl just stood there and allowed the attack to pass through. The Argonaut was starting to get frustrated. In fact, she was starting to get angry . . .
With a surge of energy, she was Angry Jen, charging her attacker with all the fury she could muster. The umbrella shot forward several more times, a series of high-speed thrusts that were leaving trails of energy behind them. Come on, she thought, damn you, let me hit you! But the girl just smiled. Which made Angry Jen even angrier. Her attacks came even faster, but none of them were impacting. A few more minutes of futile attacks, and her grip on her umbrella weakened; she was losing energy fast.
The girl looked up. A wave of force slammed into Angry Jen, knocking her down against a wall. The Argonaut lay there for a long moment, shivering. She couldn’t fight like this! Her attacks were being wasted, and defense wasn’t an option at this point. She had to remain focused; using anger to bring out her chi would make her stronger, but her attacks were more reckless, and it was a waste of energy if those attacks couldn’t connect. Then that meant—
That she would have to find a different way of dealing with her opponent. Slowly, she managed to stand up, her mind still reeling from the last attack. This time, she couldn’t allow herself to get angry. She had to focus. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated her thoughts, forming a mental shield. The wraith-girl sent out another attack, but it impacted against the shield.
Super Jen looked up and smiled. "My move." She focused all her mental energy and shot it out in the direction of the girl, using the umbrella as an antenna.
There was a piercing scream, and the girl fell back and seemed to flicker for a moment. There was silence, and then, very quietly, she began to sniffle.
The scent of strawberries and wet fields became strong now; Super Jen moved forward and crouched next to where the pale girl sat, looking dejected. Setting aside her umbrella, the Argonaut took a deep breath and opened her mind, placing her hand over the little girl’s.
A small home out in the country side. A girl in a new pink sundress ran from the back door, crying; her mother was sick. Her mother was unhappy.
"The strawberries are in bloom, dear," came the weak voice in her memory. "I’m sure they’re very beautiful. I wish I could see them."
Strawberries. Strawberries would make her happy. Her mother couldn’t get out of bed, so she’d bring some to her. It was raining outside, a heavy spring rain, with thick fat drops that made the leaves bend and sink to the ground with their weight. She remembered tripping in the mud, getting her new dress dirty, but she didn’t care. She got up and started plucking strawberry blossoms.
It was cold. Very cold, and wet, and grey. She remembered—she remembered her father holding her as her body was wracked with coughs, her tiny hand still clutching the bundle of strawberry blossoms.
I see. You got pneumonia—you died.
The girl looked up. They were both standing in a field, but it was sunny now. The girl’s dress seemed to be drying off.
You couldn’t move on, could you? Wet shoes on a hardwood floor. Running through a hallway, opening the bedroom door—
By the time you returned to your house, your mother had died. And you came down with a fever—
There was a long moment of silence. Then the little wraith girl smiled slightly, and held out her hand. In it was a bundle of strawberry blossoms.
"I wanted to give these to my mother, but she’s gone. She went on ahead of me. So . . . I’ll give them to you."
Super Jen smiled back, and took the bundle from the small gray hand. At that moment, the girl disappeared, along with the field and the farmhouse in the distance, and the wide blue sky, and was replaced by the normal warehouse. One by one, the other Argonauts were coming to (rather convenient how they manage to do that all at the same time) and looking around, dazed by what had just happened.
Super Jen looked down at her umbrella; now that the girl was gone, she wondered what had caused the umbrella to shield the attacks—
"Looks like the weird girl is gone," said Brian.
"Aye, her spirit has moved on," Pouch said solemnly.
"Just goes to show you the power of Chunky Monkey!" Brian said enthusiastically, holding aloft an empty half-pint of Ben & Jerry's.
"Umm, Brian--"
There was a crash outside as a tow truck, trying to remove Josh’s car from where it was illegally parked, accidentally smashed into it. "Oh, shoot!" Seeker said, running outside to try to salvage what he could.
"Hey Jen, your umbrella is all ripped up!" Brian said, pointing.
"Huh? Oh yeah," Super Jen said quietly.
"Guess you’re gonna have to get a new one, huh?"
A sensation of falling. A gray sky—
"Naah." She folded it up and slung it over one shoulder. "You know, Brian, this umbrella once saved my life, a long time ago."
"Really?"
"Mm-hmm." She turned and strode out of the warehouse. "I guess you can say . . . it’s kind of special to me."
As they left the warehouse, the scent of strawberries faded softly away.
Author’s Notes
First of all, a really big Gomen Nasai for this episode being so late; what with school finals and all that, I really didn’t get a chance to work on it. However, now that this is finished, Episode 11 should be done in time and we should be back on track here. For those of you reading this series and enjoying it, thanks for your patience! If you like it, let us know. Fan mail good….Grog like fan mail….
There weren’t any really obscure jokes or references in this episode; it’s definitely a bit less joke-heavy than other episodes. But what I’d like to know, is how a Sailor Star can identify the scent of a Fireball Princess. What does a typical Fireball Princess smell like, anyway? Does she wear a distinctive cologne whenever she’s out protecting her planet or what? Does she carry a censer wherever she goes? I mean really . . .