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The Universal Squad #1A Beginning...Imagine a youthful sort of fellow, with long blond hair, wearing a brown trench coat, a white T-shirt, and jeans. His hands are on fire, but this doesn't seem to bother him so much. Also, a man in a blue and white body suit is with him, a man wielding some sort of energy cannon, and he looks ready to use it. That is, of course, because there's a big, nasty chrome robot closing on the two of them in some unknown laboratory, and it looks mad... (That should do for a 'cover', shouldn't it?) Notice: for those of you that are faint of heart, the following tale isn't exactly what one would call G-rated in nature. It may contain a plethora of bad language, excessive violence, sexual innuendo, and/or of course, things that would get this story burned, were it in a printed form, by the more fanatical elements of just about any religion on earth. In other words, if any/all of these things offend your sensibilities - you've been warned. (That should do for a 'disclaimer', shouldn't it?) *** "You see?" George looked down into the strange valley cleared out in the Pleasantview junkyard, a curious assortment cars and other rusting metal objects that appear to have been assembled in a perfect circle. Complementing the oddity was the seven-sided star within, resembling a pentagram somewhat, but obviously possessed of two extra points. Made from pipes and various other bits and pieces, it looked like some sort of industrial mystic circle. "Yeah, I see it, I just don't know why we're here, Mike." Exasperated, Mike sighed voluminously. "George, George, George, I explained this. I explained that The Book of Ahom explains what these guys are doing. They're preparing a ceremony to awaken the potential in... in someone. Or someones, I guess... they did this last night, that creepy guy in the crimson robe and his minions. And the night before - those six guys in the camo pants are the result of what this guy's doing." Looking closer, George tried to make out the individual features that Mike was describing. He saw someone in what appeared to be a hooded red bath robe, not to mention seven people in camouflage-patterned pants. Six were standing to the side, while a seventh, a tall blond lady, was laying in the center of the seven-sided star. There were two other folks in red, folks who looked no older than his seventeen years of age, running around with lit incense and candles. After about five minutes of this, the robed person started screaming in a language that George thought to be not only unfamiliar, but alien in origin. Then, a bolt of lightning struck the girl in the center of the star from on high, and when the smoke cleared, she was different. Not in the expected, 'burned to a crisp after being struck by lightning' sort of way, but changed in that she was floating a few feet off the ground! Admittedly, George was stunned by this. Most of the time, his friend Mike dragged him all around Pleasantview looking for some bizarre example of the occult or another, thanks to hints given to him by that weird Book of his. This Book, which appeared to him (and everybody else) to merely be a guide to the French Riviera, was (according to Mike) actually the Book of Ahom, which simply disguised itself to keep those who shouldn't meddle in the occult from doing so. Which didn't explain why Mike could magically see it for what it was. At any rate, now that the girl had been juiced up somehow, everybody in the ceremonial circle wandered off, leaving no evidence of their presence save for the circle itself, not to mention the smoldering earth beneath the center of the star. A minute or so after they'd gone, Mike jumped up and down excitedly and started running down the hill, headed right towards the strange, makeshift septagram "C'mon, George, now's our chance!" "Chance for what?!" "Our chance to try it out, duh!" Seeing nothing else for it, George followed Mike down the hill and into the junkyard despite his misgivings about trespassing, and before he knew it, Mike had him standing in the middle of the jury-rigged, seven-sided star within the circle of junk. "Mike, I really think this is a bad idea. We're going to get arrested or something. And that's just if the owner finds us. What about those weird Army guys...?" "Shh... I'm concentrating. The Book of Ahom has a specific ceremony or two that requires such a big septagram. Ah, here we go. This one must be the one that guy in the robes was using... though you have to sell me your soul before it will give you Power. That won't do..." Leafing through the pages of the Book of Ahom as George grew increasingly uncomfortable, Mike eventually found what he was looking for. "Aha! Here it is... you ready?" "No." "Let's try it anyway. This is a powerful incantation written by Ahom himself, designed to awaken the 'ultimate potential' of an individual. It's really quite short..." With that, Mike started uttering syllables that George had never heard before, even when that red-robed fellow rambled on earlier. "Hey, Mike, I know I don't believe in this stuff, but I don't think -" Before George could finish his sentence, his world was filled with light. While the lady before was merely struck by lightning, George was awed by light spilling into his body from all around him, light coming seemingly from nowhere, though in all actuality from a rent in the fabric of space-time. Not that George had any idea where it was coming from, oh no; all he knew was his own, newfound world of pain. It went on forever, as far as he could tell, but in all actuality, he was only exposed to the light for a few seconds. When it was over, George fell to the ground, quite disconcerted. "Wha?" Mike, on the other hand, was juggling elated joy and exceptional worry. "George? George?! We have to go - I think those goons are headed back here after that little display. We need to move. Now!" Seeing that George wasn't doing much in the way of moving, Mike collected his friend and dragged him off, and was proven right in his premonition. Those 'goons' did indeed return to their circle after that display of power. The two men in red raced around, looking for whoever disturbed their secret area. When they failed to find anybody, their leader entered the septagram, shaking his head and looking quite annoyed. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Someone's been eating my porridge...!" Luckily for George and Mike, they were far enough away that none of the shady fellows hanging around in the junkyard managed to find them as they fled the scene...! *** Come morning, Mike and George found themselves in their gym class, though neither of them were actually engaging in exercise. Well, not of the physical variety, for two of their 'instructors' had called in ill, and no substitutes had yet showed up to replace them; this left the third teacher to hide in his office, consuming liberal doses of Jack Daniels to feed his habit. This makes for a sort of chaotic experience. You know, about sixty teenagers in a big room with no supervision whatsoever. While most of the kids present were engaged in something vaguely akin to dodge ball, several others were just hanging out. Like George and Mike. Mike was worried that he'd done something horrible to George, like maybe given him cancer or some sort of mystical curse, but George was thinking about more... tangible things. Like most of the girls in the gym, for instance, what with those incredibly short shorts... Leafing through the Book of Ahom, Mike reviewed in his head, over and over, just what he'd subjected George to. Then, more to make himself feel better than his friend, since George seemed to have already forgotten their little adventure last night, Mike decided to try and comfort his pal. "Trust me, George, I'm sure you're going to be okay. The spell itself was rather simple, and I know I read it right. The weird thing is that you haven't been awakened or whatever, the translation is funny. The point is that you're still walking upright, and definitely not a newt, so I wouldn't worry. Besides, I promise not to experiment on you with magic again. For a while, anyway. At least until next weekend. Hey?" Not that George was really listening. Mmm... short shorts. Annoyed somewhat, Mike was about to read more of the Book of Ahom, and learn more about his precious magic, but the book was no longer in his hands. It had in fact been yanked from his grasp suddenly, apparently by a very large man. At least seven foot tall, this mountain of muscle had to be at least three hundred pounds, if not more. He had huge veins sticking out everywhere, even on his comically contorted face, which was capped off with a tall blond flat top. "Hwat are you doing, ja? Readingck in gym class is verboten! Get to work, you little lazy man!" Staring incredulously at the behemoth of a man, Mike finally registered what had happened. The substitute gym coach had arrived. "Hyoo and hyour lazy little friends will all get upstairs to the weight room right now, and haie will whip you into shape faster than you can say 'thank you for whipping my lazy butt into shape'. Now Move! Move move move!" Before Mike could recover his book, the substitute, one Franz Uberman (at least, that's what he changed his name to upon arriving in the States two years ago), literally ripped the Book of Ahom in half! Screaming in outrage as this happened, Mike was nonetheless herded along with his fellows upstairs as they ran in a half-panic to avoid his wrath. Chuckling, Franz followed the admittedly lazy students up the stairs, leaving the Book behind. What nobody noticed, though, was that the Book began to slowly pull itself together again. Once it had collected itself into a single mass of paper and binding, it reformed into its true shape in a flash of brilliant white light, and then vanished altogether, heading towards parts unknown. *** Meanwhile, across town from Pleasantview High, one Jerry Mulligan waited for the hole in the Ariel-Shijitzu Corporation's security coverage, a thirty second window of opportunity he'd noted in his observation of their American building's defenses these last few weeks, and made his move. Running to the south side of the Ariel-Shijitzu building, Jerry leapt up to the ledge of the second story windows, thanks to a convenient trash dumpster, and began his climb. Knowing that he couldn't penetrate the building's top floor any other way, at least, without a small army backing him up (as he understood had happened a few months back), Jerry began his arduous climb up the exterior of the twenty six story building. All his years of working out, in addition to his time spent rock climbing, had finally paid off; he was actually putting that seemingly useless training to use. He was going to make Roy Shijitzu pay. That bastard was going to suffer for what he did. The evil snot wasn't content enough to simply snub him like all his other would-be corporate backers did. No, he offered to buy Jerry's revolutionary battery technology for a mere dollar. A dollar! He'd be damned if that ass wouldn't pay for that. It was the last straw in a long line of insults he was about to avenge, and Jerry planned on starting with the man he hated the most. He didn't get it. He'd made it possible to create a whole new generation of high tech devices, thanks to the revolution he'd invented in stored power technologies. More possible amps, an incredible amount of kilowatt-hours, but no. It was as if he'd been blacklisted somehow, as if every company in America with any technological clout wanted nothing to do with him and his new power source. Well, to hell with them - he'd simply use the juice himself. Jerry spent the last month, and his last funds, and produced a working model of a practical laser cannon. Used in tandem with his Powerpak (TM) technology, there was nothing that could stop him from exacting his revenge on that Shijitzu creep - nothing! Unless he lost his concentration on the climb ahead of him, and fell to a premature - and grisly - doom. So, pushing the mental picture of himself splattered all over the pavement aside, Jerry continued upward. However, the warm and fuzzy picture of Roy Shijitzu without a head, his stump of a neck smoking as his body spun around in that silly, expensive leather chair of his, kept creeping into Jerry's head. He smiled inwardly, and thinking dark thoughts, continued moving upwards into the Pleasantview skies... *** Back at Pleasantview High, George was struggling with the large amount of weights Uberman had assigned him. He could bench a decent amount but the surprise routine he was given was about 25% more than George was used to, so he was tiring out faster. He was so tired, in fact, that he finally ran out of gas after about thirty reps, and was unable to get the bar back up in its resting place. And, to make matters worse, his spotter wasn't spotting him. The jerk, one Willie Smith, never liked George very much, and was busy talking to some friends. Well, that and busy watching George fight with the bar as it slipped off his chest and onto his neck. Coughing and sputtering as he began to suffocate under the thing, George looked desperately to Willie for help, only to find the jerk pointing at him and laughing, along with his annoying football buddies. As one can guess, this irked George. A lot. Feeling himself about to black out and seeing red with rage, George thought he was done for, and began to see spots of light everywhere in his field of vision. Wanting nothing more than to be rid of the damned weights strangling him, he gave them one last manic push, and suddenly... something clicked in his head. His mind making his wish reality, he felt a sudden surge of power thrust against the 200 lb. weights – far too much perhaps, for they flew up through the roof! Smashing the aluminum ceiling with a loud crash, the bizarre occurrence readily gained the attention of everyone in the weight room, who looked incredulously at George. Watching bits of insulation and tile fall down as he sat up straight, people couldn't help but notice that when he finally stood up from the bench, he wasn't quite touching the floor; he was, in fact, floating a few inches above it! And his eyes, his eyes. His eyes had an eerie, orange glow to them... “Willie...!” Looking around the room, as if he had never seen his tormentor before, George spied his obnoxious tormentor as he began to slowly slip backwards involuntarily, having a very, very bad feeling where this might be going. Perhaps to the hospital, he wasn't sure, but this just... wasn't the sort of thing that happened. Especially to him. He was rich, after all! On the verge of panic, Willie fell clean over into mindless terror when the weights finally came back down. Making a second hole in the ceiling, they crashed down right in front of him, the immense boom causing him to flee the weight room as fast as his feet could carry him. He was yelling something possibly coherent, but all that anyone could make out was something that sounded like “Ohgodohgodohgodohgod...” Finding his body drifting back down to the ground, George grinned a very dangerous grin, and then began to chase after poor, poor Willie on foot. As the two punk kids rapidly left his domain, Uberman simply looked up at the ceiling, down at the broken weights, and then at the class before him. “See?! See what JUST A LITTLE effort brings hyoo? KEEP LIFTING!” *** Finding himself suddenly empowered, George begins to exult in his newfound abilities only to stumble into a bizarre situation revolving around an inventor hell-bent on revenge and a dangerous business tycoon who just might deserve what is planned for him. Oh, that and a marauding robot and an erratic cyborg, both quite possibly from the future. Isn't it weird how things go from normal to bizarre so terribly fast? (That should do for a 'preview', shouldn't it?) ***
The Universal Squad #1: A Beginning... * Yes yes, I've been working on this and re-working on this forever, now. I'd say 'so sue me' but there's so many ambulance chasers and would-be victims these days that, you know... I'd get one. Or two. THREE lawsuits, ah ah ah! Extra Goodies:
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