From: JamesG Subject: [ART] New Season, New Faces. Date: Wed, 20 Aug 1997 14:30:30 +0100 OK, I'm writing myself in and I'm writing in full throttle. That ought to keep those trolls off my back. There are lots of ORCP, I mean regulars, who have turned up over the interseason hiatus who should feel free to join in. I'll take it slow as I get the hang of this. JamesG is a fairly easy character to write (I hope). *** JamesG walked down the road to RASSM city from the airport. "Gee, why's the airport so far out of town..." Behind him a jet suddenly exploded for no apparent reason crashing to the ground. *** "JamesG to see Mayor Lopez." "Go right in he's expecting you... Hey how come the Mayor is Mayor Lopez now and in his last episode he was just some guy?" "It's simple - last time he was on the show it was just a one line walk on, this time it's a supporting role, possibly even a recurring part so they give him a name and get a decent actor in. Besides the other guy went off to star in 'Speed6: This time it's a Motorcycle'..." JamesG walked into the Mayor's office. "Sit down, Mr... um... JamesG. I'm Mayor Lopez, welcome to RASSM city." There had been a Lopez running RASSM city ever since it had been renamed from RASS town. "It's a pleasure, Sir. Your message said something about a job?" "That's right. This town is falling apart, after the Handley situation and rumours of assassins running all over the place. I want you to sort the town out and generally Organize things." "Me? Organize RASSM city? It will be a pleasure." JamesG paused nervously, "Hang on - I'm not being written in to act as exposition for a major plot point then get killed off at the end of the season?" "Oh no... Don't worry about it Keffer, uh, I mean JamesG." The mayor said, "Why do you have such a strange name anyway?" "Oh, I lost my last name in a Sabacc game. Could be worse," JamesG smiles, "I know one guy who lost his whole name - he's just called * now. So what are my benefits? Flash car? Girls?" "Um well. You don't get a car, the suit's wanted an environmentally conscious character. Here you get this." Lopez tosses a card to JamesG. "A RASSM city bus and subway pass?" JamesG sighs. "Well there's always the girls." "Well, you see the suits wanted a sensitive character. Shoulder to cry on sort of thing." "Ah. No girls. No car. And me up against all the troubles of RASSM city." There is a dramatic pause. "I'll take the job." _____________________________________________________________________________ From: starwars@idt.net (Gray Leader) Subject: Re: [ART] New Season, New Faces. Date: Thu, 21 Aug 1997 04:15:52 GMT "Terrific!" boomed the Mayor. "Now, time to meet your partner." He flipped a switch on his intercom. "Halina, send in Mr...uh...Leader?" He turned to JamesG and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Now, I think there's something you should know. This guy is NUTS, to put it bluntly. He was a soldier in the Sith Wars, and periodically suffers from delusions of grandeur. He gets attacks where he thinks he's dead, or where he thinks he's captured some mercenary that he went after last year. Just be careful around him, and you'll do fine." The door swung open and Gray Leader, a five-foot tall (1.6 meters, for you non-Americans) teenager, stepped in. He wore gray clothing, gray shoes, had gray eyes, and his hair was, of course, light brown. He took the seat next to JamesG and leaned towards the mayor. "Mayor Lopez, I want you to know that I had nothing to do with the Chia Pet burglary. I don't know why you called me here when I most definitely had nothing to do with--" The mayor looked quizzically at Gray Leader. "This isn't about the Chia Pet robbery! This is about...wait a minute! *What* Chia Pet robbery? What are you talking about?" "Chia Pet robbery? You mean, you don't know about it? Heh heh! You must have heard wrong...I didn't say anything about a Chia Pet robbery." JamesG stared at Gray Leader. "We're supposed to get RASSM City back to what it used to be, before the Handley scandal. Apparently, you're my partner, but it's a shame I didn't know about you before I took the job." He sighed. "Well, let's go. We may as well start by going to clean up RASSM City Hall. It's been a pleasure, Mayor, but I think we'd better be going." The two partners stood and made their way to the door. As they left, a news bulletin came on the radio: "Flash! A shipment of 40,000 Chia Pets was hijacked today, by an unidentified youth apparently wearing a gray pilots uniform." __________________________________________________________________________ From: chewie@demon.co.uk*remove* (James Trory) Subject: Re: [ART] New Season, New Faces. Date: Thu, 21 Aug 1997 20:42:37 GMT A silhouetted figure sat in his big, ganster-type leather chair and laughed, stroking his mutant furry caterpillar. His henchmen stood around him with tommy guns tucked under their arms, glaring below the brim of their hats at the monitor on the table which flickered the image of the Mayor's office. "Gray and JamesG, eh?" he laughed. "We'll see boys, we'll see." ___________________________________________________________________________ From: Rakelle Subject: Re: [ART][801] New Season, New Faces. Date: Fri, 22 Aug 1997 11:29:38 +0200 usher was confused. His girl had abandoned him, his allergies were suddenly going away, and now this strange person was claiming to be Rakelle??? Surely she was much too tall to be the short, furry person he knew... "Look at me. Look closely," she said. "Um, well, I mean... Rakelle is short, you're... no wait..." In a way almost, but not quite, entirely unlike the one he knew, it was her. "What the...?" "Your allergies are gone, right? Your Ewok allergies? They left when a certain short person left? Go figure," she said coldly. Slowly, he started to realize. "Rakelle's an .. Ewok???" he cried out loud. "No." She pointed at a nearby bench. "I think you'd better have a seat." -------------- "So you had an Ewok impose as you and marry Gerthein?" usher couldn't believe what he was hearing. All this time, he'd thought she just liked Ewok slippers... but at least it explained her talent for making manwiches. "Until she fell for you, yes." "But why??" "I'll explain later -now you're gonna help me." usher looked confused. "We're gonna pay my "soon to be ex-husband" a visit... and if you ever want to taste manwiches again, you'll do as I say." She covered her face with the cowl again and dragged him into the street. ____________________________________________________________________________ From: gerthein@worldaccess.nl (Gerthein Boersma) Subject: [A-R-T] Episode 801: The Plot Sickens Date: Fri, 22 Aug 1997 18:25:22 GMT In this episode, "801: The plot sickens", stuff happens. *** "You can't kill me," Gerthein tried, but his still sqeaky voice destroyed all the credibility of his words. The Rimrunner cocked the weapon. "Why not?" "Well, I'm a lead character... and you're just a plot-device.. Surely you can't believe you could actually kill me?" The Rimrunner appeared in doubt for a millisecond, not loosing sight of her prey.. "So that's why the Handley bombing failed.." she muttered to herself.. then collected herself and turned back to Gerthein.. "But you're not as important as Handley. Let's.. just.. *try*.". Her trigger-finger pulled slowly... "Wait!" sqeaked Boersma, "I'll pay you tripple of what Max' paying you!" Rimrunner eased her trigger finger for a moment. "Max who? I'm currently employed by Big Ernie, you sorry excuse for an actor! Besides, while the money is right, I'd loose all my credibility as an assasin if I allowed every two-bit Cool Person to bribe me.". She started pulling the trigger again. "Sayonara, Boersma!". Suddenly, the window on the driver's side shattered, and a cloaked furry figure burst through it. Startled, Rimrunner fired her gun, but the shot ended just an inch from Gerthein's head. "Yikes!" the almost-victim shrieked. The furry critter, still half-hanging from the window, was now struggling with the Rimrunner for control of the gun. Although the being was cloaked, Gerthein suddenly had the strange feeling he recognized it.. her. "Rakelle?" he asked, flabbergasted and frozen. *** "Listen!" Amara shouted desparately through the phone in her booth. "I need to know where Bycer is!" "He's been released yesterday, ma'am." the man at the other end of the line replied, "He immediatly left for the airport after his release. He's going to the amazon rainforest or something.." Amara slumped against the back of the booth, gasping for breath while desperately trying not to drop the receiver.. "The Amazon rainforest.." she panted.. "Rich...". The policeman on the other end continued uninterrupted. "He also made a few calls to something called the.. HOBBIT or something?" Amara reacted in shock "ELF?!" she asked. Stunned, Amara said softly to herself: "That means.. *they*.. know about me..". "ELF! That's it!" the policeman replied "I knew it was something from Tolk..." But Amara had already hung up. She burst from the booth, dashing across the street. Destination: RASSM City Airport. *** Rimrunner fought for all she was worth, and it appeared that she was about to overpower the furry enigma. Still frozen, Gerthein noticed that the still struggling 'Rakelle' took out what appeared to be... a handgrenade. "Get out!" 'Rakelle', still struggling, advised Gerthein. Boersma didn't need to hear that again. He broke from his freeze, jetted out the taxi door and ran back into the park as fast as his legs could. He was only feet away when an explosion propelled him forward. After landing on his face, Gerthein was showered with broken glass. He looked back to see the burning wreckage of the cab. Then he heard police sirens approaching in the distance. "Dang!" Gerthein muttered angrily, "The one time they're on time...!". *** Amara could barely control her tears as she watched the plane to the Amazon leave above her head. Rich was as good as dead now. Bycer was *their* best assasin. He had never screwed up. Ever. That's why she knew he couldn't have been the Handley bomber from the first place. Of course, that didn't stop her from arranging his arrest: Bycer should have remained locked up. He was dangerous. He had smelly feet. And he was the only one that had known about her. Until now. Amara cried. She wanted to go home to Max, except she had no idea if she could trust him. Rich certainly didn't seem to, and he was supposed to be Max' father. "Are you Ms. Pronovost?" a voice suddenly asked. Amara looked up from her tears and saw a man in a trench-coat. He was holding a parsel. Amara slowly nodded. "Got a package from the Agency for you here." the man continued dryly. "Mr. Handley asked us to route his mail through you during his absence." He offered her the parsel. She took it reluctantly. The pale man apparently noticed Amara's tears now. "Don't worry, ma'am. One of our men has recently arrived in the City to assist you and Mr. Handley with the mission. The information.." he tapped on the parsel, "... is in here.". Amara looked at the parsel, and, slighly comforted, looked up to the man again. "Thank y.." she wanted to say, but not unlike one of those spooky detective-films, the man was already gone. She looked at the parsel. "Langley, Virgina." was the return address. Things were getting ridiculously complicated, Amara thought. ________________________________________________________________________________ From: "Bas-Jan Walewijk" Subject: Re: [ART][801] New Season, New Faces. Date: Fri, 22 Aug 1997 20:35:43 -0500 [Let's see how many avenues I can open with these three scenes. It's a bit long - there's nothing like writing for RASSM to kill a dull journey - but at least that should get me off writing duty for the rest of the year again. :-) And be warned, it's a bit film-noirish.] A sigh of relief escaped from Bas-Jan Walewijk as he left the Amtrak. Traveling from RASSM City to Texas to Seattle by train hadn't been the smartest move - or so he realized now - but at least he had managed to find out what he needed to know about the longhorns. Now to lay low for a while, then to make it all come together that was the real trick, wasn't? And it was going to cost them something extra. He glanced at his reflection in the rain-polished train. Cool. Shoving his way through the throng at the station, he himself reflected on how much he hated his job. It wasn t like this when he first started. Things had been fun back then. They'd evicted little old ladies in wheelchairs. They'd lost cases without a care in the world, sending the bills to their clients' new maximum security domiciles with a cheerful chuckle. Now it was as if the eyes of the whole world were upon him. Talk about a burden. Oh, and talk about a bore. With an offhand gesture like a Rodian aiming his blaster, Bas-Jan tossed his cheap plastic "Don't mess with Texas" keychain onto the tracks. That would be okay - he wasn t going back to that place again. Or to RASSM City, for that matter. Too many people who'd spot and bother him, too many security guards who'd recognize his face. Too many unpaid restaurant bills. Maybe he was going to like Seattle after all. And maybe, just maybe, he was going to make the odd legal buck out of it. Newspaper, he thought. He walked over to the newsstand at the end of the platform and bought a local paper from the young woman hawking them with impassionated glee. It was a copy of today's SEATTLE SHROUD. "The weather in Seattle is still terrible", the lead article began, "and it's been consistently cool, with mild summer breezes." Such a thrilling paper - not. The arts and movies page featured a rather apocryphal story about George Lucas deciding to do the prequels as paintings instead of movies. Apparently, they were going to be done in a prehistoric style, with berries, nuts, and animal blood. Unlikely. He skipped over the gossip page - nothing but a big fight about some writer suing for defamation after being called gay. Not interested. For starters, she already was someone else's client. Speaking of which, he had a promise to keep to an old friend - right - and some debts to cash in, too. Minutes later, his fingers defltly slipped across the payphone buttons: "555 - 2510 " "Bycer?" "That you, 'torney?", the familiar voice said. "Hey, thanks again for getting me off the hook, man. I really 'preciate it. Couldn't face State Penn, you know. Now, how about telling me how you pulled that one, huh? I mean, with me being out with food poisoning during the trial, I sorta missed..." "You know I can't do that, Bycer. It's just a matter of technique, and style, executed with perfect timing and unsurpassable skill. Basically, of course, I just pace the courtroom, janking surprise witnesses from the audience, who then immediately break down in tears on the stand and confess. That's the way it works. When was the last time you watched television?" "*That* was your strategy?" - Bycer sounded a bit like a longhorn. Aghast, too. "My future depended on *that*? And it actually worked?" "Hell, no!", Bas-Jan argued. "No, what worked was getting us some seriously biased media attention first. No jury could bear to convict anybody famous enough to have a crappy Star Wars Special Edition pre-empted. We were the only big news that night, Bycer! (Well, apart from those clowns at the Mexican embassy, of course.) Anyway, it's time for some payback. How about letting me know who really blew up Rich? Don't kid me, Bycer, I've seen the forensics and I've got some ideas of my own, but I want to hear it from you." The moment he'd been waiting for, Bas-Jan thought. Confirmation. Bycer, after what seemed like not really an eternity but rather something like five seconds, finally sighed his answer: "It was Max." Bas-Jan couldn't supress a smile, didn't want to either. Just as he'd expected. In his opinion, Max had always had that cunning young air of a cunning young heir. "But Max had an alibi, right?", he enquired, not wanting to give up now. "Right. He'd hired me to do the deed, but I got cold feet. So I phoned one of Big Ernies other contacts, the Rimrunner - figuring I'd get to keep a share of the money. No such luck." Bycer sounded bitter, and no small wonder. Sucker, Bas-Jan thought with his trademark lack of human compassion. And now for the clinch. Oh, he could be so cruel: "By the way, just what were you up to in Arizona?" There was a long silence. ***************************************************** "Gray, we're off!", JamesG yelled. "Hit the accelerator!", Gray Leader cried. The car shrieked into motion and screamed off - noisily, for some reason. It swerved onto the wrong side of the road, skidded back and finally shot forward through RASSM City Main Street. They barely avoided an evil-looking longhorn bull strutting off the sidewalk. "Look out!" "I see it, I see it. So, Gray how do you feel about working with me on this, your first case? I mean, what do expect from our working relationship, and what exactly are your ambitions? I'm only asking so we can adjust ourselves to make this job a rewarding experience for us both. After all, there's nothing like job satisfaction, huh?" "Look, JamesG, I..." "Jamesgee", JamesG corrected. "That's how it's pronounced. Not Jamesghghgh." "OK, whatever. Look, Jamesgee, I know I'm just your average local two-bit paranoid megalokleptomaniac street punk kid with ambitions beyond his stature, and I honestly believe you're being sincere about this whole 'sensitivity' thing, but could you please try not being so polite and watch the road when you're talking and driving, and not *me*!" "Whatever you say, Gray", JamesG, narrowly missing the proverbial pram in the street. "Listening to each other - that's what's needed most for a positive job experience." Several milliliters of adrenaline later, JamesG and Gray Leader entered the impressive foyer to the Handley mansion, carrying on their conversation in muted tones behind the butler's slouchily arched back. (To be honest, they didn't care whether he heard or not, it's just that people always speak "in muted tones" in stuff like this.) "So, JamesG, have you been on a kidnapping case before?", Gray asked. "Nope. But I've worked in marriage counseling." The butler contemptuously glared at them, even as he led both gentlemen into the rather bizarre room Max called his den. He held the door for them not so much as a butler but as a twisted man with a bone to pick with all of mankind and subsisting only on the energy radiated from the hate which sits in his stomach like a lump of plutonium swallowed by a hedgehog. The difference was, of course, slim, but noticeable nonetheless to an experienced detective. "By the way", Gray whispered, "don't you think the butler guy looks awful familiar?" "Not to me. But then I'm no local", answered JamesG. "Hiya, coppers!", a cheerful voice said. "Siddown. Hey, you've heard about my beloved, beloved Amara being kidnapped, I take it? Like, - swissssh - suddenly she was gone and there's this note lying here on the tea-stained carpet. Wow, what a shock. I'm hungry, want a bite?" "Let's see that note", Gray demanded. Max handed over the note, obviously trying to ignore the looks his butler was giving him - the man gave him the creeps. "Looks like a standard ransom note to me", Silvestri explained. "Absolutely not like somebody is really holding her only to prevent her from spilling all kinds of embarrassing secrets about the people she's been blackmailing. Absolutely not. Oh, and I'm not going to pay - thought you might want to know. Gee, I really wonder what's in the fridge. And by the way, the note's genuine." The note was signed: Amy whos beeen kifnapped ;-) ************************************** "It's obviously genuine", Gray concluded with his stunning powers of analysis. Max hopped onto a sofa with a box of KFC that Gerthein had left in the fridge for a rainy day and started gnawing at a wing. "So what are you boys going to do about it? Better start soon like next month, or something. What do you say, huh?" JamesG didn't much like this levity. Kidnappings were serious, and socially fractious on top. "Well, I'd say...", he started with a frown. He couldn't finish his sentence. Gray manically started tugging his sleeve until he got an annoyed response, then leaned over and excitedly whispered in JamesG's ear: "I told you: I *know* that funny butler! It's James!" "James? James who?", JamesG whispered back. "Why", Gray continued, his pulse racing, "who else but James..." Gray Leader then realized two things: (1) he was a bad whisperer; and (2) crowbars hurt. ***************************************************** *Click* went the gun as the Rimrunner cocked it. *Gulp* went Gerthein, squirming back against his seat in the cab. "Why yes, I am feeling a bit bitchy today, come to mention it", remarked the vehicle's suddenly rather lethal driver, and she pushed the gun and its bulky silencer into her fare's face. "Last words?" "It's not like that at all - you want my brother", he tried. "Honest." "Oh, do tell ", the Rimrunner sarcastically expanded, using the nozzle of the gun to alternately force Gerthein's nose to the left or right. "Inquiring minds want to know, understand." "I'm Berthein, Gerthein's evil twin brother. I'm not the man you're looking for." The Rim momentarily raised her Walther and brought it beside her right cheek. "You've got a twin brother?", she asked, suspiciously. "Oh, wait - you mean you Boersma guys are related?" Gerthein carefully nodded, trying to hide that he was profusely sweating. "Okay, so where is your brother then? He's got a date with Walt here." "He's dead. I killed him. Fooled them all into thinking he killed me." "Nice work", the Rimrunner said. "Easiest target I've ever had. Hey, at least someone here's got a functioning brain. Still taking the keys to your car, though. Yeah, let's have 'em. Good. Bad luck, dude - carless in Seattle, see. Now get out. And have a nice day." Moments later Gerthein stood catching his breath and wiping his brow on the hostile sidewalks of RASSM City. In the distance the cab took a sharp turnand disappeared from view. But even as the relief of his narrow escape washed over him, a became aware of someone staring at him from behind. Gerthein turned around. Behind him stood a casual viewer of the series, red-faced and breathing heavily. "Boersma?", the man asked. "Yes?", Gerthein answered in an absent-minded way, straightening his pristine shirtsleeves under his tastelessly expensive Armani jacket as he did. Without warning, then, the man gave Gerthein a violent push, sending him splashing in a puddle of mud next to a half-decayed copy of the Interrogator-Sun, Dark Rendar's paper. "Hey!", he yelped as the filthy water began to seep into his suit's lining. "What the..." "That was a f---ing anticlimax! F---ing loser!", the irate viewer yelled at Gerthein. "Is *that* what you went off the air for four months for? That was the best you could come up with? I mean, 'It's my twin brother'??? Man, death's too good for you! You make me want to vomit, know that? Ugh! Double ugh!" He walked off, leaving Gerthein to his misery. But hey, at least he was alive, right? "Yesss", he mumbled victoriously, "they extended my contract. Yesss..." ________________________________________________________________________________ From: gerthein@worldaccess.nl (Gerthein Boersma) Subject: Re: [A-R-T] Episode 801: The Plot Sickens Date: Sat, 23 Aug 1997 18:08:47 GMT Dizzyness. Gerthein shook his head in confusion. Did that car just explode? Did "Rakelle" show up? He noticed he was lying in a puddle... "I guess not." he shrugged. "Probably was one of those flash-forward things or something... ". Beep beep beep. Gerthein's cellphone rang. Gerthein stood up, took the phone out of his (fortunatly still dry) breastpocket, and answered it. "Talk to me." Dark Rendar was zooming along the highway in his speedy car. Barq was clawing at the dash and shrieking like a cheerleader in the byrider's seat. Dark had only his right hand firmly placed on the wheel, his carphone in his left hand. He was talking throught it. Natch. "Gerthein? Dark here! Listen: I've found out something: Amara has been kidnapped at RASSM City Airport, Eric Bycer has been released from prison and has boarded a plane headed to the Amazon rainforest!!" "The plot thickens..." Gerthein said calmly "So, I take it you'll be on the next plane to South America?" "Correctamundo! And in the mean time, why don't you track down Max? After entertaining his guests, newbies JamesG and Gray Leader, for a brief little while, he suddenly spearheaded to RASSM Mental Hospital to stop the release of some madman called Chris Layne." "Bugs are a wonderful thing.." Gerthein replied, "Who's this Chris Layne?" "Other than that he's totally bonkers, I don't know much about him.. he's relatively new in town, you see.. I did find out that Max used to be his therapist, though, and via my little monitoring device, I couldn't help but notice Max' ludicrously overacted agitation when he heard about Layne's release. Layne knows something that Max wants to keep under wraps. Check it out, why don't you? Rendar out." "Hmm.. Layne can't know anything about the Handley bombing." Gerthein mumbled to himself as he hung up the phone, "What other dark secret could Max be hiding?". He stood up. "Let's.. walk.. to the mental hospital. It's not that far. In fact, I can see it from here. It'd hardly take a minute." "Ah, skip it. Long live decadence, that' s what I say! TAXI!". * * * "I am Dark Lord Karno Dal, JTFC's second in command! I will fight the Ewok threat, and WIN!" "Listen to him!" Max yelled at the nurse, "He's babbling incoherently! He doesn't even know what planet he's on! And you were going to *release* this madman, set him loose on the general public? He may be mad, he may be looney as a toon, but if you're going to just let him wander out of here, then *you're* the maddest of them all, girlfriend!" "Sorry.." the clueless lass replied in an annoyingly high-pitched voice, "but they told me to release him, so that's what I'm going to do. You don't have a say in this matter, I'm affraid." "In darkness! Star Wars, tatata taaa taaa!" sang Layne. All present ignored him. "Oh, I don't have a say, do I?!" Max yelled at the ignorant blonde. His tolerance was already being stretched to new widths. "Well, how's this for a plot-twist: I'm his *therapist*, baby!" "Not anymore." a female voice suddenly boomed out of nowhere. Max turned around to the source of this defiance, and was suddenly staring into the face of a comely woman -- nay, lady.. definetly a lady. Dark-haired, dressed in a white doctorscoat and wearing dark-rimmed glasses that, somehow, made her look only more attractive, she stood there with a clipboard-resembling prop in her hands, staring back at Max with determination. Max was impressed by her appearance, but he didn't show it; "And you are?" he said; trying to sound uninterested and, for once, succeeding. "Doctor Arlene Usui. I'm Mr. Layne's counsilor now. And in my professional opinion, he would benefit hugely at this stage by being released back into society." Max no longer had to fake his unimpressedness now. "I suppose you got your degree via the correspondance course, baby-doll?" he sneered. Doctor Usui appeared surprised. "How did you know..? Anyway, we are releasing Chris, and there's nothing you can do about it. It's part of our new 'Let's just see what they'll do' program. Don't worry, though, he won't be allowed to leave RASSM City." "Ewoks, Ewoks, everywhere!" Chris babbled. "HA! Gotcha there, honey-bunch!", Max cheered, "Chris Karno over here doesn't have any place to *live* in RASSM City. He's from out of town, you see. You can't release him into the City without him having a roof above his head.". He smugly crossed his arms, "I guess you have no choice but to lock him up again. Solitary confinement, no less." Doc Usui knew when she was beaten. "Alright,", she sighed "Miss Extra, escort Chris back to his cell." "He can stay in my apartment." Who the...? Max turned around again. Oh, yes. Of course it was him. "I spend most of my time hanging around the mansion these days anyway.", Gerthein continued, "I just had my place redecorated... it's fitted with every luxury known to man. It even has an A/C that actually works! Chris'll be comfy." "A hideout!" Layne cheered, more coherent than usual, "From which I can battle the forces of the enemy! Perfect!". Max, meanwhile, was nearly exploding with anger and frustration. There was nothing he could say to stop Gerthein now, of course. Dang, if only he had thought of this.. taking Chris into his own household would have made eliminating him oh so easy. Dang! Double Dang! "Excellent!" Doc Arlene said in relief, turning to the man she had recognized as a City celebrity, "Mr. Boersma, you can take Chris with you immediatly." "Good," Gerthein said, talking to the doctor but meanwhile grinning broadly at the angered Maximillian. "And don't worry about Chris being too alone in there... I'll stop by frequently to discuss... old times..". Max head looked as if it was about to blow, so Gerthein turned to the Doctor now, but retained the grin; "And perhaps you could stop by on occasion for an... intensive... one-on-one session... wink, wink?". Now it was Doc Usui's turn to be unimpressed. Silence. All that could be heard was the gnashing of Max' teeth and Miss Extra chewing her pink bubblegum. "Well," a somewhat embarrassed Gerthein decided to brake the silence himself, "I'd love to stay and discuss the parallels between the Force and Buddhism, but it's only a 30 minute show, and one that has little appeal for a well-educated public to boot, so... come along, Layne.". As if he were a kangeroo, Chris jumped after the leaving Gerthein, who turned around briefly to make an annoyingly cute wave to Max with his fingers as he walked out.. "Buh-bye." ________________________________________________________________________________ From: Amara Subject: Re: [A-R-T] Episode 801: The Plot Sickens Date: Sat, 23 Aug 1997 22:31:10 -0400 Kidnapped, huh? Well, I'm kinda out of the loop a little, but here I go... :) Amara sat blindfolded in a cold, dark place. Well, it was cold at least, of course it was dark, she was wearing a blindfold after all. She struggled to free herself from the twisted ropes around her wrists when a sinister voice said.. "We know who you are, Ms Pronovost, and your attempts to save Mr Handley will not proceed." This statement was followed by an equally sinister laugh. Struggling more, Amara cursed and said in a defiant voice, "Just you wait, pal, I'll get out of here and kick your sorry butt and save Rich, all on the same day!" The sinister voice laughed and patted Amara's head, and then whapped her hard enough to knock her out, "I don't think so." said the voice. As Amara slipped into unconciousness she murmured, "Maaxx.. where are you....*" ________________________________________________________________________________ From: Rakelle Subject: Re: [ART][801] New Season, New Faces. Date: Sat, 23 Aug 1997 15:35:58 +0200 Gray Leader woke up in stunning darkness, which was replaced by some pretty good fireworks the moment he tried moving his head. It took a few seconds, but he eventually realized that no, it was not fourth of July, no, those fireworks were not outside his head, but yes, he could move if he was careful. He slowly stood up and promptly hit his head in a doorway. "OUCH!!!" As he traversed the slowly spinning room, he made his way to a small, familiar looking object. He hit it. And there was light. Reaching into his pocket, he found a pair of Ray-Bans. Hey, maybe he could join the Men in Black now? Perhaps he could be called G... Where was JamesG??? Where was this??? What year was it??? Performing a preliminary search of the room, he found a small key beneath a stack of papers. Still carrying the unknown documents, he unlocked a door, ducked, and left the room. * * * * * * * * * Rakelle and usher ran towards Gerthein's office as a rather muddy-looking talk show host put his hand on the doorknob. A taxi was still burning in the street. "What happened here?" Gerthein looked puzzled. "Uh, my wife blew herself up, I was kidnapped, and my contract was extended ...say, you look kinda familiar..." "SHE DID WHAT?" Before Gerthein could answer, or even figure out who the tall, cloaked female reminded him of, she ran over to the cab and pulled out a smoking figure. "She's still alive. Fortunately it takes more than that to kill an Ewok," she muttered. Gerthein looked at his wife. Then at the other one. usher just stared at the ground. "Rakelle?" Gerthein asked slowly. "She isn't -I am," the tall girl answered. "Then who..." "Her real name is Nikki," Rakelle answered as the Ewok started coughing. "Let's continue this inside." * * * * * * * * * * * * Gerthein was appalled. "You mean to say I thought I married you, but instead I married an EWOK?!?!? WHY????????" Rakelle smirked. "Hey, you're rich, aren't you? Rich's heir even." "But, an EWOK???" "Yeah. Imagine the headlines if this gets out." "You'll RUIN MY CAREER!!!" Rakelle nodded. "It would have worked if Nikki hadn't suddenly developed a soft spot for usher here..." She looked at usher, who was sneezing violently as he bandaged a doe-eyed Ewok. "If that hadn't forced you to file for divorce, it would never have to come out. But, it can still remain a secret, you know..." "You want money, don't you?" "Just get me a real good settlement and you can forget you ever were married. She is leaving the country as soon as possible -stop sobbing! I warned you, remember?" she said aside to Nikki. "I'm pretty sure you can buy usher's silence as well, especially since I don't think he is any more eager to have this known than you are..." Gerthein mumbled some nasty Dutch words to himself as he made out an oversized check to Rakelle. "Just one question... why? Why have an Ewok marry me? If you wanted the money, why not do it yourself?" Rakelle's face twisted in a somewhat pained manner. "Don't you dare ask that," she whispered. "You wouldn't understand. None of your business." She pulled the check from his fingers and rushed out of the office. "Yub nub," Nikki complained, her burnt fingers holding a one way plane ticket. _______________________________________________________________________________ From: starwars@idt.net (Gray Leader) Subject: Re: [ART][801] New Season, New Faces. Date: Mon, 25 Aug 1997 02:45:26 GMT Gray Leader promptly walked into a wall. Then he took the Ray-Bans off, and set about looking around the building. He would ignore the documents for now, partly because he was still groggy from the crowbar, and partly because it didn't have any pictures. The building was a non-descript, completely deserted series of doors, elevators, and corridors. It looked suspiciously like the Death Star's interior. After making a few wrong turns and wandering around the empty hallways for several minutes, he found a quiet corner and settled down to read the three typewritten documents. The first was a series of maps and grids. The maps were in an unfamiliar format and style, and the grids looked to be some sort of code. Setting the first page aside, he turned to the second. Across the top was stamped "TOP SECRET." It read: URGENT COMMUNIQUÉ TO ALL MEMBERS OF THE ELF IN MAPPED AREA STOP NEW THREAT DISCOVERED STOP MUST BE NEUTRALIZED IMMEDIATELY STOP ALL AVAILABLE INFORMATION ON THREAT ENCLOSED STOP Gray Leader was confused. What was "the elf?" He pictured Santa and the reindeer, wearing suits and black shades, sending secret coded messages to the happy little elves. The third page was much more telling. It was a dossier on Gray Leader himself, complete with an attached polaroid photo of himself, unconscious. "Must have been put together right after I was captured," he decided. "They probably didn't expect me to wake up so fast...but why? Could I have been drugged?" REAL NAME: JOHN PRICE AGE: 13.5 HEIGHT: 5'1.5" WEIGHT: 95 LBS. EYES: GRAY HAIR: BROWN DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: CENSORED "Oh, my God!" he yelled. He suddenly felt violated. Having seen enough, he pocketed the secret papers and started on down the hall. Before he could get too far, though, he came to a door marked "DO NOT ENTER," "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY," "KEEP OUT," and several warnings in Spanish, French, and Bocce. He opened the door with the keys he found in his prison cell, and stepped inside. ________________________________________________________________________________ From: peter206@pilot.msu.edu (Dark Rendar) Subject: Re: [A-R-T] Episode 801: The Plot Sickens Date: Mon, 01 Sep 1997 03:29:38 GMT Hi kiddies! Armed with my copy of the AS RASSM Turns Official Plot, I am now ready to add my piece! *much cheering* OK, and here it is folks! The exciting cliffhanger to ART Episode 801: The Plot Sickens! "I CAN'T believe the only open flight to the Amazon was aboard Yub Nub Airlines..." Dark Rendar complained, settling into his window seat overlooking the wing of the 747. In the middle seat next to him, strapped in a *cute* SSS (Squirrel Safety Seat), Barq, his fur in disarray from the dizzying ride to the airport, squeaked loudly. DR looked at his little companion. "Hey, it's not my fault they made me buy a seat for you. At least the RASSM Planet will pick up the expenses..." The RASSM Planet was RASSM City's premier newspaper, and Dark Rendar and Barq team was its star investigative journalists. While he waited for the other passengers to board, DR opened up his laptop and made a quick check of his mail... Damn. Gerthein hadn't called. Oh, well. DR opened up the dossiers file and entered new information: Rich Handley: Executor of Handley Estate. Hates peas. Upon release from the hospital, spent some time at home and then suddenly relocated to South America. Current whereabouts unknown. Max Silvestri: Rich's son. Boyfriend of Amara. Has been seen hanging around the Handley Mansion. Friends of Gray Leader and JamesG... has a abhorrence for Chris Layne, and wants to keep him in RASSM City Mental Hospital. Gerthein thinks that Max called for the carbombing of his dad to get the Handley Fortune. Eric Bycer: Imprisoned by RASSM Police for Rich's Car-Bombing, but later found innocent and released. Immediately boarded plane for South America. Caution: May Be Dangerous! Bas-Jan Walewijk: Eric's inept lawyer, although he SOMEHOW got Eric out of Jail. Amara: Max Silvestri's girl. Hired free-lance troublemaker Gerthein Boersma to uncover Rich's real assassin. Gerthein Boersma: Teamed up with yours truly. Somehow discovered that "the Rimrunner" was the initial car-bomber. is supposedly Rich's "other" long lost son, brother to Max. One of the Handley heirs. The Rimrunner: Shadowy. And, hopefully, we'll keep it that way. James the Butler: BIG question mark. Butler at the Handley Estate. Is working on the inside for someone. Intentions unknown... Chris Layne, JamesG, Gray Leader: Incomplete, but involved. Other notes: Barq has bugged the Handley Mansion, and we're getting regular reports from anything that comes out of there. Lots of cattle running around. Ewoks sighted in RASSM City? Satisfied with his refresher, DR slammed shut the laptop and looked around. People were STILL filing on, loudly stowing away luggage, yelling for pillows, etc. Many passengers regarded Barq curiously, and the squirrel greeted stares with a chitter and a stuck-out tongue. DR looked out the window to see... longhorn cattle, mooing loudly, being herded into the cargo hold of the plane? That was odd. Barq chittered. "No, I don't think we'll be having hamburger for the in-flight meal" DR said, laughing. "Maybe they're just being taken out of RASSM City. There's been a lot of them running around lately, you know." FINALLY, the plane began to taxi towards the runway. DR strapped on his seat belt and waited for the beverage cart to come by... The plane took off without a hitch, sailing southward to South America and the Amazon. As soon as the Seat Belt sign flickered off, an older man a few rows ahead of DR and Barq stumbled out of his aisle and made a beeline for the lavoratories. DR chuckled softly to himself as Barq made a comment about old people's bladders. DR immediately stopped chuckling as the old guy passed. A lump formed in his throat, and refused to go away. The old guy was James the Butler. What in the hell was HE doing here? Barq chittered nervously. "Right, I'll call Gerthein. He'll know what to do. He had no sooner extracted his cellular from his case and flipped it on when a hand reached out and plucked it from his grasp. "I'm sorry, sir, calls are not permitted while in flight. You'll just have to wait until later," the attendant said politely. "Can I get you a drink?" DR's shoulders slumped. "Uh... sure. A Juri Juice and an Acorn Soda for my buddy." "Yub nub!" the attendant happily replied, preparing the drinks. DR's eyes widened, finally noticing that the attendant was rather short and awfully fuzzy. This was turning out to be an interesting flight. ________________________________________________________________________________ From: gerthein@worldaccess.nl (Gerthein Boersma) Subject: [A-R-T] [802] As RASSM Turns Returns Date: Mon, 01 Sep 1997 14:44:27 GMT In episode 802, "Max should really write a segment", Max writes a segment. Hopefully. *** "Welcome to my humble abode", smiled Boersma. Chris Layne looked around the huge living room of the conman's appartment in confusion. Aside from a small cubboard marked "Toys", the room was totally empty. Gerthein walked over to the cubboard and took a small remote control out of the top drawer. "So.." he continued smiling, "Wanna watch a little TV?". At the press of a button on the remote, a hatch in the ceiling opened and out popped a mechanical arm holding a huge 200' screen inches from Chris' face. Surprised, he jumped back a foot with a high pitched shriek. "2 million channels, 90.000 watts of dolby THX surround sound," Gerthein bragged, ".. a built-in VCR with the highest playback and recording quality on the planet and.... ", Gerthein mumbled softly and almost incomprehensibly ".. and. .uh.. and.. web tv.". Chris didn't seem too impressed. He just stared blankly at the screen as Gerthein channel-hopped from Madagascar 85 to Liechtenstein 31. Noticing Layne's boredom, Gerthein turned off the TV and it popped back neatly into the ceiling. 'Um.. okay, no TV.. how about a video-game?" he suggested, and pressed another button on the remote. This time, a hatch in the floor opened a few meters from Chris' feet, and out of it a huge cube-shaped metallic box slowly emerged, 10 by 10 by 10 feet of size, with a round door in it. Gerthein resumed his bragging: "Cutting edge virtual reality technology manufactured by Rick Berman himself.". Boersma leaned closer to Layne and gave him a little wink, "It has *feel-able* holograms.." he grinned. Again, Chris didn't react. Gerthein shook his head briefly. "No? Then perhaps you'd like a little relaxation instead." he concluded, pressing yet another one of the countless buttons. The virtual reality-cube popped back in the floor, and with a woosh, a 10 by 10 feet marble jacuzzi popped up in its place. "My personal favorite: the JacKA55 mega-pool. Space-age technology developed especially for Elvis. The massaging jetstream really has to be felt to be believed. And feel free to waste as much warm water as you like: The environment is no object.". Chris again didn't show any sign of enthusiasm. In fact, he began picking his nose. Gerthein sighed. "Alright, I don't have the time to show you *all* 3216 possibilities of the Home Sweet Home system.. just take the instruction booklet from the toy-cubboard and choose your own favorite. I'll just be making a brief phonecall...". Boersma pressed the "phone" icon and the "privacy" icon on the remote, and was promply entirely surrounded by a phone-booth sized sound-proof dome. He took out a phone from the small box on his right and voice-commanded: "Big Ernie". The phone began to dial. *** Darkness. Silence. Yet somehow, Amara got the impression that there was someone else in the room again. "Who's there?" she cried. "Miss Amara? Is that you?" a voice replied. Amara didn't recognize it. "Miss Amara, my name is Gray Leader. I'm here to help you." the voice contiued. Ding! That rang a bell. "Yes! I've been told about you, Mr.. um.. Leader, and I knew you were coming! You're a colleague of Rich's, aren't you? Come on! Get this blindfold off and untie me!". "I'm afraid that's not possible, miss Amara. See, I'm tied up and blinfolded as well." Amara groaned in despair. "My hero." she muttered disappointedly. *** "Okay Ernie, name your price." Gerthein finally cut to the chase. Ernie named his price. "WHAT?! I'm not *that* rich! I mean, sure, there were the royalties from the movie, but after the bill from ILM, I was all but broke.. Of course, I still had a buck or two to restyle my appartment, but that was before the divorce settlement." "Divorce? You and Rakelle? My heart bleeds." Big Ernie pretended to be interested. His tone of voice made it all-too clear, however, that he was rapidly loosing patience. "So what went wrong between you two?" "Oh, you know: Boy meets girl, boy marries girl, girl replaces herself with Ewok... the old cliché. Anyhow.. back to the subject of payment". Suddenly, Gerthein had a stroke of brilliance. "How's about you just take my miata? I know you've always liked it... Waddayasay -- I give you the pink miata, and you call of the 'twerps'." There was a tense pause. "Alright." Ernie finally replied. There was, after all, only one pink miata in existance. "The miata, and $5000 in cash, and we'll forget about the whole thing." "Excellent!" Gerthein cheered. He didn't like pink cars anyway, and Mobster Payoffs of up to $5000 were tax-deductable under RASSM City Law. "Um.. you've got to have one of your fellas pick the car up in Seattle, though... I think left it parked there somewhere. I'll send over the spare k.. err.. the keys and the cash right away. Deal? Great! Catch ya later, B.E.!". Gerthein hung up the phone and the privacy-dome retracted back into the ceiling. Smiling contently, he turned to Chris. "So what have you decided to..." He stopped halfway through his sentence, and gasped in horror: Chris wasn't reading the instruction booklet. Instead, he had taken Boersma's carefully assembled collection of Star Wars toys out of the cubboard and he was... he was.. he was *playing* with them! A vintage Millenium Falcon and A mint X-Wing were grasped firmly in the nutcase's left and right fist respectively. "Han old buddy get out of the way! Sorry, Luke, I've lost my thrusters! Collision immenent!" Bang. ________________________________________________________________________________