...and now, back to PENGUIN$... "CHRRRGGGGGG!"

******************************

"Houston, we have a problem," Will shouted from the driver's seat. He'd
brought the bus to a stop at the end of a long line of cars several blocks
from Cathedral Tower.

"What's going on kid?" George asked, leaving his seat next to Chris to stand
behind Will.

"Road Block," Will replied. "Looks like they're turning cars back."

George peered out the windshield. The intersection at the top of the street
was blocked by a wooden barricade and several police cars, their cherries
flashing. "Damn," he said. "I should have seen that coming."

"So whatta we do?" Will asked. "Should I turn the bus around?"

"No. Stay here, I'll go talk to them," George replied. "Somehow I've gotta
make these guys understand why they have to let us through. Even the best
cops can be pretty thick headed sometimes. I'm not looking forward to this."

"I'm coming too," Chris said.

"Uh, sorry, Ma'am," George said, shaking his head. "No disrespect and all
but..."

"Save it," Chris said, still smiling sweetly. "You catch more flies with
honey, George. You make your living as a contract warrior. Somehow, I have a
feeling that if they don't cooperate you might haul out the vinegar
instead."

George harrumphed. "Are you telling me that you're gonna stand there and
keep sweet talking them until they let us in? What if they don't fall for
it?"

"Then I'll just have to use my secret weapon," Chris replied. Behind her Jim
was grinning.

"Which is?" George prompted.

"I'll tell them all to go to hell."

George shook his head in disbelief. "And this is supposed to get us past
them?"

"Mr. Edwards," Chris said with mock seriousness. "There's a reason why I'm
the Supreme Leader of the Resistance Forces."

"And that is, Ms. Ely?" George raised an eyebrow.

"The reason, George, is that I have a talent for telling people to go to
hell. When I do it, they usually give me what I want and thank me for it."

George blinked and then ran a hand over his bald head, chuckling. "Well
then, Ma'am," he said. "Lead the way. I gotta see this for myself."

Will opened the front doors of the bus, allowing the potent combination of
scents that pervaded the morning air to creep in. Diesel fumes competed with
brewing coffee from the nearby Tim Horton's, and frying bacon from the diner
next to it.  But underlying it all was the scent of the smoke that still
billowed from the top of Cathedral Tower.

"What's that noise?" Will asked, leaning closer to the open window beside
him. "Man, that's weird."

"Noise?" Chris paused on the top step. She stood and listened. Windows slid
open as the rest of the team leaned out of the bus to strain their ears.

Chris stepped onto the sidewalk and shuddered slightly in the early morning
chill. She shaded her eyes from the glare of the gray light with one hand.
Two fast moving vehicles had just screeched off the Gardiner Underpass and
onto the road that the bus was stopped on. Cars coming down the road away
from the road block were forced to drive up onto the sidewalk to avoid them.

"Those idiots are driving against the oncoming traffic!" She said. "They're
gonna kill somebody!"

The bus tilted dangerously as the entire team crowded their combined weight
along the windows on one side. They watched as a van roared towards them,
followed by a eighteen wheeled semi. As the two passed, the words 'Smith
Veterinary Clinic' could be read clearly on the side of the van and 'Nine
Lives' on the Semi. The two vehicles continued towards the road block at
break-neck speed. Policemen scurried away in terror just before the van
crashed through the wooden barricade and tossed police cruisers like
Hotwheels cars. It, and the semi, skidded through the intersection, turned
right onto Front Street and then disappeared in the direction of Cathedral
Tower.

"Hey," Will said. "The guy in the van can't drive worth shit but he's got
good taste in music. That was The Cure coming out of those speakers."

"George!" Chris yelled, rushing back onto the bus. "I haven't got time to
explain. Follow them! Do it!"

"You heard the lady, Will," George said.

"Everybody hang on!" Will shouted. He turned the big steering wheel hard to
the left and pushed the gas peddle to the floor, swinging the bus into the
oncoming lane. The few courageous cops that had ventured out onto the road
were forced to throw themselves to safety again as the large red and white
transit vehicle barreled through the intersection.

Shots rang out and the entire team, except for Will, dropped to the floor of
the bus.

"Shit man!" Morris yelled. "They're firing at us? We're the good guys!"

"They don't know that," Jim said. "Just keep your head down. If our hunch is
correct they'll have something much worse to shoot at any time now."

The shooting suddenly stopped.

"Hey! What's going on?" Will yelled.

"Keep your eyes peeled and your foot to the floor, Will," George replied
calmly pulling himself back up into a seat.

The bus continued up Front Street unaccosted.

The streets around Cathedral Tower were empty. Debris from the explosion
littered the ground and windows were blown out in most of the surrounding
buildings.  The bus passed a car flattened by what looked suspiciously like
a helicopter landing pad. An over-priced piece of corporate art nouveau was
wearing a satellite dish.

Ahead of them the road was crowded with emergency vehicles, their lights
flashing.

"Easy now kid," George said from behind the drivers seat. "Hold our position
here."

"Sure, but something looks really wrong," Will said. "I see cop cars, fire
trucks and ambulances. I even see a CityTV van; but where the heck are the
people? Shouldn't there be a bit more activity at a disaster scene?"

"He's right," Jim said. "This doesn't look good. I'm going to take an
educated guess here. Will, keep driving until we're a little closer to the
building. Get us right in between the fire trucks."

"You mean drive right past those police cars?" Will's orange dreads flew as
he spun himself around in his seat to look at Jim.

"You've been a Penguin hunter long enough to have some kind of instinct
about what's going on, haven't you?" Jim asked.

"Well yeah, but I've never...," Will began.

"Trust me," Jim said evenly.

"Will," George said, uncertainty in his own eyes. "Drive."

Will turned back around in his seat and the bus began to inch forward.
Carefully, he maneuvered it past the empty police cruisers. Doors hung open
and the sounds of static and scratchy, distant voices were coming from their
abandoned radios. There didn't seem to be any panic in the voice of the
dispatcher. It sounded like business as usual.

"I'd really like to know how they're managing to keep this area so secure,"
George muttered. "They must have foo-ed a lot of important people for this."

Not far from the bus, the black van that had crashed the police barricade
stood silently with the semi looming behind it. Scratched and dented, both
vehicles looked as if they'd just reached the end of a long, harrowing
journey. Their windows were tinted black. No movement could be detected
inside.

"A little bit further please," Jim said quietly. "I want us to have cover,
but still be able to see as much of the area as possible."

The nose of the bus had barely begun to appear from between two fire trucks
when Will's foot hit the brake, bringing them to a screeching halt.

"Holeeee shit!" He yelped.

The entire team rushed at the front of the bus to stare through the
windshield.

A large group of firefighters, police officers, paramedics and other humans
were crowded together on the street in front of Cathedral Tower. All were
staring blindly ahead of them, unmoving. Before them stood an equally large
number of penguins, all armed with machine guns.

"Somehow, it doesn't look like a standoff to me," Will whispered.

"No," Jim said. "It's not. At least not anymore. They've all been foo-ed.
Those penguins were probably posted all around the building to keep people
out. I wouldn't be surprised if those cops that were just shooting at us
back there were partly foo-ed as well."

"There's got to be about fifty of those penguins," Mina interjected from
beside George. "That's the largest group we've ever fought." She glanced
behind her into the back of the bus. "I just hope we brought enough
ammunition."

"I say we take off; nuke the site from orbit," Dwight said. "It's the only
way to be sure."

"No one is nukin' the freakin' city of Toronto!" George bellowed. "We can
handle this, people! Besides, I don't think we packed the nukes."

A sunroof on the top of the van popped open. A stereo speaker was shoved
unceremoniously through it onto the roof and AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell'
started blasting out.

"Genius!" Jim cried, slapping his forehead. "Penguins hate Heavy Metal music
more than they love Yoko Ono!"

The beaks of the penguins snapped in the direction of the van. They fidgeted
uncomfortably and a few covered their ears. They muttered to each other and
looked back at the entrance to the Tower.

"It looks like they can't decide what to do about the music," Chris mused.
"I wonder if their means of communication was somehow damaged in the
explosion."

"Doesn't matter," George said. "Here they come."

Several of the penguins moved slowly towards the van. They held their guns
before them, ready to attack. One aimed his weapon at the source of the
music.

A large black cylinder was rising from the back of the van like a periscope.
When it stopped, a narrow slit opened at the very top of it. Tiny hatches
began flipping open all over the van. The long, slender black barrels of
several guns began to appear in the openings until the van looked like a
giant black widow spider waiting patiently to pounce.

The penguins froze momentarily, then they began firing wildly at the van,
squawking loudly. In reply, a hailstorm of bullets was released from the van
in all directions.

"Jaysuz! Those guys are nuts!" George yelped. Bullets slammed into the bus,
breaking windows and sending the team to the floor.

"Those foo-ed people are going to get massacred!" Jim yelled. "We've got to
do something to end this quick!" He pulled a Colt 1911 semi-automatic from a
holster inside his jacket and took aim out the nearest window.

Following his lead, the team sprang into action. With a battle shriek worthy
of a warrior princess, Mina grabbed the machine gun she'd had stored under
her seat and began firing.

Not expecting this added attack, the penguins found themselves caught in the
open between two attackers who were both firing from behind the walls of
fortresses. One by one they were gunned down where they stood. The battle
was over in a matter of minutes.  The pavement was slick with penguin blood
and littered with bodies.

Mina stepped back and blew on the barrel of her smoking gun. "Well," she
said. "I guess that takes care of that."

"That," George said, lowering his own weapon, "was too damn easy. Since when
has it ever been this easy?"

"Never where penguins are concerned," Chris said, her voice tense.
"Something's not right about this. I've got a bad feeling about it."

"So what do we do now?" Morris turned to George, panic in his eyes. "We'd
usually go into the nest at this point during a normal job, but this ain't
normal! You're not sending us in there are you? It'll be a massacre! Game
over man! There may be hundreds of birds in there. Thousands maybe."

"Now don't exaggerate," George said, trying to keep some sense of calm.

"Um, whoa," Will said, sitting up straighter in the drivers seat and
lowering his binoculars. He'd been watching the lobby of the tower. "Check
this out. Morris may have a point."

Something was happening behind the glass walls that were part of the
entrance to Cathedral Tower. Small penguin shapes were streaming out of the
doors on either side of the bank of elevators and filling the large lobby.
Many were frantically pushing their way into the revolving doors and
spinning endlessly until thrown out at trajectory orbits by their rampaging
co-minions.

The team of professional penguin hunting mercenaries stood open mouthed,
watching the unending stream of penguins; more than any of them had ever
seen in their lives.

"I was right," Chris murmured to Jim. "This is the big one."

Jim nodded. "To celebrate, I think I'll get myself a slightly bigger gun."
He put the colt aside and selected an AK-47 assault rifle from the crate at
the back of the bus.

Beside them, the gun barrels had retracted into the van, and the side door
slid open revealing a wall of squirming fur. A black and white cat squeezed
itself from the mass and jumped out. No one on the bus noticed.

The cat went through an amazing series of stretches, then yawned, revealing
a pink tongue and tiny sharp teeth. It took a quick moment to preen. Then,
it looked back at the wall of fur. "CHRRRGGGGGG!" It yowled.

The wall of fur blinked with a thousand eyes, then one cat squeezed out and
dropped to the ground, followed by another and then another. Soon a steady
stream of cats was flowing from the van and in the direction of the frantic
penguins.

The black and white cat then turned its attention to the semi. It stuck one
of its front paws into its mouth and blew a shrill whistle.

The sound caught Mina's attention. She looked in the direction of the van. A
tabby had just jumped out, covered in a familiar gray, black and
butterscotch cloud pattern. It spied her in the window of the bus and lifted
a paw to wave before scampering off in the direction the other cats had
gone, carrying a weapon on its back."

"Cleocatra?" She said. "Hey! That's my cat!"

The others turned to stare at her.

"I think she's finally lost it," Bob said to Morris, drawing circles in the
air next to his temple with one index finger. "I knew it was gonna happen
sooner or later with all that purple hair dye."

"No you idiot!" Mina shrieked. She turned and cuffed Bob across the ear.
"I'm not crazy. Look at the van! There are thousands of cats coming out of
it!"

"What the hell is this now?" George breathed, his eyes widening.

Chris cleared her throat carefully. "That," she said, "is the cat army.
That's why I told you to follow the van."

"The what?!" George shouted.

"I hate this part. It's so embarrassing," Jim muttered, covering his face
with his hands and shaking his head.

The back doors of the semi had opened to reveal yet another wall of blinking
fur. Soon hundreds of cats of all different breeds were jumping to the
pavement. The sound of bells ringing on flea collars could be clearly heard
over the din.

"They're the natural enemy of the penguin," Chris added, patting Jim on the
shoulder comfortingly.

"Great!" Morris whined. "Just great! Maybe we should put them in charge!"

He was ignored.

The press of penguin-kind began to take its toll on the glass wall of the
lobby. Long cracks ran across the wide panes, then huge shards fell away and
shattered on the pavement. A flood of frantic flightless waterfowl,
oblivious to the fact that the bomb had already gone off, gushed out.

An eager sea of felines was waiting for them. They gathered in great numbers
on the street at the base of the tower; hissing and glaring, their tails
fluffed and their tiny pointed ears flat to their heads. With an ear
splitting combined yowl they charged the penguins, their claws and teeth
bared.

The sight of their natural enemies attacking drove the fear from the
penguins. With a deafening cacophony of squawks, they rushed to meet their
adversaries in battle. Most of the penguins had dropped their weapons during
the stampede from the penthouse, but it did not stop them from fighting back
viciously, proving their reputations as lethal killers. The ones that still
carried their weapons dropped the man made contraptions out of instinct in
favor of their own beaks and claws. Blood, both penguin and feline began to
spill onto the pavement.

From the bus, Mina watched as a large gray cat sunk it's teeth into the side
of an Emperor penguin. The penguin squawked in rage as thick blue blood
rushed from the wound. It batted at the cat with its wings. Another penguin
appeared and raised it's clawed, webbed foot, slashing at the cat soldier
and sending it flying. The feline landed several feet away, mortally
wounded. Mina gasped.

"Bastards!" She shouted. "I'll kill any penguin that hurts my cat!" She
pulled a long sharp blade from her belt, grabbed her machine gun and rushed
to the front of the bus.

"Open the door, Will!" She yelled.

"I can't do that without orders, Mina," Will replied evenly.

"Mina, calm down," George said. "We have to think rationally."

"Don't you tell me to calm down!" Mina sobbed. "We're talking about Cleo's
life!"

"Hey!" Will said. "Check this out. There are people coming out of the
building, and they're surrounded by purple penguins!"

Several humans, their faces grim and their clothing in tatters, had emerged
from the lobby of the tower. They carried guns, and the purple penguins were
gathering behind them, obviously out of instinctive fear of the cat army.
The humans surveyed the scene ahead of them, immediately spying the foo-ed
emergency personnel trapped in the midst of the battle. They looked at each
other and nodded, then they waded into the fray, guns drawn. Strangely,
though the fighting continued around them, the penguins ignored them.
Apparently, in the war between these two ancient adversaries, humanity had
been temporarily thrown off battle roster.

"What are they going to do?" Mina breathed.

"What we should have done from the beginning," George replied grimly. "Get
your crap together people. We can't let the civvies get killed doing our
jobs. I want this done clean and by the book."

"We've got more humans coming out!" Will shouted. "It looks like there's a
man down!"

Two women, supporting the weight of an unconscious man, had appeared. Behind
them, an older man limped, one hand on his chest.

"It's Valeria and Christi! They're surrounded!" Mina gasped, dropping the
bulky, protective suit she'd been about to step into.  She pushed hard at
the damaged safety glass of the nearest window, causing it to pop out and
fall away from the bus. Before anyone could stop her she'd dragged her small
body through the opening, dropped to the ground and sped to the rescue of
her friends, gun swinging by it's strap at her back as she ran.

"Mina!!" George thundered. "That girl's got about as much sense as her cat.
Somebody go help her. Dwight! Morris! Bob!"

The three mercenaries were in their suits and out the front doors of the bus
in a flash, heavily armed.  Fred pulled a stretcher down from the ceiling of
the bus and began assembling first aid supplies.

"As long as they keep away from the Emperors they should be okay," Jim said,
stepping into an extra suit.

"You mean because of the toxin?" Fred asked from the back of the bus. "We
have tons of antidote."

"No," Jim said. "If this is your first time seeing cats and penguins
fight...," He paused and sighed, eyes rolled skyward. "I can't believe I
just said that." He cleared his throat and continued. "Um, then you probably
haven't seen what happens to Emperor Penguins when they get around their
natural enemies. I doubt they could control it even if they wanted to."

"It? What happens?" Fred said breathlessly, sitting down on one of the
nearby seats.

"You'll see," Jim replied. "They may be ignoring the humans for now, but
after they shift they go berserk. Anything that moves is fair game."

"Shift?" George echoed.

"We have to find the Empress," Chris said, pacing the length of the bus.

"The Empress?" George asked. "Here?"

"The size of this gathering of penguins is the best indication we have that
she's here," Chris replied. "And if I can kill her, it'll put an end to the
fighting; and the war. Forever."

"What do you mean by 'I' girlfriend?" George snorted. "You gonna do the
southern belle thing and sweet talk her to death?"

"As a woman born and raised in the state of Texas I take offense at your
attitude," Chris said, her eyes narrowing. "You're lucky, Mr. Edwards;
Because, as the leader of the resistance forces, I'm going to choose to
ignore it in the interests of getting the damn job done."

"Okay. All right," George said. "I'm sorry. I just don't see where you're
going with this idea that you're gonna kill the Empress on your own."

"I'm not," Chris said, smiling. She reached down and patted a long object,
wrapped in oil cloth, that lay on a seat by itself .

George shook his head.

"Here they come!" Will shouted, pulling the handle to open the doors to the
bus.

Dwight and Morris carefully eased the body of Forrester through the doors
and down the aisle to the back where Fred helped them lay him down on the
stretcher. Christi stood by nervously and watched, trying not to get in
Fred's way.

Valeria collapsed on a seat next to Crowley. Both were out of breath and
covered in cuts and bruises.

"I never," panted Valeria, "want to see another flight of stairs again for
the rest of my life. When the bomb went off I think I rolled down a hundred
of them. I must be purple from one end of my body to the other, just like
Anita's damn penguins." Her hair was singed at the back of her head, and her
upper arms and elbows were a scraped and bloody mess.

"Quite the harrowing experience," Crowley said, his hand was still over his
heart. He wore a pained expression.

"Fred!" George said. "I think we need you up here."

"No!" Crowley insisted, holding out his hand. "No. Not for me. I'm fine. I
just need to get my breath back. But if Fred has a bottle of good Irish
whiskey back there I wouldn't be adverse to some doctoring. I'm not as young
as I used to be."

"For an old goat you did fine, Sebastian," Valeria smiled at him
affectionately. "More than fine." She looked up at the worried faces of the
team. "This is Sebastian Crowley. He's the President of Tarot Industries. He
was a hostage, but then he got ambitious and ended up with us in the middle
of everything. He really held up his end. I'd say that makes him a hero."

"Hero or not, we're gonna get you out of here soon, sir," George said to
Crowley. "Unfortunately we're kind of in the middle of things ourselves." He
turned to Valeria. "Girlfriend, when this is over I'm gonna whip your ass
from here to Timbuktu. You won't be able to sit down for a month. What made
you think that you could just take off and not tell me where you were
going?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Valeria said, her cheeks turning
bright red. She spied Chris and Jim standing near the front of the bus, and
without preamble said: "She's here. In the subway tunnels. I don't know
exactly where, but close."

"I knew it," Chris said.

"There's gotta be a way to pin-point her location." Jim scratched at his
beard, thinking. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cellular phone.

Chris turned back to Valeria. "What about Anita Blake? What happened to
her."

"She was with us," Valeria said. "I'm not sure if she's alive or dead now.
It's a long story."

"And Forrester?" George added.

Valeria sighed. "He's a real hero."

"Skirt Boy?" George asked, incredulous.

Crowley stared at him, confused. "I don't know about any skirts, but that
young man took the full brunt of a punishment meant for a large number of
people. He is indeed a hero. When this is over, I intend to offer him a
position in my organization."

Christi raised her head at that, her eyes glistening with tears and red with
suppressed rage. "I hate to inform you, but Winston's been dead ever since
he was hit by the beam."

"How dead is he?" Crowley asked.

"What?" Christi looked up from blowing her nose in a Kleenex. "What kind of
question was that? Dead is dead."

"Sometimes," Crowley said softly, "only the mind of the dying man is fooled
into believing that, but the body hangs on. There is often a spark of life
left in an otherwise cold corpse. Even today no one really knows how to
define death, or know it's exact moment of happening because there are so
many subtle layers."

"What good does your stupid intellectual bullshit do for Winston?" Christi
sobbed. "He's dead! That bastard killed him with his machine."

"I was trying to make you feel better," Crowley said, pursing his lips. "If
you'd rather I bring it down to the common man's language, I could have said
it ain't over till the fat lady sings."

"Hey!" Fred suddenly yelled from the back of the bus. "I got a heartbeat
happening here!"

Christi jumped liked she'd been goosed. "Winston!"

"Damn I'm good," Crowley said smugly, sitting back in his seat and looking
over at Valeria. "I really was just trying to make her feel better. In
truth, there was no doubt in my mind that Forrester was dead meat."

"I suppose it's the thought that counts," Valeria murmured.

"Talk to him!" Fred said over his shoulder at Christi. "Let him hear your
voice so he can follow it back."

"What, me?" Christi's eyes went wide. She gulped and then took a deep
breath. "Okay, I can do this," she said. "Winston, do you hear me? I
promised Valeria that if we made it out alive I'd kill you for all the
stupid things you did! You can't take that kind of fun away from me!"

"Geez, Christi. Be nice," Fred rolled his eyes and rubbed the paddles of the
defibrillator together swiftly. "Damn. Lost it. I'm gonna hit him again.
Everyone stand back! Clear!"

Forrester's body jumped off the stretcher as electricity surged through him.
Fred stared at the monitor and shook his head. "It's still weak."

"Maybe that was the wrong thing to say," Christi babbled on desperately.
"Maybe I'm no good at saying what I feel sometimes. Winston, what you said
to me back in the Penthouse really touched me inside. I think I understand
you, and you know what? I like you. I really, really like you. I might even
love you. Who knows. I know that I'm attracted to you. I guess I can't deny
that anymore."

"I'm gonna do it one more time," Fred said. "Everyone stand back."

"In fact," Christi said. "If you come through this alive, I'll sleep with
you. I promise, okay? Did you hear me Winston? I'll have sex with you!"

"That oughta do it," Fred yelled. "Clear!"

Forrester's hands suddenly shot out and grabbed Fred's wrists just before
the paddles reached his chest. He opened his eyes and stared at Christi.

"Say that again," he said.

Christi's face went beet red. "You bastard!" She yelled. "You were faking?"

"Only for the last part," he said. "Say it again."

"Like hell!" Christi yelled.

"You promised." Forrester smiled weakly. "Besides, I knew it was worth
coming back the moment you said that you loved me."

"I said that I might," Christi sniffed

Forrester grinned. "It was neat. I was floating over my own body. I could
see all of you. I could see me. Then you said those words. You told me you
loved me. I fell back into my body." He had tears glistening in his eyes.
"Say it again," he insisted.

Fred moved back to allow Christi to step up to the stretcher.

She leaned over Forrester and whispered in his ear. "I love you," she said.
"There. I said it. Okay?"

"Perfect," he said grinning, then reached up and pulled her head down until
his lips met hers.

"God I'm glad he's alive," Valeria mused. "It looks like the beam didn't
affect him at all."

"Well, the design theory did work on the assumption that the subject had a
brain to begin with....," Crowley said then chuckled as Valeria glared at
him.

"I really hope the two love birds aren't gonna ask us to leave and give them
some privacy," Will yelled from the front of the bus, "Because the forecast
calls for rain, and besides, there happens to be a war going on outside."

"Oh my gosh!" Valeria said, turning to George. "Anita's penguins. Where are
they?"

"Last I saw of them, those people that came out before you had left them
standing by the entrance to the tower," George said.

"All alone?" Valeria cringed. "What if the cat army kills them? We've got to
get out there. Crowley thinks that there's a good chance Anita's alive. If
she finds out that we let her penguins get turned into cat food we'll all be
pushing up the daisies."

"Where is Mina?" Bob asked, frantically looking around him for the
diminutive merc. "I thought she was here. She was right behind us on the way
back to the bus."

"If I know her as well as I think I do, she's probably gone to save her cat
from the penguins," Christi said. "Don't ask me how, cause you don't wanna
know, but I think I might be able to stop the cats from attacking the purple
penguins."

"I thought I recognized that black and white cat," Chris said. "That's Elmer
Smudge, the Leader of the Cat Army. He lives with Christi. We've got to find
him in the midst of this madness and get him to spread the word to his cats
to leave the purple penguins alone."

"Done," Christi said. "Then we're going after the Empress."

"I don't think that...," Chris began.

"Screw that noise!" Christi yelled. "I'm gonna have to sleep with this
goober now because of that royal bitch!" She pointed at Forrester who
grinned sheepishly, then grabbed her hand and kissed it. Christi frowned and
tore her hand away.

"I'm coming, too," Valeria said.

"Well isn't that something," George said sarcastically, settling his big
bulk on a seat. "I guess us boys should just stay home and knit something
huh?"

"It's not like that, George...," Chris began.

"We have some shape shifting happening out there already!" Will yelled from
the front. "Those birds are tearing the cats apart."

Jim leaned over to stare out the front window of the bus. Chris and Valeria
crowded in behind him.  The Emperor penguins were beginning to shift into
something out of myths and nightmares. They'd grown in size and their beaks
and claws had become longer and sharper. The feathers that covered their
bodies had become tiny razorblades. The transformation made the ends of
their wings lethally sharp and dripping with the toxic goo which had now
become acidic, eating through anything it came into contact with.

"Never mind the purple penguins," Jim said quickly. "Mina and the other
humans are in the middle of that."

"Okay people," George said. "This is why we're here. Suit up. Men, our
mission is to save the humans, save the purple penguins and save the cats
while these three ladies here attempt to kill the Empress and save the world
without chipping a nail."

"Very funny, George," Valeria said dryly.

"Just one question sir?" Morris asked.

"Yeah what?" George replied.

"How do I get out of this chicken shit outfit?"

"You secure that shit, Morris," George said. He scowled and felt around in
the pockets of his protective suit, eventually producing a large, chewed up
cigar and sticking it in his mouth.

Forrester touched Christi's hand. "So you're going?" He asked.

"Yep. This is what I signed up for," Christi said, absently kicking at the
floor of the bus with one sneaker and smiling without meeting his eyes.

"Don't be gone long, Christi," he said, his eyes sad and a little delirious
from the drugs Fred had pumped into his arm.

"I won't," she replied. "I know it sounds dangerous and impossible and all
that, but," she sighed dramatically, "we're professional heroines. This is
the nineties. It's just one of those things we do."

Forrester nodded solemnly.

"And you, you little shithead," Christi added, smiling, "you're staying
here."

Forrester looked smug.

***********************

...Continued in  Issue 19  of PENGUIN$

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