SHOWDOWN IN NEW YORK CITY

[Christine Tallin, aka "Crystal", has scheduled a press 
conference, to announce her new superhuman status, and begin 
a new career as.....a superhuman? Unknown to her, two other 
supers are in the audience; Mitchell Langstrom, of New York 
City, and Tyler Sterrit, from Celina, Texas, who met 
earlier, and after testing their powers out a bit, decided 
to come meet the new heroine.]

Crystal:

The hotel lobby is crowded, wall to wall.  Reporters make up 
most of the number, trailing tangles of cables, cameramen 
and photographers setting up last minute needs, final duels 
for the best view of the stage.  The curious bystanders come 
next, people who either heard about the event and came to 
see it or just saw the crowd and joined it, hoping it would 
prove worth their interest.  There are more than a few 
policemen and the hotel's security personnel are quite 
visible.

There are so many people the small platform near the seems 
almost unimportant, undeserving of the bright, hot lights 
that focus all attention on it.  No one has stepped onto it 
yet, and there are murmurs among the crowd as the minutes 
tick on past the official start time.  Two.  Then three.

And then she begins down the steps, the flashbulbs starting 
at once, even before they can clearly see her.  Slender, 
shapely legs snuggled within deep blue lycra, flowing up 
into a picture-perfect body, the form-hugging suit whirling 
into white, then ending to leave her face and that alone 
uncovered. The face is familiar enough, though hard to put a 
name to at once, though whispered voices seem to try 
throughout the crowd.  Framed with professionally-kept brown 
hair, perfect, high cheekbones and large, blue-green eyes, 
all over a broad, joyful smile.  She steps down to the 
platform slowly, looking over the gathered people as best 
she can against the glare of the camera lights.  But she 
doesn't squint into those lights, does nothing to ruin the 
image.  She raises a hand when she steps behind the 
microphone stand, and the hand is bare as well.

"Good afternoon.  Thank you all for coming.  I hope you 
won't be disappointed."

She smiles again, drinking in the attention as if she was 
born to be at its center.  Her voice seems to help others 
put the name to the face, and there are more whispers 
throughout the gathering.  Her words are level and 
confident, sure of their own strength.

"I doubt it's much of a mystery to any of you now... I'm 
Christine Tallin. And until two nights ago, that was all.  
But now, I'd like to introduce you to another me, the one 
you all came to see.  Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to 
introduce you to Crystal."

And her hand raises in a dramatic gesture as she suddenly 
changes.  Her rich brown hair is gone, vanished, and her 
tanned skin has been replaced with fine-faceted crystal or 
glass, catching and reflecting the lights like a well-cut 
diamond.  Her smile is still there, unchanged, but harder to 
see now against her translucent features.

<><><><><>

[GM]

There are a few gasps, and much murmuring, as the beautiful 
cover girl suddenly becomes a beautiful crystal statue. 
Cameras flash, causing spectacular multihued reflections as 
the light splashes against her finely cut surfaces. Some 
reporters and photographers jostle each other to get closer, 
and questions begin to come from the assembled crowd;

"Do you work for the government?" "How did you get your 
powers?" "Are you going to fight super-terrorists like 
Deathstorm?" "Were you in the battle at Paula Abdul's party 
last night?" "What happened to the superwoman?" "What about 
rumors that there was a human lightning bolt there?" "Have 
you met Paladin?"

A flurry of questions, and Crystal waits for them to sort 
themselves out a little. A large bearded man in a neatly 
tailored suit moves forward, as if to start imposing some 
order on the excited reporters. Crystal smiles at the 
undivided attention focused on her, the video cameras 
broadcasting her eerily beautiful face to New York City, and 
the rest of the world.

Then the roof caves in with a crash.

Glass and plaster explode over the crowd. The skylight and 
much of the ceiling next to it disintegrates as something 
smashes through them. A dark figure, arms outstretched as 
she descends through the gaping hole she made and plummets 
straight down, feet first. A diminutive woman wrapped in 
black leather and heavy metal chains, her spray-painted 
biker jacket hanging slightly open to show bare cleavage 
with a bright green snake tattoo curling across one breast. 
A skull shaved bare except for a shocking purple mohawk 
standing straight up on her head, and a large metal stud 
piercing her left nostril.

Golden.

Lucretia.

Whatever her name is, Crystal recognizes the murderous 
superhuman who ripped steel cables apart and smashed 
concrete to powder with her bare hands. The one who stood 
laughing amidst a hail of exploding bullets, and shrugged 
off lasers. The one who now shows no signs of the burns that 
were inflicted last night, when Jason Little pumped several 
million volts into her inhumanly powerful body.

The woman who killed people as if she was swatting flies.

She descends feet first, and the man below her can't move 
aside in time. Her heavy steel-toed boots smash into his 
head and shoulders, drive him down into the floor with a 
sickening crunch, sending blood spattering across the room 
as she almost literally flattens him against the ground. The 
crowd of journalists surrounding her is paralyzed for a 
moment, too shocked by the horror in front of them to react.

Idly, she reaches a black-gloved hand up to wipe a streak of 
blood off her cheek. Then licks the blood off the back of 
her hand, with a smile. Madness gleams in her eyes, her 
insanity so obvious that it sends shudders through everyone 
who looks at her face.

"That was a great entrance, babe," she says to the stunned 
woman on the stage. "Figured I could do no less." The men 
and women next to her begin shrinking away, as moans and 
gasps and sobs begin escaping from them. "'Crystal', huh? I 
think I like 'Glass Bimbo' better."

Lucretia steps forward, swings both arms wide as she does. 
The left hand strikes a film camera with an impact that 
makes a sound like a gunshot as the camera explodes. People 
begin screaming as glass, metal and plastic fragments spray 
across the crowd like schrapnel. The right hand catches a 
woman's shoulder and sends her spinning like a top into the 
man next to her. They both tumble hard to the ground, the 
woman letting out a scream of pain. Her upper arm is bent at 
a ninety degree angle, and blood is already soaking her 
jacket. The man beneath her is knocked out by the impact.

"So," Lucretia says, advancing on Crystal with a chilling, 
malevolent grin, her deadly hands twisted into claws as she 
clutches the air, as if envisioning them around the crystal 
woman's neck, "where's Sparky the Wonder Hick? Do I gotta 
hunt him down and kill him separately?"

<><><><><>

Tyler:

"Well, s***," Tyler mouthed. This looked like a damned good 
time to depart, but getting out wasnb't gonna be easy. And 
if that b**** from hell ever focused over here, she really 
didn't want either of them to be in the line of fire, 
undefended. 

So what to do?

"Well, that b*** didn't look like anything normal would do 
her any damage. So I need something abby-normal." She 
giggled at her own humor.  It caught in her throat, like a 
lump of fear, and she had to swallow hoarsely. Not for the 
last time did she curse herself for her lack of attention to 
sci-fi hardware. She didn't think she could manage the old 
IronMan armor without some time to practice, even if what 
she got matched what she remembered from the comics. What 
had Mitchell suggested?

"Phasers," she said, concentrating. Maybe body armor or a 
tank would have been better. "Big ones. *Really* nasty ones, 
that we can use."

<><><><><>

[GM to Tyler]

The air above your hand shimmers, and two silver and black 
pistols fall out of another one of your "gates". They look 
just like the ones you remember from the 'Star Trek' TV 
show. You catch one, but fumble the other and it falls to 
the floor. The one you're holding feels light, but solid, 
and cool; whether made of metal or plastic, you can't tell.

<><><><><>

Crystal:

She freezes, trapped suddenly between exhilaration and stark 
fear.

Chris had grown up to attention, had lived with it all her 
life.  She'd been driven to it by her mother, then retreated 
back to it on her own. It was her goal, her comfort, her 
center and she drank it in the way her Crystal form drank in 
light.

So, for a moment, she freezes.  Last night again, people 
dying because of this maniac wanting to get at her.  Fear, 
horror, anger, all boiling within her mind at the dark 
memories.

But two things are different today.

One is that today was her day, and she was jealous to defend 
that.  Her time in the spotlight, her moments to bask in the 
press' attention.  Any one who took from that would pay.

And the second...  today, she wasn't Christine Tallin, soft 
and pretty and frozen by the biochemical reactions of 
countless generations deciding between flight and fight.  
Today, she was Crystal, for whom this was all at best, a 
mental exercise. Panic didn't raise a heartbeat or stop her 
breath, adrenaline didn't pump through her, making her every 
muscle beg to move in a million contradictory ways.  No, 
Crystal felt only the hot, powerful lights of the TV cameras 
and the simple intellectual knowledge that she should feel 
fear, should feel something, but somehow didn't. Instead, 
she feels the full warmth of the sunlight and spotlights 
still trapped in her crystal self and nothing, not even the 
danger presented by the bloodthirsty Lucretia's return, 
cooled that in the slightest.

The moment's confusion ended as the woman addressed her 
directly, threatening Jason. Blood already spilled, souring 
her debut, ruining the moment, forever linking her new name 
to death and pain...

"I don't know who you are or why you're after me.  But I do 
know that it ends here and now."

Her voice is cold and level, filling the room thanks to the 
forgotten microphone she still stands behind.  She raises 
her hand as she speaks, palm raised, held flat toward her 
deadly foe.

And she feels all the power of the afternoon sun and the 
spotlights and glow of hundreds of eyes on her welling 
inside, hot and powerful.

And with no more than a thought, she lets it all go.

<><><><><>

Mitchell:

   Mitchell dives under a table, letting the confusion cover 
his return to normal form, then stands up again discretely. 
*Got to be ready in case I have to mimic someone.*
   "Yeah, phasers," he agrees, shielding his eyes when he 
sees Crystal lift her hand, knowing what would come next in 
science fiction.

<><><><><>

[GM to Crystal]

The punk grins at your words. "Ooooh, I'm impressed, Bimbo." 
She continues her implacable advance. Several police 
officers and security guards are present, and their guns are 
already out, leveled at her. One yells at her to freeze, two 
more don't bother. And she ignores the bullets that rip 
holes through her jacket. One bounces off her skull, and a 
fleeing reporter screams as it tears through her leg.

Then you unleash your stored up energy, a reservoir of power 
that you didn't have last time, when you were weak and 
unprepared and in a panic. The power surges through your 
arms and seems to collect for an instant in your 
outstretched palms. They glow briefly, bright as the sun, 
and then a beam of light flashes out from them, catching the 
psychotic superwoman full in the chest.

The woman is brilliantly illuminated in the flash, a black 
silhouette caught in a powerful glare of light and heat. 
Flames explode around her as her leather jacket ignites and 
burns. She takes a step backward, as the glow fades. Smoke 
rises from her, as burning fragments of leather and red-hot 
metal links fall from her shoulders. Her torso is bare now, 
revealing a lithe and well-formed body. A snake tattoo curls 
all the way around her naked left breast, and there are four 
ghastly, individually stylized grinning skulls decorating 
her upper right arm. A few trickles and blobs of molten 
metal, from the chains she was wearing attached to her 
jacket, sizzle on her bare skin. It doesn't seem to bother 
her.

She looks down at her exposed upper half, then back up at 
you. "You know," she says, in an eerily calm voice, "I think 
from now on, when I go hunting for one of you freaks, I'll 
just come naked. That'll save you the trouble of **BURNING 
MY !&%#*!! CLOTHES OFF**!!!!"

You don't feel completely drained as you did last time; 
there is still power in you, but that extra "boost" is gone, 
drained like a depleted battery.

And the lunatic launches herself at you at the speed of 
sound.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	Tyler caught the one phaser, and kicked the other 
across the floor to the scuttling Mitchell. "Yo, cowboy; 
make yourself useful.  Ah ain't got no idea if these things 
work, but ah don't think duckin' is the way to handle the 
situation."
	She took a quick look at the weapon as she adjusted to 
its balance, trying to determine if there was any sort of 
power setting on it. It looked like *max* was going to be 
barely enough. 
	Once it was set on disintegrate, she squared her 
shoulders, and braced her forearms across the table, trying 
to draw a two-handed bead on the now-seminaked B**** from 
Hell. Nuking Crystal probably wasn't a good thing; she had 
to be careful.

<><><><><>

Mitchell:

   Mitchell leans down and gingerly picks up the fallen 
phaser before some loon in the crowd can get it, and, 
keeping it aimed away from everything living, looks at the 
setting. "Careful," he says to Tyler, "remember the 
spreading effect the disintegration setting of phasers have. 
Anybody holding onto anything that goes, gets phased out of 
existence too."
   "I'm glad I'm not wearing red," he muses, trying to make 
sense of the setting dial.

   Taking careful aim on the seminaked opponent of Crystal, 
he tries to set the phaser on the kill setting. *Heavy stun 
never did work on aliens, until the second or third shot.*
   If she starts after Tyler, Crystal, or himself before 
they can fire, he will use telekinesis to send some table or 
chair flying into the woman's back, and into her path.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Tyler and Mitchell both find that the phasers have a dial 
that alternates from "Stun" to "Heavy Stun" to "Kill", with 
several degrees in between. In English, which strikes 
Mitchell as being odd for a moment; after all, everybody 
spoke English in the TV series, but that was just a 
convention for the viewing audience, right?

The two young people set phasers on "Kill", sight on the 
naked woman's steaming form, and pull the triggers.

The phasers make a really neat keening noise, and little 
lights at the end of the barrels flash and sparkle.

Tyler looks at her weapon, notices a small panel in the 
grip, and turns it over to look at the bottom.



 -----------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
| Mattel  <registered trademark>					
	|
|									|
| 'Star Trek: The Next Generation' (c) 1993, Paramount 
Pictures 		|
|									|
| Use AA Batteries						
	|
| Not recommended for children under the age of 8		
	|
 -----------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	"*F***," Tyler managed, pithily. "Now what..." She had 
at least one moment of satisfaction; she never could have 
produced the Iron Man armor, and she'd probably done well 
not to waste her time. Simply because the thing existed in 
some place common to her memory did NOT mean it ever really 
existed in the 'alternate' earth from which she drew things. 
Fantasy did not mean reality in some other timeline. 
	So she had to be drawing from only *one* alternate 
timeline,   then.  Well, it was good to know, but what good 
did it do her?  Standard weapons were apparently useless 
against this monster. She decided to give it one more try, 
and concentrate on something more real and generic. The 
ultimate hand weapon [whatever it was]. She focused on 
lethality, ease of operation, and minimal spread of pattern.  
*Something* from her pool of resource had to fit that 
pattern...Sure,  maybe such a general summons was 
ineffective; maybe she actually had to *know* whereof she 
thought, before she could manage a 'summons'. If so,  they 
were well and truly f***ed.

<><><><><>

[GM to Tyler]

That "place", wherever it is that you call your objects 
from, seems distant, and only the faintest glimmering of a 
portal forms, for less than an instant. Somehow, you sense 
your "wish" was too unformed, a vague concept for which your 
power could find no matching object.

<><><><><>

Mitchell:

"Oh, great," Mitchell mutters. "I guess Star Trek isn't real 
in any alternate universe." He sets the toy phaser to stun 
and stuffs it in a pocket, glancing aside to Tyler. "Wish me 
luck, and like, I dunno, materialize a nice headstone or 
something," he whispers, then looks to the seminaked woman, 
smiling. "Hi there," he says, concentrating on unleashing 
his seductive and desire inducing power at full force toward 
her, willing her to be in his spell, following instincts if 
any manifest on a form she would find pleasing. "Pleased to 
meet you. My name is Mitchell."

<><><><><>

[GM to Mitchell]

[She's going a little too fast for you to try seducing her, 
don't you think? <g>]

<><><><><>

Crystal:

It barely phased her, even as it burned away her clothes, 
melted the metal of those chains...  The physical approach 
wasn't worth it, but perhaps she could hold the crazed woman 
back until help arrived.  This was all being broadcast live, 
somewhere.  And what choice did she have?  But she had to 
get some space between the crowd and this woman...

Crystal waits to step aside from the charge, standing firm 
until the last moment even as she concentrates, drawing up 
some of the light still in her, focusing it tight in a 
narrow beam as intense as she can manage.  Then, when the 
enraged killer is so close she can't possibly avoid it, that 
lancing energy is send directly toward her face just before 
its source tries to spin aside, to leave the (hopefully) 
blinded attacker flying past, into the wall...

Perhaps her one strength is enough to hurt her...

<><><><><>

[GM to Crystal]

She comes at you faster than any human being can move, not 
sprinting but flying, fists first, her face a mask of rage. 
You have less than a split-second....

Your laser beam flashes across her face, and she flinches... 
but she's too fast, you miss her eyes.

Her fists slam into you before you can move aside. At 
hundreds of miles per hour, her momentum carries you with 
her with no chance for you to resist. The two of you go 
through the stairs behind you, plowing through the stone and 
glass spiral staircase and blowing it apart like a 
tinkertoy. You keep going, through the wall on the far side 
of the room, and plow through it. Then you drop to the 
ground as she banks up, then circles around in the small 
hotel courtyard. Strangely enough, you don't feel hurt, 
though in this hard, unyielding body, you might be shattered 
inside in ways that will kill you when you return to normal, 
and you might not know....

And the grinning, murderous madwoman is coming back at 
you...

<><><><><>

Crystal:

She can't afford to think about the damage, can't afford to 
think about the pain.  Right now, she can't feel it so she 
can't worry about it.  She can only focus on what she has to 
do, and that is find a way to hold off this maniac long 
enough to find something to put her down.

She had taken more than a few self defense classes.  Her 
mother had insisted even before she knew why, and she'd kept 
up once she learned.  She knew about attacking for weak 
places, going for the face...  She lets crazy take her this 
time, but as she is held she presses her hand into her face, 
as if clawing for her eyes.  But she doesn't bother with 
that simple but probably hopeless action.  Instead, her hand 
flares with the brightness of a star, hot and blinding.  
They were far enough from the crowd now that it should be 
safe.  It should win her a moment, maybe two, to think.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

*Damn.* Double damn. Now what? She...

Tyler had this wild, potentially great idea. Apparently this 
Crystal chick had a lot of power, but it wasn't impacting 
the way it needed to,  because the woman was bouncing it 
off. What would amplify it?

Of course. She had taken some classes, and had actually 
payed attention in Girl Scouts.
 She concentrated on something round as an oversized 
frisbee, that would do the job.

A fresnel lens the size of Captain America's shield. A lens 
faceted to focus even Crystal's broadbased power output into 
something infinitely more concentrated and deadly. Fresnel 
lenses turned sunlight into metal-melting heat. Imagine what 
it could do with Crystal's input.

When it dropped out of the sky, she was ready; she would 
sort of flip it to Crystal, and yell at her to "shoot 
through *this*..."

If she'd listen. 

If it would work.

<><><><><>

[GM to Tyler]

It's not quite the size of Captain America's shield, but at 
two feet across, it surely has some significant amplifying 
power. It also makes you realize that you're getting 
drained....all this summoning of things isn't without cost.

The large glass lens with a shiny metal rim looks perfectly 
clean and clear. You can only hope it will work the way you 
hope.

But it seems an inopportune time to toss it to Crystal, 
while she's hurtling across the room....

[GM]

The flash almost blinds Crystal as well, except she knew to 
turn her head away and close her eyes. Even through her 
crystalline lids, she feels the light penetrate.

The madwoman screams in rage and skids to a halt, literally 
digging her feet into the ground and plowing twin furrows 
across the hotel's tiled floor.

"Not AGAIN, you *&@!$& B****!!!" she screams, one hand 
closed on Crystal's upper arm and the other clutching her 
own face. She spins around and releases Crystal, hurling her 
across the room like a very non-aerodynamic discus, but her 
inhuman strength sends the model-turned-superhuman shooting 
through the air like a missile. Crystal slams headfirst into 
the brick exterior wall. Her glassy skull smashes into the 
bricks and sends fragments showering around the room, 
followed by her shoulders, then the rest of her body. Rather 
than going all the way through, she comes to a halt, and her 
curled up body unfolds as G-forces snap her straight out 
into a spread-eagled posture, imbedded upside-down in the 
wall. She sticks there for a moment, three inches deep and 
looking almost comical, if not for the deadliness of the 
situation. Then she moves, weakly, and her legs come free, 
followed by the rest of her. The crystalline woman tumbles 
over and falls to the floor on her hands and knees, which 
shatter tiles as they impact.

Crystal feels a grating sensation as she moves, particularly 
in her extremities. It's not painful, as she doesn't seem to 
feel pain in this form, but it's a definite indication that 
things aren't in good working order.

Meanwhile, "Lucretia" is rubbing her eyes and stomping 
around in furious circles, leaving foot-sized depressions 
where she stomps. "You !%@$#! *&%!$#*@! &!#!$! *!&!&#!!!!" 
she screams. And more of the same. "I'm gonna &@*#$! KILL 
YOU you %!$# %#&*!!!" Then she stops suddenly, and stands up 
straight, taking her hands away from her momentarily-blinded 
eyes. "What the %!!#?" Then a slow, malevolent grin spreads 
across her insane face. "More freaks? You brought friends 
AGAIN, Bimbo?" She rubs her eyes more carefully now, 
becoming frighteningly calm. "I'll *@%!$# waste ALL of you, 
I swear to !%!$* GOD I will!! I'm gonna rip the glass 
bimbo's arms and legs off an' %!$!$* beat you to death with 
'em, then shove the &%!%*! shards down your *!%$!@ throats 
until your &!%$$! guts burst out your a**!"

<><><><><>

Tyler:

Tyler felt like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers, 
trying to do too many things at once: keep one eye on 
Mitchell, keep one eye on Crystal the human cannonball, 
catch and balance the lens, and avoid the madwoman. 

The latter seemed to be a somewhat more important option, 
since apparently she had discovered Mitchell, and maybe even 
Tyler herself.

She might not be able to *throw* Crystal the lens, but she 
could damn sure mount it and *aim* it for her. 
	
"Hey!" she shouted. "Crystal whatever-your-name-is!" Tyler 
held the lens out to the side, using both hands at the 
lens's edge much as one might a matador's cape, focused 
downrange, dead on the madwoman.  

Tyler was used to the abusive language, and she turned it on 
the madwoman. "Kiss your narrow ass goodbye, bitch, the 
Rangers are here!   Crystal...darlin'...we're both on 
y'all's side. This' a big-ass fresnel lens," she shouted. 
"Let another one rip at the Tattoo Queen over yonder, r'at 
through here!"

**God oh God, let it work...**

<><><><><>

Crystal:

'God, what keeps her going?  And how do I stop her?  I don't 
even want to look down.  I'm probably all cracks and... no, 
not now.  No time.  Have to...'

It was then that the murderous woman's words filter through.  
Others?  Here? Jason?

She looks around, but doesn't see anyone familiar.  No 
one...

That woman, holding a lens.  A magnifying lens.  It might 
work!  If only she can draw in enough light to focus into 
it, it would tighten it more and...

"Got it!"  And she moves (ignoring the stiffness in her 
legs, her arms, can't think about that now, can't...), 
crossing to stand right in front of one of the TV lights, 
one of the few still standing.  Now she's ready.  The light 
floods into her and she focuses it, aims through the lens 
(she will know to move her aim, whoever she is?  I hope 
so...  Saying any more would just be a warning...) and lets 
it go...

<><><><><>

[GM to Crystal]

You try to move into position, feel the warmth of the bright 
light behind you, but you're disappointed to realize that 
the energy you absorb from it is a tiny fraction of what you 
spent firing that laser beam. You are instinctively sensing 
a few more things about your power; The laser definitely 
uses energy from your body, and like any other physical 
exertion, its power varies with your effort. With the first 
blast, you expended the "extra" charge you were carrying. 
The second, the one you tried to blind her with, as well as 
the flash, was a less intense effort, not draining you much, 
but weaker than your first shot. And with that extra reserve 
that you built up during the day now dissipated, putting 
anything extra into this one will drain you more severely.

The dark-haired woman with the Texas drawl does her best to 
hold the lens directly between you and the lunatic, but 
you're not at all sure of your aim. You're not even entirely 
sure you'll put it through the lens....not a pleasant 
thought if you were to be the woman holding it.

And more importantly, there's someone else in the way....

<><><><><>

Mitchell:

   *I can't believe I'm going to do this,* Mitchell thinks, 
lifting off and quickly, very quietly sailing through the 
air while Lucretia is blinded, to try and come up silently 
behind her and touch her back with both hands, fear, 
exhiliration and desperation building in a wave, as he 
thinks back to the mimicking and draining of the warrior 
woman, and the form exchange with Julie, willing intensely, 
*trade bodies*drain her powers*drain her form*trade 
forms*drain her powers or life*be her*make her me*, 
imagining it, visualizing it, putting all his emotional 
force behind the concept.
   The desperation of someone who knows he, and friends, 
might die if he doesn't succeed.

<><><><><>

[GM to Mitchell]

You grab the woman without difficulty; she's not making any 
effort to avoid you, doesn't even seem aware of your exact 
location.

Until you lay hands on her. She spins with blinding speed 
and her hand closes on your wrist, even as you start trying 
to....drain her, mimic her, whatever....what you actually 
sense is a pattern, for lack of a better term (how can you 
describe a sensation no human being has felt before?) being 
absorbed into you.

You forget that sensation when she squeezes.

You hear a sickening crunch as your wrist is squished to a 
bloody pulp. Bones and flesh compress in her grip like she 
was wringing a washrag. Pain blazes up your arm and 
overwhelms all your senses, and you stagger in an effort to 
keep from passing out.

"Die, freak!" she hisses, blinking at you and raising one 
deadly fist....

<><><><><>

Mitchell:

   Mitchell screams, long, loud, and horribly.
   *Accept the pain* the old sci-fi words filter 
hysterically through his mind as he concentrates on keeping 
his head away from her fist, and very, very desperately 
trying to absorb the pattern or change her, or anything 
possible, while trying to avoid becoming one with her fist.
   If there is no success, he will try to sling something at 
her back via telekinesis as distraction and try to wrench 
free.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	"Get the *hell* out of the way, retard!" Tyler 
screamed at the bystander blocking their line of fire. 
"Y'all want to get your silly ass killed? GET DOWN! NOW!! 
C'MON!"
	The last was for Crystal, who to Tyler's way of 
thinking was taking her own sweet time to lift her end of 
the log. 
	"Take the shot!" she screeched. "What do you want? Ah 
ain't got all day, and the crazy b**** is hurtin' Mitchell."

<><><><><>

Crystal:

Concentrate, Christine.  Focus.  You have to do this right, 
it's the only chance you'll get.  You have to...

She tries to steady herself, but the fuzziness in her limbs 
doesn't help. She knows she's hurt, probably badly.  She 
feels the fear of it in her mind, but she tries to push it 
down and looks through the lens toward...

Phantom pain stabs her wrist as she sees another victim of a 
too familiar attack.  Her mind all but begs for tears to 
blur the sight, but none come. And she cannot look away.

Because the moment the line is clear, she has to let go with 
everything she has.  Because after that boy, there'll be 
another, then another and another...  It has to be stopped.  
She has to be stopped.

Now.

<><><><><>

[GM to Mitchell]

*Accept the pain*

Maybe it worked for Mr. Spock, and Paul Atreides, but not 
you. The pain is enough to turn you into a gibbering, 
mindless wreck...almost. You still drain her, or absorb her, 
or whatever you're doing. The sensation is barely 
perceptible, under the searing agony of your mangled wrist.

Then her fist hits you, and you don't feel anything after 
that.

[GM to Crystal]

The boy, screaming in the madwoman's grip, is *changing*! 
His body warps and melds as you watch....

He's turning into a woman, with a mohawk....

Then Lucretia smashes her fist into his (?) face. Blood and 
teeth go flying, but somehow you expected his head to vanish 
in a red mist. Instead, he lurches backwards and hits the 
floor, hard, skidding several yards. By the time he comes to 
a stop, he looks like the woman who just smashed his jaw. 
Except the lower half of this clone "Lucretia's" face is 
covered with blood, and "her" left hand hangs by a bloody, 
pulpy string of flesh.

You don't really notice that, though; for one instant, you 
have a clear shot at the psycho, through the lens held in 
the outstretched arms of the other woman, and you focus 
every bit of enery in your body out through your extended 
hands. Your arms glow brightly and your fingertips flare 
like stars, and a brilliant white light lances out, passes 
through the lens, but not perfectly; part of it catches the 
edge and vaporizes the metal band, the heat warping the 
glass and partially melting it. Not before the greater part 
of your output passes through, though.

A blinding white, needle-thin beam of light comes out, at a 
slight angle. It hits Lucretia in the shoulder, and passes 
through her bicep.

Her left arm falls off, smoking. Her shoulder oozes blood, 
but most of the raw flesh is cauterized instantly.

Lucretia jerks, blinks down at her shoulder, and squints 
back at you, gaping. Then screams, as much in rage as in 
pain. She comes at you like a bullet, but although you're 
barely able to duck, she was still half-blinded, and goes 
too far to the right. She plows through the outside wall of 
the hotel, just below the impression you made a moment ago 
when she threw you into it. You hear screams from outside. 
The severed arm twitches and convulses on the floor, its 
black gloved hand suddenly closing on a fallen microphone 
and crushing it.

"BIMBOOOOO!!! I'll *#@%!&!! KILL YOUUUUUU!!!!!!" The 
madwoman's voice, howling over the commotion outside. Then 
the wall explodes inward, as she smashes a new entrance into 
the foyer, widening the breach already made.

<><><><><>

Mitchell:

   Mitchell decides to take a little nap, coma, break from 
reality, dreamtime excursion, near death experience, old 
rerun sci-fi shows flashing before his eyes.

   [OOC: The moment consciousness returns, if it does, he 
will work on regeneration.]

<><><><><>

Tyler:

Tyler, who'd dropped the warped lens after the flash and 
aftereffect,  clenched her teeth against the pain in her 
hands; the lens had gone almost red-hot from inducted heat 
when Crystal's beam passed through it, and even her rope-
work and riding-calloused fingers couldn't resist the burn. 
It looked like bad rope burn, and hurt like hell. 

She chanced a glance at the lens; warped, the frame melted. 
She was
no engineer, but it didn't look usable. Now what? Even 
missing an arm,  the madwoman was a load, bashing through 
walls and cursing like a sailor. Mitchell was likely just as 
strong, now, if his duplication trick worked, but he looked 
a tad the worse for the wear. A stab of sympathetic pain 
coursed through her, memory from her accident. His  arm 
didn't look likely to heal.
 
It looked like it was up to her...but...what? Crystal's 
energy projections looked to Tyler like they were getting 
weaker, like a flashlight with fading batteries, discounting 
the lens effect. Could she conjure up something to put her 
back at full power? Did *she*  have enough energy? 

"Hey!" she shouted. "Quick! What kind of power source y'all 
need to perk back up?"

<><><><><>

Crystal:

It still wasn't enough.

Crystal stands in near exhausted shock, dodging by reflex, 
staring at the blazing anger of Lucretia.

The blast has taken off her arm and it wasn't enough to slow 
her down.

The blast that had taken almost the last of her power, left 
her nearly drained, unsteady... and it wasn't enough.

She had to either give up or find some way to...

She hears the voice and realizes her mind wasn't the only 
one following this path.

"Light.  Sunlight, I think.  I'm not sure.  But there isn't 
time..."

She pauses, then realizes that what there isn't time for is 
delay.

And she makes her way toward this strange woman who carried 
huge magnifying lenses with her and hopes she has some sort 
of idea to help...

And always watching for the dangerous approach of Lucretia, 
ready to dodge aside as best she can.  For now, as long as 
her eyes have not recovered, Chris knows she has a chance.  
If that one remaning hand got ahold of her...

She isn't sure.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

Light. 

Well, Tyler didn't think she could call up the sun, but she 
ought to be able to manage the next best thing. 

A gasoline powered searchlight. Klieg lights were common 
enough at rodeos for spectacular entries, grand marches, hot 
entertainers, even prize ceremonies. She was going to have 
to start it, though, and even with electric starters they 
had to have fuel. So...get one already fueled, no problem. 
At least it was small, compared to a truck.

Tyler concentrated. 

<><><><><>

[GM]

Crystal gets her first look at the shimmering portals that 
open in the air when Tyler "summons" things. A weird 
spinning nexus that seems to be no color at all, like a 
blind spot. Then a big gasoline powered light drops out of 
it, not only already fueled, but already on, its motor 
running racously. The intense beam flashes around the room, 
then points at the floor as the klieg light tips over. Tyler 
hastily pulls it upright, wincing as the strain from opening 
yet another gate has drained her further, and points it at 
Crysal.

It feels good. Energizing. You can feel power from the 
blinding radiance soaking into you....

But slowly. Oh, it's far more noticeable than the negligent 
amount you absorbed from the TV lights, and even faster than 
the steady replenishment you derived from sunlight, but it's 
not fast enough. A few minutes standing in front of this big 
klieg light, and you might be almost back to normal.

But Lucretia, lurching towards you, perhaps not completely 
recovered but definitely able to see well enough to know 
where you are, isn't going to give you a few minutes. She 
puts her one hand in front of her eyes, as she walks towards 
the blinding spotlight, with Crystal silhouetted in front of 
it.

<><><><><>

Crystal:

Crystal doesn't take the moment to wonder where the huge 
light came from, how it was not here then suddenly was.  She 
had to hope it was enough, and so stood in its stream and 
felt its power and heat and knew, almost at once, that it 
wasn't.

"It's too slow.  I won't be able..."

She bites off her words, watching as Lucretia surges forward 
through the spotlight's glare.  And she wonders what else 
she can possibly do.  She knows she can release the power of 
light as searing blasts, blinding flares.  But could there 
be anything else?  She can't imagine what.  Light just 
doesn't do anything else...

But she knows she has another advantage.  Her crystalline 
body is hard and sharp and it doesn't feel pain.  The maniac 
woman approaching her is hurt, missing an arm, still nearly 
blind.  And Chris knows something of how to fight, though 
she always hoped she'd never have to.  She can try to hold 
Lucretia in place and maybe this amazingly resourceful woman 
behind her can do something.

She manages to keep her voice as level and steady as she 
can, hoping it carries over the noisy spotlight.

"I can try to hold her, or slow her down.  You aren't hiding 
any tranquilizers or anything where you had this lamp and 
that lens, are you?  Or if you have some other idea, I'd 
like to hear it."

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	Tyler's hands burned. Her shoulders ached. Her energy 
level was...well, she ached all over. Even at one hundred 
percent, moving the big searchlight around wouldn't have 
been an easy task, and it was easy to tell that she was 
leaking strength with each "summons"  like a sieve leaked 
water. Some sort of elephant tranquilizer? Who knew if it'd 
pierce the madwoman's skin? Drugs? Gas? Hell, Tyler couldn't 
even tell if the creature needed to breathe. Needles or 
darts might just bounce off...
	"Lady, ah'm runnin' out of ideas, and ah'm runnin' out 
of energy.   Y'all want another lens thingie? Dart gun? Tear 
gas? Ah can go for some sort of weapon and try and shoot 
y'all's way out..."
	**Hell, ah don't have time to think, and Mitchell's 
already scragged.** She closed her eyes, and concentrated on 
a shoulder weapon with big-time armor piercing ammo. 
*Depleted uranium cores*;  she remembered the buzzwords 
she'd read about in Gulf war press chronicles.  Maybe her 
pocket universe had personal weapons with the same effect.
	Concentrate. Put aside the near exhaustion. Play 
through the pain.  She'd done it before, in the rodeo. 

 <><><><><>

[GM]

Once more, you pull something from wherever it is these 
things come from. The effort nearly exhausts you, so you 
have little strength to hold what comes out.

This is one BFG. Like something out of those comic books, 
where the heroes nowadays carry rifles the size of a car. Or 
videogames. It's kind of what you were visualizing; a 
humongous gun with half a dozen barrels arranged in a 
circular cluster, each one big enough to put your fist down 
it. A huge pistol grip, looking like it was designed for 
someone with hands the size of a baseball mitt, projects out 
of a bulky stock. A heavily padded shoulder harness sticks 
out the back, and a folded extendable bipod lies against the 
underside of the weapon, suggesting this is not something 
that one fires from the hip.

Not that you could fire it at all; right now, you're having 
trouble lifting it.

Lucretia lashes out with one fist, slapping Crystal into the 
krieg light. It explodes with a burst of flames, showering 
Tyler with sparks. Crystal struggles to stand, apparently 
not significantly hurt by the glancing blow, or the heat of 
the shattered light, but Lucretia is standing over her now. 
"!&!%#* Bimbo %!#*&! Freak!!! Time to die!" she hisses.

<><><><><>

Crystal:

"Not yet it isn't.  Not by a long shot."

Crystal's voice is steady and determined, her mind fixed now 
to its purpose. She didn't feel the blow or the shattering 
metal and glass behind her, but she knew it was just more 
pain for later.  She knew there was something more important 
now.

And she gets to her feet and, when Lucretia attacks again, 
she sweeps her diamond-hard arm in the path of the blow, 
trying to deflect it and leave the one-armed woman open for 
a stiff-hand jab to the stomach.  It might not hurt her, but 
it would give the woman behind her a chance to do whatever 
she was going to do.

*if she's going to do anything* whispers a small voice in 
her head, which she ignores.  She can't afford to think like 
that now.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	"Jesus Key-RIST," Tyler grunted. "I didn't order a 
f***in'   *cannon*." Still, she let the big gun slide 
carefully to the floor and flopped prone behind it, the only 
way she was likely to be able to shoot it. She kicked the 
bipod out with another grunt of effort so she could get some 
elevation without having to hold up the fore-end,  and 
snuggled her shoulder into the harness. 

	"Somehow I s'pect this is gonna hurt me a lot more 
than it hurts y'all," she muttered, wincing at the thought 
of the recoil this thing was likely to exhibit.  She'd fired 
all kinds of weapons,  plinking and target punching, skeet 
and even medium-sided game hunting, but nothing she'd ever 
handled came close to conjuring the actuality of this 
monster weapon.  Her hand settled around the pistol grip, 
awkwardly at first because of it's size, but with a little 
twisting of her slim body and shoulder alignment, it felt 
just about right. A quick glance to see if there was a 
safety or charging lever, then she sighted down the topmost 
barrel at the madwoman,  rested her finger on the trigger, 
took a deep breath...

	**For Mitchell,** she thought, then *squeeeeeezed* the 
trigger...

<><><><><>

[GM]

Crystal rises from the wreckage of the klieg light, 
reflections of the flames flickering across her cracked 
body, tiny spiderweb fractures covering her from head to 
foot, her outfit now torn and burned almost as badly as 
Lucretia's.

The madwoman swings her arm in a deadly arc at Crystal's 
head. Crystal bring up her own arm to block it, desperately, 
and barely slows her attacker's momentum. Lucretia's fist 
crashes into her forearm, slams her forearm against the side 
of her head with a sound like a sledgehammer hitting 
granite, and sends her flying across the room, skittering 
over the floor, leaving grooves in the tiles, and bouncing 
off the far wall. She didn't hit hard enough to break the 
wall this time; perhaps Lucretia is getting weaker. But she 
hit hard enough to leave her vision fragmented and blurry, 
like she was looking through steamed up, broken glasses.

The blow may have saved her life though, because in the next 
instant, as Lucretia glances down and to her right, at the 
prone girl less than ten feet away, Tyler pulls the trigger 
on her monster weapon.

The six barrels spin and make an odd coughing noise, not 
that loud at all. The kick is significant, but not as bad as 
Tyler was expecting; the padded stock slams back against her 
shoulder, but braced against the floor as she is, she keeps 
her grip on the weapon. To her shock, the six huge barrels 
blow off the gun as they discharge, falling to the ground a 
few yards away in neat sections, leaving a single long, thin 
barrel around which the others rotated. The gun jerks in 
Tyler's hands and  makes a solid clicking sound as something 
snaps into place, somewhere in its internal mechanism.

The psychotic superwoman disappears in a roar of flames, 
engulfed by an explosion that blasts her off her feet, 
ignites the ground beneath her, and singes Tyler's hair. A 
series of explosions, actually, as multiple shells hit her. 
She screams as she falls, while the wall on the far side 
absorbs a couple of stray shots that blow holes three feet 
across, right into the second floor corridor which runs over 
the lobby.

Lucretia's smoldering body lies on the ground, twenty feet 
from Tyler, almost halfway between her and Mitchell, inert 
for a moment. Then she moves.

Her right leg is all but blown off. Her left foot is gone. 
And as the stream of shells moved up her body, they blew 
chunks of flesh off her from thigh to sternum. Blood gushes 
out of her, turning the floor around her dark red. But she's 
still alive, and still moving. Her right arm, the only limb 
she has left, reaches out, and her fingers dig into the 
tiles. She drags herself forward a couple of feet, looking 
at Tyler with a maniacal glare, psychotic eyes shining 
underneath the soot and blood that covers her face.

"Kill you....." 

She grabs another fistful of floor and pulls closer by 
another armlength.

"@*!&#! kill you...." She grimaces and spits blood.

And she keeps coming, smearing blood across the floor in her 
wake, like a hellish slug...

<><><><><>

Tyler:

"Jesus..." Tyler stumbled to her feet and backed up 
slightly, still holding the remains of the discharged 
weapon. She felt her gorge rise;  she'd seen accidents and 
bloody injuries, but this was nothing she could have steeled 
herself for.  Considering how the weapon had functioned, it 
didn't appear likely that firing off a second burst was 
possible, but she *would* aim it and try again, just in 
case.  

She had visions of the Terminator movies, only this time 
there were no drill presses to squash the shattered Lucretia 
in.  "Ummm...Yo!   Crystal...? Y'all got any hot ideas 'bout 
now...?"

<><><><><>

Crystal:

Crystal moves and feels the stress fractures in her form, 
looks out through the fog in her eyes and sees the 
impossible survival of Lucretia.  Her mind spins, unable to 
comprehend what is happening any longer, unwilling to accept 
it.

But knowing it is more of the same cruel truth she's found 
for the last two days, the chaos that was all that remained 
of her life.

"I don't know...  I'm not sure she's going to stop as long 
as she's..."

The last word sticks in her throat.  The battered remains of 
the maniac killer didn't seem capable of death from 
everything they'd seen yet.  And strong enough that there 
was no way to hold her, no way to stop her short of killing 
her.

But now she was slow enough they could just keep out of the 
way until someone arrived who could.  Someone had to have 
seen this on TV, someone...  Or would the mutilation she had 
undergone catch up soon and leave her dying at their feet?

"Just stay away.  She can't move fast enough to catch anyone 
now.  I think that gun was enough..."

She stands and tries to walk, ignoring the stiff feelings 
inside herself. She would have to get to a hospital before 
she changed back...

"I hope it was..."

She rests a hand on the woman's shoulder... the one not 
still supporting the huge gun.

"Thank you.  You saved a lot of lives, including mine."

But then she remembers... the other, the one who changed 
shape in Lucretia's grip.  Was he...?

She raises her voice, trying to be heard over the confusion 
and pain filling the room.  She can't believe the calm she 
is able to achieve, the steadiness in her crystal body.

"Everyone stay clear.  Just keep away.  Anyone with medical 
training, please try to do what you can.  I'm sure there'll 
be help here soon.  Everyone try to stay calm and do what 
you can.  I think the worst is over."

'for now...' The thought haunts her...  but it can't be 
dealt with now.  Now there was just time to try to prevent 
the chaos that was once her debut from becoming any bloodier 
than it already was.

<><><><><>

[GM]

As Crystal approaches, and Tyler raises her weapon, 
straining under the weight- it must weigh at least twenty 
five pounds, and there is little enough strength left in the 
former rodeo star's limbs- Lucretia giggles. A horrific, 
insane sound.

"Too slow," she gasps, pausing in her gruesome one-handed 
crawl. Then makes a bubbling sound that might be laughter. 
"Gee, I forgot about something...."

Her mangled, bloody body levitates into the air, rotating to 
face the two women who are still standing. It is a surreal 
and ghastly sight, like something out of a horror movie; a 
grinning, cackling abomination that should be dead, blood 
spattering on the floor beneath her as she hovers in the 
air. "Oh, bummer %@$*! drag, looks like you're outta ammo, 
you hick b****!"

She begins accelerating through the air towards Tyler, hand 
outstretched. And Tyler pulls the trigger on her weapon, 
barely able to hold the barrel pointed at the flying 
psychopath.

The massive rifle hums, and suddenly the air is filled with 
ear-splitting pops, staccato explosions as a stream of 
projectiles breaks the sound barrier. Blood sprays off the 
madwoman as shells hit her- and bounce off. Tyler can't hold 
the rifle immobile, and the wall behind Lucretia is suddenly 
perforated, entire sections of it disintegrating as 
supersonic projectiles blow through it. The bullets that hit 
Lucretia go spinning in all directions, still carrying most 
of the velocity with which they left the weapon. Walls, 
floor tiles, the fountain, the podium, potted plants- they 
all burst apart as rebounding shells hit them. The few 
people still in the room, some suicidally brave journalists 
who have been snapping pictures the entire time, drop their 
cameras and dive for whatever looks like cover. Crystal 
feels an impact against her lower leg, making a sound like a 
marble hitting a windshield. A supersonic "Bang!" almost 
causes Tyler to drop the weapon as a bullet snaps past her 
left ear.

Lucretia is forced back by the stream of shells, screaming 
in pain and outrage. The bullets, incredibly, aren't 
breaking her skin, but they're battering the hell out of 
her, and disrupting the raw flesh where she's already been 
blown open. She falls back against the wall, flails her arm 
out, smashing it, then slumps forward, her two bloody legs 
stretched out beneath her, one jutting out at an obscene 
angle.

The barrage seems to go on forever, though it's probably 
less than five seconds. Then it stops abruptly, and Tyler's 
gun makes an obnoxious high-pitched buzzing noise, like a 
dryer that needs to be restarted.

"Game.....over....." Lucretia gurgles, her lips barely 
moving. She glares at Tyler, clutches the air in front of 
her as more blood bubbles over her lips. "Freaks.....die!" 
Her head nods forward and her eyes close. Her arm drops to 
her lap, and she doesn't move again.

Tyler's arms feel like water, and her legs not much better. 
She staggers and falls.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

"*What* a **bitch**..." Pithy. Succinct. Then the floor 
brought Tyler up short. She'd dropped the big gun to try and 
maintain some semblance of personal control, but all she 
managed to do was keep her face from smacking the floor. 
Everything else folded up like a cheap toy. She rolled onto 
her side and tried to get up, but nothing was working right. 
Her vision was white and ragged at the edges like a discount 
Gothic romance movie flashback, and the rest of her felt 
like she'd run a marathon without bothering to quit smoking 
first. 

Tyler coughed, then lay back, closing her eyes and trying to 
manage a little rest. Just a little nap..."Hi' th' snooze 
alarm, baby; I' ge'  up n' a minute, I promise..."

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

[AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT]

Compliments of Star Fire, who really should die, or go on a 
date with Lucretia, for posting this, at the end of the 
fight;

   Of course we are having fun. On the other hand, Mitchell 
has learned a valuable lesson; the true depth of meaning in 
the term Press Conference.
   Still, he could not in good consciousness stand by and do 
nothing; then he might be accused of being shiftless. 
Overall, the team worked together very well, though Mitchell 
has truly turned out to be somewhat two-faced.
   Although very transparent, Crystal's actions and style 
shone brilliantly through, at last, and proved most 
disarming to Lucretia, who was so touched by Tyler's warm 
welcome, that she went all to pieces. Her spirits lifted, 
though exhausted, she finally decided to rest in pieces.
   Tyler's first summoning, lens much credibility to her 
power's capabilities, I think. All it needs is a bit of 
focus, to see us through. Without medical help, the burns 
may prove a painiful rim-inder to wear gloves, when trying 
to stirrup some action.
   Crystal's multifaceted talents and sparkling personality 
should add a lot; through she _did_ seem a little crazed 
there at the last. I wager she does not crack up completely, 
though.
   Lucretia was a total hardhead, rampaging about like a 
bullette in a china shop. A very offensive sort of 
villainess; but well adapted to it, since any insults thrown 
her way just bounced off her thick skin. In the end, her 
plans and actions were futile however -- very much a matter 
of just banging her head against a wall.


[Remember, that's all the work of Star Fire. Send curses and 
death threats to 71533,1302, and tell him I sent you.   -
David]

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