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Everywhere Girl #1 (of 4): A Welcome to Everywhere
by Denny Hill 2 (firebomb@technohol.com)
Copyright 1999, 2001 All rights reserved.

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Think of a remarkably pale girl, with the slightest hint of chocolate skin tone, dressed in an inadequate, spiky leather outfit. Now, picture her dropped into a swirling gray mass of space, time, matter, energy, and thought - if you can - and thoroughly enjoying the experience. Finally, think of several menacing shapes in the background, sort of indistinct through this blender of creation, and you're there!

(That should do for a 'cover', shouldn't it?)

-------------------------------------------------------

Franky Gray had taken to wandering the earth. Well, wandering across America, at least, as she was what one could refer to as being a particularly wanted young woman. Being legally dead has no bearing on this, as she managed, after her death, to rob a bank and mangle a police officer. She wasn't quite herself during that period, of course, but that didn't make her feel better. Even if she was forced to behave so, the simple fact of the matter was that she did.

So, trying to atone for what she'd done, Franky decided to walk the earth, hoping to use the abilities she gained in her bizarre resurrection to help others. You see, Franky is a rejuvenate, a person brought back from the dead via an arcane, technomantic process that enhanced her strength, stamina, and durability significantly. She was supposed to be the prime servant of a mad mage, but a particularly curious Voodoo Houngan freed her from that fate.*

It was after this that she hit the road, and having walked for several weeks, Franky has finally arrived in the second largest metropolitan area she'd ever experienced: downtown Omaha, Nebraska; she'd never left Chicago until now, and was generally avoiding the bigger cities if at all possible. Her arrival in this particular city was unavoidable, and after walking its streets for several hours, she wound up in a shabby looking dive called Kwan's Steakhouse.

There were several tables and booths at this dingy looking bar and grill, with two doorways leading out - one went to the restrooms, and the other went downstairs, from where the sounds of high tech music was issuing forth. Ordering a quarter pound burger and a big glass of caffeine filled citrus soda, Franky inquired about the nature of the downstairs area. The bartender, a man named Kwan, said "It's the dance club."

"Well, the dance clubs, anyway. There's three of 'em down there, but I have to warn you, missy..." Kwan stopped for a dramatic pause, during which he acquired an almost comically ominous appearance. "There's a lot of weirdoes down there in the club. Enter at your own risk. Oh, and your burger'll be ready in five minutes." Franky sat down to take in the sights, and internally grooved to the techno beats and such coming from downstairs.

Once her order arrived, and she'd eaten her full of high-grade Omaha beef burger and Idaho potato French fries, Franky decided to trek downstairs to this so called club of weirdoes. After all, with her enhanced physique, what could possibly hurt her down there? Bullets bounced off of her body, for Pete's sake! Once she'd descended the stairs, she saw the sign that announced that she had, in fact, just entered Club Invertebrate - and the name wasn't kidding!

There were all manner of what could only be described as freaks hanging out in the club. No, not your average club-going posers who dress all weird to make themselves feel alternative, but real freaks. Franky saw folks with greenish, scaly skin, a lady with large, sharp pincers instead of hands, a man with lumpy burn-scar flesh, and quintuplet bartenders - at least, all five of them at all five of the Club's bars looked absolutely identical to each other!

Over on the dance floor, there was a girl in rather short silver spandex shorts and a gigantic orange afro grooving out to the current disco beat, and this hideously old man in a saggy black leather bodysuit adorned with spikes everywhere was attempting to move with her. Of course, he only managed to drool all over the floor while eyeballing the disco queen, but that didn't stop either of them from having fun.

Somewhat overwhelmed, Franky decided that her best bet was to have a seat, in order to absorb all the weirdness she just walked into. Sure, the circumstances around her own so-called origin were weird, but her oddity was like a mere drop in the ocean of this strange place. Not that this troubled her any, but it was something unexpected, especially in the sleepy town she assumed Omaha to be. This required some looking into.

Before she could accomplish that, however, Franky was approached by a big man. A very big man, with oak-brown skin, a rippling muscular body that was hidden from sight by only a small pair of biker shorts, and - get this - four arms! Looking up at the exceedingly tall man, her vision hanging on his three inch high flat top for a good second or five, she then looked him in the eye and said, as calmly as she could, "Yes?"

The man smiled, his teeth almost glowing a brilliant white, and laughed. "Ah hah! You're a smooth one! Care for a drink?" Amused by this whole situation, especially the fact that this man sounded just like Barry White, Franky agreed to have one. "Grog, please - sounds like this is going be an interesting night." The four armed man ordered, and the bartender delivered one flaming bowl of greenish Grog to the table. Franky sipped it, and coughed.

"Wow, that's strong!" She sipped again, and decided she liked it a lot, and then asked about her sudden admirer. "So, what the hell is this place, and why haven't I seen you before? I mean, a four-armed giant like yourself ought to have gotten himself on the news at least once - if only for the novelty value." The man grinned again, and sipped his own drink, some sort of greenish, candy apple tasting brew.

"Fair enough. This is Club Invertebrate, as the sign says on the stairs, and it's a, shall we say, haven for folks that don't fit in outside. Of course, it's also the grounding point of a nexus between all manner of places. I'm really surprised you people don't know about it - I mean, it's on *your* world, and all, and--." As if he realized that he'd slipped, the four armed man suddenly clamed up, though Franky wasn't about to let him get away with it.

"Hey, now! 'My' world? So what are you supposed to be, some kind of alien? Bah! You're just another kook." Getting up to leave, Franky was nonetheless knocked down by a massive gust of air, coming from a small circular cage suspended from the ceiling. Looking at the thing, she saw that it was full of a blue nimbus of light, and as her eyes adjusted to it (as compared to the gloom of the Club), something jumped out at her drinking partner.

Smashing their table to tiny wood and plastic bits, the thing that jumped at Franky's multiply armed friend resolved itself into a big bag of scales, claws, and bloody-minded menace. "I have you now, Organ Donor! You can't make new bits of yourself faster than I can cut 'em off anymore, for I have mastered a spell of lightning swiftness! Ahaa!" In a blur of motion, the scaly horror that jumped the (apparent) Organ Donor began hacking bits off the 'alien'.

Franky watched in abject horror as arms, legs, fingers, hands, feet, and even heads were lopped off of the man, though he seemed to grow replacements almost as fast as they were being cut off. Mesmerized by the symphony of mutilation before her, Franky eventually realized that the clawed creature was right; her 'friend' was losing this battle of speed, and wasn't likely going to survive much longer. After all, ten times his body mass in parts lay strewn about him.

Though she didn't necessarily like the fellow, he didn't deserve this fate, and as such, she decided to help him out. Running forward, she kicked the savage beast in the back of the head, and a sucking sound suddenly revealed that her foot had gone about six inches into the monster's skull. It didn't seem to like this, though, and spun around to meet this new opponent head-on. "Don't like me killing your mate, eh? Take this!"

"What? Mate?! Why you!" Before Franky could get back at the beast, however, it hit her with a savage backhanded punch that sent her flying - flying right into that blue nimbus of light, and clean through! A momentary disorientation washed over poor Franky, and when she recovered, she wished she hadn't; the world around her was a blurry, chaotic soup of, of, of. She didn't know what to call it, save for... everything.

She saw strange energies swirling about, amidst visions of the past, present, and future. She saw bizarre places overlapping the familiar trappings of human civilization. She had strange visions of beasts mundane and fantastic, and devices used to control and combat them. She was subject to ideas mundane and awe-inspiring. She was, in short, immersed in the essence of the Between, that place which is at the center of all spaces and times, yet also outside them.

She then went into shock as the spatial, temporal, physical, spiritual, and conceptual forces around her battered all that which is her, and her mind swam through the essence of Creation's blender for an eternity, or merely a few minutes, she wasn't sure. It was definitely a wild ride, and it was even more shocking when somebody pulled her out of her union with the Between, somebody who was calling out her name.

"Franky! Franky!!" Wake up!!!" She focused back into a semblance of temporal awareness, and when she did, Franky was more than a little angry to see this four armed goon, this Organ Donor, shaking her violently. Not only that, however, the man wasn't alone. He was floating in the midst of a conceptual renaissance with this blonde woman who was wearing nothing but a pink lacy outfit best suited for evening wear. Say, bedtime.

"I didn't tell you my name, you creep. You been following me?!" With that, the blonde woman in the inadequate dress spoke up. "For three weeks, young lady, after that Kedae knocked you through the Club's vortex. Since you didn't know where you were going, you apparently got knocked everywhere - namely, here. It took me quite a bit of time to yank you out of that state, you know... we almost lost you for good."

"You're lucky. We've never seen anybody survive a dunking in the Between for so long." Seeing that Franky wasn't really listening, but instead letting her mind wander around in the presence of the Between surrounding them, the lady in pink introduced herself. "The name's Psychoturge, and this is the Organ Donor, though I think you've met him. We wanted to thank you for saving his life. That Kedae thing that jumped him was good - real good."

Seeing her suddenly renewed blank stare, Psychoturge continued. "Demons. A particularly nasty brew of demons from some backwater spaghetti-time plane. It's a long story, we'll tell you on the way home." With that, the scantily clad woman in pink began waving her hands, and the three of them started moving through the everything, making their way back to the Club Invertebrate. As the doorway loomed in the distance, Franky stopped.

"Wait! You can't take me home, I haven't got anything left there! Besides, this place is perfect for me! You said this place is everywhere, it's this so called Between. I can use this! Use it to get away from home, get away from everything, and... and find out what I really want. You can't take me home!" She looked at the two of them, and the Organ Donor shrugged, an impressive maneuver for a man with four shoulders.

Psychoturge looked at the girl for a good minute or so, though admittedly time is what one makes it where they are, and nodded. "Fine, fine, fine. But we're not just leaving you here. You're coming with us for awhile, until you know what you're getting into. If you still want to stay after that, we'll let you. But, we can take you home any time, and let you get on with your life there. It's your call."

Franky pondered this for about six seconds, thinking about what a life she has on Earth, and decided against it. "I want to come with you." Psychoturge smiled, as the master psimancer sensed something of a potential in this youth, something she couldn't quite put her finger on just yet. But it was both something she could use and something significant in the cosmic scheme of things - how cosmic, however, she wasn't sure. Not yet.

She knew she would find out soon enough. After all, the girl wanted to play around in the Between, and if experience was any indicator, the Between often brought out the best in people - or the worst. And that was the problem, then, wasn't it? Was Psychoturge going to be the mentor of the multiverse's greatest new heroine, or its most terrible tyrant? Only time would tell - and there's all kinds of time in the Between...

* See Tales from Variant Earth 13 #5 (presented below).

-------------------------------------------------------

Join us next time as Franky Gray is introduced to Psychoturge and the Organ Donor's many allies in the extraplanar mercenary group known as Departure. Will she begin to make the adjustment to a life amongst the multitudinous planes of
existence, or will life in the Between drive the poor little rejuvenate to abject madness? Or will the diabolical Kedae finish them all off before any of these questions are answered? There's one way to find out... see you in thirty!

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Everywhere Girl #1 (of 4): A Welcome to Everywhere
by Denny Hill 2 (firebomb@technohol.com)
Copyright 1999, 2001 All rights reserved.

***

Tales from Variant Earth 13 #5 : Rejuvenate Attack! (special presentation)
by Denny Hill 2 (firebomb@technohol.com)
Copyright 1999 All rights reserved.

Note: Though I'm not currently working on the Tales from Variant Earth 13 stories, I figured I should include this story in Everywhere Girl's first issue, since it basically covered part of her origin. In case you dig it, and would like to get to know Sir Tophat (and the rest of the Agency 13 crew) a bit better, I'll be getting back to them sometime next year, presenting their old tales (and a bevy of new ones) as soon as I figure out where they're going.

Until then, though...

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Picture if you will a very tall, thin man with pale blonde hair in a fine tuxedo and tophat, holding a magician's wand as he walks around in a dark alleyway. He appears to be looking for something, though it seems that someone - or several folks - are instead looking upon him from the shadows. They're all pale, dressed in spiky black leather outfits, and seem very, very violently disposed. In fact, it looks rather bad for our finely dressed friend...

(That should do for a 'cover', shouldn't it?)

-------------------------------------------------------

It took six police officers to subdue the girl.

She wasn't unconscious, mind you, in that she was still struggling within her hand cuffs. The police had chased her, on foot, for several miles, stopping only after she'd been run over by three different vehicles as she ran across a busy street. Even then, she fought the men off with uncanny strength and fury. Forty seconds later, they'd pummeled her with nightsticks long enough to get her into the cuffs, but she didn't like it. Not one bit.

"I'll kill you! Kill you all! Arrrgh!" It took another minute and a half to pry the girl into police car, her kicking and screaming (and an iron grip on the door frame) preventing her from being deposited within easily. "That's my money! Mine!" She was, of course, referring to the twin bags of money that the police were taking as evidence, bags she'd just pilfered from a bank vault before her little run through downtown Chicago.

As the police car drove off, you could hear her scream. "Die! Die!! Die!!!"

***

The next morning, Sir Tophat arrived in town. He was wearing his trademark tuxedo, with accompanying foot-high top hat. He looked like something out of a circus, being about six foot six, and maybe one hundred and eighty pounds. The hat only added to the bizarre appearance, making him seem even larger, a feat enhanced by his strangely stretched-looking face. Of course, he was constantly grinning, which only helped to scare small children.

He smiled as he walked towards the police station in question, the one holding the girl. He'd been called by a local contact, one who told him a so-called 'zombie girl' had robbed a bank, and with Agency 13's blessing, came to check out this odd story. After all, he knew a thing or two about zombies, and he was sure that they normally didn't rob banks; at least, not before leading police on a heart attack inducing run through the city streets.

Once he arrived, he found the place was crawling with reporters and the like, and by simply listening in on the questions being asked, had found out the girl had already managed to escape the authorities. To him, the mystery was getting more and more intriguing by the second, and Sir Tophat loves mysteries. That was what caused him to become a Voodoo Houngan in the first place - he wanted to find out about the world that lurks just beyond mere optical vision.

When a beat cop attempted to bar his way, Tophat merely stated "I am here to see Captain Zachary. My card." Presenting him the card, the officer stared at it blankly for a few seconds. "Ah. Cap'n said you'd be coming. Follow me." Sir Tophat did. After ascending four flights of stairs and various greasy hallways, the two-fisted investigator finally met his contact, Captain Jacob Zachary, an old buddy from Way Back When.

After informal greetings and several 'how've you been's', the two old friends got down to business. "So, Jake, what caused you to call me? You can't really think this girl, this simple bank robber, is actually a zombie. Do you?" The police officer sighed, pulling out a cigar. Normally, such a thing would help him to relax, but there was no such release to be had today. After what he'd seen, it would take more than his usual vice to make him feel right again.

"You don't believe me, eh? Heh. I'll tell you what, you smug bastard, follow me." Sir Tophat did, winding back down the filthy halls and several flights of stairs to the station's holding cells. There, the two men beheld a scene of utter horror. The cell where this would-be bank robber was being held was covered in blood and gore, and there was bits of flesh and two severed hands lying in the miasma of former human matter.

The unshakable Houngan looked at the mess of biological matter, and shrugged. "This proves nothing, friend. I assume, by looking at the skin on the bars, that a guard was pulled through them, but that could mean a lot of things. A super-strong mutant, maybe, or a possible cyborg..." The policeman looked at his friend, sort of confused. "Mutant? Cyborg? I don't know what you're talking about, but I know that this girl is a zombie."

"She was dead three days ago."

Back in the Chief's office, Sir Tophat looked at the pertinent morgue data, reading how the girl did, in fact, die three days ago. It was an unremarkable death, really, the result of an armed robbery that went awry. She got the usual murder victim treatment, an autopsy, and that should've been the end of it, really, save for a funeral and, of course, a trial for the perpetrator, who was caught trying to pawn her jewelry off several hours later.

However, that wasn't the end of it, after all. About thirty hours ago, her body vanished from the morgue, and soon after, the murderer of the girl, the late Franky Gray, was also dead. Someone managed to sneak into his cell, within a busy police station, and hung him with his own intestines. Then, shortly thereafter, the bank hit took place, and police were stunned to find out that this girl, this supposedly dead girl, was walking around and causing trouble.

They were awfully surprised by this, especially when she proved to be remarkably strong and fast. Now that she's broken out of jail, well, they were even more worried, which was why the Chief called his old friend in - he was supposedly an expert in such matters, being a Voodoo priest and all. Thinking for a few minutes, Sir Tophat made up his mind. "Take me back to the cell. I must examine the remains in greater detail.

Once the two friends were back in the cell, Sir Tophat picked at the hands laying in the cell. "These aren't your guard's. They were the girl's - Franky's - she chewed them off." The rather calm way in that he said that unnerved the police Chief, as the mere prospect of doing such a thing gave him chills. "I'll need to study these", Tophat said, "As well as this... goo." He was referring to a clear gel running out of the hand.

Up in the Chief's office, the two set up a special, ceremonial altar on the Chief's office, and Sir Tophat began to incant over the hands, performing what could only be called magic over them. The whole process took over fifteen minutes, and by the time he was done, the Agency 13 man look exhausted. "I know where they are." Zachary looked at his friend with some concern, and questioned "They?"

Sir Tophat then left the police station, though not before taking a sample of that transparent ooze for future research. He was holding a lit candle, and could follow the magical trail of the girl that belonged to those hands as long as it was lit. Walking the streets of Chicago for an hour, he had almost made his way to Lake Michigan when he abruptly stopped at a sewer access, lifted the lid, and ducked inside.

Using the candle as illumination, Sir Tophat made his way into the drainage tunnels under the city, which were close to their terminating point at the Lake, a mere mile away. Soon enough, his patience was rewarded with an ambush at the terminal between three tunnels - by three rather pale looking individuals, all of which were wearing spiky, incomplete leather outfits. The first two came at him bare-handed, but the third, the girl, hung back with a baseball bat.

Looking on calmly as the two pale goons rushed him, Sir Tophat deftly dodged a punch thrown at him without skill, and kicked goon number two in the knee - sideways - bringing him down crying in agony. The first thug, showing newfound respect for this opponent, stepped back as Sir Tophat hoped. He then pulled a tiny bag of dust from one of dozens of pockets, and scattered it at his foe, who started sneezing uncontrollably.

While he sneezed, Sir Tophat brought his foot up over his head, and stomped down on the sneezing man's skull. Knocked out cold, the thug fell to the sewer floor with a gurgling sploosh, leaving the Agency man face to face with Franky Gray, and the girl regarded him with some amusement. "You're good, circus man. What're you doing here?" Tophat preened with that. "Ahh... a lady with common sense. Excellent. I wish to speak with your creator."

Franky thought about that for a second, and smiled back. "Sure thing, pops, but he doesn't like visitors, you should know." She then turned around and walked off into the tunnels, followed by the smiling priest. After about fifteen twists and turns, the two travelers came to a heavy iron door, which the girl opened with ease, and they walked through the portal into what appeared to be a mad scientist's laboratory!

There were seething cauldrons of unknown and unknowable liquid substances, various blinking doo-dads and whatchamacallits, each equipped with sparking devices and vacuum tubes - for good measure, of course. And the centerpiece of the lab was a big stone slab table, one that had some sort of swivel-arm tool and a motive light table mounted on top. Hovering around the table like the epitome of Igors everywhere was some sort of leering man in a lab coat.

Sir Tophat regarded the hunched over figure as he looked upon his gore-covered work table, and tried not to frown. "So, you are the man behind these so-called zombie attacks, then?" The scientist with the sagging backbone sniveled in rage at Sir Tophat at that, apparently angry at the specific wording involved. "Fool! These are no mere zombies, but they are the result of my master research! Behold - my Rejuvenates!"

Tophat did indeed behold the three pale, former humans before him. In addition to Franky, those other two flunkies he felled in the tunnels stood before him, and he noted with some discomfort the one whose knee he'd crushed was walking again, albeit with a limp. Regeneration, he thought. He was in trouble. "These are no mere remote controlled corpses, my good man. These are living, breathing humans brought back from the dead - enhanced, even!"

"And they do my bidding!" Sir Tophat shrugged at that, hoping he wouldn't betray the worry he was feeling. He could easily defeat these three fools, but keeping them down would be incredibly difficult. "Indeed, good sir. I am most impressed by the process in which you have created these... servants. However did you accomplish this thing?" The man brightened with this praise, but suspicion instantly overcame his ego.

"Oh? Give away my secrets so you can destroy me and use them yourself? I think not! Servants - destroy him!" Suddenly, the three so-called Rejuvenates, all recovered from any injury recently caused to their persons, moved on Sir Tophat again. "Oh, bugger," he said, "I guess I must do this again." However, the two men he'd defeated before were wary of him this time, and didn't just charge him right off. He'd have to really work for this victory.

The first, the one who lost his kneecap to Sir Tophat before, circled clockwise while the second, the one who lost due to a sneezing fit, went counterclockwise around him. Franky, as if waiting for something, covered him from the front, but made no hostile moves. Goon Number One feinted forward while Number Two made his move, but Sir Tophat was ready; a lot of his combat drills with his fellow Agency 13 investigators prepared him for situations like this.

Basically, the idea was that most untrained combatants aren't used to fighting as a team, so he simply grabbed the fist of Goon Number Two and pulled hard, throwing him right into Number One, and the both of them flew into their creator's equipment. Upon smashing several unnecessarily protruding vacuum tubes, the goons found themselves subject to an impressive electrical shock, and the lights in this underground warren dimmed suddenly.

"You fool! You'll destroy everything! I cannot be ruined so easily, you circus buffoon! If these cretins cannot kill you, I will do so myself!!" Before Franky made a move to strike, the man who raised her from the dead pulled a gun on Sir Tophat, and prepared to fire. Sir Tophat then pulled a handful of dust from another pocket, and waved it in front of himself before the gun fired, and when it did, the bullet stopped as it hit the cloud of magical powder.

"Who's the fool now, madman? I simply wished to investigate the nature of your creations, but now I must stop you and your work - at all costs!" Enraged by this scientist's actions, Sir Tophat then waved his magician's cane in circles at him, and a cloud of vermin appeared from the subterranean tunnels, biting, clawing, and choking him as he screamed in terror. After about a minute of struggle, the man sank to the floor, covered in a sheet of insects.

As the bugs wandered off, Franky looked at Sir Tophat in amazement. "What... what are you?! Bugs... bugs..." The two-fisted Houngan then scoured the lab, looking for any details on how this madman created his life-restoring process as, though it was put to dark purposes, could nonetheless be quite valuable in the future - for him or the Agency. "I am what I am, ma'am, as are you." He wasn't too amused; there was nothing present to help him.

"What can you tell me about this man that raised you from the dead?" She looked at him somewhat sheepishly, and then replied. "I'll tell you if you don't turn me in to the cops afterwards. I'm lucky enough to be alive, but I don't want to spend the rest of my time in prison." Tophat looked at her, cocked his head, and then nodded in the affirmative. "His name was Helmut Sanchez. He used to work for the government, researching biological enhancements on human soldiers."

"Apparently, though, he went too far off the beaten path in his researches, and they canned him. He then came to Chicago, and started working out his process to create us, his rejuvenates, as he called us. Once he'd resurrected us, he told us we would stay alive as long as we did his bidding, which is why he had me robbing banks while these other two," she motioned to the other two of Sanchez's goons, "Acquired things he needed for his work."

"I didn't believe it, though, and was about to leave on my own when you showed up. Since he's dead, and I'm not, I'm willing to guess that he was lying through his teeth. So, can I go, now?" Sir Tophat looked at the girl, trying to figure out just what was going through her head. He had to admit that he was having a hard time at it, since he himself hadn't been deceased for a time, so he figured he could forgive her little escapades, even if the police couldn't.

"Sure thing, girl. But first, I wish to get a sample of your blood, so I can try to determine what Sanchez did to make you live again." She agreed, and when he had secured the sample, Franky split for parts unknown. Of course, in addition to distilling a sample of the fluids used to resurrect her, Sir Tophat could use her blood to track her in the future, should he need to. He then shrugged, and set about destroying this laboratory utterly.

Hours later, once he was done, Sir Tophat penned a long note to his friend in the local police force, explaining what had happened, more or less, and why he should let Franky get on with her life. He knew it wouldn't work, but it made him feel better. With his work done, then, Sir Tophat, two-fisted Voodoo Houngan and Agency 13 investigator extraordinare made his way back to Rock, Nebraska, where he would rest before taking on another assignment.

-------------------------------------------------------

Next time,** tune in as Seņor Barnett and Sir Tophat move in on a macabre alien super-carnivore that has landed in a major metropolitan area, and is sampling the local cuisine. Can the investigative duo deal with this monstrosity all by themselves, or will even these two experts in the bizarre need assistance? Come back next month to find out, already (unless you are, of course, chicken...?)! No, really!

** Well, not anytime soon, but from the text above, you should know that.

-------------------------------------------------------

Tales from Variant Earth 13 #5 : Rejuvenate Attack! (special presentation)
by Denny Hill 2 (firebomb@technohol.com)
Copyright 1999 All rights reserved.



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