“Time In A Bottle” by Jim Croce
Sugie: Sugie is hurt. Not physically. She was the one who PROVIDED Edward with an ACTUAL ham sandwich and coca cola (not to mention kick ass avi) and he is messing up her partner rather than allying with him as he should have.
So you know what they say about a woman scorned. She does a quick spell on the magic mustard. Oh, it’s still magic all right. It’s now a super-slowing-down mustard. So after Edward takes a bite, Sugie and Ben pelt him easily with so many colors he blends in perfectly with the background.
She jumps behind the wheel of the Town Car, and Ben runs along the wall that it’s parked next to, dropping into the passenger door Sugie opened for him.
“I’m sick of this environment,” Sugie says, looking to Ben, the more creative of the two, for ideas.
Ben grins. “Computer, change habitat to…”
Angela: “Don’t move,” Angela whispers in Ben’s ear. He feels the barrel of her dilinger press into his back.
Due to her supersonic mutant speed (courtesy of the mustard bottle) no one saw Angela run with ease around the alley into position to get the drop on Ben. As the computer played Time In A Bottle, Angela had sifted herself into position behind Ben before Sugie realized where Angela had gone.
“You and your little blue balls are going for a walk,” Angela says in her raspy voice and jabs the barrel of the paintball-dilinger into his spine for affect. Yeah, it hurt, but only a little, and she knew Ben could handle it.
Obediently, Ben walks into the alley’s umbra that concealed a dank door none had realized was there save Angela, the computer, and rats. While Sugie turns every-which-way to see where Angela or Ben has gone, Ben turns the knob on Angela’s direction and together, they slip into the building and close the door behind them leaving Jim Croce’s voice to fill the void:
The box would be empty, except for the memory of how they were answered by you…
Jaselyn: Jaselyn looks around, utterly perplexed by the chaos that surrounds her as the first light of day begins to creep into the sky.
Ben is nowhere to be found: instead of throwing grenades, Angela has taken a hostage and disappeared down yet another dark alley. That is all as it should be–Angela can handle Ben on her own, no problem.
Edward is on his knees by the Town Car, weakened by the presence of the Ham Sandwich, his own personal Kryptonite. Now he’s babbling something about a Starbucks?
Sugie is in the Town Car, checking her gun and about to make her move. There is no time to think anymore–Angela will be fine, but Jaselyn has to protect Edward and go up against Sugie.
She begins running toward her now-nigh-senseless partner, but before she can reach him, a hand is over her mouth and another is pinning her arms to her side. Sugie has apparated in from behind and now Jaselyn is the hostage! Edward was just the decoy!
Sugie, stronger than she looks, keeps Jaselyn in place and whispers in her ear…
Benedict Cuthbert Pennington III A.K.A. BC3PO:
High above the rain-slick streets of Brooklyn, a shadowy figure bent over a horrific Rube Goldberg contraption. Benedict brushed a lock of golden hair from his paint-and-sweat-streaked forehead and twisted the wrench two firm quarter-turns. “Soon.”
The machine spanned the rooftops of three large brownstone tenements. Various colors of paint formed wild spatter patterns across the raised wall of the largest structure.
“Ah, yes. Ah, yes. Soon my paintbomb will be complete and all of Brooklyn will look like a Jackson Pollock painting!”
He hefted the bowling ball into place, adjusted the angle of the beer barrel by a tenth of a degree and stepped back to evaluate his work, straightening the lapel of his purple tailcoat over a lime, brocade vest.
“Perfect. Come, little redshirts. Come and play with me.”
Benedict threw his head back and began to laugh—wild, high and loud.
