Location: TRES HQ, Colorado, USA - 02:00 CST "It's time," stated the only female in attendance, notable because she was wearing the uniform of the TRES Grand Admiral. Gathered around the table was the trio of Jihaddi who were collectively known as 'The Triumvirate.' It was obvious by the collection of styrofoam cups, papers, and broken writing implements that they had been meeting for some time, apparently with some heated moments. "Do you think they're ready?" Asked the Dragon. "At this point, does it really make a difference?" "Agreed. Wake everybody up. It needs to move Ay-sap." [ed. comment: I've been vascillating betwen 'Wake him up,' 'Wake them up,' and 'Wake everybody up' (with the plural versions referring not only to Pupp but the people at TRES hq who need to move. Opinions?] --- Location: Lyra, at night, a few days earlier. [ed: Should I bother with music cues? This is nice horrorish synth stuff, it fits the mood well, I could probably dig up mp3s if people wanted] El'Rahn waited. He waited as only a Lyran can. Wrapped in his deep purple robes, he peered through his mask at the slightly bloated creature enveloped in its artificial environment on the other side of his lab. "A Lyran's patience trancends even time" the High Mage had often councelled, "There is a moment for everything, the overeager will miss these moments, and thus fail to properly exploit them." El'Rahn knew this moment was fast approaching; still, he waited, almost immobile, silent and pondering. The mask twitched a brief, impatient twitch against his cheek. "Yes, I know" whispered the mage as he quieted the semisentient adornment, all the while maintaining precise control over the magical fields he had gone to such great pains to properly erect in this room. Suddenly, almost unexpectantly, a muffled squeak from the creature signalled, at long last, the arrival of El'Rahn's moment. He rose finally and approached the creature, the words of incantations barely escaping his lips to make only the slightest of sounds as he carefully guided this creature he'd created through this, the final but most delicate stage of its development. Finally, it began to give birth, the end product of a long breeding program and exhausive amounts of magical and genetic manipulation slowly extracted itself from its parent. When it was done, El'Rahn carefully reached into the enclosed environment and lifted the new creature free, allowing himself only the slightest satisfaction as it survived outside the carefully controlled conditions its parent required. He stroked the tiny thing very gently to ready it before attaching a small symbiote that would provide nutrients to the creature until it could be placed in its permanent home. A wave of his staff toward the nearest wall activated a viewer which displayed the waiting face of one of his apprentices. "Prak'Al," he called the apprentice's name, knowing he had been waiting just as long for this summons as El'Rahn had for the birth of the creature he now held. "Come now, it is time." "Yes, Master." --- Some time later... Location: Southern California, a nondescript building in an industrial park, in a room converted to accomodate a restraining bed. [ed: As a side note, Prak'Al is the Lyran who will be in the op] Prak'Al hated Earth. The entire planet somehow stank, he imagined, from the sheer inferiority of its occupants. He still had great difficulty accepting what he'd been told on ascending to the fifth circle, that such unevolved creatures could pose a threat to Lyra, but the High Mage had forseen just that. "Welllllll, we're all here. Shall we start?" the gravelly hiss somehow managed to sound saccharine sweet at the same time. Prak'Al regarded the orange and yellow demon with distaste that his well-worn magenta mask concealed. Having to be on Earth was bad enough, having to keep company with Barney's chief lieutenant was irritating, having to do both of these and interact directly with sponge minions (he knew the entymology of the Jihaddi term, and rather enjoyed it) in this awful overlit room was nearly unbearable. "Of course. At your pleasure." he replied in as even a voice as he could manage. "Goody! Oh, Tommyyyyy, you can come in now!" the voice again seemed to burrow directly into the pain centers of Prak'Al's brain as it summoned the spongin waiting outside. "Yes, Master BJ." droned the voice of the first sponge to come through the door, who was wearing a surgical gown adorned with various images of the horrid, grinning visage that was Barney's public face. He was followed by three others, all wearing plain white clothing; the brief, fearful glance each turned toward Prak'Al cut through a little of the annoyance he was feeling. Without being told, the gown-clad sponge climbed onto the table. "Oooh! Very good, Tommy! Lord Barney will be happy. Now remember, think about something nice and bright and happy and this won't hurt a bit." He then looked at the other three. "Strap him in." Prak'Al prepared the creature he had so carefully carried all the way from El'Rahn's laboratory on Lyra as he watched the other humans bind their comrade to the table. He plucked away the small symbiote on its underside that had been feeding it and stroked it gently, exciting it, preparing it to fulfill its purpose, he felt it elongate and begin to squirm in his palm as it responded to his ministrations. "It is ready" he announced before stepping forward to the side of the table, not bothering to direct the proclamation to any particular one of the room's occupants. Tommy began to whimper a bit as he caught his first glimpse of the creature the lyran was holding. "Wha-- What's that?" he asked, his already timid voice rising a number of octaves as he spoke. "It's your friend, Tommy. It's Lord Barney's Friend too, it will let you help him." BJ explained in a voice that had become even sweeter-sounding in proportion to the pitch of the frightened sponge minion. "Quiet!" Prak'Al snapped at both. "I must concentrate." He continued to stimulate the creature as he lowered it toward the side of the restrained sponge's head, his eyes fixed ahead of him in concentration and his lips, though not visible through his mask, were rapidly mumbling incantations. The creature reached in front of itself, searching for the sponge's ear with three very thin tentacles, its body now much longer and thinner than it had been. It finally found what it was searching for, began to pull itself off of Prak'Al's palm, and positioned its head at the entrance to Tommy's ear canal. "What.... wha?! Eww! No!" whined the surprised sponge. The terrified, pained scream he made just before he passed out made the entire ordeal worth it for Prak'Al. --- About three hours later, in another part of the same building... Tommy was concious now, and even standing. Prak'Al hadn't been sure the human would live through the implantation, but everything appeared to have gone as planned. This test would tell. "Wha...where..?" groaned Tommy as BJ got his attention. "Everything's okay, Tommy, Lord Barney is very happy with you. Now all you have to do is look over there and say the word I taught you before and then you can go watch TV with the others." Tommy was still a little unsteady, but of course obeyed all the same. "Okay... like this?" Tommy did as he was told, and was quite taken aback at the result. "Yes, Tommy, exactly like that." Prak'Al surprised himself by speaking directly to the human as he smiled confidantly behind his mask. El'Rahn would be pleased. --- Location: JPV HQ, ArchChancellor's Office, Pennsylvania, USA - 04:00 EST The small room looked like maenads had just left after a two-week bender. In the middle of the amazing mess was a non-descript desk. On the desk, head in arms, still holding a pen, but now having smeared whatever paperwork was being filled out, was the Arch Chancellor of the newest JAO in the Jihad to Destroy Barney the Purple Dinosaur, the Jihad Praxeum Veneficus. He snored lightly, shifting every once-in-a-while, mumbling unintelligible phrases occasionally. The phone built-in to his computer rang. Now, it may be interesting to note that it didn't just ring, but rather routed itself through the office's high-quality amplified stereo sound system. The AC used it for blasting various Good Music[tm], but in this case, it blared a loud high-pitched ring at ear-splitting volume. "WHATTHEFUCKWHOTHEFUCKWHERETHE... Oh." He wearily slapped the "TALK" button. "Who the hell is it? This better be important, goddammit." He watched the monitor fade from the JPV logo to a wide shot of the Trium. The camera focused on Melanie Davies, G. Adm. of TRES Corps. The look on the AC's face was enough to make her stifle chuckles. Silently, she wished she was logging the conversation. She spoke. "Sorry to wake you, Pupp. Unfortunately, we needed to get a hold of you ASAP. How is the construction coming over there?" Puppeteer sat for a few seconds, staring blankly into the screen, causing Mel to look quickly off-screen to the other Triumvirs. She shrugged, and turned back to the screen. She cleared her throat. "PUPP! HOW IS THE CONSTRUCTION COMING!?" "Huh, what? Oh.. well... it's pretty much done. We've got a few little cosmetics to take care of, and we're still lacking in mundane security, yet..." He paused for a moment, and seemed to be thinking. "Uhm... what's goin' on? You guys DO know it's four o'clock here, right? I mean, this is the first sleep i've had in WEEKS. Is there something I should know about?" They told him. Puppeteer sat for a few minutes afterward, staring blankly at the JPV logo illuminating the monitor. He blinked and slowly and hit the first button next to the monitor and tried to remember who was on night watch while he was wating for the connection. "You're still up?" "I wish I weren't. Listen, Kat, we've got something going down, I need you to get everybody you can together and in the motorpool to meet me in five minutes. Top priority." --- Coming soon, Operation: Samsonite. http://this.will.be.a.link.to.the/poster