World Watch OnLine: The Buckaroo Banzai Mailing List
#  49  (28 June 1998)
Submissions: WWatchOne@aol.com
Editor: WWatchOne@aol.com
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Number of subscribers: 515
(NOTE: anyone who doesn't have an "@something" behind their name is
from 'aol.com.')

Contents:
Greetings
Re: Happy 50th
Press Release, as it were
The Whisper

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Greetings,

Well...everyones been way quiet this week. If not for a few announcements,
I wouldve skipped this weekend.

One announcement is: Looks like Ill be moving next weekend (with luck) and
so there most likely wont be a 50th issue (blazes! the big five-oh!) until
the 11 or 12 of July. Hope everyone has a happy and safe 4th.

The other announcements are below, along with the long-awaited next
part of The Whisper.

Later...
ArcLight

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Subj:	 Re: Happy 50th 
Date:	98-06-23 22:19:26 EDT
From:	malon@pacbell.net

*In honor of WWOnline's 50th Issue,  pleased i am to announce the freeing
of ArcLight's most excellent Jet Car game from the archives of obscurity...
he will protest, but this game ROCKS! You have to have it. It's required
now. Get a copy at:

http://members.xoom.com/datamouse/bbtoys.htm

((gomen nasai Arc;  are you still glad i badgered YOU into creating the
mailing list instead of making one when you first suggested it? Heh.))

*Also... someone wrote awhile back about getting names from the Registry... 
some of those entries were edited to remove email addys on request (which
is why the Registry is down at present; i am writing a script to disable
trollbots from snooping Institute records); I also have a HUGE file with
perhaps 500 additional Registry entries... 

can't find the dang WWOneline it's in <g> data, data, everywhere, but no
significant threads.... anyway, if that was you and etc then pls write:

relayer23@hotmail.com


* There is a section in the Book detailing the initiation practices of Xan,
which states that candidates are "nailed to a tree by their ear and later
cut down"

this may strike some as particularly fiendish imagination on Mac's part,
but it reveals just one more example of his scholarship and attention to
details:  nailing to a tree by the ears was a common punishment for
"malicious vagabonds" in the 16th century Scotland of Mary and Elizabeth,
and was actually more humane than the usual alternative, hanging. 

regards,
relayer

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Subj:	 Press Release, as it were
Date:	98-06-27 11:53:31 EDT
From:	bnelso01@mail.win.org (Becky Nelson)

Calling all Blue Blaze Irregulars!

Strike Team Renegade would like to announce the opening of their
website, July 1, 1998 at: 

http://www.fortunecity.com/tattooine/gernsback/207/index.html

This site features the revived FanFic Archives in a somewhat different
incarnation than Rafterman's; we hope to be adding to it again soon. We
also have graphics and sounds for your edification, as well as a list of
things to ignore when surfing the web for more info on Buckaroo and the
Cavaliers.

Relayer has also graciously permitted us to be an alternate site where
you can get your BBI ID. If his server's too busy, try us.

We're looking forward to seeing you drop by. Feel free to e-mail us with
comments or questions. We also request that you report any broken links
forthwith, as the site is brand new and World Crime League problems cut
into our site-testing time.  Those of you who love frames will be
gratified to know that a frames version of the site should be online
later in the year. Those of you who hate frames will be glad to know
that the frameless version will not vanish at that time.

You may now return to your previously scheduled newsletter.

Replay
BBI #6188
Strike Team Renegade webmistress
http://www.fortunecity.com/tattooine/gernsback/207/index.html

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"Buckaroo Banzai" and related characters and concepts are copyright   Generale Bank, Nederland (or at least, that's what we think ...).  The story, on the other hand, is copyright 1997-98 and possibly into the next millennium by me, that is BBI Red Di ("Chicago Red's second cousin") (reddi@sirius.com), and cannot be re-distributed or archived anywhere without askin' me nice first (except, of course, in World Watch One archives, which doesn't have to ask).  This story may contain language and action which some may find PG-13; I'll try to keep it at that level.  Not being entirely familiar with the complete BB Institute background, Red Di welcomes any helpful comments about what happened when and where.  

This story is set after the return of Peggy/Peggy as documented in Ernest Cline's screenplay for "Buckaroo Banzai Against the World Crime League", in which Peggy is revealed to be Peggy (sorry, hope that didn't spoil it for everyone).

With apologies for tardiness, here is still more of the "The Whisper" or "Story Gone Out of Bounds" 

(Copies of earlier chapters may possibly be found in the Archives, definitely by writing RedDi@sirius.com)

***

	In the computer lab, Chang and Billy Travers were on alert as soon as the explosion sounded.  "You got your piece on you?" Chang asked quickly, looking out the window and observing the action taking place at the van below.
	Billy Travers shook his head.  "I've been practically chained to this desk since yesterday.  You?"
	Chang shook his head.  "Take cover for now.  I'll keep watch behind the door."
	Reno and Perfect Tommy raced up the hallway, creeping towards the door of the computer lab cautiously now, not sure what to expect.  Reno signaled Perfect Tommy to cover him, and he entered the lab first slowly, gun drawn.
	Will Chang grabbed him from behind the door, placing him in a neckhold.  "Oh, it's you guys," he breathed, releasing Reno.
	"Whoa there, fella," gasped Reno.  "Good to see you, too."
	Perfect Tommy entered then, pointing upwards.  "Uh, Reno, remember our visitors--"
	"Oh, yeah.  There are some guys in the air ducts on their way here," Reno explained.  "Where's Billy Travers?"
	"Taking cover," he replied, coming out from behind one of the desks.  "Somebody wanna give me a gun so I can do something around here?"
	Reno tossed him his gun and drew a knife from his boot.  "You guys can handle this.  I'm going to give Pecos and Big Norse some back up.  Let's round these guys up and take 'em over to the gatehouse lock-up."
	"Right on, Reno," Perfect Tommy replied, leaning against the wall nonchalantly as Reno left the room.  He looked up at the air duct.  "Jeez, they're slow.  Although I guess they can't exactly come bursting in through there.  They're more likely to-"
	Shots rang out then, from the adjoining lab.  Perfect Tommy, Will Chang and Billy Travers all took cover behind the console.  "You were saying?" Billy Travers cued.
	Perfect Tommy added, "I was just thinking that they might be more likely to shoot first and ask questions later, considering how things went last night."
	"I don't suppose you've got a knife hidden in your boot, too?" Chang asked.
	"Naw," Perfect Tommy replied.  He pulled one out of his pocket.  "Got one in my jacket, though."  He grinned and handed it to Chang.  "How do you want to do this?"
	"Quickly.  I'll move out first; try and cover me," Will Chang replied.
	"I'm on ya," Perfect Tommy replied.  He turned to Billy Travers.  "You head out when things start moving.  Try and move around to the rear."  The words were barely out of his mouth when Chang started to move.  His 6'4" frame took a dive over the console, gracefully rolling to a crouching position.  A few shots rang out from the lab next door through the adjoining door, but they embedded in the far wall behind the three Cavaliers.  Sihing Will knelt by the door frame, knife in hand, as Perfect Tommy moved out to the left and Billy Travers to the right.  As they fired cover shots, Sihing Will swung around into the doorframe and threw the knife, catching one of the two attackers in the shoulder.  
	The other Crime Leaguer fired, but Chang had already retreated, signaling Perfect Tommy and Billy Travers to move in towards the door.  Perfect Tommy tilted his head in a gesture suggesting that Sihing Will head for the door leading to the hallway.  Chang nodded in silent reply and headed out the hall door.
	Perfect Tommy and Billy Travers ducked their heads into the adjoining lab then, only to find it apparently empty.  Perfect Tommy spotted a few drops of blood from the injured Crime Leaguer leading out the hallway door, and headed quickly to the door.  He and Billy Travers arrived in the hallway just in time to see the two assailants forcing Chang at gunpoint down the hallway.  "Keep back!" one of them warned, facing Perfect Tommy.  
	"Now, you guys should know by now that never works," Perfect Tommy said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.  "Frankly, I expected something more from you guys, what with the air ducts and all-"
	"Shut up!" exclaimed the wounded one, taking his attention away from their hallway path just long enough for Big Norse to appear, shoving a revolver at the man's nose with one hand while taking the gun away from the other in one swift movement.  
	Chang took hold of the unwounded one then, and Billy Travers grabbed the wounded one.  Big Norse smiled at Perfect Tommy.  "So this is your idea of helping out the girls?  Thanks a lot."
	"Nice work there, Big Norse,"  "Of course, we could have handled it."
	"Of course.  You're Perfect, right?"  she grinned.  "Pecos and Reno are taking the others to the gatehouse.  Buckaroo is waiting for you all there."
	"Rawhide and New Jersey?" Perfect Tommy asked.  "Did they get to the medical labs okay with Chicago Red?"
	"Yeah.  Rawhide's on his way back, but New Jersey's going to wait around for some blood test results," Big Norse replied, gesturing to her go-phone to signify her recent communications.
	"Okay fellas," Perfect Tommy sighed, grabbing firm hold of his prisoner, "let's head 'em up and move 'em out."
	Sihing Will grinned as he followed suit.  "What kind of cowboy are you?"
	"An impeccably dressed one," he replied as they trudged out towards the gatehouse.

Chapter 5, Part 1

	Buckaroo met up with the others at the Gatehouse lock-up, having gathered all five of the Crime Leaguers.  They gave questioning the assailants their best shot, but found each of them to be mute on the day's festivities, as well as the upcoming weekend's plans.  Buckaroo didn't want to bring up the coordinates, as he didn't want to tip their hand to the Crime League.  
	In a private conversation with Rawhide, he whispered, "Best not to let them know what we don't."  
	Rawhide nodded, replying, "What do we do with them, Buckaroo?"
	"Call the local sheriff and have them taken in.  The FBI will have to be called in on the attempted kidnapping of both Chicago Red and Sihing Will.  They'll be especially interested since both of them worked for the FBI up until about three years ago."  Buckaroo shook his head.  "But I think the Whisper may intercede before it even comes to that."
	"You think he'll step in on the transport run?"  Rawhide prompted, knowing his friend's mind well enough to make the leap.  "Or just off 'em?"
	"Either way.  I'm in no rush to bring in the FBI on this, anyway.  Let's stall them until the weekend is over," Buckaroo said.  "I've got some ideas."  
	He turned to the others now.  "Mrs. Johnson!  Is Peggy back yet?"
	"She just got back, Buckaroo.  Want me to brief her?"
	"Yeah.  And find out how Chicago Red's doing over in the clinic.  I'd like to see everyone in the Bunkhouse in about an hour for a meeting.  It's time we got moving on the weekend's meeting."
*  *  *
	The Whisper, no longer in his warehouse but in his private office downtown, buzzed Mr. Lucky into his office.  From the stereo hidden in his mahogany armoire, the melodic Lavay Smith sang "Blue Skies".  As usual, The Whisper kept his distance behind his sprawling oak desk.  "Mr. Lucky, good afternoon."
	"Afternoon, Whisper."  Mr. Lucky rocked nervously back and forth on his heels, hands jammed tightly in his pockets.  
	"Mr. Lucky, I understand you've not been living up to your name today," came the quiet comment from the darkened figure at the desk.
	"Well, uh, not particularly today, boss.  But the weekend's sure to go off perfect.  I'm not sure what Team Banzai is up to, but they haven't quite figured out what the coordinates have to do with the World Crime League.  I think we're in the clear."
	The Whisper chuckled darkly.  "That's nice.  You think?  You think we're in the clear."  Quick as a flash, the Whisper was out from behind the desk and grasping Mr. Lucky by his coat lapels, a knife pressed against Mr. Lucky's cheek.  The Whisper wore no concealing scarf today, and the scar on his throat grinned up at Mr. Lucky along with the Whisper.  "Well, you'd better do more than think before the end of the week.  Because one more screw-up like this and you are through, do you understand?"
	"Y-yes, boss," Mr. Lucky stammered, eyeing the knife The Whisper held closely.  "I understand."
	"Good."  He released Mr. Lucky and pocketed the knife.  "Because I'll have Shorty take care of you for me personally.  And you know how much he . . . savors his work."
	"I know," Mr. Lucky said quietly, adjusting his coat lapels.  "You don't need to worry about it, Whisper.  We got all the bases covered."
	"Great.  Just what I like to hear.  Except I could live without the baseball metaphors."
	"No sweat," nodded Mr. Lucky dumbly.  "Anything else, Whisper?"
	"Not at all.  Go on back to whatever the hell it is you do around here during the day," The Whisper told him, waving Mr. Lucky away towards the door.
	As Mr. Lucky headed for the door, he asked, "Oh, hey, boss, what do you want me to do about our guys at the Banzai Institute?  All five are alive and our radio men indicate that Banzai is handing them over to the police."
	The Whisper nodded.  "Glad you reminded me.  I almost forgot," he said, snapping his fingers absent-mindedly.  "Oh, well, what're you gonna do?  Kill 'em."
*  *  *
	Peggy hurried into the Institute clinic, peeking into rooms until she found New Jersey, who was writing a few things down on the chart at the foot of Chicago Red's chart.  Red herself lay sleeping soundly in the bed, silently sleeping off the effects of the drug her captors had shot her full of.  "New Jersey, how is she?" asked Peggy, tossing her coat and purse aside on a chair near the bed as she took her friend's hand.
	"She'll be fine.  We had to sew up a few stitches that came loose in the scuffle; she came to for a second and professed her undying love for dark chocolate.  Does that mean anything?"
	Peggy sighed with relief.  "It means she's goofy."
	"She'll probably gain consciousness in a few more hours.  Four, tops."
	"Thank goodness," Peggy exhaled.  
	"Where were you, anyway?"  New Jersey asked her, removing his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose.  "You missed all the . . . fun."
	Peggy sighed.  "Well, I was out doing a favor for Maddy here."
	"Maddy?"  He looked confused.
	Peggy shook her head.  "Sorry, New Jersey, but she hasn't been Chicago Red forever.  Almost forever, but not quite.  In Wyoming, she was Maddy Drake.  But don't tell her I told you, or she'd kill me.  She doesn't like people to know about her private life."
	He shrugged.  "Fair enough.  You guys have known each other a long time, huh?"
	Peggy nodded, sitting on the side of the bed as she answered in a quiet voice.  "Yeah, we grew up in Wyoming, and she was there until we were 15.  That's when things went bad for her, or good, depending on what mood she's in when she tells her story."
	"Bad?"
	Peggy hesitated, unsure if she should go into the whole story.  She knew Chicago Red didn't want her life discussed, but at the same time knew how much her sense of secrecy kept people at a distance.  She decided to go ahead and tell the skeleton of the story, at least.  "Well, she was a genius, basically.  She graduated at 15, with honors in music and science after skipping a few years and her parents sent her to college in Chicago.  That's when Chicago Red was born.  Shy - you know, as in Chi-town - for short, if you want to annoy the hell out of her."
	"I'll remember that," New Jersey told her, smiling slightly.
	Peggy went on.  "When she was 17, her parents were killed in a car wreck, though, and her brother took off to join the Army.  The state emancipated her a year early, which left her with a kid sister to raise and a lot of work to do.  Her folks left her with just enough money for school, so she had a real tough time raising Robin, working at nightclubs, studying and playing in her band.  But she refused to let any of it go.  I hate to admit," sighed Peggy, "that we sort of lost touch for a while there.  I was busy getting ready for the world, and Chicago Red there was living in the projects studying to be a doctor and taking care of a little kid."
	"Doesn't sound like your average teenage experience," New Jersey offered.
	"She doesn't regret any of it, though.  She loves Chicago.  That's where she really learned to fight.  I went to visit her once when I was just twenty, and I couldn't believe it.  That whole week was one strange adventure after another.  Always, there was a fight going on at the club where she worked, and always she wanted to step in and take control of it.  I thought it was strange at the time, but it was really a precursor to my life with Buckaroo, now that I think about it.  When I first got to Chicago and got to Red's building, I was completely shocked.  It was one of the most depressing project buildings I'd ever seen - well, I'm from Wyoming so I don't know too much about them to begin with - and there was Chicago Red.  She'd dyed her hair so red it was almost violet, with those red high-top sneakers and her black punker outfit, and I thought, 'Oh no, what's happened to Maddy?'"  
	Peggy smiled, patting the sleeping woman's hair softly.  "But I learned a lot on that trip.  She sets her mind to a thing and gets it done.  Her little sister, Robbi, is seventeen now, and it looks like she's a candidate for a scholarship to Boston University.  All from that little box of an apartment in Chicago.  She did fix it up as nice as she could, I'll give her that.  And that's where she likes to stay.  They know her there now, and she gets the respect she deserves.  She's taught everything she knows about survival to Robbi, and I have to say I was surprised when she agreed to join Team Sobriquet.  She's even agreed to consider joining Team Banzai when Robbi goes to school.  I thought she'd never leave that damned apartment," Peggy laughed.
	"You like talking about her," New Jersey observed, setting the chart back down at the foot of the bed.  "She doesn't seem to like it too much."
	"She's a very private person.  She had some bad things happen in the FBI and doesn't trust people very easily anymore."
	"The FBI?  What happened?" he asked.
	Peggy shook her head.  "I'd really rather not go into it too much.  I know Red would really be angry with me if I told.  Basically, she gave everything to that job, and ended up getting pretty well screwed over in the end.  Will Chang even quit the FBI because of what happened with her, in sympathy with her own resignation."  Peggy shrugged, remembering Chicago Red's tearful phonecall that day.  "She's not as strange as she likes to make people think she is.  Yeah, New Jersey, I guess it is easy for me to ramble on about her.  She's like a sister to me.  It's easy to talk about the people you care about."
	"Well, I know I'm not the only one who wants to hear about you and Buckaroo," he grinned.  
	"I can tell you everything you want about Buckaroo . . . that I know, anyway," she began, somewhat elusively.  "But Buckaroo and I . . . we have our own life together.  Just as everyone here has had their own experiences with him."
	"Yes, but how did you two meet?  Was it in Wyoming?  Japan?  Oxford?"
	"I told you, people don't like to talk about themselves," she replied mysteriously, thinking of their days at Oxford then.  "I will tell you, I was lucky enough to win a scholarship to Oxford, where I met Buckaroo.  That was where he proposed to me, actually."
	"Oh, yeah.  Reno told me the story.  You know, Buckaroo is such a fascinating guy.  Every time I think I know how he'll react, he does something totally different."
	Peggy grinned.  "Ha!  You're not the only one who's noticed that."  She stood straighter now.  "Well, Buckaroo's called a meeting in one hour.  Be at the bunkhouse then."  She noticed New Jersey's somewhat reluctant nod, and added, "She'll be fine."
	"Oh, I know," New Jersey said, a little too quickly.  "It's just the last time I left to let her sleep it off, all hell broke loose.  If she didn't have the constitution of a small elephant, I'm certain those drugs would have hit her much harder and much quicker than they did."
	"Security's been tightened, don't worry about it.  She'll be up and about later, like you said, right?"  Peggy asked.
	"Most likely, yes."
	"And ten will get you twenty that she'll be demanding in on whatever was discussed at the meeting," Peggy told him.  "You really like her, don't you?"  He tried to look away, but she caught his uncomfortable gaze.  "Hey, it's okay.  It's almost impossible not to."
	"It's just that . . . she's different," New Jersey stammered.
	Peggy laughed at this, nodding.  "That she is.  But not so different as most people think.  And she likes you too, by the way.  I mean, not that you care or anything, but just in case ---"
	"Just in case I was wondering."  New Jersey shook his head, smiling at Peggy.  "Okay, Peggy, enough with the talking.  We've got some questions to ask.  Like what is going on around here?"


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