Lunch and World Searches

Disclaimer: Same as before.

"So you're back in town, mate?" Bruce Underwood, a lanky bespectacled six footer of an Australian in his late twenties asked.

"No, this is a bloody robot with an Australian accent." Truscott smiled.

"Well, at least I'm not the only token Aussie in this bunch of Celts." Bruce replied.

"I'm not a Celt…" Rebecca Lachland-Underwood, a slim young woman, about five and a half feet tall protested.

"But your wife's the token Kiwi." Bluey remarked.

James 'Thud' MacKinley, the prop for his rugby club whisperred something in Gaelic. The massive ACME cryptologist smiled and went back to his ruben sandwich.

"What did he say?" Rebecca asked.

Marian smiled, "It translates into 'Bloody ANZACS'."

"If it weren't for us 'bloody ANZACs' you chaps would have been up shit creek without a paddle during World War II." Truscott replied, attacking his basket of fish and chips.

"I was referring to you three 'bloody ANZACS'." Thud replied.

"I'll have you know, wanker, I did volunteer myself as a scrumhalf last time I was over here when Dan got bit by the flu." Bluey replied.

"And I am your office mate…" Bruce replied.

"All you do is swear at the printer whenever it doesn't work." Thud joked.

"Which is every bloody day!" Bruce replied.

"I married a teenager." Rebecca replied, holding Bruce's hand.

"So what have you been up to, Bluey?" Marian asked.

"My work of late goes into the 'classfied' section, I'm afraid." Truscott replied.

"I do wish you paramilitary blokes would stop buggering the lab." Rebecca commented, "Or returning pieces of equipment broken…"

"Combat is inherently rough." Truscott replied.

"So are Aussies on their equipment." Rebecca replied.

"You weren't complaining about equipment last night, dear." Bruce replied.

Rebecca playfully swatter her husband's face and the others at the table chuckled. "I'm serious, you weren't…" Bruce replied.

"I was talking about one other Australian and the satellite phone." Rebecca replied.

"For the last time, it wasn't working right." Truscott protested.

"It works when you love it." Rebecca replied.

"I love it when it bloody works." Truscott replied.

"Violence and technology. Not good bed fellows." Rebecca replied.

"Engineers and soldiers, not always the best of mates." Truscott countered.

"2003 Rugby World Cup…" Rebecca remarked.

"Shut up…" Truscott groaned.

"Oh you mean Australia 17 – England 20?" Marian remakred, ever so innocently.

"Bollocks." Truscott groaned, "Let's not forget Australia 33 – Scotland 16."

"Personally I'm more partial to football." Marian replied, "Or playing raquetball."

"You know what they say about football." Bluey replied, "Football is a gentleman's game played by ruffians and rugby is a ruffian's game played by gentlemen."

"You mean running in and beating the daylights out of each other is a gentleman's pursuit?" Marian replied.

"That's a bit of a stretch, that means you're calling Thud here, a gentleman." Bruce replied.

"For a tall, skinny lad you're awful cocky." Thud replied.

"Actually racketball's more my game." Bruce replied.

"Until you played Marian." Thud replied.

"Don't remind me…" Bruce groaned.

"I do believe we've another match this afternoon." Marian smiled.

"I believe you'll owe us a round tonight." Bluey replied.

"Some loyalty to a fellow Aussie." Bruce groaned.

"I'm more of a rugby fan anyway." Bluey replied, "An Australian fan."

"Yet you're wearing a Scotland jersey." Rebecca pointed.

"Well, this is my lucky practice jersey." Bluey replied.

"It's still a Scotland jersey." Thud joined in.

"What is this? Gang up on the Aussie day?" Truscott replied, "And besides it's still my good luck piece. I always have the best practices whenever I wear this jersey."

"That was until Thud tackled you yesterday." Marian remarked.

"But we got a ruck formed, got the ball back and scored a kick." Bluey replied, "So in analysis, thanks for the jersey. It was a wonderful Christmas gift."

Marian smiled, "You're welcome. I just wondered what the boys in Australia thought about that."

"Let's just say I got a pile formed on me that day of practice." Bluey replied.

"So it's not a lucky jersey." Rebecca remarked.

"I didn't break any bones, so it is a lucky jersey." Bluey replied.

"I still maintain that rugby is a ruffian's game played by ruffians." Marian replied, smiling.

"Bollocks." Thud and Bluey responded.

"How long are you in town, Bluey?" Rebecca asked.

"Maybe three weeks or so. I'll be sure to deposit a share of the rent for this month." Truscott replied, referring to his living arrangement whenever he was in Scotland, the fact that he would use the spare bedroom in Rebecca and Bruce's flat in exchange for paying part of the rent.

"And next time we invent something for you to use, do be careful with it." Rebecca replied. The server came by, and they paid the check and left a portion of the tip.

"I've got to get back to work." Marian replied, "Our latest project is keeping me up trying to find a world."

"You can always send them to Antarctica…To the research station I mean." Bluey replied.

"You certainly didn't learn much diplomacy in your travels." Marian replied.

"I could've said the Arctic circle." Bluey replied.

"I know you and Mr. Parr don't get along, but will you at least try not to bite each others heads off for five minutes." Marian replied, picking up her purse and putting the strap across her right shoulder down to her left hip.

"Of course." Truscott replied. The five friends headed outside back to the Edinburgh Field Office.

"OK," Marian began, as she stood in a room that contained several computers as well as a huge projector screen. Off to one side Bruce was pecking away at a keyboard, where Bluey was sipping at a mug of tea, "Step one of relocation is finding you a world where you might be comfortable."

Bob, Helen, Violet and Dash were all in the room. Jack Jack lay asleep in Helen's arms. "So where exactly do you plan on sending us?" Bob asked.

"There's always London." Bluey suggested.

"I'm not quite sure I could adjust to driving on the wrong side of the road." Bob said.

"Well, what do you think of New York?" Marian replied. Bruce tapped at the keyboard and a projection of New York City appeared on the screen.

"Too crowded." Helen replied.

"Crime rate's too high." Bob replied.

"That would be favorable, wouldn't it?" Truscott asked, "Having criminals to fight."

"Not really." Bob replied, "We want to lie low while we consider how we're going to take on Syndrome…"

"This is a bigger problem than you can handle, Mr. Parr." Truscott challenged, "If your combined Supers couldn't stop Syndrome from taking over Metroville, what makes you think that you can manage that by yourselves."

"We've beaten Syndrome before." Bob replied.

"And we may well be asking for your help again." Marian replied, "But for now we need to relocate you somewhere safe until then."

"And when will that be?" Bob challenged.

"I don't know when that is yet. It isn't my decision to make." Marian replied.

"Of course it isn't." Bob remarked dismissively.

"Watch it…" Bluey replied.

"Well, if you're looking for small towns, I know of somewhere in Kansas. Smallville I think…" Marian began.

"Too small." Helen replied.

"One thing goes wrong and we'd have to be relocated again." Bob replied.

"You're looking for a large city with a small town feel then?" Marian asked.

"Boston perhaps." Truscott suggested.

"I'm not a fan of the cold." Helen replied.

"Hmm…" Marian thought.

"There's always San Francisco." Truscott replied.

Marian restrained every impulse to throw her arms around the Australian, "Bluey, you're a genius!"

"I was joking." Truscott replied.

"Well I don't see why not. San Francisco is perfect." Marian replied.

"But which one?" Truscott asked.

"Hmm, this world's San Francisco." Marian said, pointing at another map of a different reality, "It's still a very charming city."

"And its close to HQ. That's a particular constant I'm aware of." Bluey replied, "I see where you're going with this…"

"Hmm, San Francisco sounds nice." Bob replied.

"It's a nice enough city." Helen replied, "We'll take it."

"I'll make the arrangements." Marian replied, "Expect a preliminary briefing in two days. Meanwhile, enjoy Auld Reekie, she's a lovely city."

The Parrs filed out of the room. "Thanks Bluey." Marian smiled warmly.

God, what is it about that smile. I could have the worse day imaginable, but her smiling at me can make it all go away. Bluey thought. And I'm noticing this just now? I've known her for years.

"I was kidding." Bluey replied.

Marian threw her arms around him, on impulse. Bluey returned the hug and they parted quickly, considering they were both still at work. Why does he keep looking at me like that? I've known him since we were children and his father used to travel here in the summers with his family.

Maybe it's the start of something new. Marian thought. Easy, you just got out of a relationship and you don't want to use him as a rebound. Least of all he's been one of the closest friends I've had, I don't want to hurt him.

She still has that effect on me after three years? Not surprising, she grew into a real beauty…Worry about these things at somewhere other than work…Bluey thought.

"I'm off for a sports afternoon." Bluey replied, "I believe we're playing rugby. Care to join?"

"Sorry, I've got a racketball game lined up with Bruce." Marian replied, "But your fondness for the game of rugby is something I can't entirely understand."

"I have my secrets." Bluey grinned.

"And why you like trying to outrun big, hairy chaps I'll never understand." Marian replied.

"It's just a lot of fun." Bluey replied.

"Whenever sports come around, you're always on the ovoid planet." Marian mused.

"I can't understand why you're fond of racketball either." Bluey replied, "All you do is run around in short shorts and swat a little ball…"

Though the sight of you in those shorts is something I don't entirely mind. Bluey thought.

"All you do," Marian smiled, recognizing the old familiar, and safe, joking tone they'd used through the years, "Is run around with a big ovoid ball trying to avoid being knocked over by big, hairy gorillas…"

"Is that any way to refer to refer to Thud." Bluey replied, "I'd best be going, good luck."

"Thank you." Marian replied.

"I was talking to Bruce." Bluey replied, "Playing against you means he's going to need all the help he can get…Including divine intervention."

"Bruce," Marian smiled, "I hope you're at your best…"

"Help me. Please God help me…" Bruce groaned.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Bluey." Marian replied.

"Whatever happened to support your fellow ANZAC?" Bruce groaned.

"Good luck." Bluey replied, "Against her, you're going to need it."

"That's three games and three wins." Bruce gasped as he guzzled water from his water bottle, "I don't know how you do it."

"Practice, hard work, and the fact that I've been playing tennis and racket sports since I was eleven." Marian replied.

"That makes seven games this week I've lost to you." Bruce groaned, "I must be getting old."

"No you must be just a bit out of shape." Marian replied, as she stretched and went to practice another serve, "Up for another game?"

"Not really." Bruce replied, "I'd best be on my way home. Rebecca's going to be expecting me home for dinner."

"Wimp." Marian replied, "I'm probably going to practice a few serves. My forehand could use a little bit of work…"

"I could help you with that." Helen's voice sounded.

Marian turned to see Helen Parr in workout clothes walking by. "I've got an extra raquet in my bag." Marian replied, "You play?"

"Back when I was in college, and before Bob and I got married." Helen replied, "But between three pregnancies, being a housewife, a mom, and now a superhero once more, time on the court got scarce. So I'm a bit rusty."

"Still, I've read your file." Marian replied, "It'll be intersting to play against…"

"I'm not about to use my powers." Helen replied.

"Your serve." Marian replied, tossing Helen the ball as she walked onto the court.

Helen began with an overhand serve that bounced off the far wall. Marian easily countered it with a backhanded swing that sent the ball bouncing off the floor and into the wall. Helen chased the ball and used a quick forehanded swing to save it. The two opponents were batting the ball back and forth, Marian finding Helen to be truly formidable player. Her agility and speed were still amazing, even if she hadn't played very much of late. Marian grinned, she hadn't had a match this good in years. Bruce was able to hold his own, but she was used to his tricks by now, and trying to figure Helen out was a welcomed change.

"So what's the story with Bluey?" Helen asked, as the game's pace had come down a notch or two.

Marian was blindsided by this innocent inquiry and actually missed her attempt to parry. The ball passed her and Helen said, "Point one for me."

"Why are you so curious about that all of a sudden?" Marian asked, slightly irate that she'd let her opponent get inside her head with that inquiry.

"Just curious." Helen replied, "It seems like you two are pretty close."

"I've known Bluey since I was two years old." Marian replied, at Helen's quizzical expression she added, "It was because Bluey's father and my father used to be partners when they worked for ACME. Every summer Bluey's family would come here for reunions. We got to be friends since then."

"Were you ever something more?" Helen asked.

"I'd rather not say." Marian replied.

"I'm sorry." Helen replied, "Your serve."

Marian served the ball and the game continued until the score was three for one, in favor of Helen. Marian was a bit disappointed she'd been beaten, but vowed next opportunity she would try and even the score.

"Did I ever tell you I was a district champion for raquetball in college?" Helen asked.

"You forgot to mention that." Marian replied as they walked off the court for some water and a change of clothes.

"Hey Truscott, over here." Jan Shimoda, a Japanese-American man with a grown in shaved head and a mustache, said as Truscott walked into the pub.

"I suppose it's time to pay up the pints I owe, right." Bluey replied.

"It sure is." Papa Louie replied, with a big grin.

"So I presume the Scotland assignment is proving enjoyable." Shimoda replied.

Bluey wore a sheepish expression and didn't really respond. "I knew it." Jan Shimoda continued, "You still got it bad, pal."

"I suppose some beer to extinguish the flames is in order." Papa Louie replied.

"What flames?" Truscott protested.

"We all know that you have a thing for a certain case officer in the Edinburgh office…" Jan added.

"Bollocks." Truscott replied.

"Not what I always see." Jan added, "I see someone's interested in a certain local lass."

"Wanker." Bluey rolled his eyes, "She's a friend."

"How many friends cause guys to get all googly eyed?" Papa Louie asked.

"At any rate, I should be ready to rejoin the team in a couple of days." Truscott said, as he sipped at a pint of Guinness.

"Looking forward to this temporary assignment being over?" Papa Louie asked.

"Looking forward to getting back into operations." Truscott replied, "Anywhere."

"I wouldn't be too eager to leave Edinburgh my friend." Jan replied, "Especially if working with a fairly attractive case officer. However, if you're not interested…"

"Don't even think about it, mate." Bluey replied.

"Point made…" Jan replied, grinning, "Anyway, she's not my type."

Bluey put some money on the bar. "This round's on me."

"Why thank you." Jan replied, "Hopefully your next two days will be enjoyable."

"I'd best turn in." Truscott replied.

"You're home awfully early." Bruce noted, as he looked up from supper.

"I'll get you some food." Rebecca began, as she stood up.

"I already had dinner with my mates earlier." Bluey replied, "Thanks though."

"I can smell a couple pints on you." Rebecca noted.

"I'm off to turn in early." Bluey replied, heading for the guest room and being true to his world he got to sleep immediately.

The two UH-1 Huey helicopters hovered over the stretch of the Nigerian jungle.The men of Recon Team Oakland, consisting of three ACME paramilitaries and seven Ibo tribesmen were aboard on of the helicopters after a harrowing chase through the jungle. Pursuing enemy Fulani troops, accompanied by Heartless were everywhere.

Bluey Truscott held his CAR-15 close to his chest as the aircraft of the 'Cactus Air Force', the SOG nickname for the helicopters flown by US trained pilots from nearby Camerone, flew off. A third Huey and an OH-58 Kiowa flew by. The third Huey was sporting rocket pods and as it flew a pass, it fired rockets into the tangle of low pines and dry brush. Truscott knew that some of the rockets were modified with the flammable white phosphorous.

He could smell the odor of death, that was about how he could describe it, as Gideon, one of their native soldiers, lay on the floor of the helicopter with labored breathing. The man had sustained half a dozen hits from a Kalashnikov rifle, and right now Jan Shimoda was working feverishly, directing the crew chief to apply pressure at designated areas.

He stank of sweat, dirt, and congealed, days old camouflage face paint. He felt the wind tease the tails of the olive drab headband wrapped round his forehead, as it blew the scent of burned jungle and burned flesh to his nostrils. He saw several Heartless and Fulani troops, cloaked in flames from the phosphorous and knew not even water could help the bastards. The only thing to help them was to cut the burning metal away from whatever part of their bodies it clung to. Given how quickly wounds in the jungle became infected, if the Fulani medics attempted this, most of their patients would die in days if not hours of the procedure. The burning were running madly, shrieking inhumanly, bumping into trees, each other and stumbling over roots and holes. The human torches twitched and screamed on the ground as the fire consumed them. Minutes ago they had been trying to kill him, and now they were being consumed by flame.

Truscott woke up with a start. Two A.M. No way he was even attempting to go back to sleep. Twenty minutes later, Truscott fell asleep again.

The Edinburgh flat was dark, as it usually was when Bruce and Rebecca were asleep. Bluey felt the need to go to the kitchen for a glass of water. As he approached, he felt liquid between his toes. "Bloody plumbing." Bluey grumbled.

As he headed for the kitchen, Truscott felt something odd about the liquid. It wasn't water, it was thicker almost like…What the hell? Lying propped up against the kitchen island was Gideon, still in his tiger striped jungle fatigues, with several bullet holes in his torso seeping blood into the lineoleum. Gideon's eyes were open, but it was like looking into the lifeless eyesockets of a skull.

Suddenly Gideon sat up, his eyes glowing yellow. "AGGGHHH!" he screamed.

Truscott sat up in bed yet again. Four-thirty. Bollocks to sleep, he was off to do something, anything. He got dressed, headed to where he stored his bicycle and headed out into the dawn for a morning bike ride. Fourth time this bloody week. Truscott grumbled as he headed downtown, being mindful of the odd automobile that was still about.

TBC (Pay attention to the dialogue to find out the next crossover…)

Football – In the UK it refers to soccer.