Chapter Ten: In Which SpydieGirl Makes Her Grand Entrance
By SpydieGirl



The alarm rang. Instead of the annoying buzz that usually greeted her sleepy ears, SpydieGirl awoke to the sounds of Barenaked Ladies. "Broke into the old apartment....This is where we used to live...." She smiled at hearing one of her favorite songs first thing in the morning. This is one song she wouldn't mind having stuck in her head all day.

Spydie yawned, stretched, and came this close to hitting the snooze button like she did every morning. But this time, something was different. Spydie's feminine intuition told her that something was up. She staggered to the computer, muttered about the slow connection, and began sifting through the email that had accumulated in her account.

Among the first twenty-five messages was a letter from Lanzman. He didn't usually write her directly, but since she had performed at MusicFest 2000, he had expressed an interest in getting one of her group's CDs. Maybe that's what this was about.

Spydie couldn't be more wrong. She skimmed the letter, and then read every word again, ten times more carefully. She couldn't believe her eyes. A manufactured island? Cappers held hostage? Her boss would never believe this!

But within the hour, Spydie was flying to the deserted island. Thanks to the magic of credit cards, she had rented a small Cessna and bought a Coke for the journey.

Upon completion of the uneventful trip, Spydie stepped out of the Cessna and saw a thin plume of smoke rising from a beach on the island. She carefully crept nearer to the smoke, and while hiding behind a tree, heard a female voice shout, "Daleman's cookin' Johnsonville brats! ...Johnsonville brats...." The echo carried over the water. ....The heck? Spydie thought.

"Welcome! welcome!" came another shout.

"Enapov??" Spydie gasped.

"Would you prefer bratwurst or barbecued chicken?" Enapov asked.

"Lanz's email sounded like you guys were in trouble. What's the deal?"

"It's a barbecue!" shouted Gray Zombie. "Who's up for underwear volleyball? I brought some of my Ceiling Collection and rolled it into a ball. It works pretty well."

"Here," said Dr. Xigeous. "Use my XIG-ball instead."

"Let me guess, Xenograft Inertial Globe."

Xigeous was quiet for a moment. "That would be a good one," he said. "I just bought a volleyball, put my name on it, and called it a Xig-ball."

Spydie shrugged and joined the game, in which Glitterroch, Lianna, and Enapov were already involved. Cyberbeast was sitting on the sidelines, chatting with Daleman. Beast was saying that due to his cybernetic arm and eye, he had too much of an advantage to play the game fairly. Daleman was keeping the barbecue going.

Just before she was about to serve the ball, Spydie stopped, a thought having occured to her. "Where's BuckFifty?"

* * *

Buck was strapped into a chair, his eyelids held open. The finale to "Annie" was showing on TVs on every wall around the room. He was near comatose, and the floor was sticky from syrup that had been poured wantonly throughout the room. "Waffle....just one waffle...not even butter, just a waffle..."

Evil laughter was heard. Somewhere, something registered in Buck's brain. He must do something to resist. But what?

What would Brian Boitano do?

* * *

The rest of the cappers shrugged. "I guess he didn't get the invitation to the barbecue," Enapov said.

"He must not have realized our little skit was over with," echoed Lianna.

"But if he'd known that, he would have been here," stated Gray. "He may be Canadian, but I've never known him to pass up barbecued chicken."

"Guys, I think something's really wrong," said Spydie. "We should go find him."

"I know this island inside and out," Glitterroch volunteered. "I'll lead the search party."

Daleman put out the fire, Gray and Xig grabbed their volleyballs and the net, and the rest of the cappers joined up. The group headed to the interior of the island.

"Wait a sec," Cyberbeast said. "I hear something."

A shout rang from the center of the island.

"FREEEEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!"

"That sounded like Buck!" Spydie shouted. As the cappers broke into a run towards the sound of the voice, she cracked, "It's either him or William Wallace, I can't tell. But I'm pretty sure Buck isn't Scottish!"