For starters, BulletBoy was not crazy - at least not in the straight-jacket and padded-walls sense. He broke rules and taunted authority figures and did his level best to not get caught in the process. He also had his own logic, judgment and reasoning which he deemed too sophisticated for mere mortals to comprehend. He lived a life beyond defining and pursued goals as elusive as sunlight during an eclipse. He stood (and sometimes fell) on principal when others kneeled on compromise. He made illogical choices and suffered unnecessary hardships, but from time to time he made impossible gains. And he always looked wonderful, regardless of the circumstances.

So BulletBoy was crazy - but it was the good kind of crazy.

He had a few detractors, but he had innumerably more admirers. In fact, BulletBoy's other power - the one that pre-dated the AcidBath - was an innate charm that could win over anyone. As Member 3723 once put it, he "could talk the panties off a virgin". And he was smooth, sometimes to a degree that even surprised himself. He was rarely at a loss for words and could talk a mile a minute about things he was enthused about - but he also knew when to keep quiet and listen.

BulletBoy had balance.

BulletBoy had style.

And BulletBoy had money. Not scads of it, but he was comfortable. All of this was in evidence within the walls of his sanctuary; from the outside however, it was most unimpressive. When tripsy's Chevelle rounded the gnarled tree-lined bend leading up to his residence, the beackseat passengers felt for the entire world like they'd entered Sleepy Hollow. It was big and dreary and foreboding, and like most of the landscape devoid of any color or warmth. There was plenty of acreage surrounding them though, at least thirty, and there were other smaller buildings that dotted the premises. One was a garage, and tripsy guided her car around back where the entrance awaited.

Lights along the path came on as they proceeded and one of the other structures stood revealed as a horse stable. BulletBoy looked over at it and a thought crossed his mind, but he said nothing. He considered warning the passengers what awaited them inside - tripsy already knew - but decided instead to let them discover it themselves. It was always more fun that way.

The doors to the garage recognized the Chevelle and parted lengthwise allowing it to enter - it was a large building, obviously intended to house numerous large automobiles. The lights came on inside gradually, as the car pulled in. There were indeed other vehicles inside, but they were still shrouded in darkness. It remained to be seen what the master of the estate had been collecting.

The Chevelle pulled to a stop and the quartet disembarked. Taking a look around, fscked noticed the other vehicles which hummed with power even in respite. "I thought you don't drive?" said the redhead to their host as she stepped out.

"He doesn't," said tripsy with a laugh, answering for him.

"I don't drive Earth cars," said BulletBoy. "No one's ever bothered to show me how...and they're too backwards anyway. I may as well learn how to drive a stagecoach."

"Careful. You better not let him hear you say that," said tripsy.

"Him-who?" asked Ven.

"You'll see. He's upstairs now. He never sleeps where he's supposed to - though can't say as I blame him."

"So what are these-?" began fscked. She was cut off when BulletBoy flicked a switch that brought up all of the lights in the garage. Occupying nearly two-thirds of the floor space was a starship the likes of which Ven and fscked had never seen. It glistened like a bullet, sleek and pointed at the front (on second glance, rather phallic in nature), and had a wide body, large enough for several passengers to walk about inside.

"Not bad huh?" said BulletBoy. "Millennium Falcon eat your heart out."

Below it and off to the side, like a kid brother, was another much more compact spacecraft. This one was designed for two-passenger short-range travel, maybe a quick jaunt to the moon and back or a joyride around the planet.

"Where did you get these?" asked fscked. She and Ven were both awestruck.

BulletBoy smiled. "Swung a deal with a guy out past the Helix Nebula, a two-fer-one he couldn't refuse. Learned how to pilot 'em both in a couple of hours. And they came complete with a power supply that should last at least the next four years. I don't take 'em out much, so who knows how long they'll last me."

It was an open secret amongst a privileged few Children that BulletBoy was the only human since the occupation who'd left the Earth and traveled amongst the stars. He tried to keep a low profile when he did - the last thing he needed was word getting back to a snitch planetside of his activities - but for him that was hard. EVERYONE knew BulletBoy. And pretty-much everyone who knew him had good things to say.

The gunslinger had purchased the estate and his spacecrafts with prize money from an intergalactic sharpshooter's competition he'd entered and won. That was a tricky bit of business because his sponsor had to fake a special Perdendosi-granted pardon so the organizers of the Tournament of Crosshairs would allow him to participate. Once in, no one expected a Terran to be able to best any of the other contestants, all of whom had physical traits that lent them clear superiority in every event. (The Vsppinz for instance boasted multiple eyes, like earth insects, that granted them complete spherical vision.) The odds on BulletBoy to win were nothing short of infinitesimal.

But he did. And he was quick afterwards with the I-told-you-so's.

The group followed BulletBoy through a corridor that led to stairs that in turn led to a passageway beneath the grounds. All of the buildings had similar tunnels that merged here and then emerged into the main building. Once there, a curved, enclosed staircase as well as a large old-style gated elevator allowed passage to the upper levels. They elected to take the elevator, and BulletBoy looked at the floor in a somewhat perturbed way as they ascended.

"I can't believe this," he said. "He tracks this stuff everywhere. It would be nice if he cleaned up after himself on occasion." Strewn at their feet were shafts of hay, which the guests probably wouldn't have noticed otherwise. Their host sighed. "Man, I'm gonna have to have a talk with him."

The cage jerked to a stop on the second floor, and the gates were pulled aside to let the passengers exit. The rooms were immense with fifteen-foot high ceilings and open doors that spilled off into the distance. But there was an immediate, living warmth present that the outside of the building hadn't even hinted at. It was the kind that spoke volumes about the residents - this was someone's home. There were some lights on here already too, low and soft, along with the distinct presence of someone nearby. As the group walked, BulletBoy sauntered ahead following the growing sounds of a television playing in one of the open rooms.

"Trickshot," he called out. "Yo', Trickshot. I know you're up here. You leave a trail a mile long behind you and expect me not to say nuthin'?" He turned a corner and was out of sight for a moment, still talking to his unseen roommate. "I give you all of the first floor to run around and do whatever, and you've gotta bring your mess up here. Least you could do is use the vacuum cleaner..."

Ven, fscked and tripsy entered the room to see BulletBoy sitting on his haunches, having a conversation with a dazzlingly white horse that was nestled on a blanket on the floor. The horse was barely paying his owner (and he was loathe to consider him such, but facts were facts) any attention, and instead gazed straight ahead at the television. On screen, Mister Ed was similarly giving his owner Wilbur a hard time.

"I've got company here, and this is embarrassing," said the gunslinger, serious as could be. "You know where I keep the cleaning equipment. And I ain't your maid."

The horse snorted his displeasure. BB was interrupting his favorite show.

tripsy looked back and forth at Ven and fscked who were both wide-eyed with surprise. Again the perky motorist laughed. She'd long since gotten used to this sight, but could remember how it felt the first time she saw her friend conversing perfectly with the horse; it kinda made her feel like she'd just smoked a doobie. She removed her cap, shook out her tousled tawny hair and leaned against the doorway.

Trickshot stood and whinnied, every bit as displeased as BulletBoy was. It wasn't his idea to be on this planet or in this residence, the least he could be afforded was the peace and quiet of his favorite show now and again. The man in black was having none of that backtalk though; everyone earned their keep in his place, and since there was only so much the horse could do, he had to clean up behind himself. Fair was fair after all and facts were facts.

"Am I imagining this, or are those two really talking?" said Ven.

"They're really talking. Come on, I'll get you both a drink and explain it since he's too busy being a fussbudget."

"Don't you start too," said BB to his friend. "I'll take you both on at the same time."

Trickshot walked over and nuzzled tripsy, who stroked his ebony mane tenderly and made coo-coo sounds. Ven and fscked joined in petting the animal, who loved the attention. BulletBoy threw up his hands.

"Oh great, now I'll never get a lick of work out of him. Wonderful."

The stallion flicked his tail in the gunslinger's direction and snorted again before walking out of the room to look for the vacuum cleaner. The master of the estate crossed his arms, sat back against a chair and called out after his steed. "You know, Silver and Scout probably behaved much better for company. And you can't tell me Trigger would have acted this way."

The trio looked at him, all three stifling laughter. They were tired and sore, but this was funny. BulletBoy wore his exasperation across his knitted brow before shaking his head and giving up.

"Come on," he said, "let's get you guys a drink." And even though he didn't normally drink liquor either ('cause the good guys had to walk the straight-and-narrow, after all), he added, "Heck, maybe I'll have one too."

Being at BulletBoy's place made you feel crazy...but a good kind of crazy.

Ven took up residence in the study, surrounded by an impressive computer set-up that might have matched his own if the owner had more interest in it. As things were, the intermediary was able to monitor the Children's whereabouts and activities, and even reestablish contact with the Chamber Hall, letting the Lords know their current situation. There had been precious little progress in their virtual dissection of Brittlesmith in the hours since the Hall had been deserted, but they were far from through with him. After a while, when Ven's eyes felt strained and his head had bobbed several times with weariness, he made his way to a guest room and tumbled into unconsciousness.

The infocomm sat alone in BulletBoy's library, which was immense even in proportion to the other rooms. The device's light had dimmed, but it still lit the rows of books with a suffused azure glow that teased with the information still locked inside. It would have made a fine addition to the volumes that sat on the shelves.

Down the hall, fscked abandoned her dreamless nocturne and laid in bed unable to set her mind to rest. She had easily fallen prey to the heaviness of her exhaustion when she took to the pillow, but now dark thoughts plagued her. She thought of all the things she'd lost in the three years since they'd all been spirited off the planet, some of which could never be reclaimed. She kept most of this unease to herself and rarely spoke of it, preferring to let the world see her as strong and capable and confident. But there were still things that scared her. The future scared her, or at least aspects of it did.

She sat up in bed and wiped tears from her eyes, feeling horribly alone. It was silly, she thought, with people who cared about her so close by. But the world just felt like such an alien place now, with precious little to cling to, and she wasn't sure if she was strong enough to keep the pieces together. But she was being counted on. She wasn't allowed to be weak.

This wave of uncertainty had come on suddenly with no warning, possibly made all the stronger by her physical fatigue. She managed to reign in her tears and got out of bed. There was a robe and other nightclothes set out for her which she changed into and quietly stepped into the hallway. There were still enough lights on to explore her surroundings by, which she did with the detachment of a ghost. She passed Ven's room but decided against bothering him. He had enough on his mind as it was; she didn't want him worried about her.

She passed another room filled with all manner of alien curios and knick-knacks. There were communicators of assorted types that were monogrammed with terrestrial letters and extra-terrestrial glyphs. There were cartons of cigarettes and boxes of cigars that were laced with hormone-stimulant filaments. There were vials of eyedrops that snaked their way toward the inner-brain as language-learning enhancers. There were movies that you watched on special contact lenses with your eyes closed that placed you square in the middle of the action...and so much more. BulletBoy had found these items from the furthest and closest reaches of the galaxy and distributed them to those he deemed worthy. He was an interstellar packrat, but he always found cool stuff.

Faint music came from a room on the split-level below. She followed it, arms wrapped in front of her tightly, not a creak of the floorboards announcing her arrival. She wasn't trying to sneak up on anyone; she just didn't want to be a nuisance. She stopped at the edge of the door, just out of sight, and listened to the familiar stop-start stutter of Am I Sexy? -- it was BulletBoy's favorite LOA song, because he had an answer that he knew was glaringly obvious. (Duh!)

This was the armory, and BulletBoy sat at a workbench cleaning the last remnants of the occupant's blood from his pistol. His head was bowed and he bopped and swayed to the rhythm even as he wiped solvent through the crevices of his totem. His long hair was in disarray and strewn about his face; he looked like he was having a good time. Normally this would have been more than enough to make fscked laugh.

"Hey babe," said BB, looking up at his guest. "I didn't wake you, did I? I get sorta carried away down here sometimes."

"No, I just couldn't sleep," said fscked. She took a look around the walls which were lined with various firearms. His collection was quite eclectic, composed of pieces from various eras. Everything was arranged just so, and the room was immaculate. He was rather prissy with the upkeep.

She looked pensive, not rested at all. He could almost see her aura, which was tinted a deep blue-green. Normally BulletBoy was quite attuned to people's vibes, and he could feel the discord in her frequency. She needed to talk about something.

"Come on in," he said. "Have a seat."

She took a few steps in and settled on a couch a few feet away from him, pulling her legs up beneath her. In the full light of the room he could see her eyes were red, but didn't mention it. He gave her a moment to talk, and when she didn't he filled the void.

"Bad dreams?" he asked, to which she shook her head.

"Uh-uh. Just couldn't sleep, that's all."

"Hmmmm." He checked the site of his gun. "You know, you must still be pretty tired after that fight between you and the guard. Ven was telling me about it after you fell asleep."

"Oh yeah? What'd he say?"

"That you busted some ass. Of course I'd expect no less." He grinned slightly. "You protected our boy. You should be proud."

"I'm not," she said and stopped. There was a pause.

"You gonna make me ask why?"

She shifted and hesitated. "Because it wasn't enough. It's never enough."

"You've lost me," said the gunslinger.

fscked looked at the floor as she spoke. "I woke up and got to thinking that as much as we do, this still may never end. This business of us against the Perdendosi -- it's like us against the world. We fight back and they keep coming. We fight back harder and they keep coming. It just never stops."

"It'll stop eventually. We're getting there," he said with assurance.

"That's what Ven says, but...it doesn't seem like it." Her voice quivered now, ever so slightly. "I was barely able to protect him tonight, you know."

"That ain't what I heard."

"Yeah well it's true. If you hadn't shown up, that might've been it. Good night kids, the revolution is over."

"You know that's what I'm here for. BulletBoy always saves the day. I'm the poo, after all."

She smiled a little but it was empty, mostly a reflexive reaction on her part. He could tell it was time to be quiet and listen.

"It's just hard, that's all. I never expected to be dealing with this. I never expected it all to be so overwhelming and complicated." The tears began to flow once more, and BulletBoy moved over to the couch and put a hand on fscked's leg while she continued. "And I really, really don't want to be the link in the chain that snaps at the wrong time and lets everything fall apart."

He took in a breath, ready to interject but didn't. She had more to say. Instead he reached over and handed her a tissue. She dabbed at her eyes and sunk back, finally relaxing a tad.

"I feel bad for wanting to just give up sometimes, but I do. I keep fighting 'cause I want things to go back to how they were before this all happened, before we were gone. But then I think maybe it would be easier if we just dropped it, this whole game of good guys and bad guys. This might not be the life I want, but I don't know if or how that'll ever be possible again anyway. I don't know if I'm the person who can make the right things happen."

"I know what you mean," said BulletBoy. "There's so much riding on your every step, and you can't falter 'cause that might mean the people depending on you will lose faith in their goals. Yeah, I know what you mean."

She looked at the gunslinger and this tiny crack in his façade of über-cool. It was indicative of the duality of his nature. He usually scaled the heights of egomania, but could also be as humble as an ant. Right now, his empathy meant everything.

"I believe we're all put here for a reason," he continued. "You, me, Ven, tripsy...even that stubborn horse of mine. And even the Perdendosi." He reached up and touched the side of her face, rubbing her cheek. "Sometimes it takes the worst in others to bring out the best in us."

"Where'd you get that one? From a Saturday morning cartoon?" she ribbed him.

"Hey don't make fun of my cartoons. You're a guest in my house. You're supposed to be grateful." He looked her straight in the eye, and she was compelled to do the same to him. "You know I've got faith in you no matter what. You're doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing. And you know something else?"

"What?"

"You worry about Ven waaaaay too much. He's a big boy, and he's probably got more resources than all of us combined. You can't worry about if you're doing the right thing by other people too much. It'll drive you nuts."

"I'm already there."

"I hear that."

They both giggled, which in turn made them laugh. fscked felt calmer now; the Gordian knot in her stomach had subsided. It took a real man to get her attention, and most fell beneath her notice...BulletBoy never had that problem though. He was crazy, and his candor was amusing.

"You're exactly where you're supposed to be, babe. We need you where you're at, kicking tail so we don't have to. And if you want to be happy, you have to construct the life that you want," he said and smiled a self-satisfied smile. "That one's a BulletBoy original, by the way. You can quote me."

The bodyguard allowed herself a wry grin. "You are the poo. Seriously."

The gunslinger rolled his eyes as if to say "Whatever...", then leaned over and kissed her. When she smiled in response a devilish look surfaced in his eyes which glowed green for an instant. He leaned forward again, stopping for only a heartbeat just a half inch from her lips, then kissed her a second time. When she was still smiling he figured he may as well go for a third. She obliged.

As they pulled back, BulletBoy could tell fscked was finally getting sleepy again. He took her hand and they walked back towards her room, pausing at the library door. All sorts of thoughts went through both of their minds (although his were practically transparent), but they went unspoken. They loved each other like crazy.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she responded. From the tone there was no mistaking that she meant it. Her demons had been banished for the night, and probably a good while longer. "Whenever I talk to you, I always feel better."

"So talk to me more often," he said. "Of course, actions speak louder than words."

She kissed him one final time, grateful beyond actions or words for his kindness. However BulletBoy's gun would remain holstered for the rest of the night, and fscked left him with at least one hard truth. She turned and silently walked to her room and closed the door, where she would sleep peacefully for several hours before being nudged awake by the sound of a vacuum cleaner being pushed by a horse. At her feet would be a china doll that her host had been waiting to give her, carefully wrapped in a t-shirt emblazoned with the phrase "Keep on fsckin'!"

BulletBoy yawned, finally growing tired but still absently humming the verses of the war song to himself. He was a night-owl and typically stayed up 'til this hour, but he'd need some rest before the next day's activities. They all would be getting an early start to pay a visit to another friend of his whom often lit a fire to his gunpowder.

To his right, the infocomm glowed in anticipation. It would soon be in similar but larger surroundings, and BulletBoy took a moment before turning in to consider the whereabouts of his public library card. There was one rare volume in particular that remained elusive from this packrat's collection, which he hoped would be available in the morning for him to check out. He turned on his well-polished heels and headed off to his room, the lyrics of the battle hymn trailing behind him, serving as his friends' lullaby:

"Yes the sky pilot said it
"You've got to give him credit
"For a son-of-a-gun of a gunner was he,
"Shouting: 'Praise The Lord, we're on a mighty mission!
"'All aboard! We're not a-goin' fishin',
"'Praise The Lord and pass the ammunition,
"'And we'll all stay free...!'"

"...What looks like crazy on an ordinary day looks a lot like love if you catch it in the moonlight."
- Pearl Cleage