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The Hooded Hood and the Quest for Cosmic Awareness Wednesday, 28-Apr-99 17:20:49
The bump and grind music was loud and annoying. The lights flashed red and gold and blue, lighting the stage where several young clothing-challenged ladies were performing callisthenics to the admiration of a group of ardent gymnastics lovers. The Hooded Hood frowned, ensuring that the really private bits of the girls were continually covered with trailing bits of cloth, potted palms, hair, or the silhouetted heads of the spectators. It was bad enough that he had to come here in his quest for omnipotence anyway without having to put up with ‘70’s undercover press artwork. Although he wouldn’t have minded Grey Morrow. The cowled crime-czar wrapped his cloak tightly about himself as if to avoid the contamination of the sweaty crowd at the Deja-Vu Review Bar and led the way towards the stage area. Three of the Purveyors of Peril, those evil adversaries of the Lair Legion ripped from their own continuity lines and gathered together in service to the Hood flanked him as he searched. Let’s take some time to establish them. They’ll be important later. See that lady in the tight black velvet? That’s VelcroVixen, and she can kill a man using nothing but a tube of eyeliner and a false fingernail. But her hobbies apart, she’s a pretty deadly villainess, and she’s the Hood’s field lieutenant. This sort of place is hardly new territory to her, as we shall see later. The second figure is wearing a rather thick overcoat and a big hat, a bit like the Thing used to do in those old FF comics. However, unless Ben’s lost a lot of weight and taken to wearing cherry-red and violet stockings in his spare time, and has matching eye shadow it’s probably not him. Don’t bother going back and looking in that last posting about the Handbook of the Parodyverse. She’s not in there. This is a new one. We’ll come back to her later as well. And the third one is Bill Clinton. That’s the one the Hooded Hood needs a word with. “Indigo Impostor, this is supposed to be a covert mission. Could you possibly suppress your attention-seeking tendencies and take on a form which is less likely to garner universal attention?” A covert mission. Right. That’s why you’re wearing a grey cloak and hood and have glowing green eyes, the Impostor didn’t answer, because he’s seen what had happened to Flapjack over the video incident. Flapjack had pleaded to come on this mission, but he wouldn’t even be out of traction for a week. The demented hunchback assistant had sworn blind that he could still terrorise a strip bar with all his limbs disabled, but the Hood had made him stay at home and console the equally- despondent-to-not-be-allowed-to-come Appendage Man. “Who would you like me to be?” the Impostor answered respectfully instead. “Somebody plain and anonymous who no-one would recognise,” instructed the cowled crime-czar. “The Vice-President?” “Perfect. Make it so.” VelcroVixen had been scanning the stage, looking for their quarry. “I can’t see her up there,” she reported to the others. “I suggest we split up and search backstage.” The Hooded Hood nodded, acquiescing to his lieutenant’s suggestion. He then folded his arms and stood there, making it clear that he was not searching anything whilst there were three perfectly good minions to toil on his behalf. VelcroVixen’s explorations took her past the suddenly-in-need-of-a-new-testicle bodyguard to the changing rooms. She reasoned that the most likely place for an ageing stripper who wasn’t on stage and wasn’t on somebody’s lap was the dressing area. And lo and behold, behind the door with the little star upon it the voluptuous villainess found Meggan Foxxx, headline attraction and protective mother of the superhero known as CrazySugarFreakBoy. The woman turned away from the mirror as VelcroVixen glided in. “What is it, hon?” she asked, before her eyes widened in recognition. “You!” “You know me?” VelcroVixen was baffled. The Hooded Hood had retconned her entirely out of the timeline, so there was no way this woman could remember her. “Remember th’ little bitch that c*cksucked me out of my last big starring role, in ‘Sorority Sluts in Chains’? You bet I do, bimbo. C’mere and let me pull that fake blonde hair o’ yours out by the roots!” VelcroVixen was equally surprised by the speed and force of the older woman’s attack, but the villainess who could out-wrestle Jarvis three times out of four was never seriously threatened by the exotic dancer. In moments the woman whose stage name was Meggan Foxxx was pinned to the wall, a cruel stiletto blade threatening to do to her cheek what John Byrne does to continuity. Then there was a blur of fluorescent orange, neon green, and day-glo yellow and the blade was somehow embedded into fan letter from Space Phantom pinned to the opposite wall. “Who…?” VelcroVixen gasped as something bounced over her head, somehow managing to wedgie her catsuit as it passed. “Well, it’s either Superman after a really bad tie-die job or it’s the latest, greatest addition to the ever-laudable Lair Legion, the bouncing, brilliant, fantastic, furry CraaaaaazySugarFreakBoy!!!” the constantly-moving streak announced. And suddenly VelcroVixen was inextricably tangled in a pile of exotic lingerie – again! “Well,” Dreamcatcher Foxglove admitted sliding to a halt atop the make-up table, “I lied about the furry part.” In the main auditorium the Indigo Impostor picked up the emergency signal and gave the Hooded Hood the bad news. “He’s here. CrazySugarFreakBoy.” “It was always a possibility,” the Hood admitted with a sigh. “Then I guess it’s a good job you brought me along, huh, Hoody?” the unidentified girl in the overcoat chirped. “Can I go get him now?” “I have not yet decided whether to kill you because you just called me ‘Hoody’ or because you clearly telephoned a warning to the young person so that you would have somebody to fight,” the cowled crime-czar answered. “In the meantime, yes, go and engage that irritating distraction. But do not harm him.” “Sorry, couldn’t hear that last bit!” PsychoAcidPervGal called, ripping off her coat to reveal a uniform strangely similar to that of CrazySugarFreakBoy’s (right down to the smiley-face patterns, although these somehow had a nasty smirk and the cherry, violet, and hot pink colour scheme) and bouncing across the shocked patrons to engage her mortal enemy. Of course, CrazySugarFreakBoy didn’t know that she existed in this reality, but that was all about to change. “Talk, velvet-buns!” the hyperactive hero was demanding of VelcroVixen. “Why’d you come and pick a fight with my mom.” “’Cause she’s a scene-stealin’ backstabbin’ no-good whore, that’s why,” Meggan contributed. And then the wall exploded. “Help! Help!” PsychoAcidPervGal cried in the confusion, rushing into CrazySugarFreakBoy’s arms. “Save me!” Dreamcatcher found himself cradling the trembling teenager. There seemed to be something strangely familiar about her. Her frightened lips sought out his own in a fervent, strange-tasting kiss. Then he felt the sharp stab in his buttock, and found a hypodermic syringe protruding from it. Suddenly he found himself having an eidetic flashback to those Mantlo/Perez Teen Titans with Terra in them… “Y…you’re not a goodie,” he stammered as the chemicals hit his system. “Aw, how hurtful!” PAPG giggled, bouncing away. “And after I brought you a present.” CSFB’s reflexes were dulled, but not enough to stop him catching the hurled parcel. It was about the size of a football and it was squishy. Inside the paper was a young girl’s severed head. She was wearing a mask. “Who…?” Dreamcatcher puzzled, trying to clear the cobwebs out of his mind. “Different timeline to this one. She was your partner. She loved you. That’s GoofyGadgetGrrrlScout – well, a bit of her anyway.” CrazySugarFreakBoy looked up in horror at his grinning nemesis. “You unspeakable bastard! This head is wrapped up in my once-mint edition of FF Annual #1!” “That’s right,” snarled PsychoAcidPervGal. “Now, let’s rock!” As the two super-athletic teens caromed around the rubble-strewn changing area in mortal combat, a firm, comforting hand helped Meggan Foxxx to her feet. “Come this way, ma’am. I’ll get you to safety.” Dreamcatcher’s’s mother was still a bit rattled from the exploding wall and the sudden attacks. It didn’t occur to her at the time that she’d never seen Pierce Brosnan at one of her performances before. So she allowed the dinner-jacketed gentleman to get her away from the hurtling objects and the bounding teenagers. And suddenly she was face to face with the Hooded Hood. “Got her, boss,” said 007, suddenly shifting to resemble Bluto from the Popeye cartoons. “Very good, Impostor,” the cowled crime-czar answered. “The Hooded Hood is pleased with you. Now go and retrieve VelcroVixen.” Meggan suddenly realised what was going on. “You’re that f***ing t**t who was badmouthing my sweet little boy!” she accused the archvillain; but the crippling arthritis she had always suffered from childhood but had only occurred since she through about attacking the Hood prevented her from carrying out her assault. Then it was over as soon as it has begun and she had never had that disability. “You have something I want,” the Hooded Hood declaimed. “You and every sweaty-palmed punter ‘tween here n’ Vegas,” Meggan replied, wondering if she would again have to sacrifice her virtue to help out her son. “Cosmic awareness.” That was a new name for it. “What?” she puzzled. “I require your cosmic awareness,” the cowled crime-czar repeated. “You received it quite by accident. That’s how you were able to remember VelcroVixen. You became the Celestial Madonna for this reality. You had… special children.” This was all news to Meggan. Except for Dreamcatcher being special of course. Then her mind again caught up. “You said children. As in more than one.” “Perhaps I was referring to the other twin,” the Hood explained, gesturing to the auditorium where screaming showgirls and panicking punters were scattering from the increasingly viscous fight between CrazySugarFreakBoy and PsychoAcidPervGal. “At least, that’s her story. Of course, that one comes from a parallel reality. I have absolutely no interest in where the one you bore in this timestream is, or even if there is one. I am only interested in the cosmic awareness lodged inside you. I require it.” “I have cosmic whatsis?” Meggan checked. “Yes. It seems to prefer to manifest in whores. There was a posting about it on the AMB. Perhaps that was why your father drove you to the life you have led. Or else he was just a sick, sad bastard who deserved to be gelded. And why else do you think the love of your life sought you out to father his children upon?” Meggan didn’t know quite what to do next. There was too much to take in. But one thing was clear. Drugged and surprised, Dreamcatcher was definitely losing that fight out there. And PsychoAcidPervGal was going, if not for the kill, at least for the do some permanent damage option. “Can you save him?” she asked the Hooded Hood. “For now,” agreed the cowled crime-czar. “In exchange for that cosmic awareness.” He held out his hand, and there was a strange electronic device in it. The Hood had worked out that if he absorbed the awareness directly now it would be the equivalent of saying to the cosmic powers of the Parodyverse “come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough,” and he wasn’t ready to take on Death, Temporary Death, the Chronicler, Chance, Sense of Humour, and the other personifications just yet. Meggan took one last glance over her shoulder at where CrazySugarFreakBoy was shielding some of the strippers from an exploding coke machine at the cost of even more wounds on his own torn body. “Alright,” she agreed, clutching the mechanism. A little red LED came on. “Thank you, madam,” the Hood bowed. “I shall leave you to enjoy what little time you have left with your son.” He gestured to the now-returned Indigo Impostor and VelcroVixen. “Get us out of here.” Impostor became William Shatner. “Beam us up, Scotty,” he called into a communicator. Meggan was alone in the debris. CrazySugarFreakBoy looked round, dazed and unable to focus on where his adversary had got to. “Did I win?” he asked plaintively. “Sure you did, hon,” his mother assured him. She gave him a big hug and held on to him as the only real thing she had in a cruel and insane world. She felt as though she had lost something important today. And then there was what the Hooded Hood has said about the girl… “Dreamcatcher,” she said slowly, “We’ve got to talk…” The Hooded Hood (and featuring an irritating guest appearance from a Lair Legionairre) |
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