Tales of the Parodyverse

New! Lair Legion: The City #2! Because Dancer demanded it...!


Post By

Nats
Sat Oct 11, 2003 at 11:34:38 pm EDT
[ Reply ] [ New ] [ Tales of the Parodyverse ]

AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Okay, I realize this story is a bit late, as it’s a year or so in the making, and when it first came out the concept of the Shadow Cabinet wasn’t that fleshed out. Hopefully by the time this series is done it’ll all make sense. Until then, you must realize all characters and situations starring and referred to in this story and subsequent installments reflect the time period the story began in, which was last year sometime, which was before a few of these characters left and during the time period Messenger was working for SPUD. In fact, I have no idea which line-up we were using at the time, but continuity is malleable; just go with it. And now, on with the show.


LAIR LEGION: THE CITY #2

By Bill Reed

Skeletons in the Closet and Shadows in the Cabinet


The Where's Where of the Parodyverse, by the Hooded Hood

Thanks and dedication to all Parodyverse posters, past and present who’ve helped shape the environment that we know today!



The Nils Memorial Airport was situated towards the southern end of Parodiopolis, between Mangatown and Mosman Park. The airline, Parody Air, had been operational for fifty years, and remained one of the busiest airports in the country.
The young man who had just exited the security clearances was making his way towards the airport's egress. He was bombarded with pamphlets from all types of religions and cults, and one for a bake sale. The papers never made it outside the airport with him, having remained on the floor in crumpled little piles.
The man's large brown jacket and baseball cap concealed the fact that he was a lean, yet well-built brown-haired man in his early-to-mid twenties. He wasn't in Parodiopolis as a tourist, or even on a business trip. To him, this was a family affair. His name, or at least the name he had used on his passport and driver's license, was Jay Douglas.
He was looking for his brother.

***


The Dougle Boarding Home on the outskirts of Shelton was a slightly out-of-the-way building, never really garnering much attention of any sort. Its owner, Stella Dougle, was quiet, and the boarders themselves were nice people that helped turn the home into a family atmosphere.
Mrs. Dougle was tidying up the hallway outside of the rooms for the temporary boarders. The sound of glass breaking interrupted her chores.
She quickly took out her master key and unlocked the door to the room of one Randy Potts, who had just come to town earlier in the week. She hoped he wasn't causing trouble. Nothing of the sort had really ever happened in the building before, at least, not since her husband Douglas died.
What she didn't really expect to see when she opened the door was a man in a black trench coat and jumpsuit, wearing a permanent case of five o' clock shadow, tossing drawers about and making a general ruckus. Broken glass lay on the floor by the window.
The figure, startled, produced a square-shaped metal object. However, he quickly put it back in his satchel when he saw it was only a kind old lady at the door. "I don't want to cause any trouble," he said.
Stella Dougle fainted dead away.
"Oops," Messenger muttered to himself. He had broken into the apartment after getting advice from Xander, the Sorcerer Supreme by Default, the night before. In a bit of a rush to stop a mysterious assassin known only as CyberVenom from murdering Dan Drury, head of the international espionage organization, SPUD, he hadn't tried to see if the window was unlocked, which thinking back, probably was, as no one was in the room and he figured his perp couldn't really walk out the front door with a jetpack.
Nothing was in any of the drawers except a Gideon Bible and a telephone book. Checking the closet, the former vigilante turned SPUD agent found only a box ripped apart and a small suitcase full of street clothes.
"He already left, in case you're wondering," a voice said from behind him.
Messenger whirled around and sent a foot directly toward the mysterious man's head. However, he was gone from the spot on which he stood.
"It's only me," De Brown Streak told him. "Don't hit me."
"If you hadn't been a speedster, you'd be sprawled on the floor by now."
"Just tell me you didn't kick the old lady in the head," replied DBS.
"No. She fainted."
"Ahh," ManMan stated, walking in the door and stepped over the elderly woman. "Your usual reaction with women."
"What? You too?" Messenger shouted. "Next you'll tell me you brought dull thud with you."
"Um, hi," the aforementioned super-powered roadie smiled meekly as he poked his head through the door.
Messenger sighed.
"Oh, and don't think I'm doing anything heroic with this," Chronic declared as he too appeared. "I'm just...y'know, tagging along for the ride. Out of the ...uh... evilness of my heart."
"May I ask what you're all doing here?" Messenger said gruffly, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.
"Nice job with the window, by the way," De Brown Streak noted. "But I thought the postman always rang twice."
"Well, we saw some unusual activity in the Fatal Toilet last night," Knifey, ManMan's sentient knife and partner answered. "As in, metahuman activity. Appeared to be some kind of symbiotic tendril. Anyway, followed him here, and monitored him. He flew away a good five minutes before you got here."
"Great," Messy grumbled. "Just swell."
"Shouldn't somebody wake the old lady up, or put a pillow under her head, or something?" Chronic suggested. "Not like, y'know, I care or anything," he quickly added.
"So, we could, like, team up, or something," dull thud proclaimed. "'cause, y'know, we're super-heroes, and all."
"I'm a villain, dammit," Chronic responded.
"Sure you are," said Knifey. "Anyway, it would probably be a good idea to keep following the guy. Do you know where he's headed, Messy?"
"He's going to the SPUD Helicarrier. To kill Drury," the postman sighed.
"That's not good," ManMan said.
"Certainly not," thuddy stated.
~~We should act fast then,~~ interjected Cressida, dull thud's telepathic tapeworm.
"Cressy's right," the unkempt roadie with super-powers declared.
"Hmm?" asked Joe Pepper, aka ManMan.
"Oh...my tapeworm, you know, Cressida..."
"Can't believe she ever broke up with me," Knifey muttered.
"Yeah..." mumbled thud. "She said we should act fast."
"Which is definitely a good idea," De Brown Streak nodded. "There's only two problems. One: I'm a wanted mutant outlaw, so going to SPUD may not be in my best interests. Then again, I'm a hero, so I should go help anyway, and maybe saving Drury would help my reputation or whatnot."
"Maybe he's right," Chronic replied. "I should go home, then, as I'm an evil villain and all..."
"No one's going anywhere," Messenger snarled. "If we're working as a team, I need you all in on this."
"And two," the speedster named Josh Clement continued, "How are we going to get there? None of us can fly."
"Well, Cressida could turn some air into stairs, I guess," dull thud suggested. "But that'd take a while."
"I suppose we could use his help, then," Chronic said, pointing at the window.
ManMan whirled around. "You---!"
"Hi guys," Exile smiled. "Need a lift?"

***


Just across the river from Parodiopolis lay the city of Gothametropolis York. It wasn't as bright or as popular as its neighboring city. Instead, GMY, as it was known, was a dark city, rich with dank alleyways, and filled with greed, corruption, and evil.
Coincidentally, spiffy was the city's mayor. It wasn't necessarily his fault for the city. It had been that way before his term. Still, its inhabitants liked to think it was his fault anyway. Mark Hopkins, the ferned wonder, was the mayor of every city in America, including Parodiopolis, of which he was interim mayor until Pierson's Porter decided to show up in continuity again. He actually managed to hold a negative percentage in the popularity polls. He still wondered how many people voted multiple times.
The Gothametropolis City Hall had been blown up and rebuilt on quite a few occasions. It was originally constructed in the early part of the twentieth century, but was later destroyed in several super-villain attacks. It had recently been demolished, and so was still under permanent construction.
"I'm not sure why I have to be your bodyguard," Banjooooo grumbled as he walked down towards the building's entrance along with spiffy, Cap, Falcon, and Frog-Man. "I'm king of the sea monkeys. You should be protecting me."
"You're here because you're one of my best friends," the mayor told him. "And because I didn't want Cobra around, as she creeps me out. Especially when she threatens to eviscerate my potential assassins. I mean, that's half the population. Cap's here because I have ties with the currently disbanded Abandoned Legion, and we go back a way's. Besides, Hunter Victorious said he was busy, and Paste Pot Pete never really engages in a lot of conversation, being mute… Frog-Man's here because he's popular, and if I'm shot at, can take the hit, on account of his power to come back from the dead and all."
"Gee, thanks. You just care so much," Frog-Man muttered sarcastically.
"Then why am I here?" Falcon asked.
"Because you're linked to SPUD, so you can give me some government back-up. Well, that and you're a snappy dresser."
"Um," the winged adventurer um'ed. "I see."
"So, spiff," Cap began, "What exactly are you doing today that you need so much protection?"
"Well," spiffy pondered, as his symbiotic fern moved about of its own accord, "I'm supposed to announce the new division of the GMY police, who would be going after the mafia. And seeing as how the city's pretty mafia-ridden..."
"...You don't want them taking potshots at you before you cut the proverbial red ribbon," Frog-Man finished.
"Well, that, and the fact that my fern has an aversion to cheap Italian cologne."
The group was just about ready to exit the building. spiffy fumbled with his tie, as he always felt it was too restricting.
An intern ran up to spiffy. "Five minutes, Mr. Mayor. ...should I really be calling you that? I'm probably older than you..."
"Uhm, that'll be all, Stacy."
"My name's Nicole," the intern corrected.
"Oh, sorry," the young mayor apologized, as the intern sighed and wandered off to find the cute new deputy mayor with the nice sideburns.
spiffy had decided to go without a tie. It'd probably just get in his way as he was diving for cover anyway.
"Mark," the shadows called out.
"Gahh! They're early!" spiffy cried, hiding behind Banjooooo.
The shadows next to the water cooler melted into a familiar form, clad in a black costume with orange trim.
"I need your help, Mark," the Dark Knight clarified. "Come with me if you want to live."

***


The Carrington sector of Parodiopolis was known specifically as the business and financial district. Many major companies from all over the globe owned skyscrapers there. Some of these companies had gotten their start around the Parodiopolis area, including KinLabs, Bautista Enterprises, and the Parodyverse Emporium.
The Parodyverse Emporium had started in the 1950's as a relatively small corporation owned by two brothers. In 1962, the Emporium had gotten quite larger, and had spread throughout the continent. That year was also the year that the company had bought out the fledging New Comics line, renaming it the Parodyverse Emporium Comics Group, and as it later came to be known, Parody Press.
Even currently, the Parodyverse Emporium had major influence in the software, internet, mechanics, household appliances, and clothing industries. It also owned a well-known car manufacturer, by the name of Ulterior Automotives. They also still held Parody Press.
A certain writer under the name of Andrew M. Dean was one of the more critically-acclaimed and fan-favorite, yet not quite popular authors for the company, having been scribing Golden Arrow for years now. He also was a year into his runs on Coldtown, a sci-fi book with social themes, and Thunderstorms, a twist on the super-hero team. He had a meeting with the editor-in-chief, the young Pike Hunter, and had come a bit late, as he just got back from testifying in court as Fin Fang Foom, his draconic alter ego, a super-hero who led the Lair Legion.
After shape-shifting into his human form, Andy attended the meeting. A few other writers were there, as well as several editors.
"No, I will *not* write a 'Paragon' book," the writer declared. He had usually liked to keep to himself and just write, but now Hunter was pushing it.
"C'mon, Drew!" Pike replied jovially. He had come into the esteemed editor-in-chief position six months earlier. As a popular young artist from New York, he was chosen to represent the newer generation. He wasn't a "suit"; in fact, he usually wore jeans and t-shirts, as well as his trademark baseball cap, which he had backwards on his head, covering his frosted blonde hair. "Paragon Parodyverse! It'd be great! See, we cancel some titles and revamp them for the 21st century, in an alternate universe or something. This'll get plenty of new readers in."
"But I'm headway into some good plots for my books now, and..." Andy continued.
"Drew, please..." Pike interrupted, rubbing his goatee. "Your books aren't top sellers. I mean, they make the top fifty, yeah, but Coldburg's number 45 on the charts, and the other two are in the thirties range. If we revamped them, we could boost sales immensely, get in new readers, jazz it up a little!"
"...it's Coldtown, actually. And the critics and fans like my books."
"If they do, then why aren't they in the top five? Look...Grant Millar's Z-Team is hovering around the top three every month. Stuntman is in the top ten, too. But City Comics is getting there with their three Lair Legion titles! That license right there is walloping us..."
Andy Dean smiled to himself. As the leader of the Lair Legion, he was glad that Pike Hunter wasn't getting the chance to do something to hurt his team. Andy knew he could never write the LL comic...if he did, he could give himself away. At least he could get satisfaction out of knowing that Hunter would never get his hands on it.
"Now, Drew, hear me out here. If we revamped Golden Arrow and Thunderstorms under the Paragon line, we could really boost sales, and beat out City Comics. We could revamp Mucho-Man too, as that's in the thirties, and he's really old hat, you know? Been around since the sixties', so he could use a retooling. Didn't you used to write that, Drew?"
"Yes, but I was under the impression that the thirties was a good range to sell in---"
"But if we want to be the best in the biz, we need better numbers than that!" Pike exclaimed. "So I'm thinking we do Paragon Golden Arrow, and Paragon Thunderstorms, and Paragon Mucho-Man, and maybe Paragon Z-Team, because if a Z's on it, it'll sell. Whaddya say, Drew?" He took another swig of Jazz Cola, also owned by Parodyverse Emporium.
"I still say no. And the name's Andy..."
"Fine, Drew. Fine. But think this over, okay? We can always get you some other titles. I mean, you've got the skill, but you need some attitude! Make your books fresh, hip..."
"They're already fresh. I write accessible. And..."
"But can anyone just walk in off the street and know what's going on in Golden Arrow? The continuity could be too much! There are people just waiting to be fans, and aren't reading our books! We need them to read it!"
"Golden Arrow is understandable. And if we alienate our old readers..."
"We could gain more new readers than we have old ones! So after we cancel Tales to Infuriate..."
"...you can't cancel Tales to Infuriate! That's...that's one of the most classic comics out there!" Andy protested. Even his fellow Lair Legionnaires loved that book.
"We don't want classic. We want kewl!" Pike grinned. "HaRdKoRe!"
"But...but..."
"Now, I'm giving you time to think this over," the editor told him. "You've got a month. Trust me, Paragon will be great. We'll make loads."
"I...I still don't like the idea..."
"Well, I'm sure you'll get around to it," Pike smiled. "You can go now, I guess. Not much else to really discuss. Call or e-mail me when you want to talk about Paragon some more. But right now, I have to go play some Playstation2."
"Well, um...Yeah. Then, bye, I guess..." Andy said as Pike shoved him out the door.

I'm such a wimp, Andy thought as he left the building. I could've ripped that guy limb from limb...no, no, too evil. I could've at least breathed fire on his desk...held him out the window until he saw things right. But, that'd give away my alter ego. And right now, I need to keep playing quiet low-key Andy.
Across the street, from an unidentified office building, a solitary figure watched Andrew Dean with binoculars.
"Target is leaving the premises," the figure spoke into a comm device. “Alpha Team, prepare for capture.”

***


Phantomhawk Memorial Hospital was originally known as Parody General. Built in the late 1940's, it had been continually updated both structurally and technologically since then.
It was renamed in 1980 after the super-hero known as Phantomhawk, who was one of the three main super-heroes of the 70's. Along with fellow heroes Discoman and Sagittarius, he used his disorienting gadgets and martial arts to fight crime in the disco era. He gave his life in battle, trying to take down BALD along with his fellow heroes, as well as then-captain Dan Drury and the agents of SPUD. Discoman and Sagittarius retired shortly after that, and Drury earned a promotion.
The staff in this hospital did good work. They treated the common man, and the hospital was more traditional than its rival, St. Silver's.

Dr. Silas Benton whistled to himself while reading the entertainment section of the newspaper. As the coroner of Phantomhawk, it was his job to perform autopsies and generally inspect corpses. He obviously wasn't very squeamish. In fact, his job correlated to his love of gory horror movies, of which memorabilia littered the walls of his apartment.
He put down the paper as the two new interns wheeled in a cadaver. "More where this came from," said Skyler, the young woman in her twenties with rust-colored hair.
"All found in the same area, by the docks," Hugh, the young skinny black man, reported. "Cops say it'd been a few days since they'd been killed."
"They estimate murder, then?" Silas checked, trying to brush hair over his bald spot. He lifted the sheet off the body. Two slash marks were in the throat. "Jugular pierced, looks like it was a barbeque fork or something. I betcha they weren't grilling though." He chuckled and then smiled his trademark goofy smile.
Skyler smirked. "Yeah, Doc. Cops said it wouldn't be suicide...I mean, why would they all stab themselves in the neck? Figured it was drug dealings gone sour, or something. We've got three more. Two more guys and a woman."
Silas nodded. "So, what does this mean we have to do?"
Hugh cleared his throat. "Uh...we'll bring the others in, and then, uh..." He kept getting his facts crossed in his head, trying to remember the text.
Skyler nudged him in the ribs. "Check for drugs, in case the PD was right. The CSI people should come by a little later."
"Right, we'll just be doing some prelim stuff, and then see what they want done," Silas told them. "You go get the others, I'll start with this one."
As the two young trainees walked out, Silas began to inspect the body. It felt very cold, proving that the young man had been dead for a short while. Silas got ready to take the official temperature. Getting the large rectal thermometer out, he chuckled again. Heather, his ex-wife, hated his job. She thought it was so disgusting, playing around with dead people all day. She also despised their son Kyle's modeling after his father. She couldn't stand one in the family, she certainly wouldn't want to. Just another bit of stress put on their relationship, which eventually led to its crumbling.
"Hmm. Mid-eighties. Bit high for a body that's been lying in shadows for a day or two," he said to himself, and then turned the body over again.
Skyler and Hugh had returned, each with a cadaver to themselves. Hugh went back for the last one.
"Not exactly a glamorous job, is it?" Silas quipped. "What's a pretty young girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Skyler stopped what she was doing. "Uh...I just figured this part of the medical field was a bit quiet. They can't die on you here," she smiled nervously. "I guess I'm just a bit of a loner, and it's pretty easy being by yourself when the only one to talk to is a cadaver."
"You bet," Silas replied. "Boy, if these guys could talk. I'd wonder what they'd say."
"*I* wonder what's taking Hugh so long," the young woman responded.
One of the corpse's arms flopped off the table. "Huh," Silas grunted. "Slippery fellow, isn't...ulk!"
The corpse had reached up and grabbed Dr. Benton by the throat.
Even through Skyler's screams, all he could think was that it was just like the movies.

Astronomers and scientists would deem it as a localized astro-spectral phenomenon not unlike that of the formation of a star.
Amazing Guy preferred to call it teleporting, with the help of a multiversal energy portal. The energy unwrapped around him, and he found himself standing on the roof of the hospital. Not a bad way to travel long distances.
Scott Brunsen looked out over the city. He admired this old burg. Why it didn’t pack the charm of his hometown, Littlesmallville, it sure wasn’t boring.
Then he heard the screams.

“Oh my god, Kate…what happened to you?” Dr. Carter Trent gasped.
“The hairstylist happened to me,” Dr. Kate Mills replied, wielding her new shoulder-length haircut. “I felt like a change.”
“Don’t worry,” Uuanda the receptionist said. “*I* like it.”
“Thanks, ‘anda,” Kate smiled. “We girls are never as brutish as men.”
“I’m standing right here,” Carter announced. “And do go off on your ‘all men are beasts’ tirade again. We’ve got a busy morning ahead of us, what with all those cases of turtle bites because of the Busiek Aquarium incident this morning. And the attempted robbery at Mimble’s.”
“Oh, lay off, Carter, it’s handled,” Kate assured him. “After all, we’re the crack team of doctors that don’t give up on patients. At least, if you read the plaque on the wall.”
Uuanda chuckled. “Besides, all men *are* beasts.”
Her statement was followed by a group of men (and one woman) with obvious facial and dental deformities. Vampires had arrived. Some of them were naked, but others appeared to be wearing torn clothes of hospital staff.
“See?” Uuanda said. “Beasts.” Then she screamed and high-tailed it out of there.
“Um…don’t hurt us!” Kate protested to the vampires. “We’re doctors. We can… well, we’re not dentists or plastic surgeons, so we can’t really help you in the whole facial area, but I’m sure we could work something ou--”
One of the vampires, a deranged man with wild hair and a beard, snarled at her, causing her to jump back in fear. Carter squealed.
The vampires began to corner the two doctors, and Kate then hoped Uuanda had run off to call 911 or something; and then, Kate saw the irony in a hospital calling 911, and then shut it out of her mind, as she knew these kinds of things ran through one’s mind when they were in a state of panic and terror and life-or-death kinda stuff, so she reached out towards the tray she had backed into and closed her fingers around a nearby scalpel. All of this happened within the fraction of a second it took for Amazing Guy to appear out of nowhere.
“What’s this? Vampires? Not vampires again, I’ve had it up to here with them, you know,” the cosmic costumed crusader said out loud. “I mean, with the biting and the snarling and the total disregard to the decency of pants, and then there’re the really Machiavellian ones, like Dracu…” He realized he was rambling and snatched one by its stolen hospital lab coat. He hurled the vampire he had grabbed back towards its fellows, bowling a few of them over.
“Now, my hero’s code against killing doesn’t apply to vampires,” AG warned them, “as evidenced in Appendix B, Section 4, Line 13, under the heading of supernatural phenomena. So don’t get testy with me, I’m just following the rules.” He heard Dr. Trent squeak something.
One of the vampires leaped at the multiversal manhunter (not to be confused with a Manmanhunter) baring his fangs. Amazing Guy swept his arm, creating a blade of energy taken from the multiverse itself that sliced off the vampire’s head. The vampire effectively turned to dust.
As the remaining creatures hissed at him, Amazing Guy calmly informed them of several points. “Now, you can go ahead and be mean like you are now, what with the pointed teeth and the hissing, but I know that the humans you once were are not responsible for the actions of your demonic selves at this moment. Therefore, I think it within my duty to, as pop culture calls it these days, ‘dust you,’ referring to the effect that slaying has on your physical selves. In any event…”
The vampires, bored with Amazing Guy’s speech, looked at each other and came to a consensus that they should all attack at once, and did so, each of them lunging for one of the hero’s appendages. Unfortunately for them, Amazing Guy had erected a shield around himself before they could reach him.
The hero shook his finger at them. “No, I don’t think I’ll be allowing that, as I don’t really want to be drained of blood or turned into a foul bloodsucking creature of the night. Now if you would please…”
Amazing Guy was interrupted again as a pointed arrow suddenly ripped through the torso of the female vampire and turned her to dust.
“Wooden arrowheads,” Trickshot explained as he entered the fray. “Now, less talkin’, more kickin’ demon ass.” He rebounded himself off the reception counter and kicked one of his opponents in the head, sending the vampire sprawling. The Irritating Archer removed another wooden-tipped arrow from his quiver and staked the downed night stalker.
Amazing Guy had the last remaining vampire held in the air by the throat. “Really, Trickshot, that kind of language and lack of grammatical aptitude isn’t necessary, nor is it proper to use in front of a lady,” he said, motioning to Dr. Mills with his free hand. “I would expect better manners and fortitude from a super-hero like yourself. By the way, aren’t you supposed to be on some kind of soul-searching journey on the west coast? What are you doing here?” AG apparently produced more energy between his fingers to slice off the vampire’s head, as the body fell free and almost immediately turned to dust.
“I got wind o’ some trouble down here, so I decided to swing back into town,” Trickshot replied. “Figured I could use your help. We need to talk.”
Amazing Guy helped Kate to her feet. “Sorry about the display of violence, miss, but one must use it when faced with a vampire,” he told her. He turned back to the archer. “Certainly, I’ll converse with you if the matter is as important as you say. Where should we speak, then?”
Trickshot smiled. “C’mon,” he said, “I know just the place.”

***


The moon was a very busy place, but no one could tell just by looking at it. Not only did the moon hold the Turquoise Area, a secret city built with Celestian technology and once inhabited by the Skree, but it also had the more wider-known dark side, upon which sat the Moon Public Library, which somehow remained stationary yet never left the shadowed lunar area.
The library was one of many cosmic libraries, and held books from all over the universe as well as alternate realities and dimensions. From prophecies to chronicles of great cosmic wars to a recipe for some really good-tasting chili, any publication could be found within its great shelves. The library was currently run by a man named Lee Bookman, who spent most of his time in solitude, as there simply weren’t that many customers that came to Earth’s moon to check books out.
The Librarian currently sat before a great tower of monitors, most of which featured a random television station, but there were others that monitored reality and parts of the Earth. Currently, Bookman was tapped into the monitor feed from a satellite, watching several figures make their way across Gothametropolis York…

***


There was a building in upstate Gothametropolis York that perched on an isthmus overlooking the ocean. The building had been built a few centuries earlier, and designed by architect Leyland Reed. It was Herringcarp Asylum. Long since closed for business, the building was inhabited by one major resident, the Hooded Hood. Of course, the halls of Herringcarp were still filled with creatures, beings, and characters trapped forever inside it.
The Hooded Hood could exist in all times through his Portal of Pretentiousness, the same Portal of Pretentiousness he now used to spy on the Librarian, who was watching several figures make their way across Gothametropolis York…

***


Dullard’s Corner was a suburb of Parodiopolis, across the bridge from the main island of the city itself. This basically meant that no major catastrophes tended to occur here…usually. It was settled by the complete and absolutely never famous Hermancloff P. Dullard, an Irish explorer that wandered into the area one day, claiming it with his name, and then was immediately killed by a tree that happened to fall right where he stood. The small party that was with him, however, decided to honor the claim that he staked, and the area was called Dullard’s corner ever since.
Presently the area was filled with suburban residences, picket fences, green lawns, children on scooters, a chicken in every garage and a car in every pot. It also had a few condominiums. Including an infamous one, where the former Lair Legionnaire Visionary and his wife Cheryl resided. This condo was half-sunk into the ground and served as the headquarters of the lethargic adventure team called the League of Regulars.
But the story does not continue there.

***


There was a cabin in the middle of the woods. It was built some time ago, possibly in the 1960’s, and originally used as a hideaway for some semi-famous authors. Hidden just past Shyminsky Falls in upstate Gothametropolis York, to the left of Interstate Highway 666, this cabin, made of simple logs, was in a small five-acre patch that was surrounded by state park. No one tended to venture near it, though, mostly because no one could find it, unless one happened to be able to alter probabilities and new a friend in the area.
The current resident of the wooden abode heard a knock at the door. He wasn’t quite sure who it could be, as the hired maid that came every two weeks hadn’t called to frustratingly ask for directions. The current resident got up from his wooden chair and month-old TV Guide crossword puzzle and walked toward the door. The light bulb had burned out three days ago, so he couldn’t quite see as he stumbled over half-cobbled pieces of technology and machine parts. Whoever was at the door knocked again.
The current resident opened the door. “I’m, er, not buying any girl scout cookies today,” he said. “Even though I do have a penchant for the Thin Mint. I’m afraid you’ll have to…”
“Don’t be sly with me,” the Probability Dancer told him. Behind her trailed the mysterious Saint, the even more mysterious Dead Boy, and the ever most mysterious Green Ninja. Behind those three were the not-so-mysterious NTU-150, the barely mysterious thunder god Donar, the hardly-wearing-enough-to-convey-mystery Lisa Waltz, and the possibly-fake mystery that was Visionary, who came accompanied by his wife Cheryl, sans cat costume. Skipping around in the garden outside was the somewhat mysterious Yo.
The mystified Al B. Harper scratched at his stubble and raised an eyebrow. The other eyebrow would’ve gone too, but it was a bit lazy at the moment.
“We need your help, Al. B. Al B. Anyway, it’s complicated,” Dancer began. “You see, these ninjas attacked us, right?”
“You mean a ninja like that?” Al B. asked, pointing to the Green Ninja.
“No, not like me,” the Green Ninja replied. “These ninjas, for one thing, were evil. And did not wear green.”
“Also,” Saint added, “They were like living shadows. We took a device off one of them that seemed to be the source of their shadowy power.”
NTU-150 handed a belt with an odd device on it to the scientist. “I tinkered with it, but all it did was make the toilets flush again and again. And I didn’t want to call attention to myself by, er, using some of my contacts at Bautista Enterprises,” he explained. “Maybe you’ll have better luck with it.”
Visionary shifted his weight from side to side. “I don’t see why I’m here,” he said.
“I’ve been saying that for years,” Lisa quipped.
Dead Boy glanced out the window. Yo was playing with a rabbit. “I don’t get it…why bring these Leaguers of the Regular along, anyway? I mean, so they get their daily fiber. What’s the big deal?”
“We need all the back-up we can get,” Dancer informed him. “I’m not sure we can trust the Lair Legion right now, as, if I’m right, and the Shadow Cabinet is behind this…well, they may be keeping tabs on the LL.”
“Aye,” Donar nodded. “So thou choseth to call upon the League of Regulars, the greatest heroes the world hast ever known!”
“Well, mostly because no one pays attention to you guys,” Sarah Shepherdson replied.
Al B. looked at the device in front of him. “I might be able to reverse-engineer this, given a few hours, and some help. And coffee. Lots of it.”
“And could you trace it back to their home base?” Dancer asked.
“Maybe. With lots of luck. And coffee,” he responded.
“Get to it, then,” Dancer commanded. “We’ve got to take down this Shadow Cabinet…however it’s possible.”

***


The Librarian continued to gather information, as he viewed the Hooded Hood watching him view the group of super-heroes chatting with the scientist in the woods…

***


The Hooded Hood smirked as he observed the Librarian watching him observe the Librarian view the group of super-heroes chatting with the scientist in the woods, through his Portal of Pretentiousness. Then he got dizzy and sat down.

***


It was a room that was blindingly white. Except, however, for the living darkness that stood in its center. “You can’t do this to me,” he declared. “It’s not right. I’ve got them in the palm of my hand…”
“No. Your division will be assimilated into the rest of the enterprise. And your position is terminated. You will be reassigned and taken to Russia, where you’ll aid the businesses there.”
The living shadow grimaced. “Damn you. My operation was proceeding as planned.”
“It still is,” Exemplary told him. “Only now it is under my direction.” With that, the main emissary for the Shadow Cabinet left.
“No,” the living shadow said. “I can still win.” He took out his cell phone and dialed a secret number. “Call in the Fifth Branch,” he spoke into it.


To be continued…eventually…

Next issue: Hopefully I’ll get one out in under a year this time. But for next time, expect more intrigue and adventure, more humor, Messenger vs. CyberVenom, the mystery of CV’s brother, the revelation of the Fifth Branch, and, oh yeah, maybe the LL will finally show up. Be there…whenever there is.







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