Tales of the Parodyverse

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spiffy
Sun Nov 06, 2005 at 04:49:21 am EST
Subject
Damn. This chapter was tie-in inspiring.
Originally
#238: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: Pebbles Before the Avalanche
In Reply To

Because two people in a chat room demanded it... the next chapter from... the Hooded Hood
Sat Nov 05, 2005 at 10:00:00 pm EST
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“Nobody’s talking to me.”

Mark Hopkins folds his arms on the surface of the circular table he shares with Beverly Campbell and Letitia Gahager in one of his private meeting rooms.

“It’s like high school, just before I dropped out, when I told the teacher about the big drinking party at the community centre that got busted by the cops and none of the other kids said a word to me for two weeks. When I was in the States a few weeks back, I stopped by the White House and spent the whole day talking to receptionists. The EU, Japan, Australia, even fucking Canada, they’re all avoiding me,” the Canadian-born fern-wielder says flatly. “My lobbying to get Badripoor recognised by the UN hit a brick wall three weeks ago and it’s been going nowhere ever since. Singapore tried to increase our trade tariffs until I threw a very convincing banquet for the Prime Minister. The only world leader willing to talk about more than the weather is Banjoooo, and he says he’s getting the same silent treatment. Something’s definitely up.” He sighs, already regretting the question. “What’ve you found?”

Letitia motions for Bev to start.

“Well, um, the good news is, pretty much the whole world is freaking out. First the rogue Zemo program that crippled, well, everything, then the trans-nuclear weapon business, and now with the Parody Master… Wakandybar and Littlesmallville are bad enough, but people are starting to get wind of Ausgard, Fishionah, the City of Austernals, the Chronicler’s realm and, oh yeah, the three-month invasion deadline. Every country in the world is feeling exposed and pulling back from the international scene.” She half-smiles. “Even us.”

“I hate that that’s the good news,” spiffy notes. “Letitia?”

She pushes a pile of folders across the table.

“The United States – Special Resolution 1066. It was the first one, but they’re cropping up everywhere, from first world to third. Even the countries that haven’t made anything official yet are talking about it. Canada. Sweden.”

“What are they?” spiffy asks, flipping open the first folder.

“Metahuman control,” she says grimly. “Control or elimination, with vague references to psycho-organic control implants, but not where they’re coming from.”

“We’ve seen that before, though,” spiffy argues. “Mutate Powers Act in the States. Mutate Registration Act in Great Britain, they both flopped.”

“Not just mutates,” Letitia corrects him. “Metas. All of them, even people like you with powers from external sources, maybe even me. The bills coming out are all vaguely worded, ripe for interpretation by bigots.”

“… and Badripoor has the world’s highest per capita concentration of metahumans,” spiffy concludes. “I see.”

“All these bills appearing in all these countries at once, though,” Bev begins.

“Third-party interference,” spiffy nods. “Powerful third-party, if a name hasn’t popped up on the political gossip circuit. Earth-based or extraterrestrial, we need to find out which. I’ll contact the Legion to see what’s what on their end. It makes sense that I wasn’t approached by anyone with an anti-meta agenda, but we need to figure out what that means for Badripoor. Maybe someone decided it’d be easier to nuke us than to talk nice. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Um, on that topic,” Bev interjects. “The domestic urban metahuman population is getting edgy. Word travels fast, I think they’re worried you’re going to jump on the anti-meta bandwagon.”

“We need a statement, then,” spiffy ponders. “The 2007 Metahuman Arts Festival? Let’s make it 2006. April. Bev, I want an international media release out on Monday morning, and we need staff hired by the end of the week.”

“That’ll go over like a lead balloon to the international community,” Letitia points out.

spiffy leans back in his chair and inhales deeply. “Get me a revised budget for defense research and development by noon tomorrow. We need new toys, yesterday.”

“Goody,” the Idiom smiles. “If you really want them yesterday, I’ll need some more cash for our temporal alteration project.”

“I’ll need to fast-track military recruitment and training, too,” spiffy sighs, ignoring her. “If the Abandoned Battalion is going to be of any use against foreign hostility, we’ve got a lot of work to do.” He shakes his head. “In the morning. If the next few months are going to suck as hard as I expect, we all need some sleep before it hits the fan.”

The trio stands and clears the table. Despite the weight of his confirmed suspicions, spiffy allows himself a slight smile. After months of intensive language lessons, this was the first meeting they’d conducted entirely in Malay.



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