Citizen Z was somewhat peeved. After 45 minutes fighting her way through the crowds on the Lair Mansion's grounds, she had scored only a small plate of wilted salad and a quarter cup of lukewarm water. However, now there were cheeseburgers in range.
"Pardon me," Ellzabeth murmured, trying to edge between Garbage Burner and the Oaf. The pair had shown up at the barbecue to flaunt their conditional pardons for assisting in the Parody War effort.
"Buzz off, chickie," growled the Oaf, "You ain't gettin' any farther up front, even if you do have a fine ass. A half dozen of those burgers will suit me jus' fine."
Citizen Z's fingers began drumming on the hilt of her mono-molecular sword. "I asked nicely. Now shift your lardass out of my way and let me in line for that food."
"Who are you callin' a lardass, you swishy excuse for a woman with a goddamn mask that looks like someone puked on it."
Beth's move for her disintegrator pistol was forestalled by the *crack* of a sonic boom and a brown blur that swept by the opponents with a welcome breeze. This whirlwind, however, aimed straight for the platters of burgers on the long trestle table, scooping them up and rushing them away. "DBS!" someone shouted.
Citizen Z stood transfixed as the whirlwind receded, leaving rended table coverings flapping in DBS’s wake. Eventually the breeze ended, and she stamped her foot petulantly. “Damn you, Josh Clement! First you dump me, and now you steal my lunch!”
Silicone Sally chose this moment to approach her employer. "Maybe you should get the 'Colonel Zemo's Fried Chicken' wagon out again."
“Back then I had Armand in the kitchen; God knows where he and the rest of the staff are. Right now I’d settle for Dolf, Rolf and Hrolf.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Remember the ‘Roadkill Fricassee’ they once made?”
Elizabeth and Sally both shuddered. Nevertheless, the Baroness declared, “I’m almost hungry enough to try it. What about that hot dog grill over there, Sally? Can’t you stretch your way in and nab a couple of them?”
“See that 6’4” stuffed white shirt next to it? I did just that and Mr. Epitome threw me all the way back to Parodiopolis for jumping the line. You think all those people there are in such a nice straight line because they admire Hatman?”
Elizabeth squinted and noted some of the preternaturally patient Parodipolitans in line. Sgt. Snail, Dr. Teeth, Gamona, Spring-Loaded Man and Rodney, the Patronizing Git were among those dragooned into conformity by the Man of Might. They might just object if she crashed the queue.
“So why aren’t you almost fainting from hunger, like me?”
“I went over to the mechanoids area and scarfed a silicone shake with extra ATP. Not terribly tasty, but it keeps me going. Wouldn’t do much for you, though, Your Excellency.”
“Shhh. I’m Citizen Z, remember? Now get out of here, before people start wondering.”
As Sally left, Elizabeth looked back longingly at the hot dog grill. Epitome was standing far back in the line, ramrod straight and seemingly unconcerned with the interminable wait. Fool. He could just – aha!
Moments later, Citizen Z drew Professor Manyarms behind a trellised rose and engaged him in a quick, secretive conversation ending with her assurance that “You’ll be well compensated for this.” While she hung back behind the trellis to observe, the Professor ambled toward the nearby roast beef and ham station, surrounded 15 deep with hungry heroes and ravenous “reformed” villains. At the edge of the scrum, he lifted himself high above the crowd and shoved his way through, his metallic arms being almost injury-proof and his body now 12 feet above the waiting, angry mob. Soon, he had pushed his way to the serving tables and nabbed four platters heaped with roast beef, ham, condiments and rolls. With a sneer, he turned, flipped off the snarling crowd, and began forcing his way out.
With a roar, half the former Purveyors of Peril tackled two of the Professor’s octopoid legs, and he tottered. Rolls fell off a platter and several of the Juniors dived for them before they landed on the muddy field. Cheers rose and several of the taller participants began leaping for the platters. Desperate, Professor Manyarms raised his voice and called out, “Citizen Z! Help me!”
A red and gold blur suddenly appeared and resolved itself into the form of the masked vigilante. The Zemo invisibility field had worked perfectly.
“Manyarms!” she cried. “Back to your old tricks, eh? Take this!” Raising her pistol, she shot a stream of the infamous Zemo adhesive, Compound Z, at the flabbergasted Professor, immobilizing him on the spot. A few of the crowd attempted to climb up Manyarms and became glued to him instantly, but more of the famished picnicgoers simply started climbing up and over their struggling compatriots.
With a smile, Beth Zemo holstered the glue gun and grasped a second weapon, long, chunky and festooned with tiny dishes and antennae. Aiming it at the platters, she squeezed the trigger, and slices of roast beef and ham floated in the air. A few more pulls and rolls and condiments joined the floating foodstuffs. A thumbtwirl later, and the ensemble floated back to her. The Baroness
then sprinted away at high speed and triggered the invisibility field. A few resentful guests started after her, and then halted as the rest of the group shouted in glee as two boys made it all the way up the paralyzed Manyarms and began tossing sandwich materials down to the crowd.
Nearby, at a secluded picnic table, the Baroness dug in to two roast beef and ham sandwiches, with all the trimmings. Equilibrium was restored to the world -- until:
“Well, Granddaughter, didn’t you save anything for Frau Wooster and me?” chided the ghostly shape of a hungry, unalive Baron Ottokar Zemo.
Playing the part of Baroness Elizabeth Sweetwater Zemo von Saxe-Lurkburg Schreckhausen
J. JONAH JERKSON
Voice of the People
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