“And There Shall Come… a MOR,ON!” (First sex, now humor; who am I, and what have I done with the real Killer Shrike?)
(The setting: The Lair Mansion gymnasium. In order to reinforce the jock stereotype his writer is going with, we see Mr. Epitome working out with a jump rope while listening to Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger” on his Walkman, not a fancy MP3 Player or an iPod like the rest of the world would do, which reinforces “man out of time” stereotype. He is not alone.)
Epitome: This is a waste of time.
Yuki Shiro, the Silicon Shamus, sits cross-legged on a nearby pommel horse and peruses a magazine: Let me be the judge of that. You did say you wanted my help to learn how to fight after less than stellar performances against Hatman, (Spoiler Character #1), and (Spoiler Character #2). We’re starting with your footwork.
Epitome: How would you know about my footwork? You’re not even watching my form.
Yuki, still not looking up from her magazine: Are you coming on to me?
Epitome: What? No!
At this point the door to the gym opens and in walks Yo: Hello, cute Yuki and semi-cute Mr. Epitome. Sorry to be breaking up your skipping rope exercising, but the Lair Legion is to be needing you.
Epitome: I’m not skipping, I’m jumping. There’s a difference. (does choreographed macho swinging finishing flourish with rope ala Rocky to prove his point)
Yuki: What’s the case, Yo?
Yo: There is protest at SeedyTown construction site. Mutate rights supporters are objectinging to lack of contract bids. Is to have potential for turning ugly.
Epitome, toweling off: So you want us down there to restore order?
Yo: Only if needing to be (pulls out comm. card) Let Yo buzz last team member and then the three of you can be leaving.
Yuki: Three? Who else is-?
There is a streak of brown and Josh Clement joins the scene: Hey, Yo, what’s up?
(After a brief recap of the earlier exposition, which we don’t really need to go in to because it’s all old news. To us at least)
DBS: There’s a mutant protest rally going on in Paradopolis and I didn’t know about it? I need to check my email more often.
Epitome, grumbling: Perhaps if you weren’t so busy cuckolding an ex-team mate and current Hell Lord you’d be better informed.
DBS, clenching fists: What did you say?
Epitome: I said- Ow! (angrily rubs the back of his head where Yo swatted it)
Yo: Epi said perhaps protest organizinger kept event a secret from cute DBS because of siblinging rivalry.
Yuki, putting two and two together: Siblinging? Pricilla Dubois is there?
Epitome: Pricilla Dubois? The bleeding heart, pass me a crying towel, fire-breathing rabble rouser for the mutate cause is there? Ow! (glares at Yuki)
DBS: Pricilla Dubois, my long lost twin sister, current paramour of possibly fake man Visionary and secretly, ah, a huge Maroon Five fan and not a mutate terrorist, no sir, is there?! Well, what are we waiting for? (DBS zooms off)
Yuki, voice dripping with sarcasm: Oh, no, don’t worry about us. We’ll catch up.
Epitome: What’s Maroon Five?
*****
(The next scene: A Seedy Town construction site. On one side you have a group of placard carrying mutate protestors. On the other side there is the standard mob of angry, garbage hurling counter protestors. Standing in front of the former with a bullhorn is Pricilla Dubois. Standing beside her running interference with an umbrella is Visionary)
Pricilla, calling into the bullhorn: What do we want?
Group of placard carrying mutate protestors, in response: Equal opportunity for government bids to rebuild the city’s infrastructure!
Pricilla: When do we want it?
Group of placard carrying mutate protestors: Now!
Visionary, blocking a barrage of debris with his umbrella (mostly): Wow, these people are serious. That had to be a whole dozen eggs.
Pricilla, shrugging and covering her mike: This is nothing. When we were in Detroit they threw octopuses at us. And they had plenty on hand because of the hockey strike.
Visionary: There was a hockey strike?
Pricilla, with gratitude in her heart and warmth in her eyes unless she’s just feigning her affection for the possibly fake man, since she is in reality the mutate bad girl known as the Vermillion Vex and way out of Visionary’s league, so the jury’s still in deliberation: Oh, Vizh, I’m glad you decided to come with me to this potential powderkeg of a deathtrap.
Visionary: Well, I wanted to help contribute my name to an important cause. Even if people keep confusing me with ManMan.
Pricilla, wetting her lips: I find your willingness to put your life on the line… intoxicating.
Visionary, still in muse mode: I suppose I shouldn’t complain, since most of the comments directed at me are death threats, but they should be able to tell us apart; I mean, white sequined jumpsuit… yellow topcoat… (shakes head to signal that he’s come out of his reverie) Wait, what?
Pricilla: Look out! Cantaloupe at ten o’clock!
(There’s a poweful rush of air, and the cantaloupe and every other piece of garbage or makeshift missile is gathered up and deposited in a nearby landfill. Then DBS returns to pants the counter protestors)
DBS, growling: There. Now to the important matter. (rounds on Vizh) What’s the big idea of putting my sister in harm’s way?!
Visionary: Me?!
Pricilla, stamping her foot: Stop it, Josh! Vizh is here being supportive, like any good boyfriend should be.
DBS: Oh, so he’s your boyfriend now, is he, and not just some stud you keep around for cheap, sweaty sex?
Visionary: I am? Really? I have to admit the second option doesn’t sound so bad, but-
(At this point the crowd of placard carrying mutate protestors parts enough so a lissome redhead in a “Mutates Look Good In Genes” tee-shirt can make her way through)
Uhunaluna Amadala Excelsior, exiled Abhuman Princess and Lair Legion house guest: Josh?
DBS: Uhuna? What are you doing here?
Pricilla, smugly: I invited her. I thought it might be good to get to know someone who’s so close to my brother. (taps chin thoughtfully) Though I suppose going by your standard criteria I should have brought along the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders as well.
Uhuna: So, Josh, have you decided exactly what path our relationship is going to take? Are we a couple, or just a pair of overly libidinous outcasts who use sex as a substitute for true intimacy?
Random placard carrying mutate protestor #1: Damn, this is better than Desperate Housewives.
Random placard carrying mutate protestor #2: You said it. I can’t believe Pricilla is shtupping ManMan.
(As Josh stumbles and bumbles his way to an answer to Uhuna’s question, an unlikely candidate arrives to save him from any declaration one way or the other)
Aryan Ideal, striding through the crowd of counter-protestors: Ah, if it isn’t my favorite subhuman. Hello, Clement. (cracks his knuckles so they sound like cannon fire)
DBS, eyes narrowing dangerously: Not now, Braun. I’m in no mood.
Uhuna: Who is this gigantic man with the Swastika on his chest?
Yuki Shiro, who runs in to provide the necessary exposition: Karl Braun, the Aryan Ideal, leader of the Neo Nazi hate group the Pogroms of Purity. Super strong, fast, and invulnerable. And a huge scumbag.
Aryan Ideal, leering: Well, well, there seems to be a bit of a Nip in the air. I’d advise you all to stand aside so a true hero can do his work. (Heads towards Pricilla and Vizh)
DBS: You get away from my sister! (Rushes to intercept Braun, but is struck down by a vicious backhand from the high-powered hate monger)
Yuki: Back off!! (Jumps on Ideal’s back and attempts to apply a choke hold. Unfortunately his neck is so thick the best she can do is slow him down)
Aryan Ideal, chuckling: Wait your turn, rice eater. I’ll get to you when I’m done… interrogating the schwärze about her ties to anti-American hate groups.
(Just when it appears this is going to continue to degenerate into typical killer shrike boilerplate, our next to last participant in the story arrives)
Mr. Epitome, stepping in between the Aryan Ideal and his target: Problem, Braun?
Aryan Ideal, stopping dead in his tracks and blanching with fear, and considering he is normally whiter than an American cheese with mayonnaise on Wonder Bread sandwich, that’s some serious blanching: Y-you!
Mr. Epitome, who might not remember the obscenely vicious beat down he gave Braun waaaay back in the day, circa Mr. Epitome #19 but knows of it, and knows Braun remembers: I’m guessing Miss Dubois has all the necessary permits to conduct this assembly. So why don’t you leave before someone’s Constitutional rights get violated?
Aryan Ideal, nodding weakly: Yes. I’ll go. For now.
Yuki: Hai Ya! (judo flips Ideal)
DBS, shaking off punch and rising: Where is he?! I’m going to flay the meat from his bones!
Pricilla: No need to do any flaying, brother dear. Your friend, the tool of the Man, did your job and scared the Aryan Ideal off. Bad luck for Braun, don’t you think?
DBS glowers at Epitome: He’s no friend of mine.
Epitome glowers back: The feeling’s mutual.
Visionary, stepping between the two before things can get even more out of hand: Yes, well, great job, everyone. I’d say today has turned out pretty well.
Pricilla: How so, Vizh? We’re no closer to changing the city’s racist policy of denying mutate-run businesses construction contracts.
Uhuna: Nor did we learn about how Josh truly feels about me and what plans we may have for the future.
Yuki: And wrestling with that gorilla made me tear my jacket. I’m emailing the Pogroms a bill for a replacement even as we speak.
Visionary running his fingers through his hair: Ahem. All right, but we did learn a valuable lesson here, didn’t we?
Epitome, smugly: Yes, I learned that bullying someone is a successful tactic in the field of meta crisis response, despite what the Lair Legion charter may say. Ow! (rubs head and warns) It’s only cute when Yo or Yuki does it, Clement.
(Ordinarily, that would be the line to go out on, but we still haven’t got to the part of the story that complicates the overall narrative. Thus, our last guest star appears)
The skies over our heroes darken, the winds pick up, and begin to move in a circular motion, catching pieces of paper and moving everyone’s hair dramatically. There is a crash of unnatural thunder followed by blasts of unnatural lightning, which dance across the sky until then coalesce into a large ball of pure electrical energy. The sphere folds into itself, leaving behind a large, crystalline-looking suit of armor crackling with power.
Mutate Obliterating Robot, Obtusely Nasty: Temporal Transit successful. MOR,ON has been chronally displaced to year 2005 to complete Mission XM141-142:T1-3: the location and extermination of breeding unit for Mutate Messiah before Messiah’s conception. Scanning for target. (various satellite dishes morph from MOR,ON’s massive arms)
Uhuna, one again serving as the reader to ask the relevant question: What is that?
Eptiome: I don’t know. My X-ray vision can’t penetrate its outer shell. Its made of some kind of non-terrestrial nanoware, constantly evolving, and improving.
Yuki: I can’t communicate with it cybernetically either. We’re talking Ultizon class firewalls here.
DBS, impatiently: Guys, did you hear what it said?! It wants to kill the mother of some Mutate Messiah in order to prevent him-
Pricilla interjects: Or her.
DBS: -or her from being born and leading a revolution against a dystopian society governed by bigoted anti-mutate robots! (glares at Man of the Tool Mr. Epitome)
Epitome: Glare at Visionary if you’re going to glare at anyone, Clement. He’s the possible android that’s using your sister as a sex object, after all.
Visionary: Hey!!
MOR,ON: Subject identified. Activating weapons systems now to complete second objective of Mission XM141-142:T1-3 (the scanning arrays vanish, to be replaced by a multitude of gun turrets and missile launchers which begin to track the crowd. We get a nifty first person view of MOR,ON’s targeting system, complete with red shift effect and scrolling data screens. A digital crosshairs zooms in on possible candidates for termination: first Pricilla, then Uhunaluna, and before finally selecting its target.
Yuki Shiro, glaring up into the barrel of a very large gun: Oh, Hell no!
(Just as ginromous plasma cannon begins to power up to blast the Gearhead Gumshoe to oblivion, MOR;ON is consumed by another nimbus of temporal energies and vanishes with a pleasing pop): POP!
Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Keeper of the Chronometer of the Infinity and all around gadfly when it comes to insanely powerful adversaries, especially those who are messing around in his wheelhouse: Right (snaps shut pocket watch). That should buy us all some time, what?
To be continued, in the pages of Alcheman #26!
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