|
Saving the Future – Part 10: The Age of Villains |
Saving the Future – Part 10: The Age of Villains
Previously: The Lair Legion, their Mansion, the island it stood upon, and the SPUD helicarrier have all vanished in a bright flash of light. Many villains see this as a chance to exploit a vulnerable world. Baroness von Zemo has disguised the Purveyors of Peril as the New Lair Legion.
The Juniors have also decided to become the New Lair Legion and hold the line. Chiaki Bushido, the Psychic Samurai, has elected to engineer a mass breakout of criminals from the Safe metahuman Penitentiary, seeking to embarrass the Baroness’ team and pit villain against villain.
Previous Chapters:
Saving the Future #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #7 #8 #9
#9.1: Adventures in Parodyverse by Jason
#9.2: Chad and Ronnie by L!
#9.3: “In addition to cappuccino and personal hygiene these tribespeople have not yet invented underwear.” by Dancer
#9.4: Lone Lost Boy & Heroines Hanging Together by CrazySugarFreakBoy!
#9.5: From Dross into Gold by Killer Shrike
#9.6: Old Friends and New Allies by Visionary
#9.7: Taking a Swim by L!
#9.8: A Post-Swim Chat by L!
#9.9: Champagne and the Land That Common Sense Forgot by Champagne
***
“New Lair Legion?” Kerry Shepherdson shouted at the TV screen where Baroness Elizabeth von Zemo was introducing her team to the press. “That’s not the new Lair Legion! We’re the new Lair Legion!”
“Maybe they’re the Nu Lair Legion?” Fashion Accessory sniffed. “Who on Earth designed those outfits they’re wearing? That alone should warn the planet that these people are evil.”
“They art?” Harlagaz asked hopefully. “Needs must we smite them most wrothfully? That would be most radeth.”
“Of course they’re villains,” Danny Lyle told the others. “That’s the Purveyors of Peril dressed up as heroes. Look.” He pointed to the screen. “VirtueValkyrie, that’s Vicki Vee, VelcroVixen
“So you can recognise her with her clothes on,” sniffed Kerry.
“I wouldst hardly count yon costume as clothing,” smiled Gaz happily.
“Helping Hands is the abominable Appendage Man,” Danny went on. FA shuddered. “Shiny Simian is Brass Monkey, The Living Beach looks like Brick Basalt, also known as Grit the Granulated Man…
“The so-called Fragrance is quite clearly Gromm the Living Flatulence,” FA chimed in.
“Dr Warmglow looks suspiciously like Stanislaus Roentgen. Black Magic Woman is Voodoo Vicaress…”
“Sharp Performance is Mindy Kovkoski,” Samantha Bonnington recognised. “As Razor Ballerina she’s immune to probability powers, Kare. She won the Silver Swan International Ballet medal three years running before she had her accident, with this absolutely exquisite…” FA realised her friends were looking at her. She blushed. “So I used to like ballet when I was little. It’s not like I had her poster over my bed or anything like that. Not at all.”
“What of yon Thunderballs?” frowned Harlagaz. “He doth seem somewhat familiar to me.”
“Yeah, he’s a failed clone experiment based on your dad,” Denial admitted, stepping back to allow some wrathing space.
“What? Who would commit a plot so gross? He wilt be smitten to the uttermost!”
Danny looked at the rest of the line-up. “Xatroc doesn’t need a disguise. Everyone in his native Brazil still thinks El Futbalista Atomico is a hero anyhow. Same with UltiMAX-TremeMan, if you're a no-mercy, no-prisoners, no-higher-ideals nihilist.” He frowned at the image of Hard Data. The woman was covered in a dark green all-over body suit. “I don’t recognise her, though. She must be new.”
“That’s still twelve of them and four of us,” Fashion Accessory worried. “We don’t even have Glory and spiff. HB’s on his way when he can but there’s apparently villain trouble in Goth Haven. Glitch is trying to get here but she’s got a problem with the Hole Man in Denver. There’s no answer on Kip’s cellphone, so I’m guessing he’s already derring and doing. We don’t have Kid Produce’s number. Fetish Lad said he was tied up as well. I hope he meant fighting crime, but I’m not too sure.”
“They might outnumber us but only numerically,” Harlagaz shouted.
“Von Zemo’s up to something,” Kerry growled, “and it’s up to us to stop her. Then we find out what happened to Visionary and the Legion and my lasagne. That’s the plan.”
Samantha still had a question. “And how were we expecting to take down the most powerful cartel of supervillains on the planet, a group that usually requires a full roster of Legionnaires to stand a chance of giving them a spanking?”
“We are a full roster of Legionnaires,” Kerry insisted. “It’s just us. If we don’t do the job nobody can.”
“Did I sign up for this?” Danny asked. “I don’t think so.”
“Well think again,” Kerry told him. “Those Purveyors worked for you before, right? They’re supposed to be your dad’s heavy stormtroopers. So right now I’m expecting you to find a way to stop them.”
“Me?” said Denial.
“You,” Kerry agreed. “Look, all of this started because some alternate-universe-you decided to be an archvillain and conquer realities. The least you can do is defeat every baddie on Earth and get the Lair Legion back. You wouldn’t want people to think you were a slacker.”
Danny shook his head in amazement. “That’s all you want, is it?”
“For now,” agreed Kerry. “I might think of more stuff later.”
“I begin to see why yon other Danny didst traverse the planes slaughtering all Kerry Shepherdsons,” Harlagaz admitted.
“Hey, if Danny wants to be Kare’s boyfriend he’s got to expect to work for it a little,” said Samantha.
Denial closed his eyes in thought for a moment. Then he looked up, his face set and determined. “Right,” he said. “Let’s do it.”
***
“Baroness von Zemo, I’m Bernice Teschmaker, here today for the Los Angeles Free Press. A few questions. It’s reported that there has been a major breakout at the Safe Metahuman Containment Facility. Seventy or eighty major supervillains are walking the streets of Paradopolis and GMY. Where are your so-called new Lair Legion to save lives and contain the damage?”
The Baroness noted thirty or more news cameras turned on her as the question was asked. She selected a smile that was wistful and telegenic. “Well, Bernice, this is a difficult and dangerous time for many places, and our heroes have to prioritise. Paradopolis is a major city, and as such we can expect it to be defended by those paid to do so, by Commissioner Graham and his police force, by the Office of Paranormal Security, by the Super-Menace Principal Undercover Directorate. We pay our taxes for such protection. Likewise Gothametropolis York should be amply protected by the special forces recruited by its Major, Velma Klein. Many of her employees have formerly enjoyed stays in the Safe or other federal incarceration facilities, so they should have an inkling of whom they seek to constrain.”
“But traditionally metahuman menaces have been met by metahuman response,” Bernice persisted. “What kind of…”
“The new Lair Legion face greater perils yet,” the Baroness interrupted her. “A few stray escaped convicts, however powerful, pale beside the kind of threats that our heroes sometimes have to face. Why even now they are defending one of our most vital national assets from organised, professional attack by some of the most deadly malefactors this world has ever known.”
Of course the press clamoured for details. “In this time of chaos and anarchy of course Fort Knox’s Federal Treasury Reserve would be a target,” Beth told them. “So are the Berne Diamond Exchange and the Louve Galley in Paris. It is to those places that the Legion is heading to battle against notorious foes who have twice succeeded in conquering this planet. The New Lair Legion are up against no less enemies than… the Purveyors of Peril!” She looked straight to camera. “I only hope they’re in time to save some of the treasure.”
***
Chiaki Bushido, the Psychic Samurai, was waiting under cover on the Gothametropolis shoreline to see which inmates from the Safe escaped from Flanagan Island and made it to the mainland. This was the most logical place for them to swim ashore.
The first out of the water were Ghostface, Morphea, and the Human Tractor. All three were soggy and exhausted, but determined in their escape plans.
It was pitch dark on the oil-washed shale beach. The first Ghostface knew that anyone was there was when a samurai blade appeared at his throat.
“Listen very carefully,” Chiaki told him and his comrades. “You are being given a second chance. If you use this chance wisely then nothing bad will happen to you. If you misuse it then you will come to regret it.”
“What… what kind of chance?” Ghostface asked nervously.
“You have some freedom now. You can choose to disappear, to never trouble the world again. Or you can choose to commit more crimes and harm innocents, in which case I will make you very sorry. Or you can choose to undertake activities of an illegal nature that I will find acceptable.”
“You’re… recruiting us?” Morphea asked.
“No. I am telling you the rules. If you commit crimes they must be directed at embarrassing or upsetting Baroness von Zemo’s new Lair Legion. Challenge them, thwart them, oppose them as you like. There is no penalty for that.”
“And why should we do that?” the Human Tractor demanded. “I mean, okay, her highness was a pain in the Safe, always lording it over folks and getting special treatment. But what’s the percentage in it for us?”
“Well, maybe the stuff we steal?” suggested Ghostface.
“Point,” conceded the Human Tractor. “But why should we listen to somebody holding a sword at your throat? Why don’t I just pull her head off and spit down her neck?”
“Because that would be a very foolish thing to attempt,” Chiaki promised him.
“That’s right,” agreed Morphea. “Far better that I just stand over here and use my slumber stare. Like this.” She turned her gaze upon the Psychic Samurai to send her comatose.
Chiaki wasn’t there. Even before Ghostface crumpled to the ground from a sudden nerve pinch the Psychic Samurai had anticipated Morphea’s move and closed the ground between them. There was a brittle crunch and Morphea joined her comrade on the shale.
The Human Tractor swung at Chiaki with fists that could demolish buildings. The Psychic Samurai avoided him with ease and brought her sword in to play, flicking and scratching him in places where his natural body armour was weakest.
“Hold still, bitch!” he roared.
Chiaki leaped in while he shouted and grabbed his tongue and pulled. She jammed the hilt of her sword down the Tractor’s throat, causing him to choke. He flailed at her but she had him now. Two minutes later he had joined his partners in defeat.
The Psychic Samurai wiped her blade handle, affixed plastic ties in place to keep the villains from wandering off if they woke before discovery, then ghosted away along the beach.
Further along the shore, Mantikore, the Magnificent Blastard, and Disco Tech had made it from the water. Before they could escape over the dunes and into the alleys of GMY Disco tech found a sword at his neck.
“Listen very carefully,” Chiaki said. “You are being given a second chance. If you use this chance wisely then nothing bad will happen to you. If you misuse it then you will come to regret it.”
***
“So what’s the situation?” the President asked Threnody Peel, his Special Advisor on Federal Emergencies. “What happened this time?”
“We don’t know, sir,” Miss Peel responded. “So far as we can tell the whole current line-up of the Lair Legion was at the Mansion when whatever happened happened. The SPUD helicarrier was in the sky overhead. I’d have been on there myself if you hadn’t wanted briefing on the Robot Rights thing. We don’t know where they went or even if they’re alive. OPS Director Soames has got people looking at the site, but…”
“But there’s nothing there,” Ruben Holcomb noted, sitting in for his missing boss Herbert P. Garrick. “The Lair Legion is gone, and there’s no telling if they’re ever coming back.”
“With respect, sir,” Miss Peel intervened, “this is hardly the first time…”
“It’s been twelve hours,” Holcomb noted hopefully. “I really think we might have seen the last of them.”
“Assume we have,” the President enquired, “what does their charter say about the entire team being wiped out?”
“There’s provision for former members in good standing to come forward and re-establish the team,” Miss Peel answered. “Right now that means spiffy, Donar, and Yo, if we can find him/her. Everybody else is off-planet, off-plane, expelled, or dead.”
“None of those are suitable, Mister President,” Holcomb warned. “Hopkins is the head of an unfriendly unstable nation, one we still have under quarantine while they’re giving sanctuary to an unknown number of alien refugees. Donar is an anarchistic mythological entity from another dimension. And the thought being…”
“That’s what’s left,” insisted Miss Peel.
“Not if we act now and amend the charter while there’s no-one to object,” Holcomb intervened quickly. “We can guarantee a proper, loyal, disciplined Legion under government control. Operation: American Glory!”
The President considered this. “And Hopkins and the others?”
“We can shut them up, sir,” Holcomb told him confidently. “This is our chance to bring the metahuman community to heel. No Legion but our Legion.”
“Except the one the President authorised six hours ago,” Miss Peel noted wryly.
“Thank you, Miss Peel,” the President cut her off. “I’m minded to give American Glory it’s chance. Okay Garrick, make it so.”
“I’m Holcomb, sir,” answered the Presidential Advisor on Superhuman Affairs, “But it will be my pleasure to assemble and manage a new Lair Legion.”
***
“People of Paradopolis, kindly pay close attention!” the pinstripe-suited villain known as the Englishman announced, standing in Parody Plaza atop a floating hoverdisc newly stolen from Bautista Enterprises Weaselworks Engineering Sheds on the Sheldon shoreline. “It may have come to your attention that we have something of a crisis. No superheroes around, wicked villains breaking out from the Safe, a series of explosions bringing down the monorail system all round the city…”
“We haven’t got to that part yet,” Garbage Burner reminded him. “The detonation charges are all set of course, just waiting for me to push the trigger. But first we have to demand the ransom, remember?”
“Been a while since we did this,” Marker Man reminded them. “But hey, in a world without the Lair Legion, who’s going to stop us?” He tossed his flaying knife in his hand and tired to decide which of the panicking crowd he’d like to skin to use as a canvas.
“Um, dude,” a fat man with a hoagie dared pipe up. “Haven’t you guys heard about the new Lair Legion? That valkyrie chick in the ridden-up spandex and the ballerina hottie and some guys?”
Dr Teeth gut-punched the heckler then wrenched his mouth open to see whether it was worth adding his molars to his collection. “We’re already subscribed to the von Zemo war chest,” he told his victim. “We’re now Legion-free. And you need to brush more often. You have hoagie-breath.”
And that was when his undershorts shrunk two sizes and transmuted to wire wool.
A red open-topped sports car screamed into the Plaza ignoring the pedestrians only sign, driven by a California blonde with a nasty sense of humour. Before the other members of the Frightsome Four could act Garbage Burner found his flame nozzles malfunctioning. The backblast dropped him somewhere in Off-Central Park.
“Beth von Zemo’s chest is quite big enough,” Kerry Shepherdson announced to the world. “And it just so happens that we’re the LL for now, until the guys get back.”
“You’re supposed to tell them to surrender, Kare,” Fashion Accessory prompted.
“Oh, right. Yeah. I think I was sick the day we covered that.” She turned to English Man and Marker Man. “You guys had better start begging or I’ll ignite the gases in your small intestines. Is that clear enough.
“I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with,” Marker Man leered. “Nice pelts, though.”
Englishman pointed his umbrella to discharge lethal toxins at the girls. “Sorry to kill you before we have been introduced,” he apologised.
Harlagaz rode his goat chariot right through the hover-platform and the people on it, sending English Man and Marker Man high into the air before they landed with bone-shattering crunches through the plate glass frontage of the Twin Parody Tower. “I art Harlagaz Donarson, demihemigod of thunder, scion of the scion of the Oldman,” he called to his fallen foes. “Tis a pleasure to meet you. How art you doing today?”
There was a smattering of applause from the crowd. Fashion Accessory paused only long enough to unload crates of New Lair Legion t-shirts with the crossed-out Baroness picture with the fangs and horns and rimmed spectacles on it and then the Juniors screamed away to the next emergency.
The Bagpiper was leading an army of sewer rats up Fifth Street. The new Lair Legion were on the job.
***
Onslaughter was created on a distant world, a final experiment of the Second Oldest Race in the Parodyverse. He was revived millennia later by the Killmasters of Choord who then became extinct at his hands. Two tons and nine foot six of super-dense killing machine, ridged with razor spiked that could slice through titanium, possessed of Yurt-class strength and gifted with high-level psionic abilities, Onslaughter rose to rule the travelling Deathworld before it was destroyed by the heroes of Earth. Eventually defeated and imprisoned after a killing spree that trekked across a thousand miles of Canada, Onslaughter was fitted with behaviour modification technology that served to curb his immediate desire to eradicate all life on Earth and only left him as a pathologically dangerous killing machine.
And now Onslaughter was loose. He burst down the front wall of the Safe, thirty feet of vanadium steel and concrete, hurling a twenty yard length of it to knock a hovering police helicopter from the skies. Then he reached to his neck, ignoring the pain, and crushed the control device that had made him so reasonable since he’d fallen to Earth.
There were other prisoners trying to escape and guards trying to stop them. Onslaughter didn’t discriminate. They were all human, and therefore had to die. Psionic bolts dropped them to the ground. Onslaughter stepped on their heads as he made his way towards the ocean.
A fast response heavy weapons team came into position. Security Chief Flaherty has contingencies for most events at the Safe, including a mass breakout caused by primary systems failure. Sedative gas had brought down at least half of the prisoners and the guards had contained twenty or more others. Some inmates still wore individual energy-dampening shackles, a precaution that had caused a dozen complaints from international human rights groups yet had just saved lives. But the contingency folder on Onslaughter’s escape basically said: Call the Lair Legion. Fast.
“Fire!” called Flaherty, as soon as the squad had the Turrets Industries Energy Fold Projector set up. He didn’t bother giving Onslaughter a chance to surrender. That would be suicide.
Onslaughter heard the half-second cycling up of the particle dissassembler and moved like lightning to avoid it. It was no use. The pulse was locked onto a point on his forehead and the beam actually swerved to impact right between his eyes.
“Again!” shouted Flaherty. Onslaughter had walked away from nuclear explosions with a mild headache.
Onslaughter hammered the ground, toppling the cannon aside. Then he was amongst the guards, slashing and slicing, cutting men in two with no effort at all.
He saved Flaherty for last, holding him by the throat and tearing each limb from him one at a time.
Finally, satisfied that there was no-one else left to murder here, he waded out into the water. There across the bay were the sparkling lights of Paradopolis by night.
“Time for an evening out in the big city,” he told himself.
***
The frontage of Herringcarp Asylum was bleak and foreboding, a dark gothic outline by night decorated with chimerae and gargoyles. The midnight clouds that framed it seemed to boil in the skies.
“Remind me why I’m here again?” ventured Vinnie de Soth, exorcist for hire.
“Because you’re the only occult expert in the phone book who’s not called Marvellous Marv or Mystic Morgana,” Danny Lyle told him. “At least the only one whose rates we can afford.”
“Well, I try to be competitive, Mr… Visionary, was it?” Vinnie had taken a credit card payment over the phone.
“I’m Danny Lyle. Visionary had to be somewhere else, probably somewhere fake.” Denial turned the handle and pushed open the huge double doors into the shadowed interior of the abandoned asylum.
“Unusual name, Visionary,” babbled Vinny, following so as not to be left alone on the threshold. “The only Visionary I’ve ever heard of is that one in the Lair Legion, the one who can materialise green women. A friend of mine knows him.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of him,” Danny admitted. “This way.”
Vinnie looked around the place. He didn’t like how the batteries in his torch – fresh batteries – seemed to be getting tired. “You seem to know your way around here,” he remarked. “So I was wondering if you could tell me exactly where we are. I thought I knew all the haunted houses along the eastern seaboard, and I thought there was nothing along this stretch of coastline except for Herringcarp Asylum.”
“That’s right,” Danny agreed, leading on through the library towards the Lady Gallery.
Vinnie felt his heart drop along with the penny. “This is Herringcarp? But how? How could we just walk in like that? My father and uncle spent a whole month trying rituals to penetrate the Hooded Hood’s retcon barriers and all they got was a very polite and very scary note from the Hood requesting them to desist.”
Danny stopped walking as he came into a long panelled room with windows to the west. Vinnie bumped into him. A flash of lightning lit the area for a moment, showing it to be an art gallery.
“We got in because I’m the supervillain Denial and I’m the Hooded Hood’s son,” Danny explained. “Now either dad’s dead or dad’s gone, but either way for now this place serves me. Or it will.”
“It will?”
“Yeah. I need it right now to do some stuff my girlfriend wants.”
Vinnie’s mouth formed an O-shape. “Right then. Fine. But I’m a bit hazy about why you needed an exorcist. Is this all part of some big plan to take over the world, because I’ve got to tell you I’m against that. I’ll refund your deposit if I have to.”
Danny shook his head. “There’s a chamber here,” he said, suddenly sombre, “and in it there’s a mirror. It was created by the combined pantheons of Earth and a bunch of other powers, and it was one of the elder artefacts of the Parodyverse. It was called the Portal of Pretentiousness and it could both see and open doorways to other places and times.”
I’ve heard of it,” agreed Vinnie. “It was originally used as a means of trapping the demon-lord Dormaggadon, then stolen from him by the Hooded Hood.”
“Right. So I broke it.”
Vinnie blinked. “Broke it? It’s an elder artefact. It can never be destroyed!”
“Tell that to the Parody Master. I was using it against him at the time. Another girlfriend thing. Don’t ask. I just need to fix it now.”
The exorcist for hire scratched his head in perplexity. “I’m not really your man for mending. You might want Auberon the Artificer or Wayland or Daimon Soulshredder, or maybe even Morgosa Le Fay, but I’m not…”
“I don’t need you to fix it,” Denial told him. “I don’t think any of those people could repair the portal either. Only I can, by denying it’s destruction. But before I can do that I need to know how.”
Vinnie looked around the darkened gallery. “And you think the ghost here can tell us?”
Danny managed to cover his own surprise at the hesitant occultist suddenly jumping ahead in the conversation. “You know about the ghost?”
“Did you read my business card? Oh, ignore the spelling mistake in ‘occultist’. That’s the last time I take payment in trade.”
“There are secrets here,” Danny confided. His voice echoes in the long chamber. “Old secrets. Old plots. Some scary stuff. I was only here for a few days when I first learned who my father was, but I… saw some things. There are ghosts.”
“That’s an understatement,” Vinnie assured him. “Some are ghosts of people who never even existed any more.”
Danny nodded. His voice was lower now, almost a whisper. “The Hooded Hood knows everything about this place. All the secrets. All the plots. He’d know how to renew the Portal. But he’s not here. But there is someone else, someone who knows almost as much…”
“The Lady,” supplied Vinnie. “This is the Lady Gallery.”
“The Lady,” agreed Danny. “I need to talk to her. I need you to get her to talk to me.”
“Is there a please to go with that sentence?”
“There’s a paycheque. Will that do?”
“Fair enough,” conceded Vinnie. “She’s standing behind you.”
Danny whirled round and found himself face to face with a young woman. She seemed perfectly flesh and blood, a tousled brunette in a ragged bloody tabard. Her eyes were haunted.
“Who.. who are you?” he asked.
She looked at him curiously, surprised she could see him. She examined her hands and looked down at her body as if remembering that she had form for the first time in ages. “I don’t remember,” she said softly.
“The Lair Mansion got a banshee,” Danny murmured over his shoulder to Vinnie de Soth. “So Herringcarp had to have a supernatural guardian too. That’s what dad said. But he’d never tell me who she was. She looks… familiar.”
“I don’t remember,” she repeated faintly. “I’m not whole. I’m lost. Nothing but… Amnesia…”
***
Steve Dawson’s day had come. He flicked off the TV and pulled on his costume, a tasteful black and red skisuit woven from unpredictable molecules from Fashion Fairy Fabrications. He affixed his domino mask with spirit gum. He left his operations base, shut the garage door, and raised his hands to the night sky. “Blaze of glory!” he shouted. He’d spent a week thinking of good catchphrases for his fight against crime.
Steve Dawson ignited into a column of flame and rose into the night like a jet. He was ready.
Twenty minutes high-velocity flight brought him to Kentucky and the Federal Bullion Deposit at Fort Knox. He swooped in low and assessed the situation.
Suddenly being a superhero stopped being a game. There were soldiers here, dead on the ground, their skins seared by some caustic gas before they choked to death. The main compound looked like it had been hit by an artillery barrage. A row on tanks were crushed almost flat.
He blazed lower, alert for whoever had done this. The TV had said that the Purveyors of Peril were at large, attacking the facility.
It was easy to spot the hole in the concrete bunker and follow the trail of destruction down to the bullion vaults themselves. He blazed into the uppermost level and found that people had got there before him.
He recognised them from the TV too.
“Who are you?” VirtueValkyrie asked him. “Identify yourself.”
Steve allowed his flames to flicker out and stepped forward. As well as the beautiful heroine he could see that others of the New Lair Legion had arrived to save the day: Dr Warmglow and Thunderballs and the shimmering cloud that was The Fragrance.
“I’m Flaming Justice!” he announced to them. “I was a fireman before I was injured in the Battle of the Conceptual Plane. When I was discharged from hospital I found I could become a pillar of fire. I can fly. I can melt stuff. I can do all kinds of things.” He smiled at VirtueValkyrie. “And I’m here to join the New Lair Legion!”
“Are you?” the heroine smiled. “How wonderful.”
“I’d be a real asset,” Flaming Justice promised them. “I can be the wisecracking funny one. I’ve been working on my one-liners.”
“Well then,” VirtueValkyrie told him, “I guess you’re in. Welcome to the team.”
“I’m in? You mean it? I mean…”
“Dr Warmglow, welcome Flaming Justice to the team.”
Dr Roentgen stretched out a radiation-suited hand and fried the youngster where he stood. “Welcome to the team,” he said.
VelcroVixen looked down at the red blistered corpse. “Shame,” she mourned. “He was quite cute, in a puppy-dog way. But now we can show that not only did we chase off those wicked Purveyors before they took more than a quarter of the gold but one of our own died heroically fighting against evil.” She flipped open her mobile phone. “Flaming Justice, your heroism and sacrifice will never be forgotten.”
***
It was three in the morning but steam still rose from pavement vents outside the laundry shop just off Toenail Alley in the worst part of Gothametropolis York. Kat Allen was quite surprised that she’d lived to get this far. Of course, the seven security dwarves she’d brought with her helped.
It was a long story.
“We’ll just wait out here,” they told her nervously. They knew enough about Mr Li not to want to visit his shop voluntarily.
Kat opened the door and pushed her way into the cramped little shop. There was a smell of wet washing and some other scent she couldn’t quite identify. There were racks of garments in clear plastic covers and others in sealed brown packages. There was an old-fashioned counter with a mechanical cash register. There was a girl behind the counter looking quite out of place there.
“How may I help you?” asked Ruby Waver in a dispirited voice.
“I’ve come for a favour,” Kat answered. “Well, two if anyone here happens to know where Dominic Clancy went. But I’m here for the Lair Legion. The new Lair Legion. The Juniors that is. Or was.”
“What kind of favour?”
Kat shrugged helplessly. “Well, apparently your laundry can track down missing garments. Lost socks, that kind of thing. So I’m given to understand.”
“We have people who know people,” Ruby answered cautiously.
“Good. Well in that case we’d like you to locate the clothes that the Lair Legion were wearing when they vanished, please.”
***
Onslaughter climbed ashore in Sheldon’s industrial district at 4.13am. This was Paradopolis’ industrial area and the waterfront was lined with cargo ships. Onslaughter tore the first ship apart and hurled it into the next, then used his psionic gifts to paralyse the motor functions of the sailors who leaped from their burning vessels so they sank beneath the river’s dark waters.
“Hello, Paradopolis!” he called. “I’ve arrived!”
That was when Chiaki Bushido knew her gambit had failed. There’d always been the possibility that some adversary who was too powerful would escape from the Safe when she’d sabotaged the security systems there, but she’d calculated the odds as being more likely that the discrete systems would have independent power to keep the worst of the convicts confined. Onslaughter should never have been able to get free.
But he was, and there was nothing between him and a city of ten million people except the Psychic Samurai.
“Stop,” she told him, dropping down into a cat stance from a warehouse roof. “We need to talk for a moment.”
Onslaughter hurled a fork lift at her so fast she barely had time to tumble aside.
“There is no need for this. It is not worthy of you, who once strode the stars. It brings you no honour.”
Onslaughter smashed his fist into a lading shed wall and tumbled it down to crush the Samurai.
Chiaki rolled clear, controlling her breathing so as not to choke on the thick debris dust. Her senses warned her almost too late how close the alien killing machine had got to her. Somehow he was dulling them with his mind powers. She jerked aside but the ridges of his forearm left three red gashes on her side.
“You would have been fun in my arena,” Onslaughter declared at last. “But those days are gone.” He slammed his fist into a delivery truck, detonating the gas tank to knock Chiaki off her feet and sending the blazing wreckage straight at her. The Psychic Samurai backflipped off the pier and dropped into the river so the explosion didn’t sear her.
Onslaughter’s mind touched hers, locking her muscles, cramping her so she began to drown. “Game over,” he thought in her head.
Chiaki fought to recall the mental disciplines that had been drilled into her by her masters when she was young, the long hours of rigorous training of mind, body, and spirit. She located the knot that Onslaughter had put in her brain and patiently unwound it.
Onslaughter had already moved on. Another warehouse crashed to the ground. In the distance the sirens of emergency services were getting closer. They were driving to their deaths.
Chiaki closed down all conscious thought as she left the water, relying only on instinct so he wouldn’t pick up her mind and know she was there. She stalked the giant and almost reached him before he was aware of her presence.
“You again,” he asked, swinging round with a punch that would have burst her skull like a melon if it had hit.
“Me,” Chiaki agreed. She had one shot and she took it, plunging her sword into the pulpy forehead wound where the Energy Fold Projector had seared him earlier.
Onslaughter took a pace back.
Onslaughter laughed. The blade fell from his forehead and clattered to the floor. The Psychic Samurai almost avoided his next blow; that was why she lived. She felt something snap in her rib case and she went down heavily, barely conscious.
“Good try,” Onslaughter told her. “You lasted nearly five minutes. You should be proud.” He lifted a foot to step on her face.
Harlagaz crashed his goat chariot into Onslaughter, catching the villain off balance with one leg raised. Goats and chariot disintegrated into a fragmented pulpy mess. Harlagaz used the momentum of the impact to hammer his forehead into Onslaughter’s nose.
The alien killing machine toppled backwards and crashed to the ground. Gaz’s forehead was torn and bloody.
Chiaki was still conscious enough to feel herself being lifted – could her own clothes be gently carrying her away from the battlefield? Her last thought was that Onslaughter was climbing to his feet.
“Okay,” Kerry Shepherdson told the former master of Deathworld. “We tried it the easy way. Now let’s do it the hard way.”
***
“You could continue to defy me and irritate me,” the Baroness told the newly-escaped Atomic Bumpkin and Spring-Loaded Man, “or you could get a cut of the future, with salary and pension and medical and all kinds of perks working for me.”
“What kind of perks?” Spring-Loaded Man wanted to know.
“Well for starters,” Beth von Zemo told him, “You wouldn’t die.”
***
“Ouch!” complained Cody Harper, sucking his fingers where the dimensional probe grid had flared under them. “Don’t you people even know the meaning of the words acceptable safety standards?”
“You’re still breathing, aren’t you?” Amy Aston demanded of the young surfer dude. “You must be because I can hear the whining.”
“Score,” snickered Cody’s alternate dimension twin sister Kara. She was programming the search matrix into the EEE planar probes in an attempt to find out how and where the Legion had been taken. “I think we might be ready to send this into the dimensional substratum, Miss F. I couldn’t find the maxioptiscope so I’ve wired in Cody’s mobile phone.”
“Just as long as it can send us images,” Miss Framlicker told the others. “The government, SPUD, OPS, everybody is counting on Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises to find Al and the Legion. I hope you have a good tariff rate, Cody.”
“Sure,” Cody answered, glaring at his sister. “Though it’s not a high-premium pay per minute number like Kara’s.”
“All set?” called Amy, wiping her greasy hands down the front of her dungarees. “Shall I pull the big lever?”
“Pull the big lever,” agreed Miss Framlicker.
Amy pulled the big lever. The probe detonated in a shower of sparks, sending fragments spinning across the firehouse workspace.
“Yeow!” cried Cody as the remains of his phone pinged off the wall by his ear. “Hey, I had the number of two cute girls I met at the Bean and Donut in there!”
Kara hit the auto-extinguishers activation button, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “Skanks.”
“I don’t understand what went wrong,” Miss Framlicker puzzled. “The deformation fold was perfectly formed, we modulated the transfer interface, we allowed for a rising tide in the Negativity Zone’s Queasy Area…”
“But there’s something new in the mix,” a voice called from the entrance area. The newcomer stepped over steaming fragments of probe and entered the lab. “There’s been a dimensional shift that’s changed the Wrichards-Vincent constant by just a fraction, but that’s enough to wreck your calculations. I can easily provide a modification fix for the next module.”
“And you would be?” demanded Kara, sticking her hands on her hips and looking at the beanpole thin man in his early fifties.
“How did you get past security?” demanded Cody, reaching for an electric jackhammer just in case.
“Simple reverse-Fourier progression code harmonised with a cascading Fibbonaci sequence,” the newcomer shrugged. “Obvious really.”
“That,” said Miss Framlicker, “is Dr Weed Wrichards.”
“He should know how to correct his own constant then, at least,” conceded Amy.
“I know what you need to be doing,” the genius admitted. “You’re the best hope of finding where the Lair Legion has gone and saving them. That’s why I’m here. Let’s get to work.”
***
In a misty place of confusion and chaos Dr Weed Wrichards wandered, unaware of how he got there, unable to find anything that would help him find his way back.
***
The Hooded Hood’s throneroom was dusty and neglected. The ghosts that haunted it were of a different kind, and they lived in Danny Lyle’s mind.
He stepped over to the glassless frame of the tall black mirror that filled one wall. Shards of broken glass covered the floor as if they had been punched by a giant’s fist. They had.
“That’s an elder artefact,” Vinnie de Soth warned Danny. “Using them comes with a price.”
Danny looked over at the pale form of the ghost girl who had guided them to the chamber. “Everything here comes with a price,” he said.
“Fixing the portal, that might be an even bigger price,” Vinnie counselled.
“Someone’s got to step up,” Danny replied. “Might as well be me.”
He bent down and found a jagged shard of glass. He sliced it along his arm, then used the blood like glue to affix the broken piece to another. Another cut and a third piece joined the second; and so on.
“This isn’t healthy,” murmured Vinnie, looking away. “There are therapy groups for people who do that.”
“Nothing here is healthy.” It was the ghost girl who spoke, as if her thoughts were coming from far, far away.
“Are you okay?” Vinnie asked her. “Apart from the whole being dead and a ghost thing, I mean? Is there anything I can do.”
She shook her head. “Everything that was done to me was done long ago,” she said quietly. “Now there is only eternity.”
Before Vinnie could reply she had faded away. He felt a lump in his throat.
He leaned back against the wall. The only chair in the room was the Hooded Hood’s throne-like seat and he wasn’t perching there. He waited and watched Danny Lyle bleed and deny the mirror’s destruction.
***
The alarms were ringing out at the Gothametropolis Savings and Loan Bank but GMY’s finest were being slow to respond. Perhaps that was because of the four large robots standing security outside the damaged building while Musk Ox tore out the vault door.
“Excellent,” approved Professor Manyarms, his robotic tentacles grabbing sacks of used banknotes and waving them in the air. “Sometimes the classics are the best. No better way of replenishing one’s research budget than going to the bank.”
“We’ve got company,” Fitness Machine warned, drawing Manyarms’ attention to the vintage saloon that was drawing up across the square.
“Boss Deadeyes,” Sewing Machine noted. “It was only a matter of time.”
Antony Vendredi and Emilio Cacciatori got out of the vehicle and walked over to the robots hired out from the Machine Shop.
“Who’s in charge of this circus?” Deadeyes asked Flying Machine.
“Aw crap,” Musk Ox told Manyarms. “I said this’d get us into trouble with the Boss.”
“I’ll dead with Vendredi, Bovus,” the scientist promised the genetically modified ungulate. He strolled over to Vendredi and Cacciatore still carrying his sacks of loot. “You want something?” he asked them.
“Usually ten to thirty-five percent of the take, depending on the caper,” Boss Deadeyes answered. “But most of all what I want is some respect.” He dragged at his Havana cigar. “You come onto my turf and you start making a fuss. You pull a bank job without even asking my permission. This is not respect.”
“Pff,” said Manyarms. “This is a new world, my friend. The time of the heroes is gone. The old rules have changed.”
“I ain’t your friend, Charlie,” Deadeyes told him. He turned to the robots of the Machine Shop. “And you guys, contracting out to this mook. That Master Machine of yours should’a known better. You’re lucky I don’t send Harvester after the lot of you.”
Musk Ox had put down the sacks he was carrying and seemed at a loss. “We just needed some cash, Boss Deadeyes,” he explained. “We didn’t mean no disrespect.” Normally Musk Ox was known for his belligerence; but he also had a brain somewhere in that hard-as-steel head.
“Maybe you didn’t,” Manyarms answered. “But I don’t share the superstitious dread of Boss Deadeyes that the unwashed criminal masses do. He’s never touched me so he can’t make me die at a word. Whereas my marvellous arms can rip his guts out before he even takes a breath.”
The Boss dragged at his cigar again. “You boys with him?” he asked the Machine Shop.
“We hired out, we keep the contract,” Fitness Machine replied. “We keep the Professor safe.”
“And you?” Deadeyes asked Musk Ox.
“I think I’d like to go now,” Bovus 18 decided. “I came to the outer world to be the best fighter there is, not to get caught in stuff like this.”
“Smart kid,” Deadeyes approved. “You stand there and don’t move. These other guys, they got a lesson coming.”
“What lesson?” snorted Manyarms, reaching out for the crime boss. His tentacles were steel and Deadeyes’ death touch worked only on flesh. It was time for a new leader in Gothametropolis’ criminal underworld.
Emilio Cacciatori’s guns were in his hands before anybody could react. The first shots passed straight through the steel-jacketed tentacles that Manyarms wore. The scientist screamed as the bio-feedback from the severed mechanical limbs washed over him. The next shots took down three of the four Machine Shop robots. Flying Machine, Weighing Machine, and Sewing Machine each went down with a neat bullet hole drilled through their central processors. Fitness Machine was the most agile of them all and avoided two bullets before the third shattered her artificial brain.
“Emilio has a gift,” Deadeyes explained to Musk Ox. “Whatever he shoots at he hits. Don’t matter how tough it usually is, he can plug it. Thanks, Emilio.”
“What can I say, Boss?” Cacciatori smirked. “I’m brilliant.”
“You can go now,” Deadeyes told Musk Ox. “Drag that cash back inside the vault and prop the door in place before you leave. And spread the word. Open season don’t extend as far as GMY.”
“Yes Boss.”
Deadeyes wrote something on the back of a card with his fountain pen. He handed the note to Bovis 18. “That’s a guy what’ll connect you with the underground robot gladiator rings. Good practice for a fighter who wants to be the champ. Tell him Tony Vendredi sent you.”
“Thanks, Boss.”
Deadeyes stepped round the scrapped robots and leaned over the groaning Manyarms. “Well now,” he said, looking down at the Professor. “All that college learning’s not made you a smart guy, has it? But don’t worry. I’m not going to use my death touch on a shmuck like you. You’re not worth it.”
Instead of using his bare hands Vendredi slipped his brass knuckles on before he gave Manyarms his beating.
It was all about respect.
***
“Baroness, what do you say about reports that Onslaughter is on the rampage in the warehouse district, heading towards populated areas of the city? Emergency services have already begun evacuation but there’s panic in the streets.”
“There are unconfirmed rumours about that, yes,” agreed Beth von Zemo as the press gathered closer to hear her reply. “But likewise it could just be scaremongering. We need to respond to what we know, not what we fear.”
“And the reports that some young heroes attached to the Lair Legion are in there fighting against impossible odds?”
The Baroness suppressed a smile. “Attached to the former Lair Legion, you mean. Well, if those brave young people have elected to battle some foe in that part of town we can only hope they keep their property damage below their usual levels. And we can all pray that they get the result they so richly deserve.”
“Shouldn’t the new Lair Legion be going in there to investigate?” demanded Bernice Teshmaker.
“Our heroes are where they should be, doing what they do best,” Beth assured her. “Now let’s all observe a moment’s silence for Blazing Justice, a brave, bright young man who laid down his life for his beloved team-mates and to make this world a better, safer place.”
“Isn’t that Flaming Justice?” checked Bernice.
“Whatever.”
***
Onslaughter picked up Harlagaz and threw him through the ground floor of an agricultural machinery warehouse. The demihemigod tumbled out on the other side, slowly limping to his feet and shaking his head to chase off the little birdies. Kerry detonated the gas main at Onslaughter’s feet, sending the villain flying backwards as the ground around him literally exploded.
“Fill me in on this guy, FA!” the probability arsonist demanded. “Is he allergic to kryptonite or anything?”
“Do I look like Glory?” Samantha Featherstone called back. “Don’t answer that. This debris dust can’t be doing anything for my complexion.” She strained and gestured and the wall of the carpet warehouse where Onslaughter had fallen bellied out and collapsed on him as the thousands of rolls of fabric inside bid for freedom. “I think the last time the Shoggoth swallowed him maybe, and the time before that Jay ripped his helmet off and used it against him. That was after this guy had shaken off a nuke.”
“I coulds’t do that,” scorned Harlagaz, staggering back into the fray. Every blow he landed tore up his hands worse than it hurt Onslaughter but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. Onslaughter slammed him down again, slicing ribbons across the young warrior’s chest.
“This isn’t working, Kare,” FA warned. “I’m almost out of juice and Gaz looks like he’s battled a meat shredder.”
“Get us in the air,” Kerry said. “Gaz too. Whatever else Onslaughter can do he can’t fly. And we don’t want to be too close when I cut loose.”
Fashion Accessory concentrated and levitated the three Juniors by their clothes. Harlgaz struggled and protested, fumbling to undo his pants so he could drop down to battle again.
“Let him go, then,” Kerry sighed. “Gaz, get the bad guy over there. To that warehouse of imported distilled liquor.”
“I wilt do so, although I think he wilt not agree to a quaffing contest,” Gaz answered. “I wouldst so be able to beateth him too, on account of him being a huge nancyeth.” He tore up the ground under Onslaughter’s feet, hurling him in the right direction. Onslaughter replied with a backhand slam that snapped the Ausgardian’s arm like a twig.
“Do something now, Kare!” FA warned, failing to pull Harlagaz from Onslaughter’s grip. “He’s going to kill him!”
“Onslaughter’s kind of protected from my power somehow,” Kerry admitted. “I can’t just make him explode. But everything else? Oh yes.”
The liquor storehouse detonated. Kerry winced as she forced the whole explosion to improbably shape in one direction. Blood trickled from her nose. Onslaughter was slammed with a force in the megaton range.
“Your necklace, now!” Kerry shouted to FA. “It’s real diamond, right?”
“Cartier. Why?”
“Levitate it into that wound in the big guy’s forehead, the place where the Samurai’s sword went. Cram it in as hard as you can.”
“I got this from daddy for my sixteenth birthday,” Samantha pouted. “Along with a horse and my first car.” She unclasped the jewellery and shot it at deadly speeds into the staggered marauder.
“Boom!” hissed Kerry, snarling. The diamond shattered, sending fragments into Onslaughter’s eyes and brain.
“Ugh!” he gasped, clenching his fanged teeth. “That actually hurt!”
He reached out psionically and tried to shut down his foes’ minds.
“Resist, FA!” Kerry shouted, clutching her own skull. “Remember what Whitney taught us! Or think about the Shoggoth!”
“I can resist or I can keep us in the air,” Samantha warned. “Not both.”
While they were distracted Onslaughter hurled a portacabin at them. It swatted the girls from the skies, dropping them stunned and bruised on the debris-strewn dockfront.
“Bye bye,” Onslaughter told them, standing over them and laughing.
Harlagaz barrelled into him from behind, wrestling to try and pin the killing machine. “You wilt not harm them!” he shouted. “On mine life!”
“Only over your dead body, eh?” Onslaughter sneered. “Deal.”
In a supreme act of strength, ignoring the screaming of his muscles and the grinding of his broken bones, Harlagaz lifted Onslaugher from the ground.
“This way,” Danny Lyle told him, appearing from nowhere. “Toss him at me. Now.”
With the last of his failing strength Harlagaz propelled Onslaughter at Denial.
“You’re not here” Danny told the incoming villain. The newly-reformed Portal of Pretentiousness flashed greenly to match Denial’s eyes and Onslaughter vanished through its dark liquid surface.
“Danny!” gasped Kerry. “You took your time.”
“I needed a coffee,” her boyfriend shrugged. “Be glad I didn’t fancy a bagel.”
“Where’s Onslaughter?” asked Fashion Accessory, still too weak to rise. “What did you do with him?”
“I shifted him to the heart of the sun,” Denial shrugged. “He really shouldn’t have hit my girlfriend.”
“Thou succeeded?” Harlagaz realised. “Yon have mastered yon Herrigncarp Asylum and the fabled Portal of Pretentiousness?”
“Looks like,” agreed Danny. “Now I can rule the world.”
***
In the blazing nuclear reaction that was the photosphere of the sun, Onslaughter screamed in agony as he was seared by the furnace of creation. But he willed himself up, away, through the burning star, his body renewing itself as fast as it was shrivelled up. It would take him a long time to float himself back to Earth; weeks maybe. But he would come. And next time he would shield himself from that coward’s trick.
The fight wasn’t over yet.
***
Coming Next: Maybe some more tie-in stories either at home or away, and then a chapter bringing together what’s going on in the Land That Common Sense Forgot. Amnesiac artificial intelligences, bold barbarian heroes, furry bikinis, squid-headed psionic brain-eaters, pterodactyl-riding pirates, sabre-toothed wombats, an army of the dead, and some confused Legionnaires in The Empire of the Dying Sun
Writer’s Notes:
The events of this chapter all take place over the first night after the LL disappear. That puts them before Shrike’s Alcheman tale, which begins the morning following.
The next time I pick up these characters a few days will have passed. We can assume that Chiaki melted away in the aftermath of the big Onslaughter battle to tend to her wounds. Lara will be back on Earth. EEE will be labouring away with “Dr Wrichards,” building some exotic device of his design. The Baroness’ Legion will be hunting the Purveyors to try and recover the loot those evil villains got away with. They might even recover some.
One plot-relevant spoiler to do with Onslaughter’s escape is blacked out here: Onslaughter was released during the breakout chaos by somebody who registered on the retina scanner as being Hatman. There’s clearly a shape-changer out there.
Back in other places and times, I’ll pick up on Liu Xi and her “grandfather” if Jason hasn’t, I’ll locate the missing cast that nobody’s wanted to cover by then, and I’ll start to bring them all back together. I think it’d be best to leave that for seven days or so in case there are any folks who want to make late entries (a couple of people have indicated the possibility). There are some fairly major threats in the environment that the team finds itself in which will require some proper teamwork and all the resources they can bring to bear. That’ll perhaps set up the option for another round of fantasy stories before we move on to the final phase of the plotline.
Anyone feeling the need for story consultation is welcome to contact me at iw at watsonhouse. freeserve. co. uk
***
Now Are the Footnotes That Try Men’s Souls:
The Juniors a.k.a. the New Lair Legion, are young people enrolled in the Lair Lgion’s training program for young metahumans learning to use their abilities.
Kerry Shepherdson, Dancer’s little sister, is a probability arsonist able to make things spontaneously explode or catch fire.
Fashion Accessory (Samantha Bonnington) can manipulate and transmute fabrics at will.
Harlagaz Donarson is the child of Ausgardian hemigod of thunder Donar.
Denial (Danny Lyle) technically isn’t a Junior, he’s the guy dating Kerry. He’s also the Hooded Hood’s son, capable of denying recent events to prevent them from having happened, and an alternate reality version of him became the Parodyverse conquering Moderator, triggering the current series of events.
Other absent friends of the team who are mentioned include Glory, the pooch of power, spiffy (Mark Hopkins) fern-weilding President-for-Life of quarantined Badripoor, Ham-Boy (Fred Harris) the world’s meatiest hero, Glitch the autobot, Captain Courageous (Kip Kipling) a straight-laced British superhero, Kid Produce (Jasper Stevens) vegetable-generating vigilante, and Fetish Lad (Warren Kennedy-Rockefeller-Hearst-De Sade IV) the crimefighter of kink.
The Purveyors of Peril a.k.a. the New Lair Legion are the varsity of career supervillains. Originally brought together by the Hooded Hood, two different rosters of the team have assisted him in world conquest while a third successfully fought in the Parody War campaign.
The team’s current roster and disguises are:
VelcroVixen (Vicki Vee, VirtueValkyrie), dexterous and seductive field leader
Appendage Man (Milton Freebish, Helping Hands), able to generate spontaneous monstrous limbs
Brass Monkey (Gorilla Grott, Shiny Simian), evil ape scientist with the touch that transforms things to metal
Grit the Granulated Man (Brick Basalt, the Living Beach), mercenary looter composed of sand
Gromm the Living Flatulence (the Fragrance), sentient Deviate gaseous entity
Dr Roentgen (Stanislaus Roentgen, Dr Warmglow), Candian nuclear physicist transformed to living radiation
Voodoo Vicaress (LeVeau M’Tumbe, Black Magic Woman), zombie-controlling houngan
Razor Ballerina (Mindy Kovkoski, Sharp Performance), psionic blade generating dancer whose touch and cut steel
Clonar (Thunderballs), an imperfect clone of Donar with a limited vocabulary and psychotic tendencies
El Futbalista Atomico (Xatroc) Mexican footballer able to generate explosive charged-particle balls and kick them
UltiMAX-tremeMan (Martin Lillard) drug-fuelled superman related to CrazySugarFreakBoy!
HAGGIE (Heuristic Accelerated Genius Generated Intelligence Entity, Hard Data) started out as a prototype computer sentience created by Baron Zemo and now occupied a powerful if defaced robot body in the form of Hallie
Bernice Teshmaker is a freelance journalist known for asking awkward questions of metahumans.
Commissioner Don Graham heads up the Paradopolis police department.
The Psychic Samurai (Chiaki Bushido) previously served as bodyguard to crimelord Akiko Masamune but has recently worked independently and has associated with the superhero community. A skilled hand-to-hand combatant and expert with oriental weapons she also has a talent for anticipating the moves of her opponents.
Ghostface, Morphea, and the Human Tractor are supervillains caught on their first major outing by Yuki Shiro. Morphea as a sleep gaze. The Human Tractor is big and strong and resistant to damage. Ghostface’s abilities have yet to be revealed.
Mantikore is a tough hypertrichosic street-fighter who fought his way up the criminal hierarchy. The Magnificant Blastard and Disco-Tech are minor villains that have previously encountered Mr Epitome.
Miss Threnody Peel is an efficient but distant young woman advising the president on Federal Emergencies. She actually works for the mysterious and unquestioned Carnifax.
Ruben Holcombe runs the Federal Metahuman Research Centre, a government-sponsored programme developing super-powered operatives. He reports to Presidential Advisor on Metahuman Affairs Herbert P. Garrick.
Aaron Soames is Director of the Office for Paranormal Security, a U.S. Government organisation tasked with monitoring and policing the metahuman community.
The Frightsome Four, a.k.a. The League of Losers are the Englishman, Marker Man, Garbage Burner, and Dr Teeth, a team of mid-powered but highly brutal mercenaries who have fought the Lair Legion on several occasions.
The Bagpiper (Ewan McGore) has the gift of controlling monsters and vermin with his musical instrument. He also carries a transdimensional Sporran of Doom large enough to swallow people whole.
Onslaughter is described in the story. He first encountered humans when he ran Deathworld for galactic tyrant Dark Thugos and fell to Earth when humans destroyed his wandering planetoid. His initial rampage of destruction across the planet was ended after a twelve-hour battle with Hatman. He has since gone toe-to-toe with Donar, the Yurt, and Premiere, all of whom he has been able to match strength for strength.
Vinnie de Soth is the white sheep of the sorcerous De Soth clan, living in obscurity in Gothametropolis York where he runs his online fortune telling and cut-rate exorcism services from the back of an occult bookshop.
Flaming Justice (Steve Dawson) makes his first and last appearance as a superhero in this issue. His torch is snuffed. Still, at least he will help garner some positive PR for the New Lair Legion.
Katarina Allen is a lacemaker and weaver who runs a shop in Paradopolis’ Little Greece area. She is currently dating Mr Epitome and is one of the few people left on Earth that Kerry might trust enough to call for help.
Mr Li’s Laundry of Doom is a mysterious cleaner’s business that caters to the more occult and exotic end of the laundry market. Ruby Waver is working there as a penance for earlier misdeeds.
Atomic Bumpkin (Nermy Tullis) and Spring-Loaded Man (Armand Braithwaite) are criminals for hire with radiation-based percussion powers and extendible cyborg limbs respectively.
Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises is the company jointly founded and run by missing Al B. Harper and administrator Miss Framlicker. In addition to overall-wearing mechanic Amy Aston the company also employs interns Cody and Kara Harper, Al’s children by the future-dominating Kinki the Conqueress.
Dr Weed Wrichards is a brilliant if now reclusive rocket scientist and theoretical physicist.
Professor Manyarms (Professor Morton Mason) is a brilliant scientist injured in a lab accident that welded four robotic arms to his torso and therefore began a life as a criminal overlord.
The Machine Shop are a criminal cartel of evil robots, rebuilt by Industrial Machine at the behest of the shadowy Master Machine. Although they hire out as muscle and undertake mundane criminal activities to finance their development, the Machine Shop’s goal is the final eradication of human life on Earth. Flying Machine, Weighing Machine, Sewing Machine, and Fitness Machine are but four of a roster that runs into dozens.
Musk Ox (Bovus 18) left his creator the Low Evolutionary to seek new combat challenges outside the Peaceable Kingdom. Monstrously strong and resistant to damage, Musk Ox can also emit deadly pheromones that can weaken or kill an unprotected target.
Boss Deadeyes (Antony Vendredi) is a reanimated 1930s gangster who currently runs the mobs of Gothametropolis York. He has a death touch which allows him to kill anyone he has previously used it on with a thought.
Emilio Cacciatori is Boss Deadeyes’ dapper enforcer, a revenant from the old days. He has the gift of killing whatever he shoots if he so chooses, and his bullets can penetrate anything.
Previous chapters at The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom
Biographies of the principal characters at Who's Who in the Parodyverse
Overview of the story settings at Where's Where in the Parodyverse
***
Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2008 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2008 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
|
Post By
The Hooded Hood catches up with events on a world without its regular Lair Legion
Tue Apr 29, 2008 at
02:40:59 pm EDT
|
Posted from United Kingdom
using Microsoft Internet Explorer 6/Windows 2000
|
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
 Thank you - killer shrike - Tue Apr 29, 2008 at 08:39:34 pm EDT
-
-
-
-
-
ewww. - L! - Tue Apr 29, 2008 at 09:05:50 pm EDT
-
-
Well then. - HH - Thu May 01, 2008 at 09:16:40 am EDT
yeah. - L! - Fri May 02, 2008 at 02:35:30 pm EDT
-
|
Copyright © 2004-2008 by Mangacool Adventure
