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Post By The Hooded Hood continues his account of the sixteen-year-old Legion playing with the nasty boys Mon Oct 18, 2004 at 08:30:25 am EDT |
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Follies of Youth #??+1: Bad Seeds | |
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| Follies of Youth #??+1: Bad Seeds Previous chapters at the Follies of Youth Archive Page “We are so coming along!” insisted Kerry Shepherdson emphatically. She crossed her arms and blocked the way to the Lairjet hangar. “You are so not,” Hatman assured her, trying to make his sixteen-year-old self look imposing. “I mean, you’re not. You’re too…” “Young?” Ham-Boy interrupted. “We’re older than the Lair Legion at the moment now you’ve all been zapped to your sixteenth birthdays. And we’ve been trained in using our powers, and in tactics and procedures and stuff. Except for Hatman who’s got his adult head when he’s wearing his basic Hatman cap, the rest of you don’t know anything.” “I think you’ll find Mr Epitome does,” Glory noted loyally, wagging her tail at her friend. “This is a really cool dog!” Mr Epitome noted, scratching the mutt of might between the ears. “I wish she was mine!” “The fact remains that you’re all minors,” argued Hatman. “I mean really minors, not just de-aged. We can’t take you into battle with us.” “And how old were you when you joined the LL?” Fashion Accessory demanded. “Those were different times,” Hatman prevaricated. “Five years ago? I think they’d invented television back then, hadn’t they?” asked Kerry sarcastically. “Television?” Mumphrey Wilton asked Lisa, seeking a footnote. “See!” FA pointed to the de-aged leader of the Lair Legion. “Even Harlagaz knows about TV, and he’s been sixteen for about a thousand years! You need us on this one.” “The villains who have escaped on Interstate 666 are very dangerous,” Glory barked. “Fleshcrawler can make people’s epidermis respond to his commands. Anvil Man is nearly indestructible and can generate explosions. HuntingJustice DeathMarrow has never-explained powers to use improbably large guns. And Razor Ballerina cuts through anything she touches and can generate psionic razors.” Nobody understood the pooch of power’s cogent briefing. “This is dumb,” Fashion Accessory pouted. “Leave this to me. Hey, Hatty, mind if us guys come along for the ride? I don’t mind if I have to sit on your lap or something.” Hatman flushed. His body language seemed different. “That won’t… you don’t have to do… yes, you can come. Along, I mean. If you want to. But you don’t need to sit… what I mean is…” Kerry looked sideways at her friend. “Samantha, you didn’t by any chance just transmute Hatty’s hat using your clothing-alteration power, did you?” Fashion Accessory looked innocent. “Sixteen year old Hatty seems a lot less hardass,” she noted. “Bring the big dumb guy along at least,” suggested Mr Epitome, pointing at Harlagaz. “You never know when we might want something breaking.” “Such as thy head,” suggested the demihemigod of thunder. “You mean the other big dumb guy,” Trickshot suggested, ducking out of the way of the two muscle men and skipping aboard the Lairjet. Mumphrey turned round to Lisa, Kerry, and Samantha and nodded his head politely. “Well, delightful to have met you, girls. Look forward to chatting again perhaps when we chaps get back from the adventure, what?” Lisa shook her head. “This isn’t 1625 or whenever you’re from, Mumphster. We delightful girls have absolutely no intention of missing out on the adventure ourselves.” “But…” blustered the eccentric English boy, “but it might be dangerous! There are ruffians!” “The ladies all have powers,” dull thud pointed out as he undertook the pre-flight checks. “You don’t. Except to be really really old, apparently.” “But what if they are overcome and faint? Or if the cads are using bad language?” Lisa explained where the cads could shove their bad language. “And the modern gal doesn’t faint, Mumph. Not unless she wants somebody to, y’know, lay her down and loosen her clothing a little?” “I love these high frequency comms arrays!” Al B. Harper called out in near ecstasy from the ops panel at the rear of the Lairjet. “Although it occurs that if we redirected the oscillator frequencies through the main receiver coil and filtered the whole waveband by…” Mr Epitome bundled him up and pushed him into a locker. “Hey, stop manhandling that chap!” Mumphrey Wilton called out as the Lairjet left the Mansion hangar. “Don’t be such a bully!” “Aw, I’m just having a bit of fun!” Mr Epitome snorted. “It’s not fun for him. Let him go!” “Hey, we had a revolution over here so we don’t need to listen to you bozos preaching at us!” Dominic Clancy retorted. “Tis not meet to prey upon the weak,” Harlagaz agreed with Mumphrey. “Let go of yon annoying nerdling or be smitten for the nonce.” “You forgetting I cleaned your clock lass than a couple hours ago, Shakespere?” Harlagaz was puzzled. “Whoeth?” “He scripted Mel Gibson’s Hamlet, I think,” Fashion Accessory helped him out. “Or Jurassic Park. One of the classics.” “I say!” Mumphrey interrupted the literary debate. “Have any of you chaps happened to notice that we’re flying!” The six guards that had previously been escorting the four dangerous metahumans to Persephone, Virginia, for psychiatric evaluation had all been transformed into their eight-year old selves. Two of them had sustained broken limbs when the van had overturned on the interstate. One was concussed and needed immediate medical attention. All of them were being held hostage in the van that was now surrounded by police and state troopers. “Any chance of SPUD back-up?” Hallie asked over the telephone link to the office in charge. “Evidently not. Before SPUD can operate in GM County they need an invitation from the Mayor, and she’s not available to sign the documentation.” “Well we have some… some personnel on route.” “Better make it quick, then. Fleshcrawler’s getting impatient and he says if we don’t give them a chopper in the next ten minutes he’s gonna start redesigning the kiddies. “Don’t worry, Captain Shaw. The Lair Legion is on the job.” Hallie broke the connection and turned worriedly to Asil. “Everybody is going to die!” Hatman was back to his adult self now Fashion Accessory had restored his default hat. “Okay, listen folks, because this isn’t a game. We need to distract the bad guys while we get those hostages out of the area, and then we contain the villains until we find a way to take them down.” “Hostages!” snorted Mumphrey. “That’s just not sportin’!” “Lisa, can you summons? If so I want you to pull the kiddies away from the fight one at a time. Trickshot, Ham-Boy, if any of the perps tries to harm them, get in the way.” “Hey, you can count on Br’er Trickshot, the world’s greatest ever archer!” “Can I go in another team please, Hatman?” Jay Boaz ignored ham-Boy and pressed on. “So thud flies us in close. Epitome, Harlagaz, and Glory drop into battle, and the rest of you get to the ground and support them as best you can. Kerry, no explosions till the kids are safe.” “That does it!” the probability arsonist complained. “FA, take his hat off again.” “Mumph, cover Lisa.” “I beg your pardon?” “He means keep an eye on me, watch my backside,” the first teen of the Lair Legion explained. “Like he wasn’t doing that already,” commented thuddy. “Okay people, please don’t let your youthful exuberance lead you to make stupid mistakes. These people are dangerous and…” And just then the port engine exploded. Then the starboard engine. “Al, how many engines does this thing have?” Fashion Accessory asked worriedly. “Now?” the nerdy science-teen answered. “Working?” “Anvil Man is able to cause detonations!” Glory yipped. The vessel began to plummet to the ground. “We’re all going to die!” Lisa cried. She grabbed Mumphrey and delivered another of her scorching kisses. thuddy struggled with the powerless yoke and swore in some strange highland patois. “This is goin’ to really hurt!” The Lairjet ploughed into the highway at lethal velocity. dull thud strained and extended his only super-power – to teleport upwards and to land from any distance without harm – to the vehicle as a whole. Unfortunately he could only neutralise the vertical component of the crash. The Lairjet rolled and crumpled. And remarkably did not explode as its fuel tanks ruptured. “What?” Kerry demanded. “Why is everyone looking at me so surprised?” The heroes started to pull themselves out of the pile of offal that had insulated their landing (courtesy of Ham-Boy's meat vision). Earth's meatiest hero was sprawled dazed, the only passenger he hadn't had time to cushion. Then Anvil Man ripped open the side of the downed craft to kill those inside. Hatman had lost his standard cap in the wreckage, but even at sixteen he knew a villain when he saw one. He dragged on his Torpedos cap and hammered into the rust-armoured marauder. He even managed to force Anvil Man back a step. “Watch out!” called Lisa, somersaulting aside to avoid a spray of psionic blades as Razor Ballerina whirled. “Don’t let them separate us!” Fashion Accessory tried to concentrate enough to transmute the Ballerina’s costume into something that might restrain her, but she’d slammed her head into something in the crash and she found she couldn’t focus. Mr Epitome jumped in front of her, accepting the two dozen flechettes that would have sliced Samantha Bonnington to pieces. HuntingJustice DeathMarrow hurled in a pair of screamer grenades then hoisted her shattercannons to finish the heroes off. A young man screaming “Wa-hoo,” rolled out of the wreckage, assumed a squatting position, and placed a precision shaft into the first of her weapons. Trickshot moved before her spray of automatic fire rendered the ground he was crouching on to molten rock and aimed a second at the other weapon. He missed. “Oops, sorry! Looking at the wrong shattercannons!” the irritating archer admitted. “How does that costume hold on?” Fleshcrawler caught hold of his outer skin with his telekinetic control over flesh and hammered him into the ground, forcing his head to slam into the tarmac again and again. Fleshcrawler caught fire. “You’re just too icky to be allowed on the battlefield,” Kerry told him as he became a pillar of flame. “How many times have you been killed so far anyway?” Glory, Harlagaz, and Epitome were all wresting with Anvil Man and all losing. Hatman looked up blearily after torpedoing into the unstoppable villain and reached for his Steelers hat. Razor Ballerina was still able to rake her hand across his back and score him half an inch deep. Then, thinking him down she turned to finish off dull thud. who was lying prone in the wreckage. “No!” winced Hatman, forcing himself to keep moving. “Deal with me!” Al B. was trapped in the crumbled framework of the Lairjet but he could see what was happening. “Hatty, use sound. She can’t dodge that and you don’t need to touch her!” Hatman fumbled for his hatility belt – it wasn’t there – dodged a vicious slice that would have taken his head off despite his steel form, and pulled out his sonics cap. The resultant tight-beam burst stunned the Ballerina. Then Hatman himself toppled over, blood welling from the deep rakes in his back and side. Lisa ran away from the melee so she could see where the six hostage children had been trussed. She didn’t know their names so she needed line of sight to be able to summons them to her. “I summons those kids,” the amorous proto-advocatrix called. The shock of calling them all to her at once almost drove her to her knees. “Ah-ah, Leatherette!” HuntingJustice DeathMarrow warned her, unshipping a flesh liquefier rifle from her shoulder. “You just became the bloody pulp poster girl.” Ignoring the two heroes grappling him, Anvil Man also pounded down towards Lisa. “Hey, those are our guards! I owe them a head-ripping off!” Lisa stood her ground in front of the six terrified, injured children. Mumphrey Wilton jumped in front of Lisa. “You won’t harm Miss Waltz, or the little ones,” he warned the unstoppable Anvil Man and Huntingjustice DeathMarrow. “Not even if I have to give you a thrashing, and one of you of the weaker sex.” Lisa wasn’t sure whether to thank him or thump him. Since she was currently too weak to stand up properly she decided to postpone the question. Kerry took a quick look around. Hatman, Trickshot, FA, and thud were down, Al B. trapped, Epitome, Glory, and Harlagaz all at the end of their strength. She had a horrible suspicion that this was a famous last stand. And Mumphrey Wilton didn’t have any super-powers. “Miss Waltz, I’m the leader of the Lair Legion, right?” Mumphrey checked hurriedly. “So they told us,” Lisa agreed, wondering why it was so important to clarify protocol five seconds before bloody death. “Fine. Then by the authority vested in me I hereby induct these two baddies as probationary members of the LL!” HuntingJustice DeathMarrow had just enough time to mouth “Wha…?” before she fell over. Her suddenly sixteen-year old form hadn’t yet undergone the future-technology gene modifications that gave her the strength to carry her advanced arsenal. It was worse for Anvil Man. At sixteen he hadn’t got his armour. All he had was Epitome and Harlagaz round his neck. The beefcakes kicked nine kinds of hell out of the suddenly unarmoured Anvil man while Lisa went in for round two on HuntingJustice DeathMarrow. Mumphrey waited until the authorities had the escapees in custody before revoking their probationary status. “Sorry, We demand a certain standard in the Lair Legion,” he explained to them. “You’ve been black balled.” “Well yes,” agreed Mr Epitome. “But I had to get him down quickly and keep him down.” It had been a busy day. The ever-efficient Hallie had taken charge of the mop-up. Asil had checked that Hatman and the others were being properly treated for their injuries. Miss St Clare had sorted out custody battles between local, state, and national jurisdictions. Mumphrey had got tired of the fuss and had gone for a long walk round the Lair Island with Glory. As night descended Lisa sat in a room she’d been told was hers and wondered at the person she’d become. She examined the bookshelves: some old law books (mostly dusty), some trashy romance novels, a few well-thumbed paperbacks, a half dozen photographs. The baby and the youngster had to be the same person, presumably Christopher Waltz, her future self’s son. She found herself liking that idea. But she had no clue who the butler might be, or the strange people with her in a close group outside a rather crooked-looking house. One of the men looked a little like Harlagaz. Another, the one in the yellow coat, seemed to irritate her for some reason. Just looking at him did it. And the girl – or was it a boy – in the Zorro costume made her want to smile. Her bedroom drawer was crammed with all kinds of apparatus that awoke her curiosity, but she saved that for later. She sat in front of her mirror and brushed out her hair and wondered what was going to happen next. Would they find a way to reverse the ageing effect? Did she even want them to? This was like being given a second chance. There was a tap on her door. She hesitated a moment and then called. “Come in. Unless you’re that creepy hunchback.” Mumphrey Wilton slid into her room. “Pardon the intrusion,” he said, “but I brought an apology.” He held up a wine bottle and a pair of glasses. “Did you now?” Lisa answered. “Isn’t it terribly impertinent to enter a young woman’s bedchamber when she’s all alone there at night?” “Absolutely,” agreed the youngster. “Say the word and I’ll be off.” Lisa finished brushing her hair. “Only this is a brave new world, Miss Waltz – Lisa,” young Mumphrey persisted. “Got to move with the times, what? Can’t be an old fuddy-duddy.” He popped the wine and filled the glasses. “And you are an absolute corker!” “And I don’t suppose this has anything to do with us waking up in bed together this morning, Mumphrey Wilton?” “It has absolutely everything to do with it,” her suitor admitted. He looked at her innocently. “It is my birthday, you know.” “Mine too,” Lisa added, accepting a glass. “What do you suggest we do to make it special?” Mumphrey told her. And the adventure continued. Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2004 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2004 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. |
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