Tales of the Parodyverse

Mr. Epitome #13, Part One


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killer shrike
Sat Sep 27, 2003 at 09:25:21 am EST
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Mr. Epitome #13


General Motives



Mr. Epitome was surprised he lost consciousness. Given the rate his facial hair had accumulated, he guessed it had been for about 29 hours.

His wounds were healing. The tympanic membrane in each ear was resealing nicely. The bones in his ribs and shoulders were tender, but mending, as was his wired jaw. He could feel the teeth lost from the beating slowly pushing back up through his gums. His lymphatic system had purged the poisons of Musk Ox and Emperor Scorpion. It had been unpleasant to suffer again from the creations of Doc Toxic, especially since Epitome thought he had recovered all of the villain’s stockpiles before killing him. The Exemplary Man wondered how much more was out there, each vial a potential Armageddon.

Glory sat at the foot of his hospital bed, ears up, tail wagging, “Hello.”

Epitome raised a bandaged hand and pantomimed writing. Glory ran off to oblige him, snatching pen and prescription pad from a nurse’s desk in the makeshift hospital ward.

Report, please, he printed in neat block letters.

“All I know is the Lair Legion is in charge and we have been relieved of duty.”

See if you can find someone with more information.

Again Glory rushed off, happy to have her partner back. Soon she returned, herding in a young man in red and orange.

“Oh, hey, you’re awake. Good news,” Nats said.

Thank you, Nats. How are things going out there?

“We’re busy. Some of us are guarding what’s left of Emperor Scorpion’s army. They’re in camps outside the city. The rest of the team is trying to help tend to the wounded and get supplies distributed. All of Sybia is a mess. Uh, no offense.”

Casualties?

“I don’t know. A lot of soldiers, mostly navy personnel killed by that giant lizard thing. The Legion didn’t lose anybody.”

What about the Army units outside the mountains?

Nats shifted his weight from one side to the other. He hoped he wasn’t being graded on this, “The Legion took care of that. Sorceress whipped up a scirra-, sirra-, a windstorm on the troops that had our guys penned in. Then NTU hooked up some type of widget into one of those robot scorpions and downloaded a virus that spread to the others. Finny and I smacked around the foot soldiers until Hatman showed up with Emperor Scorpion and he gave the order to surrender.”

Excellent work, Epitome wrote.

Glory’s ears flattened and she looked to the door of the ward. The source of her discontent became apparent: Fin Fang Foom, leader of the Lair Legion, squeezed his way in.

“Boss! We were just talking about you,” Nats looked relieved to see the dragon.

“Nats, I need you to head to Ritopli and tow that monster’s corpse out to sea. The whole city smells like a slaughter house.”

“Sure thing. Well, so long,” Nats briskly walked out, hoping he hadn’t caused the grim look on the Makulan’s face.

“The Lair Legion is busy. Individual members don’t have time to waste responding to your interrogations,” he told the bed-ridden Epitome.

I apologize. Have you captured Factor X or the telepath?

Finny made a sigh pregnant with impatience, but answered him, “No. We did find where he built the weapons for Kuffadala. It was a subterranean factory, run by a person calling himself the Hole Man. Dancer managed to stop that part of the operation by convincing his minions to unionize and go on strike.”

Ha. How much easier my job would be if I had her powers.

The idea of Mr. Epitome being able to manipulate reality more than he already could did not amuse the dragon, “I suppose I should tell you we have taken temporary control of the Sybian state. Your president doesn’t like it, but he’s in no position to do more than complain. The United Nations is putting together a resolution to send a multi-national force to help restore order. We’ll cede authority to them when they get there.”

Well done. I’m surprised you don’t take over countries more often.

“Sarcasm? Now? I expected better from you, Epitome.”

I’m wholly sincere. Egypt is right next door. If any leader needs to be overthrown, it’s that necromancer Ku Ku Ka Chu.

“So why isn’t your government doing it? Could it be because of the economic ties the US has to that country, and the supposed support they give America in the War on Terror?” the dragon retorted.

I wish we would. But what’s stopping you? You’re gods, he underlined the last word, Why aren’t you liberating Egypt? Or North Korea? Or Cuba?

“Calling us gods is pure hyperbole. And I would think you’d be happy that we don’t do more. After all, the Legion might decide certain institutions in American society need to be corrected. The reason we don’t go around rearranging the world to suit our purposes is that we believe in the right of human self-determination.”

Or that you’re dilettantes, unwilling to do what’s required to make the world a better place.

The dragon had enough, “Don’t. Ever. Insult my team. Each member has risked and lost so much protecting the Parodyverse. For you to-”

Mr. Epitome held up his pad. He had circled I apologize.

“Good. When you are feeling healthy enough to actually contribute, come find me. We have a lot of work to do here,” Finny turned to leave, but the tapping of the pen on the bed’s metal frame stopped him.

Epitome was smiling. Again he showed the tablet to Fin Fang Foom. On it he had requested a favor…


*****





“We need to talk,” Mr. Epitome told the Idiom.

Letitia Gahagan sat stone-faced opposite the patriotic superhero, “It’s your dime.”

The two were back in the Idiom’s cell at Greentown Federal Penitentiary. Three weeks had passed since their last conversation, when she made Epitome aware she knew of his betrayal. After the Paragon of Power captured the inventor/supervillain four years ago, he agreed to destroy all of her technology if she revealed their location. Both had a similar goal: to keep her advanced weapons out of the hands of the wrong people.

Epitome technically honored their agreement, but had memorized the schematics of her arsenal. And when the time came to go to war against Sybia, he rebuilt and used them. What made matters worse was that he had lost control of the weapons, and they were turned against innocents.

“There was a reason for my duplicity,” Mr. Epitome explained.

Letitia’s pale skin quickly flushed, “Try again, Epitome.”

The man started over, “I’m sorry. I lied to you and I’m sorry.”

“My father wanted me to go into the munitions business. He and his lobbyist buddies even tried to scam me out of my patents. For my own good,” the woman’s Black Irish temper was up, “I never forgave him, and I haven’t spoken to him for a decade.”

“I appreciate you meeting with me,” Epitome kept eye contact, “Really.”

“The only reason you’re here is that as much as your politics suck eggs, I always thought you were trying to do what you believed to be the right thing. So I do want to hear your rationale for breaking your word and letting some thugs steal my tech and kill 1,573 people with it.”

“I plan to tell you. But not here,” the hero put a duffel bag on the table, “There’s a change of clothes in here for you.”

“Really? I hoped that’s where you were keeping your hairshirt.”

Mr. Epitome remained quiet.

“Where are we going?” Letitia finally asked.

“To Starcross. I thought you’d like to see it.”

*****


Her first breath of freedom gave the Idiom a coughing fit. After four years of inhaling only recycled air the humid Georgia climate hit her hard.

Mr. Epitome took her arm, “Easy. Do you want to sit down?”

Letitia shook her head, her blue eyes watering from the coughing and bright natural light. The Exemplary Man offered her a pair of sunglasses, which she accepted.

“Where’s the Express?” she managed to get out.

“I’m still trying to put it back together,” he sounded disgusted, likely with himself, “We’re taking a car.”

Idiom looked at the gunmetal grey Continental with the OPS plates parked outside the prison’s Administration Building, “As long as Clemenza isn’t in the back seat holding a box of canolli, that works for me.”

“Clemenza?”

“Hush, you. I know you’ve seen The Godfather.”

The first thing the Idiom did when in the passenger seat was pick through Mr. Epitome’s CD collection.

“Hm. Concrete Blonde. Love and Rockets. Violent Femmes. Having a bit of an Eighties flashback, are we?”

“I suppose. Do you want to listen to something?” Mr. Epitome had pulled off his cowl, satisfied the Lincoln’s tinted windows and Electronic Counter Measures would preserve his secret identity from the outside world.
“Nah. Just drive for a while.”

They had been cruising the back roads of the Peach State for half an hour before the Idiom asked, “Why did you do it?”

“I wanted to impress the President with your abilities.”

Idiom laughed, “Why?”

“The plan was to show him how smart you were, so when I asked him to let you help restore Sybia, he would know how helpful you would be.”

“Let me restore Sybia,” the brunette nodded tersely, “Sure, I can see that happening.”

“I’m serious. In your letters you wrote a great deal about the issues developing nations faced in this era of globalization. And education. And urban reform. Here’s a chance to test your theories.”

Letitia wasn’t buying it, “George and Condi and Rummy are willing to let me rebuild a country in my own limousine liberal image? I was born at night, E, but not last night.”

“They support you advising the Sybian Civilian Authority. They’re the people who will be in charge when order is restored. And their leaders are quite interested in what you have to say.”

“How do they know me from a hole in the ground?” she asked of the nascent political organization.

“I told them.”

The Idiom took off the glasses, “You’re manipulating me.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

“You’re making me an offer I can’t refuse.”

Epitome shrugged, “You could refuse it. Though it would seem spiteful to do so.”

“Why do you think that?”

Keeping his eyes on the road, he told her: “You are the smartest person I know. And the world is losing the chance to benefit from that, because of past misjudgment.”

“So my career as the Gorgeous Gadfly was a mistake?” she quipped.

“Despite the glowing reviews from the supervillain fanzines, yes. Instead of helping the world, you engaged in acts of big budget Yippie guerrilla theater. Which accomplished nothing.”

“Thanks to you.”

Epitome regarded the sulleness of Idiom’s comment as fictional. She had never expressed any ill will towards being captured by him before, “So now you have a chance to do some real good in the world, for a cause I know you believe in.”

“Maybe I don’t think it’s a good idea because I don’t trust you and your cabal,” she offered.

“You won’t be answering to me, if that’s the sticking point. The UN is in charge of Sybia’s reconstruction. You’ll get to deal with a whole new strain of government malfeasance. And the Lair Legion has agreed to provide you with assistance.”

“What kind?”

“Tech support. Plus, since you’ll be given limited freedom of movement in the outside world, you’ll need an appropriate escort. They are willing to assume responsibility for you when needs arise.”

Letitia smiled, “So, they’d be my chaperones?”

“If that’s what you want,” Epitome said flatly.

“You really have all the bases covered, don’t you?”

“I think so.”

“Is this what you wanted to tell me, back before the war started?” she recalled their strange conversation in her cell.

“No.”

“Tell me what that was, and I’ll agree to go along with this cockamamie scheme of yours.”

Mr. Epitome nodded, “I will. Give me a few minutes to think of the best way to put it.”

*****


A few minutes had stretched to an hour as the duo watched a city being assembled by technology that dazzled even the super-intelligent Idiom. Starcross had been a small, dying town before a powerful man from the future arrived and set up the opportunity for its residents to reap the benefits of interstellar and pan-chronal trade.

“I’m surprised you think this is a good idea, given the source,” Letitia said, rubbing her bare feet across green Georgia grass.

“This Wang is supposedly less monomaniacal than the one I encountered back in the nineties.”

Epitome, in costume, and Idiom, in tee-shirt and jeans, sat on a blanket draped across a hill overlooking the construction. There had been a few court injunctions and a spectacular case of thwarted sabotage that had slowed down the building of America’s first port city that would provide a harbor across all time and space, but now things were flowing as smoothly as the streets that were literally being poured into existence.

“He did it all to impress a woman, right?” she asked.

“So he claims. Whatever Wang’s motives, it is a chance for the consumer to gain access to new technologies and developments normally beyond their reach.”

“It will collapse America’s manufacturing base,” she predicted.

“Or stimulate competition,” Epitome countered.

“We know nothing about the social or environmental conditions these imports will be made under.”

“Well, we can start exporting the ideals of small ‘l’ liberalism and social justice across the universe and address those issues.”

“That’s one of the reasons I like you, E: you can get away with saying corny things like that. You’re a True Believer,” Letitia smiled broadly.

“I believe in America.”

“She nudged his boot with her toe, “Tell me your secret, Mister Epitome.”

The man watched a swarm of silicon spiders weave the scaffolding for another high-rise, “We need to go back to the car for this.”

Once inside he began, “You are correct in assuming I do work for an extra-constitutional body.”

The woman rolled her eyes, “Wow. You could knock me over with a feather after that bit of news.”

Epitome ignored the sarcasm, “It exists, and is very powerful.”

“Is it Skull and Bones? I bet it is. Never trust a fraternity that wrestles naked in their basement, I always say.”

“No. Can we be serious, please?”

“OK.”

“They are powerful, but benign. They want to make the world a better place,” Epitome waited for a glib interjection, but none came, “The head of the organization recruited me personally to get my powers. And after a few years of me proving myself, he made himself known to me. As time went on I showed myself trustworthy enough to have more of a voice on how things were run.”

For the first time in a long time, Mr. Epitome felt relieved to let someone know, even tangentially, about his role as an aide to the Grey Eminence. It was a secret very few were aware of, and those that did know he cared very little of their opinions. Until now, “The leader of the group will be stepping down soon, and he has made it clear I will be his successor. I’ll have the ability to influence the world on a much larger scale.”

“So it’s about power?” she asked.

“No, it’s about being able to reach the ultimate goal of those in my line of work. Superheroes save the world on a regular basis, but I want to be able to do it once and have it stick.”

“That’s very utopian of you,” but there wasn’t much humor behind Idiom’s quip. For the first time she felt a bit frightened of the man who had defeated her.

“The goal is possible to achieve. I am trying to improve its chances.”

“E- Oh, God: what’s your first name?” she asked, fed up with using his alias.

“I hated my name growing up,” he realized how petty that sounded; “You can call me Dominic.”

“OK, Dominic, I know this Epitome Power makes you the greatest thing since sliced bread, but think about it: you are taking a huge personal risk for something that you cannot achieve.”

He smiled, “I know it can happen. I read about it.”

“Who was the author, Nostrodamus?”

“No, it was a first hand account of the age I helped create,” Epitome was almost blushing, “I didn’t get the opportunity to learn how I did it, but I know it was done. You are aware of course of the Hooded Hood?”

“Arch villain of the Parodyverse? Yeah, the name rings a bell.”

“I was on a mission and spent some time in his library. It supposedly contains every book ever and never written.”

“And you read about it there,” Letitia finished. She exhaled, and ran a hand through her curly black hair, “Dominic, the Hood makes Machiavelli look like Forrest Gump. He’s playing you.”

“I know he’s trying. Remember, though, the Hooded Hood doesn’t lie. That’s one of his rules. I’m sure he wanted me to see it: to tempt me, or taunt me, or who knows what yet. But that doesn’t mean the outcome can’t happen. So I’m going to try.”

“Even if it’s the outcome he wants?”

“Yes.”

She closed her eyes and massaged her temples, “This is all very flaky.”

“I prefer to think of it as taking a leap of faith, Letitia.”

“A perfect world run by a man who believes in supply side economics? That’s an Evel Knieval jumping the Grand Canyon class of leap.”

“The people will run the world. I’m only trying to make sure they get the chance.”

“You don’t know what you’re going to have to do to achieve this plan.”

“Nothing that I would lose sleep over. I won’t betray my principles. I never will,” he said emphatically.

“So your principles believe it’s acceptable to lie to someone you obviously care about, and who obviously cares about you?”

Mr. Epitome started the car. Putting it in reverse, he prepared to take Idiom back to her cell.

“Epitome, answer me.”

“If I feel the lie will benefit all parties involved, yes. Sorry if that upsets you.”

It did. Letitia Gahagan looked out her window and was silent the entire ride back.

I'm going to try and get the rest of this done by Tuesday, before the baseball playoffs start. Go Sox!


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