Tales of the Parodyverse

I was going to post this tomorrow night, but what the hey: Mr. Epitome #14


Post By

killer shrike
Tue Oct 14, 2003 at 09:27:39 pm EDT
[ New ] [ Tales of the Parodyverse ]

Mr. Epitome #14


“Bad Press”


With a big thanks to CSFB! for the plot and dialogue assistance

The Story So Far: Mr. Epitome is a superhuman government agent who symbolizes American Power and all its implications. Though he heads his own organization, the Epitome Division of the Office of Paranormal Security, his full-time job is as the premiere operative of the Grey Eminence, the power behind a number of thrones. There are lots of examples of Epitome being a force for good, but just as many that seem to contradict this. It’s up to the reader to determine whether or not the man has earned the title of hero.

Grit, the Granulated Man, walked into the jeweler’s with the confident swagger of a man who-has-done-it-all-before. The bull-necked con shot a sandy pseudopod at the security guard, knocking the old man back through the entry foyer and into the showroom. Grit’s body changed into an anthropomorphic dune, and he swept over the posh store’s display cases. Within moments he had crushed the glass and absorbed the merchandise therein. The owner and his assistant watched dumbfounded.

After assuming his human form, Grit chuckled, “Bet this is something you don’t see everyday, huh? An honest to God supervillain?”

The owner grinned evilly and replied, “No: most of them are smart enough to stay out of Persephone.”

The metamorph learned why when Mr. Epitome bolted in and struck Grit with enough force to discorporate him into a thick spray. After scooping up the jewelry and depositing it back behind the counter, Epitome grabbed a push broom and gathered up the remains of the criminal. Then he pulled a canister from one of his costume’s pouches and doused the sand pile with an especially potent epoxy.

“That should prevent him from reassembling for a while,” the Paragon of Power commented to the occupants of the store. He scanned the security guard for broken bones, found none, and then went over to check him for signs of concussion.

“Thanks, Mr. Epitome,” the owner said, gesturing at the broom still in the hero’s hand, “If you do windows too, you’ve got yourself a job.”

*****


After prying Grit from the carpet and depositing him in the Persephone Police Department’s maximum security cell, Mr. Epitome ran back to his office. Located in an industrial park outside the mid-sized college town, the Epitome Division of the Office of Paranormal Security was also the man’s home.

A news van was on the road in front of him. As he passed it the Exemplary Man noticed it was from a Richmond station, the city closest to Persephone. It was too early for word of his battle with Grit to reach the out of town press. He waited in the public parking lot outside the Epitome Division to get an answer.

Juan Nunez, WRIC, hopped out of the passenger seat and walked up to the hero. His presence proved this wasn’t about the thwarted jewel heist, since the pudgy man with the comb-over worked the political beat.

“Mr. Epitome. Good afternoon,” he said in his rich baritone.

The Paragon of Power watched Nunez’s technical crew set up the van’s dish for a live remote broadcast, “Closer to evening, I’d say. It’s almost five. Am I about to be the lead story?”

“Sort of. I’m just here to get some face time on the network,” WRIC was an affiliate Mnemosyne Media, the global entertainment/news consortium, “Unless you’re actually going to respond to the allegations?”

“What am I being accused of now?”

“How about a trade: a five minute interview after the press conference and I’ll give you the heads up.”

Both men smiled knowingly at the perfunctory suggestion. Epitome shook Juan’s hand and went inside to learn what new challenge awaited him.

*****


At the start of their evening news broadcast WRIC went live to Seattle, and to the studios of Mnemosyne Network News. Epitome and Glory watched from their set in his apartment’s study as the anchors introduced the man holding the press conference (which, of course, was an MNN exclusive).

“I’m on? OK, great. Hey, America, it’s me: De Brown Streak, poster child for the mutate menace.”

“What is he doing on television? He is a criminal,” Glory barked.

The speedster, dressed in his runner’s uniform, continued, “I would like to use this opportunity to talk to you about something that the human press is underreporting lately, and that’s the continual attempt by the American government to restrict the rights of those born genetically gifted. It’s bad enough that they approved a process that removes our birthright- at a 25% mortality rate- no less. But for a conservative administration to pursue a policy of identifying potential mutates in the womb smacks of hypocrisy.”

DBS held up a sheaf of papers, “These documents, obtained through the Freedom of Information Act, show that America is spending our tax dollars on such research. The ultimate goal is the tagging and documentation of all mutates in the US.”

“Hm,” Epitome said.

“But let’s be honest, this goes beyond a gross violation of the right to privacy. Polls indicate people are forty-three times more likely to consider aborting a fetus that could be born a mutate. Our country is financing a program that will lead to genocide of the most cynical sort.”

“Who’s spear-heading this movement? Why, it’s Mr. Epitome, a dyed in the wool abortion foe. But apparently his opposition to abortion doesn’t extend to people like me.”

“He is lying about you!” Glory was incensed.

“Mr. Clement is making a point. It’s very clever, actually.”

“There’s more. Epitome advocates increased testing of the mutate nullification process on criminals guilty of capital crimes. So much for the Eighth Amendment. He also wrote a position paper on the legality of removing the powers of anyone found guilty of committing any type of crime.

“If these revelations shock and appall you, please feel free to contact the Office of Paranormal Security’s Epitome Division and let them know how you feel,” the facility’s number scrolled across the screen, “I wish I could stay and answer questions, but I’m sure there are about fifty Sentinoids en route to capture me, so I’m turning the mic over to the man who made this all possible,” DBS winked to the camera, and vanished.

A slight figure bedecked in psychedelic green and orange took the podium. The young man gave his audience a buoyant grin, “Oops. He escaped. And I only bent down to tie my laces for a second. Darn that evil mutate.”

“Mr. Foxglove,” Epitome nodded, “I was wondering if he’d reveal himself.”

Anyone who truly understood CrazySugarFreakBoy! would know he never eschews the spotlight. Especially if it’s for a cause he cares about.

“Before I take questions, I have a prepared statement,” CSFB! gave a dramatic stage cough, shuffled his index cards, and looked into the camera, green eyes twinkling.

“FU*BEEP!!! FU*BEEP!!! FU*BEEP!!! MOTHERFU*BEEEEP!!! GODDA*BEEP* DOUCHEBAG SH*BEEP*HEAD AS*BEEP*CLOWN CO*BEEP*SUCKING CU*SWALLOWING CU*BEEP*RAG FU*BEEP*ING FU*BEEP*HOLE FU*BEEP*FACE FU*BEEP*TARD SACKS OF MONKEY SH*BEEP* MOTHERFU*BEEEEP*!!!”

“What is he saying? I hear sounds like horns,” Glory cocked her head.

“He’s cursing me out. Me, and everything he thinks I represent. Now he is making an obscene gesture. And that’s another one. And… I think that’s one too. I hope someone at the Federal Communications Commission is recording this.”

“So another Lair Legion member hates us?”

The Exemplary Man twined his fingers and leaned forward in his chair, “I don’t think it’s in Mr. Foxglove’s nature to hate anyone, but this is going to become a nuisance.”

It would indeed, starting when the Epitome Division’s automated phone bank crashed five minutes after DBS’s pronouncement.

*****


“Balls on a heifer, Epitome! This we don’t need!” the Grey Eminence swore over the secure line he shared with his premiere operative.

The Paragon of Power agreed, “I know sir.”

“That puke-colored Mama’s boy needs to be arrested for aiding and abetting a wanted criminal and public indecency and anything else you can think up!”

“I’d rather not go that route sir. It will just escalate tensions. Also, a conviction of any significance would be unlikely. Not against his lawyer,” Epitome had watched hardened federal prosecutors leave courtrooms in tears after an encounter with the formidable Ms. Waltz.

“So what’s your plan?”

“My office is going to release a statement that due to inaccurate information presented in the MNN press conference, I will be taking a leave of absence to look into how the record got distorted. I plan on meeting with the parties involved and address their concerns in a forthright manner.”

“Going to take the high road?”

“Yes. I’m in no position to get into any kind of public relations squabble with either the Legion or Odyssey Opportunities, both of whom have connections to Mr. Foxglove. We need to work on building trust with those groups.”

The Grey Eminence snorted.

“I will request Mr. Clement turn himself in to me. My hope is that I will be able to reason with the two of them and get them to retract their statements. The Brown Streak won’t comply, of course, but I at least need to make the offer before I capture him.”

“If he even shows up at all,” Aldrich Grey added before giving his consent, “All right, Epitome. We’ll try the soft touch with these boys. It makes sense for you to be seen as peace maker; especially since soon you’ll be going after the Lair Legion like nobody’s business.”

*****


At a cramped apartment in the rougher side of Seattle, three mutates watched a rebroadcast of De Brown Streak’s appearance on a tiny portable TV.

“Pathetic,” Coyote Loki spat. Of the trio, he was the most obvious member of the homo peculiaris species. His body was bifurcated, one half Nordic blond, the other Apache red, “That co-habitationist should be killing those humans. Instead he dances about, a willing pawn.”

Big Mo, all seven feet of him, disagreed, “I still say we sound DBS out.”

“I have no use for those who fornicate with the lower race,” Cacophony shook her head, the tiny crystals woven into her long red hair chiming pleasantly in stark contrast to her hateful speech.

“But wasn’t even Magnetic Techbird tempted by the sins of imperfect flesh?” Big Mo argued.

“There was conversion for Techbird: the Deliverance at Geneva, when he renounced the ways of humankind and martyred himself for us all,” Coyote Loki took his hands and laid them on the shoulders of both of his followers, “What is the First Mystery?”

The hulking Mo and the svelte Cacophony responded in well rehearsed unison, “What weapon forged of iron could take the life of Magnetic Techbird?”

“What is the Answer to the First Mystery?”

“The weapon that Magnetic Techbird chose to take his life, so that he might die for our genes,” the duo slowly kneeled onto the apartment’s hardwood floor. Coyote Loki now took their chins and raised their faces upward, to his magnificence.

“And what is the calling of the Race Warriors?”

“To destroy the wicked, so that the Techbird did not die in vain.”

Coyote Loki, leader of the Race Warriors, smiled his split visage, “Amen.”

*****


Next: Glory gets humiliated, Mr. Epitome gets cussed out by a pro, and then has to talk to CSFB!. The Race Warriors make a statement, and so does a surprise guest star who makes Coyote Loki sound lucid. All this in “Everybody’s Two Cents are Falling Like Pennies From Heaven,” my most blatant attempt at a clever title yet!



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