Tales of the Parodyverse

Mr. Epitome #16


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killer shrike
Mon Oct 27, 2003 at 11:42:38 pm EST
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Mr. Epitome #16


“When Ideologies Clash!”


Presented with helpful input from CSFB!

Last time: Mr. Epitome and Glory went to Seattle to parlay with CrazySugarFreakBoy!. The objective: to get the Wired Wonder to retract some provocative statements he and De Brown Streak made about Epitome’s regard for homo peculiaris. In a miscalculation, the Star Spangled Splendor underestimated CSFB!’s ability to get under the skin of even the most stoic adversary. Even worse, a team of mutate terrorists called the Race Warriors just destroyed the headquarters of a mutate rights group.

It was 625 miles from Seattle to Sacramento. It took Mr. Epitome an hour to run there, since along the way he helped clear two traffic accidents and performed an emergency appendectomy on an elderly Cedarville man who had collapsed in a roadside diner.

Mr. Epitome could have waited with CSFB! for the Odyssey Opportunities jet the Legionnaire had chartered to the Golden State’s capital, but he wanted time to clear his head. The dialogue he had had with the younger man reminded Epitome he wasn’t as in command of his emotions as he led on.

The local police and OPS had already cordoned off the block where the Sacramento headquarters for the Global Alliance for the Advancement of Mutated Persons had once stood. The GAAMP was the oldest and largest mutate rights group, but it was viewed by many as too conservative. They had been advocating the surrender of De Brown Streak to the “rule of law which all races must adhere to,” a position that angered some in the mutate community. This deference to the status quo was probably what made them a target.

Epitome was about to stop his run and confer with the OPS investigators on the scene when he caught a visual that altered his course: a fleet of shiny white vans on the opposite side of the carnage, each one emblazoned with a pair of particularly odious symbols. The Exemplary Man halted in front of the vehicles that were disgorging a phalanx of men and women who were here only to make matters worse.

“Get back in those vans and leave. Now,” Mr. Epitome told the Aryan Ideal.

Karl Braun was massive enough to make the 6’2” former linebacker look dainty. He wore his blonde hair short, and his magnetic blue eyes were rumored to be as keen as Epitome’s own. An amalgamation of swastika and parallel lightning bolts adorned the shield on his chest. He smiled.

“Why, Mr. Epitome, you seem to be forgetting our right as Americans to assemble peaceably.”

Epitome looked at the members of the Pogroms of Purity still clambering from the vans. They were clothed in white commando style outfits, complete with berets and facemasks, and carried sidearms, “Most peaceful demonstrators don’t come wearing Brownings.”

Braun gestured back at his followers, “I assure you everyone here is licensed to carry a weapon, though I think it’s a tragedy that God-fearing humans have to apply for permits to protect themselves, while mutates are allowed to walk the Earth, their powers unregistered and unchecked. Don’t you agree, sir?”

A woman in ceramic armor came around from the driver’s side of one of the vans. She too wore her hair short, though her coif was a frosted blonde.. Epitome’s vision scanned an expensive collection of cybernetic enhancements in the suit. Her weapons, a pair of sawed-off shotguns slung across her back, were not in any way legal.

“Supremacister, I don’t think you’ve met our fellow crime fighter. Mr. Epitome, may I introduce Uma Braun, Director of the Pogroms of Purity’s West Coast Operations.”

Supremacister had a smile as cold as her brother’s, “Ah, yes. Good to meet you at last. We in the Righteous Warriors of the White Race are heartened by your enlightenment to the threat of the mutate horde.”

“It’s against California law to modify shotguns by shortening the barrels,” Epitome changed the subject.

“Perhaps. But thanks to the Jewess Lisa Waltz and her….connections, superheroes can wield ‘non-standard weaponry’ if they aid in their efforts to protect the civilian population.”

Epitome didn’t know if the First Lady of the Lair Legion was Jewish or Supremacister was just stereotyping due to Waltz’s profession, and he really didn’t care. He turned to the Aryan Ideal, “Braun, just go. Make your statement somewhere else. Please.”

“You can’t give us orders, Epitome. You have no authority here,” the man was right about this, at least, “Why are you so eager for us to leave?”

The answer became apparent when De Brown Streak decelerated into the clutch of tightly-wound people, “I’d like to hear the answer to that, myself.”

*****


The entire conflict lasted eight seconds.

Aryan Ideal lunged at DBS in an attempt to collar him. Joshua Clement, the fastest man on the planet, casually stepped aside, grabbed Braun by the ankles, and yanked back and up. It was enough to send his much larger foe tumbling.

Mr. Epitome was next: he pulled a small aerosol can from his belt pouch and palmed it. To De Brown Streak, the attempted concealment was as slow and obvious as an episode of The West Wing. The sepia speedster darted up to Epitome, snatched the object from his hand, and tried to spray it into his face.

Just like Epitome prepared for. The can’s trick nozzle shot backwards, covering DBS in a glittering powder resembling iron filings.

Clement dropped the can and tried to run, but the substance coating him was designed to be frictionless. The mutate fell and skidded 40 feet into a crowd of Braun’s men.

“Don’t try to phase out of the polymer; it’s laced with vibratum,” Epitome explained to the shocked man.

Supremacister unslung her shotguns and pointed them at DBS. He scuttled away, bumping right into the Aryan Ideal, who had used his own speed to block his escape.

The towering metahuman drove his fist into the pavement, missing the dodging speedster’s head by a fraction of an inch. DBS countered with a flurry of punches of his own, which did little damage except for covering Braun with the same substance that so bedeviled him. It was the Ideal’s turn to go tumbling and sliding.

Mr. Epitome sprayed his own forearms with a second can before bolting over to De Brown Streak, who at this point had regained enough balance to assume a sprinter’s crouch.

Epitome was ready to restrain the wanted man. The solvent he had applied to his gauntlets would allow him to hold DBS until more appropriate technology could arrive.

The roar of Supremacister’s weapons caused the Paragon of Power to take his eyes off the target. The slugs were customized: titanium plating with explosive cores, and they rocketed towards their target. Mr. Epitome dove into the line of fire and managed to catch both shells.

De Brown Streak was gone before Epitome could turn around. Joshua Clement thought as fast as he ran, and in little time managed to teach his body to adapt to his frictionless state. He literally skated away, quicker and angrier than ever.

Mr. Epitome dropped the scalding hot slugs to the ground, “Braun, you and your sister just fouled up my best chance of capturing a man who may have helped in this investigation. You have a lot to answer for.”

“We don’t have to answer to anyone, least of all you,” Karl Braun unsteadily rose to his feet, “Our efforts to capture that freak were within our rights as Americans and superheroes,” he gleefully accented the last word.

Mr. Epitome smiled back. He decided it was past time to show the Aryan Ideal how little he thought of his rights.

*****


“I need your help,” the Star Spangled Splendor confessed to CrazySugarFreakBoy! after he bounded from his plane at the Sacramento airport.

“Sorry, psycho-therapy is not my area of expertise. My mom might be able to help you with your obvious sexual hang ups, though. Have you ever heard her call-in program?” CSFB! replied from the tarmac.

Epitome handed him a folder, “This is the OPS report on the attack. They will fax all new information to your office.”

“The office you totaled?”

“I will compensate you for the damage,” Epitome replied, “But matters have complicated themselves to the point where we need to pool our resources,” he gestured back up the ramp of the jet, “We can talk more inside.”

CSFB! didn’t move.

“There’s nothing you can do here. That report, with my annotations, should fill you in.”

“So why do I need you along for the ride?” the Wired Wonder asked reasonably.

“We need each other. You and your contacts in the mutate community can track down the ones responsible for the attack on the GAAMP.”

CSFB! cocked his head, “Is that your subtle way of asking me to call DBS for help?”

“Take it as you wish,” Mr. Epitome would commit to nothing.

“So what are you going to be doing while I’m on my manhunt?”

“Dismantling the Pogroms of Purity.”

It was slow in coming, but a smile crept onto the youthful countenance of Dreamcatcher Kokopelli Foxglove. He wrapped a gangly arm up and around Epitome’s back and escorted him towards the gangplank, “Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“Please don’t touch me,” the Exemplary Man requested.

“See: you have intimacy issues. We need to work on that.”

The issue is a little short because I want to spend this week writing something in honor of Halloween. After that it’s Mr. Epitome #17, when Mr. Epitome goes back to school, CSFB! and De Brown Streak track down the Race Warriors, and I honor a request.



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