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[ Tales of the Parodyverse ]
Mr. Epitome #19
“More Inhuman than Inhuman”
Previously: CrazySugarFreakBoy!, De Brown Streak, and Glory tracked down the kidnappers of CSFB!’s friend Anna Kensington. It was revealed that the young woman had been abducted by an alliance of unique composition: the human hating Race Warriors and the mutate hating Pogroms of Purity. While DBS defeated a trio of powerful mutate terrorists, Dream and Glory rescued Anna from torturers. At the moment of their victory, however, new threats emerged: Aryan Ideal and Supremacister.
“Politics do make strange bedfellows,” CSFB! smiled at Supremacister.
The Teutonic villainess did not smile back. She continued to aim her two shotguns at the superhero and the woman he held in his arms: Anna Kensington.
“So you and the Race Warriors are working together? How did that first meeting go? I mean, I would think if you all were really dedicated to your causes none of you could stand even breathing the same air.”
“Needs must,” Supremacister replied, “when the devil drives.”
“I just said that, though not with such a cool aphorism,” CSFB! said while shifting Anna’s weight from one arm to the next, “So are you going to shoot or what?”
Supremacister fired. The shells passed straight through the Legionnaire and his charge and into the far wall. Upon impact they detonated, spraying the room with shrapnel. These, too, missed their mark.
CSFB! shrugged, “Oops. I so rarely use that power of the Silly Suit I almost forgot I had it. Almost. You should see yourself,” CrazySugarFreakBoy! said to Supremacister as she lowered the barrels in disbelief, “Like a kid who just found out there’s no Easter Bunny.”
It was now that Glory’s eyes opened and she leapt to her feet. Supremacister and her entourage instinctively stepped back from the snarling animal.
CSFB! turned from the impending battle and bolted up the hole that would take Anna to safety, “Don’t eat her, G-dog,” he told Glory over his shoulder, “We still need a proper explanation of the plot, and from the explosions topside, I doubt we’re going to get it from Coyote Loki.”
*****
Aryan Ideal picked up Josh Clement by the throat and dashed him to the ground. The sepia speedster felt his right kneecap crack.
“I’m enjoying this,” Karl Braun admitted, lifting De Brown Streak again and throttling him, “It’s been worth the wait to finally get my hands on you.”
“Consider…. yourself… lucky …. I was half…. conscious…” De Brown Streak’s retort was cut short by another crash to the earth.
“I do feel lucky; blessed even. Here you are, in association with known mutate terrorists, with no chance to run. And even better: no witnesses.”
De Brown Streak managed to lash out with a bloody fist and connect to the Aryan Ideal’s stomach. Even if the mutate was at full strength the blow wouldn’t have done much to the powerful foe. Now it was greeted by a hearty laugh and a punch that nearly took DBS’s head off.
“It’s amazing, really, to watch you use your deviant powers to try and heal your wounds. I can actually see them closing up. It’s all that’s keeping you alive. Like any animal, you’re too dumb to know when it’s over.”
“Braun… just kill me. Tired… of your … shit.”
But Aryan Ideal was looking skyward. A figure was free-falling into the burned out blast zone that once contained Greenbriar Brewery. Within seconds the figure landed on his feet only a dozen yards away.
Mr. Epitome stood from his crouch. He turned to face Aryan Ideal and his prisoner.
Karl Braun dropped DBS and put his foot on the man’s back as if to hold him in place, “Mr. Epitome, it appears you are a bit late for the fireworks. I got word that these Race Warriors were attacking one of my sister’s properties.”
“Your sister?” DBS managed to get out. Until now, he had no idea there were any other members of the Pogroms nearby.
“Speak when you are-” Aryan Ideal began. His reprimand went unfinished, after Mr. Epitome walked up to the Pogroms’ leader and hit him. The uppercut sent Braun flying up over the trees and deeper into the forest.
“You’re under arrest,” the Star Spangled Splendor said to Clement, “Stay down,” and then he leapt after Braun.
De Brown Streak wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but broken bones or no broken bones, he was going to find out. He slowly rose and limped to the tree line.
*****
After leaving Anna halfway up the tunnel dug by Glory, CrazySugarFreakBoy! doubled back to help the canine hero. When he dropped down into the subterranean room he watched as Supremacister tried to wrench her arm free from Glory’s jaws. The dog tossed the armored woman about, smashing her against her fellow members of the Pogroms.
CSFB! fired his Sticky String Spray at the blonde Supremacister. The material bound up her legs, making it even more difficult for the villain to resist Glory. The Legionnaire spun out his Wowie Zowie Yo-Yo and clocked Supremacister on the base of her skull.
Glory’s ears pricked up. She suddenly let her captive go and bolted down the hallway that led deeper into the complex. CSFB! wrapped the indestructible toy around Supremacister and let her crash helplessly to the ground.
“Anybody who is bound by the magic yo-yo is compelled to tell the truth. So spill.”
The woman just glared at him.
“It was worth a shot,” he grabbed a handful of cord and began to drag Supremacister down the hall, “Let’s go see what Glory is up to.”
The Mutt of Might had torn her way through the base’s guards and had cornered a young man in a computer room.
“He was trying to erase files,” Glory said when CrazySugarFreakBoy! entered with his prisoner.
“Ah-ha! Now it’s time for the big reveal,” Dream pressed a couple of buttons on the PC and whistled.
The unsightly blemish of the HERPES symbol appeared on screen, along with row after row of email entries.
“Well, you and your brother certainly are playing with the big boys now,” he said.
“My brother?!” Supremacister said derisively, “If you think that fool knows anything about this, you’re dumber than he is.”
*****
Aryan Ideal met Mr. Epitome at the apogee of his leap with the force of a runaway train. The two men plummeted to the earth, exchanging punches all the way down. When they hit the ground larger Ideal was on top of the pile, striking blow after blow to Epitome’s face.
“I always wanted to do this: to see if you lived up to your reputation. So far, you haven’t,” Braun sniffed.
Epitome kicked his leg up and managed to get it around Braun’s barrel chest. He swept it back, yanking Braun off of him and into a large tree. Aryan Ideal ripped the ancient oak from the ground and clubbed Mr. Epitome with it. The trunk splintered, and the Exemplary Man charged his opponent and began pummeling him.
Aryan Ideal had more than enough power to go toe to toe with Epitome. However, it was soon apparent that the neo-Nazi wasn’t used to fighting someone who could take several of his punches and still stand. He had gotten by with pure force, but now that he was facing a foe that had spent a decade training in almost every martial art, Braun was being exposed as the bully he was.
“This is stupid,” Ideal said after Mr. Epitome had dodged one of his loping haymakers and connected with a half dozen right jabs to his ribs and shoulder, “We shouldn’t fight. We’re on the same side.”
Epitome’s reply was a forearm smash to the face. Aryan Ideal countered with a punch that staggered the smaller man. He shook it off and assumed a boxer’s stance. Braun shouted in frustration.
“I heard my sister talking to Foxglove, so you must have too. She’s set me up. I’m innocent!”
Epitome drove his knee into Braun’s solar plexus. As the man bent forward he smashed the same knee to his dimpled chin, “Innocent,” Mr. Epitome repeated, but in a tone that implied he was unaware of the word’s significance.
*****
Supremacister was laughing, “Aryan Ideal would never get involved in an operation as ambitious as ours. He is too much a coward.”
“Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that?” CSFB! was scrolling through the electronic communications. Most were in German.
“Karl cares about what America thinks of him. All that concerns us is the chaos and fear the Pogroms of Purity and the Race Warriors can create. Count Fokker himself recruited me to infiltrate my brother’s organization and use it to HERPES’s ends.”
“And I thought I had issues with my sister,” the Wired Wonder said, “You’re full of balloon juice, Eva-”
“Uma!”
“Eva, Uma, Oprah, doesn’t matter. You’re lying. And when we prove it, your brother is going down with you.”
“Good. HERPES will have exterminated a hero’s career, and perhaps gotten him to join our ranks. Hail HERPES-” she began the organization’s familiar catch-phrase.
CSFB! groaned and shot her with a mouthful of Sticky String.
*****
Half a mile to the west and fifteen feet up Mr. Epitome was still working over the Aryan Ideal. The Star Spangled Splendor had given up on technique and was simply bludgeoning Braun with pile driver blows. When Braun’s legs started to buckle Epitome struck him in the Adam’s apple, which produced a sickening gurgle from the man. He then caught a handhold of the racist’s costume and hoisted him to his feet.
“I’m taking it easy on you, Mr. Braun. I hope you appreciate it.”
Aryan Ideal tried to push away. Epitome smashed his forehead into the bridge of his nose. The impact tore open Braun’s costume and he fell to the ground. Mr. Epitome continued.
“You will never mention my name again. Not in your literature, not on your web site, and certainly not from your filthy, ignorant mouth. If you try to connect your causes to mine I will ruin you.”
“Ruin me?” Braun wheezed, “You’re the one in trouble. When word gets out you attacked a fellow hero without provocation you’re finished.”
Mr. Epitome smiled, “Even if it’s true, who do you think the authorities are going to believe: me or you?”
“The press. I’ll go to the press.”
“But Mr. Braun,” Epitome said good-naturedly as he grabbed Aryan Ideal under one arm and lifted him to his feet, “You know who runs the press here,” the Exemplary Man etched the Star of David on his own chest, “The media is the propaganda wing of the Zionist Occupied Government.”
“What?” Aryan Ideal asked weakly.
“You were right all along, sir; there is a conspiracy running America. Don’t you feel better having confirmation of that fact?”
Braun kept silent. He was starting to find his enemy’s blood-stained smile disturbing.
“Nothing to say?” Epitome let go of Karl Braun momentarily, but caught his wrist before he hit the ground, “Then kneel. Kneel before ZOG,” he began crushing the bones in the Aryan Ideal’s hand.
*****
“What do you mean, I’m under attack? I was just walking into the room,” Visionary said with a stunned voice.
CSFB! looked over his book evilly, “You’ve walked into a gelatinous cube, Vizh. You take-” dice roll, “Eight points of damage and-” another dice roll, “you’re paralyzed.”
“Eight points? Well, who’s got the healing potion?”
“I do,” Fleabot announced, “But I’m heading back down the hallway to the secret door.”
“What? You guys can’t leave me here to die. I’m the only thief you have.”
“A thief who’s missed detecting every trap in this dungeon so far,” Zebulon popped the last of the popcorn in his mouth, “Besides, I still think you were replaced by one of those doppelgangers we fought in the torture pit.”
“Barnabas Barnfather isn’t a doppelganger. He’s real, dammit!” Visionary defended the honor of his Dungeons and Dragons character.
It was eight days since the events in California, and Mr. Epitome was paying the price for Lisa Waltz’s aid. He and Glory were spending Friday night in Dullard’s Corner at a marathon session of fantasy role-playing. It was not quite what the man had expected when Miss Waltz had mentioned it, which was a relief.
“Yo will not dessert cute Barnabas to Jello-tanious cube,” Yo announced, moving her miniature across the map to help her fellow Leaguer.
“Dessert. That is funny,” Glory said from her pillow that rested by the dining room table.
“What are you going to do, Epitome?” CSFB! asked.
The Henley shirted hero looked at the empty popcorn bowl, “I am going to get some more food. Glory can run my character again until I get back.”
Epitome headed to the kitchen. The aforementioned Lisa sat at the kitchen counter drinking coffee with Meggan Foxxx, CrazySugarFreakBoy!’s mother.
“Well, how goes things in the land of Greyhawk?” Lisa grinned.
“Glory seems to be enjoying herself. She doesn’t get much of a chance to interact with people, so I appreciate this.”
“And what about you, hon? Having a good time?” Meggan asked.
“I’m not used to playing a game that doesn’t end with a clear winner,” Epitome admitted.
“Don’t let my boy hear you call D+D a game,” the living legend drawled, “You’ll get an earful,” Meggan looked at Lisa, “I’m going to check on Oliver and Christopher.”
“Thanks, Meg,” after her fellow single mother had left Lisa hopped from her stool, “So, I read in the paper that the government will not be pressing charges against the Aryan Ideal.”
Epitome nodded, “The information OPS gathered from the Pogroms’ facility outside Sausalito seems to indicate that Mr. Braun was unaware of his sister’s activities. We’re attempting to get a warrant to search the records at his main headquarters, but he’s fighting us.”
“Well, that’s his right.”
“Of course,” Epitome said while dumping a bag of potato chips into the bowl, “However, Uma Braun is finished. Those e-mails we obtained show she was involved in a plot by HERPES to sow dissent here in America.”
“A good defense attorney could keep those from being admitted as evidence,” Lisa reached across Epitome to take a chip.
“An evil one probably could too,” the man smiled, “How are Miss Kensington and Mr. Kipling?”
“Meg and I were just talking about them. You weren’t eavesdropping?”
“Of course not.”
The amorous advoctrix looked for a tell to see if the man was fibbing. She didn’t find one, “Kit’s still in the hospital, but he should be fine. Dream’s more concerned about Anna. She stays locked in her lab at Hammers of Hephaestus most of the day. This experience could lead to her origin.”
“I don’t follow you,” Epitome had the bowl in his hand, but he didn’t seem too interested in leaving.
“Forget it,” Lisa took the snacks and rested it on the counter, “I need you to give me your word for the next five minutes you will forget that you’re a deputized law enforcement officer. Glory too.”
“Why?”
“Five minutes, OK?”
“All right.”
“Good,” the First Lady of the Lair Legion watched for his reaction, “I summons De Brown Streak.”
When Joshua Clement appeared he looked about as happy as Epitome did, “Lisa, what the hell? Wait,” he stared at Mr. Epitome’s face, “I know you.”
“Yes, you do. I’m the man whose advice you ignored.”
“What advice: ‘stay down?’ Yeah, I saw what you did to Braun, Epitome. I don’t think it would have been too smart for me to stick around.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. And you have four and a half minutes.”
“Until what?” DBS challenged.
“Until he tries to arrest you,” Lisa interjected, “That’s not why I summonsed you, Josh. I just think there is some unfinished business between you two.”
“You’re right. I talked to Dream, and he seems pretty convinced you’re not a bigot. That you actually want to help mutates.”
“I do.”
DBS nodded, “But this is what I was thinking. Your plan on helping is going to lead to the end of the mutate race. Because what you want, what you’re looking for, is a cure.”
Mr. Epitome folded his arms.
“I’ve been reading up on you. And I’ve been talking to some people in the mutate rights community. You’ve actually donated money to groups that help those who have suffered from powers that have gone out of control. A lot of money.”
“The Bible says a tithe of your earnings should go towards good works.”
“Great. But you also want the government to find ways to detect potential mutates while they’re still in the womb, in addition to discovering a safe way of removing mutate abilities,” De Brown Streak explained, “You want to end the mutate race by not allowing them to be born mutates.”
“That is an inflammatory way of putting it, but yes. What’s wrong with that? The Race Warriors killed over two hundred people last week. One of them is still at large.”
“Oh, I’ll find Cacophony. Just make sure you keep the other two locked up.”
Epitome continued, “What right did those three have to their powers? To kill innocents?”
“So, you’d deny them even the chance to use their powers for the betterment of the world? What right do you have?” Josh asked
“None, yet. I’m working on it,” Mr. Epitome’s voice became more officious, “Your time is almost up, Mr. Clement. I’m going to ask you again to surrender. You will help your cause more if you submit to the rule of law that everyone must adhere too.”
DBS shook his head and stared the Exemplary Man down, “I don’t think so. I’ll do more good out here, keeping an eye on people like you,” and then he was gone.
Mr. Epitome sighed and massaged his temples, “I have to go.”
“Yeah, you better,” Lisa agreed, “Can I give you some advice, Epitome? You can’t control everything. So don’t try to come up with ways to try.”
“All of history has been a steady march towards controlling nature, human or otherwise. To deny that is to ignore the past,” Mr. Epitome whistled softly, and Glory loped to his side. After a few terse goodbyes the duo left.
A little bit of book-keeping
First, thanks to CSFB! and DBS for kind words, encouragement, and advice. I hope everything I did with your creations met with your approvals. If not, my apologies.
Second, I kind of want to make it clear that this is not the end of the Aryan Ideal as a source of conflict. CSFB! correctly pointed out when I first emailed him about the story that to have Braun exposed as a bad guy would have ruined the character. And he’s right. But I didn’t want him to get away scott-free either, so hopefully the conclusion worked: Ayran Ideal can still be used as a “hero,” albeit one who’s had his ears pinned back for being a scumbag.
Third, the coffee slogan no one remembers from #18 was for Brim brand coffee. ‘Fill it to the rim with Brim.’ The ad campaign was so successful I don’t even think the company exists anymore. 
Fourth, I guess I’ll be taking a bit of a break from writing (of course I said that last time, and I was posting stuff in less than two weeks). I’ve got plenty of ideas, but I have some real world issues to attend to. I’ll be around, looking forward to new stuff on the board. So please write. Stories, poems, reviews, recipes, anything! I’m not choosy.
Happy holidays,
Mike
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