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killer shrike
Sun Jan 04, 2004 at 02:21:06 am EST
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Mr. Epitome #20
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Mr. Epitome #20


“Love, Rockets, and a Holiday on the Moon”


The Story So Far: Mr. Epitome is the in house superhero for the Office of Paranormal Security, America’s metacrisis response agency. Epitome was given extraordinary physical and mental powers by the United States government, which he uses to defend his country from threats both without and within. One defeated danger, the master inventor known as the Idiom, serves out a life sentence in a federal prison after engaging in a battle of wits with the hero.

The lights outside Letitia Gahagan’s cell burst to life, awakening the woman. With bleary eyes she looked over at the clear plasti-steel door and the three silhouettes on the other side of it. The taller, blockier ones were Greentown Federal Penitentiary guards in riot gear, but the third was unrecognized. It was this one who pressed the button to the cell’s intercom.

“Miss Gahagan, I’m Agent Lester Dawes of the Office of Paranormal Security. Your assistance has been requested in a matter of utmost importance.”

“Heh?” was as cogent a reply the self-proclaimed “mad scientist” could make, for the moment.

“We’re going to open your cell. Please remain where you are,” the security guards punched in the door’s access code and entered, activating the lights in the room.

Lester Dawes was a slim African American with silver wire-rimmed glasses. He had on what appeared to be sweats under an OPS windbreaker. Apparently the Idiom wasn’t the only one rousted from their bed this evening. Dawes handed the woman his phone.

“Hello?” Letitia recognized the voice of Mr. Epitome, “Agent Dawes, are you there?”

“No, E; it’s me. What can I do you for?”

There was a moment of silence as Epitome gathered his thoughts, then: “Miss Gahagan, we need your help. There has been an accident involving an OPS vehicle outside of Columbia, South Carolina. An unknown technology has been released. The President is requesting your assistance in identifying and containing it.”

The Idiom looked up at the three men from her cot, all of whom were clearly nervous. She laughed, “E, maybe it’s time you put some thought into taking out an ad in the personals.”

“This is no time for jokes. I have a truck stop full of people caught in some type of stasis field. The country needs your expertise.”

The brunette was about to make a comment on who exactly needed what, but her curiosity was piqued by the phenomenon’s description, “Sure, but I want to wear my costume when I’m out there.”

“We planned on having you work from the prison based on data gathered in the field.”

“Sure, but I want to wear my costume when I’m out there,” she repeated as she sat up to get her flip flops beside her bed.

It was quiet on the other end of the phone again, “Put Agent Dawes on,” he finally said.

Letitia complied before scuttling over to her sink to freshen up. She was brushing her teeth when Dawes spoke to her after a terse conversation with his boss.

“Mr. Epitome says we are to escort you to the site. He also said that if you fail to follow any of our directives we are to use lethal force to subdue you.”

“That Epitome, he’s such a charmer,” the Idiom rinsed her mouth and flashed the OPS agent a brilliant smile, “Don’t worry, Mister Dawes, when this is over we’ll get you back to your wife safe as houses.”

*****


The Idiom enjoyed being in uniform again. She was a traditionalist when it came to her identity as a super villain, opting for the standard green and purple outfit her fictional, follically-challenged role model helped make infamous. The fabric had been treated with special cybernetic micro-weavers to allow changes in color and presentation, and wrote out what idioms and colloquialisms she vocalized. Not quite as iconic as the question marks her other inspiration (and her junior high crush) wore, but it gave the costume some panache.

The nanites in her suit had been removed, and her gauntlets: dull, grey, elbow length gloves covered with a variety of buttons, toggles, and dials used to control her inventions were long gone. These were replaced by heavy density wrist shackles. Idiom’s legs were bound in a similar fashion, which made the flight to Columbia via the Epitome Express uncomfortable. She looked around her old vehicle sadly.

“Boy, your OPS techies have really done a number on my baby,” she commented to Agent Dawes, “I bet she can’t even reach escape velocity anymore.”

When Dawes heard his prisoner say the word “escape” he nearly flinched. Epitome had supposedly removed all fail-safes installed by the criminal genius before making the flying machine his own, but one never knew, “Would you like to read the field report?”

“Sure,” she accepted the dossier from the agent, and let it rest in her lap as she went through it.

The report was on standard OPS stationary, and written in Epitome’s hand. Apparently the Office of Paranormal Security was transporting a deactivated robot known as the Enlarging Man. An automated minion of the time-spanning villain Wang the Conqueror, the Enlarging Man had fought and was defeated by Mr. Epitome early in the latter’s career. OPS was moving the inert machine to a new storage facility when the truck carrying it overturned and crashed into a rest area nearly four hours ago. The resulting accident did something to the surroundings: time had stopped in a square mile area, trapping approximately 75 people inside it.

“Is the field getting bigger?” Letitia asked Agent Dawes.

“Not that we can ascertain.”

The Idiom smiled and wondered if all members of the Epitome Division had adopted the clipped, officious vernacular of their boss. She closed the folder, “I’m going to need more information. Please call Mr. Epitome and ask him to put together a detailed account of how he actually beat the robot back in the nineties. I also need any blueprints or schematics of it you have.”

Letitia passed the folder back to Agent Dawes and spent the rest of the trip enjoying the view. She was missing the outside world more and more, and if Mr. Epitome didn’t start to get his act together she might have to take matters into her own hands.

*****


Epitome was waiting for the Idiom and her escort at the site. It was past five AM, and both sides of the interstate connected to the truck stop were cordoned off by local, state, and federal authorities.

“What can you tell me, Miss Gahagan?” the Man of Might asked as she was led to him.

“Just that anyone called Wang sets himself up for ridicule if he names one of his inventions The Enlarging Man,” she gave the man a second to not reply, then said, “Lester thought that joke was funny when I tried it on the ship.”

“Sir, I never said it was funny,” Dawes said in a tone that was as professional as one could make under the circumstances.

“Did so.”

“Please don’t harass my agents,” Epitome took the manacles and unlocked them, “Do you have anything of use to add?”

Idiom squinted over beyond the cordon to get a first hand view of the phenomenon. From this distance it merely looked like the people beyond were all on the losing end of a game of freeze tag, “What happens if something is put in the field?”

“Nothing can enter. Look at the exhaust from the emergency vehicles,” Mr. Epitome pointed, “They collect at the field’s boundary.”

“Light can pass through, though, otherwise we couldn’t see inside. How about other types of energy?” Letitia looked back at Epitome.

“Yes. The entire electro-magnetic spectrum penetrates it,” the hero changed subjects, “You wanted to know how I beat the Enlarging Man: I had to douse it in liquid nitrogen. That destroyed the circuits that let it absorb kinetic energy.”

“I don’t think you destroyed anything. I think you just put them in hibernation until there was a sufficient amount of kinetic energy introduced to its system- the crash- to reactivate some type of chronal failsafe. And that’s gone haywire.”

The Paragon of Power nodded, “Very plausible. How do we counter the field’s effects?”

“Beats me. I don’t know jack about time travel,” she grinned at him, “If I had, you never would have won our little contest.”

“The reason I won was because I never considered it a game,” Epitome gave Agent Dawes the signal to depart. Then he leaned in and spoke to the Idiom softly and sternly, “Just like this isn’t a game. There are innocent people in there who need my help.”

The Idiom met his gaze and replied in a tone just as severe, “Why don’t you just contact Starcross? Wang’s got flunkies there. Drop them a line and ask them how to fix it.”

“We tried that. They’re claiming it’s not Wang technology, that the Enlarging Man actually belonged to Kink the Conqueror, who’s some kind of alternate reality version of Wang. And they purport to know nothing about his operating systems,” Mr. Epitome resumed his full height, “I think they’re worried about liability issues.”

“Hm, then you’re in a bit of a pickle,” the Idiom went through other possible sources of information on chronal manipulation, “We could head to the LPL, research it there,” she considered.

“LPL?” Mr. Epitome asked.

Letitia looked surprised at the man’s ignorance, “You’ve never heard of the Lunar Public Library?”

“No. I met a man who mentioned such a place, but I assumed it was part of an alternate reality.” (See “Untold Tales #126: Survival” for the poop on that encounter) “There is a library located on the moon?”

“Uh, yeah. Where have you been?” the Idiom seemed to enjoy having one up on Epitome. The Paragon of Power obviously didn’t.

“How does one get there?”

“Well, first thing one does is fly to the Moon…..” Letitia teased, “That’s the easy part, if you’re a certified genius, like me. Then you just bypass the security systems, which is also easy, if you’re a member.”

“Like you,” Epitome finished.

Letitia nodded, “Yes. Like me.”

*****


In the Sea of Cleverness, on the Dark Side of the Moon, sits this solar system’s branch of the Intergalactic Order of Libraries. The construct is massive, yet it holds only a fraction of the epoch-spanning organization’s complete catalogue.

The Lunar Public Library was busy this day: finals were quickly approaching and the stacks were stalked by restless grad students from the universities of a dozen star systems searching for footnotes to their thesis papers. Already security had to be notified to defuse a brewing conflict between a clique of Skunk paleo-biology majors and a Skree researching the cultural mores of the lost Zyss Empire. Fortunately for the peace of the library ALF RED wasted no time showing the belligerents the door.

“They’re like the Jets and the Sharks,” he muttered to DD, the LPL’s assistant.

“I’m sorry, I do not understand the analogy,” she admitted to the robot as he assumed his non-combat form.

“You know: ‘When you’re a Jet you’re a Jet all the way….’” ALF RED realized he wasn’t getting through to his co-worker, “From West Side Story. The musical.”

The blonde hologram searched her database, “Ah, yes. West Side Story, story by Arthur Laurents, music by Leonard Berenstein, lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, copyright 1957. A musical retelling of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet…..”

“Yes, that’s it,” ALF RED accessed the LPL’s security grid to use the remote cameras to track down the Librarian, his employer. He found him in the children’s annex. The robot contacted him through the intercom.

“Sir, the unruly element has been removed from the premises.”

Lee Bookman, the Librarian, sighed. He had almost finished, but the interruption was sure to complicate things.

A slew of tentacles rose, “Who’s that?” one of the Calaman’ari asked.

“That’s ALF RED. He works here at the library. Thank you ALF RED,” the bespectacled man answered both.

“ALF RED’s a robot?” another of the invertebrates chimed in.

“Yes.”

That reply started the deluge.

“Is he a killer robot?”

“Can ALF RED fly?”

“Does he transform into anything?”

“What do you pay a robot?”

The Librarian removed his glasses and cleaned them. Then he looked over helplessly to the Calaman’ari’s teacher. She made for her physiology what passed as a smile. Lee reciprocated. The questioning continued.

He had been this close to finishing Goodnight, Moons too.

*****


Mr. Epitome had been quite apprehensive of allowing the Idiom to modify the Epitome Express. The Exemplary Man had some knowledge of mechanical engineering, but he had to rely on Letitia’s explanation of what she did to make the airship capable of flying from the Earth to the moon. However, he had faith that, for the moment, the woman would not desert the people trapped in the stasis zone. That meant, for the moment, she wouldn’t desert him.

Idiom brought the ship into the Lunar Public Library’s hanger and set it to land, “OK, there are a couple of rules. Don’t eat or drink anything in the library. Some of these books are a million years old and you don’t want to get greasy fingerprints on them. There’s a hell of a fine if you do.”

“A million years old?” Epitome was incredulous.

“Give or take. Next, no violence. Try that and you’ll get bounced out of there. Finally, use your inside voice. It is a library.”

“I promise to behave. Can I apply for a card while I’m here?”

“I don’t see why not.”

The duo left the jerry-rigged Express and walked through the bay. A myriad of interstellar vehicles were parked nearby. Mr. Epitome looked backwards, out the entry port and into the vastness of space. Though he had been in action as a meta-agent for nearly thirteen years, most of his missions had been terrestrial. The journey off-world had been something new and intriguing. And the possibility of having access to knowledge beyond human comprehension added to his eagerness.

“This was an excellent idea, Letitia.”

The Idiom nodded, slightly impressed the man chose to address her by her first name. She reciprocated the gesture, “Excellent ideas are my stock in trade, Dominic.”

The duo’s conviviality did not mean that the Man of Might was willing to allow Idiom to wander the Lunar Public Library unsupervised. The woman was capable of constructing WMDs from office supplies; who knew what kind of mischief she could cause with the technology available here.

So Dominic Clancy kept her in sight as she navigated her way through the library’s Temporal Studies Wing, a high-ceiled room with shelves of texts that went all the way to the top. Letitia stacked half a dozen books in her arms and made her way to a study table. Then she began to read.

A somewhat familiar scent caught Mr. Epitome’s attention. He looked up: a figure descending from one of the upper catwalks via a self-collapsing pneumatic ladder appeared to be the Librarian he had encountered before, at least in part. His physiology was a bit off, as was his attire: less tweed, more leather.

“Mr. Epitome,” a slightly recognizable voice acknowledged.

“Mr. Bookman,” the meta-agent shook his host’s hand, “Good to see you again.”

The Librarian decided to address Epitome’s confusion, “I’ve gone through a bit of a transformation since our last encounter. During the period one aspect of my identity was working in the Herringcarp library events occurred that led to an amalgamation of three divergent personas of the Librarian.”

“Ah, yes,” Mr. Epitome pretended to understand. The Parodyverse’s steady relationship with the abstract made his head hurt sometimes.

“Our records indicate you have just recently applied for membership to the LPL. I hope you find our facility accommodating.”

“Yes, about that,” Epitome replied, “I was searching through your database and I found a category labeled ‘Futures: Non-Fiction.’”

“Indeed. As the name suggests, those are books devoted to the subjects of Possible, Probable, and Definite Outcomes of the different strands of reality that make up our Multiverse.”

“In the Definite Outcomes subdivision,” Mr. Epitome got to the crux of the matter, “There was a book about me, by an S. Featherstone.”

The Librarian nodded. He already knew where the subject was headed, “There are several entries in our records about you. DD, what’s the total number of references in our catalogue for Mr. Epitome?”

“One thousand, seven hundred and seventy six, Lee,” a pleasant voice spoke from a hovering recording unit.

“Well, that’s a coincidence,” Lee Bookman smiled, “Unfortunately, Mr. Epitome, the Futures: Non Fiction information is accessible only to cosmic personifications of at least a Class Three ranking and those scholars willing to sign an agreement of non-interference. The Intergalactic Order of Libraries cannot be held responsible for its members knowing too much about what is to come.”

“I see,” the Paragon of Power looked disappointed.

The head and shoulders of the library’s artificial intelligence manifested herself, “Lee,” DD spoke, “ALF RED needs you in the observatory.”

“Very well,” the Librarian said before bidding adieu to Mr. Epitome, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help to you,” the duo shook hands again.

Mr. Epitome headed over to where the Idiom was still at work.

“So what were you and The Outlaw Rupert Giles chatting about?” she asked without looking up.

The tall man sat opposite from Letitia, “I understood half of that quip. But who’s Rupert Giles?”

“All the junk you read and you miss an obvious Buffy reference? You need to crack open a copy of Entertainment Weekly sometime, E,” the Idiom finally stopped writing formulas and gazed at Dominic, “You were trying to see if that book was here. The one that says how you’re going to bring Peace on Earth.”

“Yes. But I’m not allowed access to it.”

“Why would you need it?” Letitia asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

The Idiom leaned back in her chair. She was smiling, but there was some sadness behind it, “You are so sure of your cause and the righteousness of your actions, why do you need some type of… cheat sheet to save the world? If you’re right, whatever you ultimately decide to do is going to lead to your Utopia.”

Mr. Epitome considered, “Hm.”

“I mean, unless you’re having some doubts,” the brunette offered, slightly hopeful.

“No, I see your point. It’s a matter of faith,” Epitome did not need to see the results of his decisions beforehand, not when he made the right ones, “Thank you, again, Letitia. I feel better.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said contritely, “What are friends for?”

*****


ALF RED had brought the Lunar Public Library to the highest alert his programming allowed him to. The security nanites were deployed, and the General Utility Androids were uploading their combat programs.

“Report,” the Librarian said upon entering the LPL’s security center.

“Sensors are detecting an imbalance in normal environmental parameters. Something is attempting to access the library extra-dimensionally,” DD said.

“Where?”

“Everywhere,” ALF RED replied.

“Have the GUAs escort all visitors to the shelters. Raise the bulkheads on the shelves. Have the repair drones ready to seal up any breaches in the outer hull,” Librarian ordered, watching the mysterious force worm its way passed the library’s defensive barriers.

“They’re in!! The Metaphysics Annex has been compromised!” ALF RED reconfigured into his tank hybrid form.

“Triple the shield strength everywhere except in Metaphysics. We’ll try to shepherd whatever it is to there and deal with it. Lee Bookman strode out to face whatever was stupid enough to invade his library, with ALF RED chugging behind him.

*****


Mr. Epitome gave up arguing with the robot that was trying to usher him and the Idiom to a hidden room and simply ran past it.

“Yow!” Letitia Gahagan exhaled, as the Paragon of Power swept her up in his arms and bolted towards the sounds of alien screams and rending metal, “Warn somebody next time you do that.”

The pair rushed into the Metaphysics Annex just as the security doors closed the area off. The room was football stadium massive, made to look even bigger as the shelves and the books within them were swallowed up by the walls, floor, and ceilings.

There was something forming in the center of the room. Something dark and chimerical. It howled with a billion disparate voices, like sorrowful beasts baying at an unmoved moon. Upon the entrance of Epitome and Idiom shadows began to peel off from the mass and descend on them.

Epitome ripped a chrome and steel study table from its base and hurled it at one of their attackers. It slowed the entity down but didn’t stop it. The ink-like thing twisted its shape around the missile and reformed, ready to counter-attack.

“Uh, E-” the Idiom warned, pointing out the dozen more creatures surrounding them.

A circular door irised open and out walked the Librarian and his robot servant.

“Phase disruptors, ALF RED. Wide burst. Settings on eleven,” he said coolly.

The bulky machine complied, firing a lethal cocktail of ions, neutrinos, and other theoretical particles into the polyp of living darkness that throbbed in the room’s center. The shrieks became louder, and the form lurched back from the assault.

“That’s what I’m talking about!!” ALF RED celebrated, a bit prematurely,, as the thing barreled across the vast expanse and plowed right into the robot, smashing him into the wall. More shadows tore away, raking smoky talons across the room’s walls, as if they were trying to tear through them.

“I know what this is,” Lee whispered, before being assaulted by one of the dark creatures.

“Mr. Bookman!” Epitome dragged the Idiom to the Librarian as he wrestled with the thing. The Paragon of Power yanked it off of him and flung it across the room.

There was the sound like that of icebergs colliding. All four sentients looked across the room at the thick window that allowed visitors a view of the crater that housed the Lunar Public Library. The creatures were crawling across it, hammering and cleaving. Huge cracks began to form.

“Find something solid to hold onto,” the Librarian advised everyone.

Letitia Gahagan flung her arms around Mr. Epitome’s bull neck and held her breath.

Then the glass gave way.

What’s this? Footnotes?!

OK, not really. Just an explanation and perhaps an apology in advance. This story is supposed to be issue #20, but technically it (and #21) might actually take place after issues #22-2?, because those stories are going to coincide with what’s going on in the current Untold Tales arc. This story has to take place afterwards, I think, because the Librarian changed to his current identity during the Ultizon/Resolution Round One storyline, but he disappeared (along with another key figure in the story, more on him next time) before that storyline was resolved. So it really can’t take place until he returns from wherever he is. Does that make sense? Yes? No? Who cares?

Now, as for the apology. I use the Librarian and the Lunar Public Library in this story pretty heavily, and I really didn’t proof it with L! before posting. I looked at stories he and the Hooded Hood did and tried to be faithful to what they had, but if I screwed anything up I’m sorry and I’ll try to fix it.

Next issue: The heroes rally with the aid of a powerful guest star, and take the fight to the enemy. But do four of the Parodyverse’s smartest residents have what it takes to stop the ancient threat that is the Nescience? “Fighting Ignorance,” out hopefully next weekend.



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