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The Hooded Hood Chronicles #7: The Hooded Hood and the Purveyors of Peril Again Sunday, 21-Nov-1999 05:52:41
The Hooded Hood Chronicles #7: The Hooded Hood and the Purveyors of Peril Again In the best traditions of recent BZL postings, the Yurt was killing off the Lair Legion one by one. The massive, rock-like, razor-tipped monstrosity had just pulled Hatman’s head off and paused for a moment to enjoy the joke. “Yurt pulls head off annoying Hat Hero!” he explained, hurling the gory trophy towards the Dark Knight. “Tactical assessment?” Lisa demanded, instinctively falling back into her old role as leader since Jarvis had fallen into his usual role as dismembered corpse. “Foom and Starseed are probably dead. Messenger will live, but probably has brain damage. He’s out of the fight,” the Legion’s combat advisor summarised. They ducked as yet another building went down because the Yurt wanted to walk that way. “NTU-150’s got himself back on line but he’s fighting at significantly reduced capacity. And at the moment CrazySugarFreakBoy is keeping that monstrosity occupied for as long as he can avoid being pasted across most off Commieslavia. But I’d say we’re definitely losing this one.” “How can this be happening?” Lisa puzzled. “It’s not an anniversary issue, or double sized or anything.” “Um, guys…” CrazySugarFreakBoy called, trying to bounce away from the Central Potato Processing Plant that the Yurt had just hurled at him, “Could we have a little bit less exposition and a little more serious, immediate, help!” “I’ve sent the call for back-up,” NTU-150 reported, his damaged voice synthesiser making him sound like Mickey Mouse. “But the E-M activity around the Yurt is incredible. I don’t think anyone can hear us.” “Now would be a perfect time for the Chronicler of Stories to intervene,” Lisa cued hopefully. The Chronicler responded by not appearing to save the day. There was an unpleasant squashing sound as CrazySugarFreakBoy tested his limits for surviving fatal impacts with Post Offices. “We have to stop this thing,” the Dark Knight decided. “If the Legion can’t hold it back then no-one else has a chance. We’ve got to go with Plan Omega.” There was a dramatic pause. “What choice do we have,” Lisa shrugged. “We might as well go out with style. And it’s not as if we’re in a country where a major nuclear conflagration will matter, because it’s a made up one.” “Yurt will smash Commieslavia!” the huge monster with the size, strength, and brainpower of a Russian peasant hut declared, helpfully reminding the readers of the venue. “We’re really doing this?” NTU-150 asked, thinking of Tina. “We’re heroes aren’t we,” Lisa asked, setting her brow. She had been trying to summon reinforcements, but something about the Yurt prevented it. There was only once option left now. NTU-150 gulped. He pressed the self-destruct code into his armour and watched the LED count away the remaining seconds of his life. “There’s time for you guys to get out of…” he said before the explosion took out nine square miles of prime comic-book Soviet Union, complete with those strange furry hats and lots of Kirby Eastern-European architecture. The Yurt got up and shook his head. He felt quite queasy. “Ah, there you are,” the Hooded Hood declared, striding over to the blast-blackened radioactive monster. “I have come to offer you exciting employment opportunities in the field of hero-slaying.” The Yurt had other ideas. Although the blast which had wiped out the remaining active Legionairres had only stunned him, it has completely destroyed his collection of decadent Western Disney action figures, and that made him mad. And the madder the Yurt got, the meaner he got. He reached across to seize the Hood… …and suddenly found that the reactor incident had given him the proportionate strength and size of a Sindy doll’s house. The cowled crime-czar slapped him away and allowed him to return to his proper origin. “Shall we talk now?” he demanded of the surprised killing machine. “Yurt… listens” the Yurt sullenly agreed. “Then the Yurt may live,” the Hooded Hood replied. VelcroVixen looked up as the Hooded Hood came back through the Portal of Pretentiousness with a crackle of black spots. The huge hulking form of the Yurt overshadowed the grey-cloaked archvillain, but somehow the Hood still managed to be the focal point of the panel. “How went the training exercise, Victoria?” he demanded. The svelte supervillainess went over to the video monitor. With a sigh she ejected Flapjack’s copy of Pegasus does Dallas and replayed the latest training exercise. Almost a dozen villains were invading the LAir Fortress and bringing death and destruction to the heroes therein. “We had to replay this about eleven times before they even got past the defences”, VelcroVixen admitted. “But once we found the backdoor Baron Zemo built into the system we just had Expired Warranty take that over. Then we tried a variety of attacks on the various different continuity strands to see how well the team would do.” “And?” “In five of the rehearsals the Legion won by outfighting the Purveyors of Peril. In three they outsmarted the Purveyors. In twenty-one, the Lair Fortress exploded, showering hot lethal fragments over the city below. In one the whole thing was interrupted by a surprise attack by Dr Moo, who is apparently planning a world takeover for the week after ours. And in seven Appendage Man just went berserk and got our people as well as his.” VelcroVixen shuddered at the memory of these last outcomes. She had had too many dates like Appendage Man. “I detect a certain lack of victory for our forces in those statistics,” the Hooded Hood scowled. “They’re getting better,” VelcroVixen promised. “Each time they fight the Legion they learn from the experience. Each legion they attack is entirely unaware of them or their powers. It’s only a matter of time. But…” “Yes?” the cowled crime-czar responded. VelcroVixen indicated a pair of young blonde cheerleaders whose only contribution to the Purveyors of Peril’s assaults on the Legion had been to drift over to the Coke machine and giggle. “These two. The Frazetti twins. I haven’t been able to work out their super-powers yet. And they don’t seem to do anything. I can understand why you chose the others, even Gromm the Living Flatulence, but them...” “Ah,” the Hood explained, “They are entirely non-super-powered. I only recruited them to get them out of CrazySugarFreakBoy’s continuity. On the very day I brought them to us, Mindi there was going to finally give in to the young man’s blandishments and grant him a date after many issues of ignoring him. This would have ended up with her and her sister demonstrating their nude cheerleading skills, a double-date to remember, and a surprising special plastic-wrapped edition of CrazySugarFreakBoy Comics illustrated by Milo Manara. Suddenly hurled into an adult world of sensual experiences, CrazySugarFreakBoy goes on to become the greatest hero the planet has ever known, singlehandledly ending the threat of war and the misery of the human condition. So clearly I had to get them away from him and bring them here.” “CrazySugarFreakBoy really irritates you, doesn’t he?” VelcroVixen suggested. “Still, the Purveyors of Peril will soon be ready to destroy the Lair Legion.” The Hooded Hood allowed himself a small, sinister smile. He didn’t want the Legion destroyed. That wasn’t what this plan was about at all. But there was no need for his minions to know the true depths of his genius. The Purveyors would merely serve their part in the greater plan. There was a shriek, the crack of a whip, and then the pungent aroma of released bowel gases. “I’ve got to go,” VelcroVixen said hurriedly. “Appendage Man is bothering Mother Whipcord again, and she’s setting off the Living Flatulence…” Yurt shambled off behind the svelte supervillainess, hoping there would be something to kill soon. The Hooded Hood schemed to make sure that there would be. Today’s special bonus surprise: It was at this time that CrazySugarFreakBoy began to tap into the continuity of this story to tie in some of his own works. The first one, “A Small Scene Seen Through the Spyglass” was recently republished. His work received quite a lot of responses, including this one from… the Hooded Hood: In reply to “A Small Scene Seen Through the Spyglass” It seems clear that the CrazySugarFreakBoy’s chronicler has considerably more talent than the irritating adolescent himself. True, the incident did add yet another reason for the I, the Hooded Hood to eradicate this blight to humanity known as CrazySugarFreakBoy from the continuum, but I have come to the conclusion that first he must Suffer As No Man Has Done Before (TM) and only when he is begging for termination will I deign to grant him the oblivion that he so desperately craves. He has clearly not yet learned of my inevitable superiority in the way that loyal minions such as Sersi have done (although I note that she continues to… consort… with the Legion, but that may be all to the good – sapping their vital energies and so forth). Anyway, let CrazySugarFreakBoy revel in his own convoluted and incest-ridden continuity. Clearly he and all his crapulence will be second against the wall when the Age of the Hood advents (right after that Junior Reader). Even more special additional additional bonus feature: The above comments obviously drew some negative response from CSFB!’s stripper porn-queen radio-talk-host mom Melanie Hastings, a.k.a. Meggan Foxxx. The Hood therefore made this reply: Reply to an Open Letter re HH from Melanie Foxxx: Madam, if you are indeed the parent of that congenital misfit then you have my profound condolences. Clearly even someone of your own stunted intellectual capacity must be aware that the one known as CrazySugarFreakBoy serves no useful purpose in the great order of the universe than to take up space which valuable vacuum could occupy. As for your somewhat muddled self-referential autobiographies, I can offer you only the comfort that I will ensure your relatively painless annihilation at the culmination of my plans. Kindly refrain from disturbing my ponderings in future lest I am forced to dispatch Appendage Man to send you into yet another tasteless flashback experience. The Hooded Hood Um, actually, the Hood, he's real sorry he was nasty, Ms Foxxx. Yeah, he's crying about it right now, and he wants to be friends. Look, perhaps if you was to put together some of your special videotape stuff and all, it might help him be nicer to whatever-his-name is, that goofy kid of yours, huh? Don't address it to the Hood, OK, just send it to me, his faithful Chief Executive Officer Mr Flapjack, and I'll see it gets passed on to him, yes ma'am. If you've got the out-takes from The Deb and the Donkey (1979) that'd be a real good start. Yeah. Mr Flapjack CEO of Flapjack Enterprises and official apologiser for HH. Honest The Hooded Hood's first attempt to write in the Lair Legion, reprinted in all it's glorious ineptitude |
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