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Post By The Hooded Hood Sat Jan 29, 2005 at 07:55:21 am EST |
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Doctor Doom and The Hooded Hood: Eight Ways to Conquer the Universe - Part One | |
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| Doctor Doom and The Hooded Hood: Eight Ways to Conquer the Universe - Part One Tumbling through the time/space, the six objects of power were dragged from returning to the dimensions from which they first came and toppled instead into the strange reality clinging at the very far end of the probability curve; the place they called the Parodyverse. “Interesting,” the Hooded Hood noted, his fingertips pressed together as he sat back in his high backed stone chair and watched the items fall in the reflections from the Portal of Pretentiousness. “Interesting indeed,” agreed Dr Doom, archvillain from that other universe, as he slipped into the Throne Room of Herringcarp Asylum. “I told you they were powerful.” The cowled crime czar turned to observe his metal-masked house guest. “Congratulations of circumnavigating the measures which prevent intruders from entering this chamber.” The king of Latvia shrugged. “Am I not… Doom?” he asked. “Have you determined where the objects have appeared?” The Hood gestured, and suddenly another throne had always been placed beside his own looking into the mirror. Doom ascended and sat regally beside him, his metal gauntlets scraping across the chair arm’s carvings. The images in the Portal of Pretentiousness shifted, focussing on the glistening crystal no bigger than a transparent Rubik’s cube as it lay clamped in a scientific device in an advanced laboratory. “The cosmic cube from your world is currently being examined by the scientists of B.A.L.D.,” the Hooded Hood reported. “Their leader, the bioengineered Machine Organism Designed for Exterminating Meddlers, is currently trying to adjust the reality-bending device to operate in this reality.” “His research is plebeian and uninspired,” sniffed Dr Doom. The image in the Portal shifted, now showing a strange multi-piece metal horn that terminated in an embossed eye. It looked like a piece of 60’s pop art. The villain fumbling to assemble it wore a black neo-Nazi costume and monocle, and the sweat glistened off his bald pate. “The man is Wolfgang Fokker, of the terrorist group HERPES,” the Hood footnoted. He caught Doom’s glance. “No, really.” “The item is colloquially called the Evil Eye,” the master of Latvia answered. “It is a techno-mystic alchemical device created by the druids of Avalon to capture and contain the essence of the Formorian demon Balor, and when assembled is capable of massive feats of energy and timespace manipulation.” “I see it has but one control,” the Hood observed. “Still, it may take Count Fokker a while to work out how to master it.” The mirror blurred to show a small metal tube surmounted with spiked spheres at either end. A hard-faced woman in a full-length snow-leopard coat was using it to hurl her minions about, laughing manically at the power she now commanded. “That is but a minor power of the Wand of Watoomb,” Victor von Doom sniffed. “It’s function is to grant mystic puissance to any who holds it, and to magnify the mystic gifts of a master of the mystic arts.” “Magenta St Evil seems happy abusing her retainers for the nonce,” the Hood noted. “It may be some time before she seeks to seriously catalogue what she has stumbled upon.” The reflections flicked on to a darkened detention cell in a US base in central Iraq. Key enforcer of Saddam Hussain’s former rule, the notorious Sargon al Azif looked up from his pallet and saw a small golden box rimed with frost, and curiously opened it. The Portal was suddenly obscured as if a window had iced over. “The Casket of Ancient Winters has claimed a mortal,” Doom observed. “I imagine that will give the heroes something to keep them busy,” the cowled crime czar suggested. Doom examined the monitor feed on his gauntlet that had tapped into secure weather and espionage satellites across the planet. “Temperatures around Baghdad have just plummeted to minus fifteen and falling,” he noted. “Soon the entire middle east will be an icefield.” “Splendid.” The Portal cleared as it shifted perspectives to view the Borovian castle of the villainous Thighmaster. The Terry Thomas lookalike was prancing in front of a mirror of his own, one he had simply wished into existence using the strange jewelled gauntlet on his hand. The Infinity Gems thereon controlled time, space, the mind, physical force, reality, and the soul. “Who is that?” demanded Dr Doom disdainfully. “Thighmaster,” sighed the Hooded Hood, deeply ashamed of his universe. “He’s almost harmless.” “He possesses an item that controls the sum of infinity,” Doom pointed out. “He should use it to become somebody else,” the Hood advised. But just then Thighmaster got tired of admiring his new acquisition and instead shifted himself to the Lair Mansion to destroy the Parodyverse’s premiere heroes. The Portal moved on one last time to check on the sixth of the items of power. Hardly bigger than a cigarette lighter, the dull grey object with the prominent trigger bar lay on a grey stony surface showing little of its potential to terminate all of existence; but the Ultimate Nullifier has but one power, and that was it. “Where is this one?” Dr Doom demanded. “To which cretin has control of this befallen?” The Portal panned back to reveal the device laying in the palm of Dark Thugos, Destroyer of Worlds. “Ah,” breathed the Hooded Hood. “We have a problem.” “We have a problem,” frowned Captain America, staring at the situations board in the Lair Legion’s Operations Room, where the sudden weather front freezing the Middle East had become apparent. “I just love the way he says that,” Asil confided to Hallie with a sigh. “Do you think we could trade, say, Nats, or spiffy, and keep him?” “Nats and spiffy, perhaps,” Hallie considered. “And maybe Goldeneyed.” Mumphrey, who had been trading war stories with the living legend of World War II a few moments before, turned to the girls. “Where are the Legion and our guests, m’dears?” he asked them. “Well,” Asil admitted, “they’re all off interacting.” “Trickshot and Hawkeye are interacting the crap out of each other,” Hallie observed. “Vision and the Scarlet Witch are with Yo, I think,” Asil added. “I saw him/her take them both firmly by the hands and drag them off towards the library to ‘be having of a serious talking’.” “Sound the call to arms, Miss Ashling,” Cap commended. “It’s time to assemble.” Nats and Uhuna were playing host to Justice and Firestar in the alien zoo. “I like the jacket idea,” Vance Astrovik told Bill Reed. “It gives you somewhere to hide the handkerchief for the high-end telekinetic nosebleeds.” “Right,” agreed the flying phenomenon. “Plus I have no idea how to iron capes.” Princess Uhunalura was oblivious to the sartorial conversation. She was shocked to the core by her own discussion with Angelica Jones. “What…” she gasped in appalled tones. “No sex… ever?” “We’re waiting until we’re married,” Firestar blushed. “It’s not that we don’t want to, it’s just…” “But what do you do when you’ve got a jar of peanut butter getting to its sell-by date?” Just then the alarm klaxon sounded. And then reality twisted apart as Thighmaster took command of the Parodyverse. “A universe-wide cull of cretins, imbeciles, morons, and lackwits is clearly required,” noted Dr Doom as Thighmaster used the Infinity Gauntlet to transform the Lair Legion and the Avengers to puppets literally dangling by strings from his fingers as he hovered over the Lair Mansion like a titan of old. “I never waste a tool,” the Hooded Hood responded. “And Thighmaster is indeed a tool.” “It is evident even from here that the island occupied by those self-proclaimed heroes has some causal defences against cosmic level assaults,” the master of Latvia objected. “And yet this… individual wearing the Infinity gauntlet has taken no account of the likely backlash… ah!” And as Doom predicted, the Celestian-ordained contingencies awoke to object to the site’s mishandling. Marie Murcheson, banshee of the girl murdered in the Mansion a century and a half ago, appeared to shriek her lament into Thighmaster’s ear with a force that would liquefy metal. “Aagh!” Thighmaster reeled, toppling backwards as he wished the banshee away. He fell down heavily into the bay, soaking his pants. The heroes dangling from his fingers swung around wildly as he clutched his ears. “He’s lost the initiative now,” the Hooded Hood noted. “Observe the woman in the leotard, the Probability Dancer.” Dancer was swinging on her strings as if in an aerial ballet, spinning round to place a double-footed kick into Thighmaster’s giant nose. “Aagh!” the villain objected, splashing back into the ocean. “My node! You broke my node!” “I hate it when they do that,” admitted Giant-Man, growing in size to match the bulk of the downed Thighmaster. Vision shifted his density to maximum and dropped onto Thighmaster’s enlarged groin. “This guy’s wearing the Infinity Gauntlet!” the Wasp called out. “That’s what’s giving him his powers!” “Yes,” agreed the Manga Shoggoth, rising up from the water like a wet fart and enveloping Thighmaster’s hand. “More properly it is the six gems contained therein. They taste like cinnamon.” Then the Shoggoth dimension-shifted with the glove, kindly leaving Thighmaster’s hand behind. The Infinity Gems didn’t like being shifted through time and space they didn’t understand by a mind they had no insight into. The Lair Mansion snapped back to its previous configuration. De Brown Streak loomed over the now-normal Thighmaster and grinned. “You want to talk surrender while you still have teeth?” he invited. “Pathetic,” hissed Doom, disgustedly. Iceheart had brought a sub-continent to a halt with ancient winter. Now the former Sargon Al Azif was free to find any dissidents, or heretics – or Americans – And DO whatever he wanted with them. In one chill night he had gained the power to take back his nation and to carve his name into history. “Well now,” Iceheart laughed to himself as he swept his icy form down towards the Allied operations command and control centre, “who has the weapons of mass destruction now?” A baseball bat with a nail in it, slammed through his head, shattering it. “That wouldst be me,” Donar, hemigod of thunder suggested. Iceheart reformed himelf and sent a thousand steel-hard splinters of ice into his opponent. An uru hammer reduced him to shards again. “And I also,” suggested Thor Odinson. Al Azif snarled and dropped ancient primal winter on his foes, to freeze their blood in their very veins. “Tis a pity I didst forget mine jacket,” noted Donar, moving forward. “Tis a shame this upstart forgot his manners,” added Thor, also pressing inwards through the force ten blizzard. Iceheart raised a dozen frost giants to rend them to shreds. “Aren’t you going to help them?” She-Hulk demanded, picking up a frozen tank and heaving it at the villain.” “Nah,” Nats answered, hovering in a little patch of air that the razor-sharp hail seemed to move around. “Donar and your Thor guy are having such a good time. They’ll be measuring their enchanted weapons next. As for me,” the pyrokinetic grinned wickedly. “I’ll just stay here and warm up for the big event.” “I’ve done it!” shrieked MODEM, his geat humpty-egg head bounding from side to side on his atrophied body and grav-cradle chair. “I’ve cracked the frequency shift! The cosmic cube is mine! Mine!” he glanced round him at the bucker-helmeted B.A.L.D. technicians. “Er, ours, that is.” Then he quickly grabbed at the crystal. “But mostly mine!” he said quickly. Then an arrow swept the cosmic artefact from his grasp and a second arrow hit the gravity modulator on his hover chair. MODEM flew upwards in an uncontrolled lurch and slammed hard into the metal ceiling of the B.A.L.D. research depot. “Avengers Assemble!” called Janet Van Dyne, leading Yellowjacket, Justice, Firestar, Triathlon, and Wonder Man into the throng of evil scientists. “And Lair Legion be to be assembling too,” Yo called to his/her team. “Please.” CrazySugarFreakBoy!, Dancer, Lisa, and De Brown Streak surged forward to join the general melee. “Interesting systems they have here,” Iron man admitted as he interfaced his armour with the B.A.L.D. mainframe. “It’ll take a while for me to get past their encryption.” “Oh, I can do that,” the Librarian assured him, transferring the security lockout program from the computer into his own short-term memory. “There.” “I’m in,” agreed Shellhead. “And I’ve just taken total control of their defensive systems. This is going to be a pleasure.” The B.A.L.D. takedown went pretty well, except that the Cube had somehow mysteriously gone. Magenta St Evil finished her cup of tea and glared across at the sorcerer supreme of the Parodyverse. “I mean it,” she said. “With the Wand of Watoomb I have the power to destroy you and every worker of magic on this planet.” She gestured to where the Scarlet Witch was confined within the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak. They clashed with her costume. “I have already overcome the extradimensional sorceress. Soon I shall find and destroy this world’s Sorceress too.” “But first you want to become sorcerer supreme,” Xander the Improbable sighed. “So we have to duel it out and may the best master of the mystic crafts win?” “Exactly,” sneered the cruel-faced tyrant. “First I destroy you and take your secrets, and then I claim this world as my own personal toy.” Cleone the swanmay was likewise caught by the Fangs of Farallah. “You have power but no wisdom,” she warned Magenta. “In magic, power alone can never prevail.” “Let’s test that shall we?” she demanded of Xander. “Come, master of the mystic crafts, let us begin our contest.” The little man in the shabby red robes shrugged. “It’s a two part test, then,” he told the would-be conqueror. “Part one is to stand up.” “What?” puzzled Magenta St Evil. “What do you mean?” And then she discovered that her legs wouldn’t support her and she was feeling dizzy. “Part two is to stay awake,” Xander advised her. “What did you do?” the villainess demanded, her voice slurring. “The Wand shields me from your magics. No spell can affect meee…” Then she fell into a deep snoring sleep. Xander caught her teacup as it fell. Magics might not affect someone carrying the Wand of Watoomb, but drugged tea worked just fine. But the Wand wasn’t there. Coming later: The conclusion of our story, as AG and Dancer team up with Quasar and Moondragon against Dark Thugos, and Hatman, Epitome, Vizh, and Al B. join Cap, Vision, Quicksilver and Warbird against the Fourth Reich of Count Fokker! Oh, and also see what happens when the Hooded Hood and Dr Doom get their hands on the six cosmic goodies. That can’t be good. Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2005 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2005 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
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