The Moderator Saga #3: Captured is the Carpathian!
Previously:
The Moderator Saga #1 by Hatman
The Moderator Saga #2: Minions for the Moderator by Killer Shrike
This chapter precedes the Moderator one-line story
***
“Hey,” complained the confused, disappointed hunchback, “This isn’t a sleazy motel bedroom!”
“Sorry,” the Link told him with a sympathetic giggle. “This isn’t actually a cheap one-night stand. This is a kidnap.” She pointed around the glass and steel Command and Control Room of the former Lair Tower at her waiting team-mates. “You can consider yourself our prisoner.”
Flapjack glared at the waiting supervillains. “But I still get to have sex, right?”
/You will respect Miss Link/ warned the Superlative Simulacrum, a huge blobby grey android who wrote his dialogue across the screen on his face by twisting the control-knobs on his nipples.
“Well sure,” agreed the Lair Legion’s major domo. “I was hoping to respect her into a blissful exhaustion.”
The Link blushed and moved further away from the prisoner. She couldn’t resist an unconscious backwards glance, though.
“This is pointless,” snarled the Scarlet Lawnmower. He shifted restlessly, and as he moved his uncontrollable power generated whirling psychic blades around him. “We’ve got what Search Engineer wanted. Now let’s just torture the little runt till he squeals what we want.”
Flapjack cheered up. “Torture? Will I be… flogged?” He glanced hopefully in the Link’s direction. Then his gaze was drawn back to the Lawnmower. He recognised the Lawnmower. “Nats?”
The psychotic killer was puzzled. “Who?”
“You. You’re Nats. Bill Reed. Only not so lame looking.” Flapjack scratched his chin. “I guess hell really toughened you up.”
“He’s mistaking you for your counterpart from this Earth,” Search Engineer explained. “Here Bill Reed never had that… psychic misfortune. He was one of the Lair Legion under the inspiring superhero name of ‘Nats’.”
“What’s a Nats?” the Link wondered.
“It’s a kind of whiney loser,” Flapjack supplied. “Your guy should really think about changing his name to it.”
“That’ll do,” announced the Moderator, sweeping into the room down the grand staircase of spiral steel. “The captive is already psyching you out. He has gained vital information about the alternate reality nature of our assemblage but has yet to divulge the useful data for which we captured him.”
Flapjack looked up at the man in the black fedora and recognised the master villain when he saw one. “Ah. You’re miffed because they started explaining the plot before you got to explain the plot.”
“Just say the word and I’ll carve this guy’s flesh off,” the Lawnmower offered.
/He was most disrespectful to Miss Link/ agreed the Simulacrum.
“I am not here to explain the plot to you,” growled the Moderator. “Although it is a particularly good one.”
“Ooh,” approved Flapjack. “Go on then.” He sat down on the sofa and patted his knees for the Link to join him. She pointedly turned away with another blush.
“You are Flapjack of the Carpathians,” the Moderator declaimed. “And I am… theModerator!”
“The guy who came and made a mess at the Lair Mansion yesterday?” the hunchback recognised. “I was clearing up your crap half the night.”
“The guy who led us to victory against the Lair Legion!” the Link squeaked triumphantly.
Flapjack chuckled. “Yeah. Cus jumping out on the Legion then running away before they kick your asses is such a major win.”
/I used my adaptation powers to overwhelm the adversaries/ the Superlative Simulacrum argued.
“Try that when the Shoggoth’s there,” advised Flapjack. “Just give me some notice so I can be visitin’ the Moon Public Library at the time.”
“We could cream the Lair Legion,” boasted Scarlet Lawnmower. “We’re gonna cream them.”
Flapjack shrugged. “Whatever. You’re going to get your chance pretty soon I guess, given that you snatched me away from Grosso’s bar when little miss hotpants there teleported me. That’ll have triggered off the automated alarm on my comm-card, and that means the Legion will be gearing up to butt-stomping mode. And I don’t mean butt-stomping in a recreational sense.”
/Miss Link’s pants are not hot/ argued the Simulacrum. /They are of appropriate temperature/ The vast android paused for a moment then added /Not that I have been considering the subject/.
“I gave the Lair Legion the chance to serve me,” announced the Moderator. “They failed. Now they can only die.”
/Nor have I felt Miss Link’s pants to test their temperature/ the Simulacrum clarified.
The Link jabbed her fists to her hips. “Can we leave my pants out of this?” she demanded.
“You got my vote on that,” leered Flapjack.
The Moderator felt that events were getting out of hand again. “Enough!” he shouted. “You, Flapjack. We have not traversed time and space to bandy words with a dribbling buffoon. Your only hope for survival now is to render to us the information we desire.”
“Specifically,” added Search Engineer, “my calculations show that you can take us to the exact location of the diaries of Ioldabaoth Winkelweald, also known as the Hooded Hood.”
“You used to work for him,” asserted the Moderator. “You are one of three people whom Bookman believes can lead us to the diaries. And with those notes… I can crush all opposition and rule the world! The cosmos!”
“Bookman?” puzzled Flapjack. “What’s the Librarian got to do with…?” Then he followed the master villain’s gaze and realised that the grease-covered Search Engineer bore a strange resemblance to the keeper of the Moon Public Library. “Alternate dimensions, huh?”
“I won’t be able to remain in this one for long,” the Search Engineer admitted, “unless I murder this reality’s Lee Bookman first.” He checked his toolkit. “Fortunately that won’t be much of a problem.”
“Very interesting,” yawned Flapjack. “Can we go back to talking about the Link’s pants now?”
/You will drop Miss Link’s pants/ commanded the Simulacrum angrily. /No, I mean…/
“Meanwhile,” interjected the Moderator with a hint of terrible retribution in his voice, “I require the location of the volumes I seek. The Shaper of Worlds and the Destroyer of Tales are both currently absent from this plane of existence, and the time has not yet come to alert them to my plot anyway. That leaves you as the only source of this information.” He leaned over the captive hunchback. “Reveal the diaries or die.”
“You want the Hooded Hood’s diaries?” checked Flapjack. A slow evil grin spread across his misshapen face. “Okay.”
***
Continued in #4: Interview with an Archvillain
***
Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2007 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2007 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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A little plot development and some inevitable backstory tinkering from... the Hooded Hood
Thu Jan 10, 2008 at
12:16:06 pm EST
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Posted from United Kingdom
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