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Post By The Hooded Hood goes after DK because he's just not suffered enough Fri Nov 11, 2005 at 01:16:00 pm EST |
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#239: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: The Fall of the Dark Knight | |
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| #239: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: The Fall of the Dark Knight Author’s Note: This story draws heavily upon Greg Burch’s work in the Nihilist series, and upon events depicted therein. I’ve provided links to the material below. However, I’ve also tried to ensure that this story can be read without any prior knowledge other than a familiarity with common Parodyverse characters and situations (and those are explained in Who's Who in the Parodyverse). I’ve had to gloss a few bits of Greg’s work, either to mould it to the wider continuity of the Parodyverse or so as not to interfere with his ongoing plotlines as his story continues, but these are only matters of detail and don’t affect the emotional core of the situations he’s set up. Nihilist #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6, and You Know You Want It Take a drive over Sheldon Bay Bridge and you’ll feel it at once. The atmosphere changes on the North Shore. The buildings are older and dirtier. The street lights are set farther apart, and most of them are shattered. The century-old houses watch you pass along on the crumbling freeway with blind broken eyes. You can smell the hopelessness. It’s not just poverty, because Gothametropolis York is home to some of the richest, most powerful people on Earth. Behind the slums and the peeling row houses and the winding brick courtyards of iron-grilled tenements are grey and black skyscraper towers, and beyond that up the hill are the exclusive walled residences of Millionaire’s Row. But they still stink. Gothametropolis is a sick city. Something crawled into it long ago and ate out its heart. It squats there now, spawning its filth, feeding on lies and betrayals and shattered dreams. There’s a good time to be had in GMY; but it’ll cost you sour soul. Drive up to the corner of Crumb and Morrow and you’ll find the old stone building that’s home to The Gothametropolis Squire. The paper’s seen better days too. Nobody reads now. Circulation’s dipped below four million, and management say the only way to keep going is to slash salaries again. And to sex up the stories more. People want sex, and violence, and scandal. They want to be disgusted. Why else come to Gothametropolis? The unmarked car slid into the kerb to block a fire hydrant, right behind a truck for Good Morning, Paradopolis. The media feeding frenzy had started, and representatives from twenty stations or more were clamouring round the doors of the Squire Building. “We’re not going to get anywhere going through that lot,” scowled Yuki Shiro, slipping from behind the driver’s wheel and flipping a Lair Legion parking tag onto the dash. “Come on.” “Is it wise to identify us as Lair Legion?” Lee Bookman asked her. “Mayor Kline’s not very fond of superheroes.” The cyborg P.I. explained what Mayor Kline could do with her legislation banning superpowers from the city. She grabbed the Librarian round the waist and propelled them both up to an open third storey window. “Aaaagghh!” complained the Librarian. “I wish you’d warn me when you’re about to grab me like that.” “Where’s the fun then?” Yuki demanded. “Look, we’re inside, past the gaggle at the door. Come on.” “All I’m saying is there’s a modicum of respect due to…” “Yeah, yeah. Hit the elevator button.” Visionary had been right, Lee Bookman mused. Yuki Shiro wasn’t used to being a team player. Ninth floor was Features. The bullpen here didn’t have the same frantic urgency as the news floors. This was the domain of the gossip columns and cookery sections, the movie reviews and the lifestyle features. The crowded furniture was old and mismatched. The people who worked here were lower on the totem than the newshounds two floors below. The News Department was cordoned off just now while the Office of Paranormal Security investigators crawled over every inch of it. There hardly anyone in Features. Yuki cornered a wheezing fat man leaning over a 14” monitor. “We’re looking for Brianna Anderson.” “You and everyone else,” snorted Drewson Blaine, the Movie Marauder. “But she’s not here.” “That much we’d worked out,” the Librarian told him. “By the way, there’s only one r in turgid.” Blaine shut off his screen petulantly. “What media are you with then?” he asked, looking disapprovingly at Yuki’s bright purple hair. “The Village Voice?” “S and M Monthly,” the P.I. answered back. “Want to see me spank your butt?” For a moment Blaine looked as if he was considering it, but something in the woman’s face warned him that would be a bad life choice. “She’s home sick. She’s with her kids. She won’t be in today. Won’t be in this week, I guess.” “Where does she sit?” the Librarian demanded. Blaine indicated a bare corner desk. “The feds already came and took everything.” Brianna Anderson’s workspace had been stripped bare with a clinical precision. Even her waste-bin was gone. Lee Bookman wheeled Drewson Blaine away from his workstation. “I need to borrow your computer,” he said. Over the fat man’s protests he unfolded a piece of parchment from an inner pocket and inserted it into the CR-Rom drive. Then he touched his fingertips to the edge of the technosensitive paper and downloaded the paper’s mainframe archive into his head. “What happened yesterday?” Yuki asked Blaine. “I mean apart from the story of the decade. What was Anderson doing beforehand?” “None of us had any idea she’d got information like that,” Blaine admitted. “She was a plodder. And none of us knew she was that way either. Not until yesterday.” “That way?” “You know. With women. Until she started exchanging tongues with that Sharon Stone wannabe that’s keeping the publisher warm at night.” “Anderson kissed a woman. Here?” “Right at her desk. Mizzzz Rogers walked in as if she owned the place – which I guess she might well do by now – and just bent over Brianna’s desk and kissed her.” “And then?” “And then she walked out without even acknowledging the rest of us were even here and Brianna went back to her typing.” The Librarian looked up. “Would that be at around 16.35?” “Sometime just before the end of business,” Blaine shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t want to know. I want to keep my job, and getting on the wrong side of Sharon Rogers isn’t the way to do that.” Bookman gestured to the computer. “At 16.35 Brianna Anderson opened a new Word file. She typed into it for exactly six minutes, 1,722 words, and then she e-mailed it to the editor in chief.” “The story?” Yuki guessed. “The story.” Yesterday’s paper was still lying masthead up, discarded on Blaine’s desk. The headline still blared it’s revelation: SQUIRE REPORTER GREG BURCH IS THE DARK KNIGHT! The Crepax Apartments in Paradopolis’ yuppie Carrington district were a controlled environment. Nobody got past the lobby without an appointment. The residents paid a lot of money for their privacy. That was why Lania was both surprised and annoyed when her doorbell rang. The videophone showed it was Yo and Dancer of the Lair Legion. “Come in then,” she told them in a resigned fashion. Of course a probability manipulator and a pure thought being would be able to circumvent security. “Yo is happy to be seeing of cute Lania once again,” Yo-woman told her, giving her a kiss on the cheek.” “I hope we’re not inconveniencing you too much,” Dancer said to the celebrity. “We know that these days you try to avoid superheroes and stuff. Because of bad experiences.” “The therapy’s helping,” Lania said. “Drinks?” Yo had a fizzy pop. Dancer took a low-alcohol beer. “I’m guessing this isn’t a social call to swap gossip,” Lania said when they’d all settled on the lounge furniture. “Is not to be,” Yo admitted. “Although is to be shame you were not to be able to coming at Lair Picnic.” “Or not,” Dancer shuddered, remembering how that had turned out. “Even though we have tons of juicy stuff on Uhuna and DBS and Hatty and Rabid Wolf and Vizh and Pricilla and CSFB! and Lara Night and April…” “We are to be knowing you are talking with Cora Eislen, who is to be working with and close friending with Brianna Anderson,” Yo interrupted. “Ah.” Lania set down her drink. “I don’t know that I can discuss that.” Dancer leaned forwards. “Lania, this Brianna Anderson outed the Dark Knight. Something very bad is happening, and we don’t know what. We can’t contact DK, and all kinds of other strange people and things seem to be connected to this. You’ve seen the news about the new Hero Control Legislation the government’s pushing. The Dark Knight exposé just gives them more fuel for their fire.” “Brianna doesn’t know where she got the information from,” Lania answered. “She swears it and Cora believes it. She doesn’t even remember writing the story.” “Does she remember kissing Sharon Rogers?” “What? She didn’t mention that, no. What does that hell-cat have to do with this?” Yo quickly recapped. “Is to be of very large co-incidence if to be is not related!” “Oh, it’s related all right,” Lania breathed. “I guess Sharon could have been Brianna’s source. But why would Brianna lie to Cora about not knowing?” “Perhaps she was protecting of her sourcings? Specially is she is to be being very fond of Sharon.” Dancer was still puzzled. “How would this Sharon Rogers person know anything about DK? Even we didn’t know about his secret identity until that Squire article.” She shuddered at the thought of the world knowing her true name. Lania looked at her visitors in disbelief. “You didn’t make that link? Sharon Rogers isn’t just the owner’s trophy babe. And Rogers is her maiden name. Back when she was married, she used to be Sharon Burch.” “Sharon Burch,” Lisa frowned. “That’s just not possible. Right, Hallie?” The Lair Legion’s artificial intelligence checked her database. “Sharon Burch was killed a long time ago,” she confirmed. “Murdered.” “Yes, but check the details,” Asil said. “That Sharon Burch was married to a Greg Burch, but that was back in the 70s. That Sharon and Greg would be in their fifties or sixties by now!” “It’s not that simple,” sighed Visionary. “Not if Greg Burch is the Dark Knight.” “If this involves parallel universes I’m getting another drink,” warned Lisa. “I don’t blame you.,” the possible fake man assured. “But basically, the man who we now know as Greg Burch got his whole timeline fragmented when he went off to become the Chronicler of Stories, the keeper of Parodyverse continuity.” “A job you did for a whole 24 hours,” Lisa pointed out. “Which is how I know a little of this. Plus DK mentioned it to Jarvis once when he was on a caffeine high. The point is the Chronicler then arranged for Greg Burch to go on in his normal life as well, so as not to disrupt the storyline.” “So there was Chronicler-Greg and not-Chronicler Greg,” Asil understood. “And then not-Chronicler Greg married Sharon Rogers. And then Sharon Rogers was murdered.” “Instant vigilante motivation,” noted Hallie. “Yes. Her grieving, enraged husband became the Dark Knight.” “It’s only urban legend that he was operating back in the 80s,” frowned Hallie. “At least I thought it was.” “Well after a while things went very sour, apparently,” Vizh continued. “DK died or something. I don’t even try to understand this. And the Chronicler felt guilty or devious or whatever, and he arranged for Greg Burch to live again, with a new chance, as a child once more.” “Which is how he came to grow up as friends with Andrew Dean, who became Finny,” Lisa realised. “That actually makes sense.” “And when he grew up his memories gradually came back,” Asil guessed, “and he reinvented the Dark Knight.” “With the help of the Chronicler,” Visionary supplied. “A secret base on Pluto, a KnightJet made from pure story, and a tendency to come back from the dead and wreak gory vengeance on his enemies.” Lisa shuddered. “And all this time he’s been secretly moonlighting as that foul-mouthed paranoid nutjob reporter at the GMY Squire! He was there when the League of Regulars first formed!” “Looks like.” Visionary looked down at the crumpled headline that had shattered the Dark Knight’s world. “Looks like we never knew him at all.” “And who knows what he’s going to do now?” worried the first lady of the Lair Legion. Lester Dawes and Abby St Germain found a Turkish coffee house that was still open at that time of night and ordered a couple of drinks to help them clear their heads. “Still the same old patterns, eh?” Mr Epitome asked them, slipping into the booth beside St Germaine. “My notes on you two suggested you’d find a quiet place for a coffee to talk your case over.” “Mr Epitome,” Agent St Germaine recognised. “So you still haven’t got your memories of us back?” “I’m afraid not. But I’m hoping you still remember me.” “Sir, we can’t speak with you,” Agent Dawes advised the paragon of power. “The OPS has issued a blanket instruction.” “Well, I don’t want to get anybody into trouble,” Epitome told them. “But I was hoping that our years of service together might buy me one off-the-record conversation, whatever Director Soames has ordered.” “I don’t think so, sir,” Lester Dawes replied. But his partner was trapped in the booth behind the formidable bulk of the exemplary man. “I don’t need any direct information about Brianna Anderson’s exposé on the Dark Knight,” Epitome assured them. “But I do need to understand some of the other players on the periphery of the case.” “Such as who?” Abby asked, slowly. “Szandor Anton.” The OPS agents exchanged glances. “Off the record, then,” Dawes said finally, “Szandor Anton is the inheritor of the estate of Nicholae Anton…” “Who was a very shady customer,” Epitome agreed. “Yes, I’ve read case files extensively to get myself back up to speed where possible. Where does junior fit into all this?” “Szandor and an as-yet-unidentified man in black armour that we’re codewording as Prodigy at the moment have been asking questions. The same questions that we’re asking, of the same people. The same questions that you’re probably asking.” “Are they affiliated with Harry Flask and Velma Kline?” Abby shook her head. “Seems not. They might be waiting in the wings, hoping to be the next generation of master criminals in Gothametropolis when the fat man finally falls. We don’t know.” “We do know they’re also tied to the Dark Knight,” Lester added. “And maybe to Messenger, and to Fin Fang Foom. Quite a little cabal.” “Quite a cabal indeed. Might the Dark Knight have been betrayed by one of his fellow cabbalists?” “We don’t know and we don’t really care,” Abby answered. “We’re more interested in what Burch was investigating at the time of his outing, and his pathological obsessive notes on…” “Abby!” Lester Dawes interrupted. “I think we’ve said too much already.” Abby St Germaine flushed. “Yes. Sorry.” She looked at Mr Epitome. “It’s best you go. The new OPS management doesn’t like you.” “The imbecile who ordered a raid on the Lair Mansion in breech of international law then fudged an exfiltration and containment so badly that I had to come and assist the Legion in shutting that amateur freakshow down?” Dawes and St Germaine looked uncomfortable. “Yes. Except that was a rogue operation,” Lester replied. “And that’s official.” “It was a hunting trip,” sneered Epitome. “And an amateur one. Sloppy. You tell Hector Manchester or whoever’s in charge there now that I said so.” “I don’t think we’ll be reporting meeting you at all, sir,” Abby said unhappily. “You’d better go, Mr Epitome,” Agent Dawes advised the paragon of power. “And you’d better watch your back.” “We’re just asking for information,” Hatman repeated reasonably. “I thought you were maybe ready to work with civilised society again after you co-operated on the Candian uranium case.” “I do some field work for SPUD,” answered Messenger. “They asked me to play nice with the Legion. I played nice. That was then.” “I told you he wus still a jerkhole,” Trickshot warned. “Everyone else might be willing to forget that this guy went nuts and started killing folks but I’m sure not.” “Aw c’mon guys,” CrazySugarFreakBoy! urged, “Give Messy a break. That was all before he died. Well, mostly. And he died to save the universe and stuff.” “Well if he’s a saint now…” Hatman began. “Angel,” CSFB! interjected. “Last of the Messengers.” “If he’s supposed to be a good guy,” Hatman went on, “why won’t he fill us in on what’s happening with the Dark Knight?” Messenger scowled. “Maybe because it’s none of your business.” “He’s been outed,” pointed out CSFB! “And he’s disappeared. And there’s something weird happening with his ex-wife who should have been dead thirty years ago and seems to be back and shacking up with the Squire’s owner. And maybe also playing hide-the-sausage with Senator Carlson, if the rumours Lania heard are right.” “So?” “So we want ta help him, is what,” Trickshot answered, getting exasperated. “We look out fer our team-mates in the LL, in case you hadn’t noticed.” “Not especially, no,” sneered Messenger. “We need to know what’s happening,” Hatman insisted. “We need to know about you and Szandor Anton, for instance.” “Not going to happen.” “Or you an’ the bozo in the black armour. Is he the same guy wuz pallin’ around with you during that Gold Coin Killer case?” demanded Trickshot. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” CSFB! reached out to the pathological postman. “Messy, this is us. Your buddies. It’s time for you to decide which team you’re really on.” Messenger shook him off. “I don’t do teams. And I’m not your buddy. That Messenger died long before he took a bullet to the head.” “Fine,” said Hatman, glaring, “If that’s how you want it. We can’t arrest you because of your SPUD connections, but if you ever step out of line again I’ll be happy to come and take you down personally.” “If you can.” “If he can’t, I will,” Trickshot promised. “Just give us one bit of information,” CrazySugarFreakBoy! wheedled. “Tell us what DK was working on in his identity as a not-so-mild-mannered reporter before he got outed. And how his ex-wife came back from the dead.” “That’s two pieces of information.” “So? Tell us, Messy!” The postman snorted. Anything to get CSFB!’s enthusiastic face out of his business. “Sharon Rogers came back from hell. We don’t know how. She’s taking DK’s life apart piece by piece, and his sanity with it. He became the Dark Knight to avenge her death. Now she’s back making him pay for it, and his whole world’s been pulled apart. The Knightjet’s wrecked, and somebody bombed the Pluto base. Complete loss. All his cover identities, his backups, his hidden bank accounts. Somehow she knows it all. She’s destroying him.” “Oh crap…” breathed Trickshot. “So yeah, he was on the edge even before his cover was blown and his last refuge got taken from him.” “And what was he working on? Burch I mean,” Hatman asked. “When they got him.” “He was assembling a case to take down Mayor Kline, Harry Flask, and the whole damn city,” Messenger replied. “From top to bottom, rolling it up. Corruption like you haven’t seen since 30’s Chicago. From police chief to beat cop, damn near every politician, lawyers, accountants, the whole works. And the key to it was taking down Senator John Carlson. That’s who he was going after.” “Carlson?” Hatman puzzled. “He sponsored that Robot/Human Marriage Bill that was vetoed by the President.” “But he’s also committed to overturning Roe vs Wade,” CSFB! added. “And he’s an outspoken supporter of Governor Ape!” “Yeah, but what you guys have to remember is that I once lived on an alternate reality Earth too,” Trickshot reminded his team-mates. “And the Carlson there wus better known as the criminal genius the Crying Clown.” Sir Mumphrey Wilton rubbed his forehead. “This is very disturbing,” he admitted. “Shall I put my bandages back on?” offered the Manga Shoggoth. “No, not that,” the leader of the Lair Legion clarified. “This whole thing with the Dark Knight and the Crying Clown and Sharon Rogers. Feels like we’re missing something.” “We’re missing finding the Dark Knight and helping him before he does something crazy,” Lisa suggested. “And before you ask, yes I’ve tried summonsing him. He’s shielded himself.” “Even on the edge of madness, he’s thorough,” Hatman admitted. “Is to be looking as if is to be co-ordinated attack to be destroying of poor Dark Knight,” Yo worried. “Because he got too close to take down Kline and her coffee klatch,” suggested Yuki Shiro. She glanced at the Librarian. “You’re sure none of his notes were in that database?” “If they were, they’d been removed by OPS before we arrived,” Lee Bookman reported. “Poor Greg,” Dancer said pensively. “Out there somewhere, maybe hurt and afraid, heartbroken, questioning his whole existence. We have to find a way of letting him know that he’s not alone. That he still has people who care about him.” “Have we got anywhere on finding the Rogers woman?” Mr Epitome demanded. “She seems to be pulling the strings, whoever she is.” “It’s his dead wife back from hell, dude,” CSFB! pointed out. “So she claims,” Epitome replied. “But she could just be a shapeshifter, a high end telepath, a Hero Feeder, a demon, damn near anything. You know this town.” “If there’s a conspiracy in Gothametropolis York, or even a larger one, the Dark Knight got too close to exposing it,” the Librarian suggested. “I hate concealed information.” “It’s a dangerous conspiracy, then,” Asil warned. “It attacked poor DK in his most vulnerable spot.” “Maybe Fin Fang Foom could have found and helped DK,” Visionary suggested, “but we don’t even know where he is since we sent him into deep cover.” “There’s something else about this,” Dancer frowned. She tried to put her finger on what was bothering her. “It’s as if the strands of the story are being shaped. Warped.” “That’s a Chronicler’s power,” Trickshot pointed out. “And as we know, the Chronicler is closed fer lunch just now, thanks to our pal the Parody Master.” “Well, no point just talkin’ about this, what?” decided Sir Mumphrey Wilton. “Time for some action. We know this Szandor character’s tied up in this somewhere, so we’d best take a gander at what he’s up to. We know OPS has a special interest, and after their recent bad behaviour it behoves us to find out a little more about their current administration, I think. And we need to check into what this Crying Clown chappie’s doing too.” “He was a Joker-style terrorist a few years back,” CSFB! supplied. “Sick stuff, too. Exploding orphan-bombs, incendiary nuns, those kind of tricks. The Dark Knight supposedly wiped him out.” “And yet he’s back, assuming the Senator’s name isn’t just a co-incidence,” said Hatman. “Find out,” Sir Mumphrey barked. “We need to get a grasp of this case before…” “It’s too late,” interrupted Hallie. “Yes, exactly. Before it’s too late,” agreed the eccentric Englishman. “No,” said the A.I., activating the Meeting Room viewscreen to show CNN. “I mean it’s too late now.” “…Outside the Capitol where Senator John Carlson has just been flung from the roof to his death by the urban vigilante Dark Knight. We’re receiving early reports of a videotape depicting Carlton having sex with Sharon Rogers, formerly the wife of Gothametropolis Squire journalist Greg Burch, the man recently revealed to be the Dark Knight. Speculations are rife about a crime of passion, although some sources allege Burch was obsessed with the idea that Carlson was reincarnation of his old foe the Crying Clown. Government Spokesperson Herbert P. Garrick has dubbed the Dark Knight a clear and present danger to national security and has issued orders for him to be shot on sight. And now we’re getting our first photos of the Senator. These images may be disturbing for younger viewers and those of a sensitive nature…” In a darkened room a happy man lit up a cigar and smiled at his colleagues. “One down,” Edward Cromlyn said. Next Issue: It’s Villains POV Week, and we kick things off with a look at some of the behind-the-scenes manoeuvrings for SR1066, the Metahuman Control Act. Where does the mutate community fit in? Exactly how can Sir Mumphrey Wilton be neutralised? What should upstanding Robo-Americans do? What is the nature of an Obedience Brand? And what happens when the city of Gothametropolis York sends in agents to confiscate the illegal equipment at the EEE firehouse? Lots of things won’t get better in Untold Tales of the Lair Legion’s Enemies: Digging the Dirt. To Footnote a Mockingbird: The Dark Cast Returns: Sharon Rogers, DK’s ex-wife, was returned from hell through the machinations of the King of Tales, the original, corrupt, and insane Chronicler of Stories, to destroy the Dark Knight and all he holds dear. To this end she has seduced the owner of the Gothametropolis Squire and used her influence to wreck Greg Burch’s life. Her kiss with columnist Brianna Anderson seems to have planted knowledge and imperatives in the feature writer to expose Burch’s secret Dark Knight identity. Her liaison with insane criminal genius the Crime Crown in his long-term disguise as Senator Carlson was designed to push DK over the edge to become a public murderer. So far Sharon Rogers has been 100% successful. Lania, soap star actress and former spokesmodel for the Lair Legion, severed her ties with the team after her attempts at romance with Fin Fang Foom turned sour while he was possessed by the Devil Doctor. However, she did investigate the outing of Greg Burch as Dark Knight, tracking down Brianna Anderson’s friend Cora Eislen as described in the narrative here. Szandor Anton is the gifted son of deceased crime baron Nicholae Anton, and his story and motivations are outlined in the Nihilist series by DK. Mark McKinley is the designer of the “black armour” mentioned by Epitome and features in the Prodigy series by Finny. McKinley’s identity is not publicly known. Anton, McKinley, Fin Fang Foom, and Messenger have all been involved in trying to support and intervene during the Dark Knight’s gradual destruction, and all of them have become suspicious about which mainstream heroes might also be deliberately contributing to his downfall. DK’s double history is summarised in the story. However, it has been hinted that even the 80’s Dark Knight was not the start of the story, and that a lineage goes back much, much further into history. Mr Epitome’s Drinking Buddies: Lester Dawes and Abby St Germain worked for Epitome in the Epitome Division of the Office of Paranormal Security before the Idiom wiped fifteen years of Epitome’s memory. Since that time, Epitome has left government service and Presidential Advisor on Metahuman Affairs Herbert Garrick has dismantled the Epitome Division and new political oversight has been added to the remaining OPS organisation in the form of Cabinet appointee Hector Manchester (whom Mumphrey chatted with last issue). Meanwhile OPS Director Soames has ordered his operatives to distance themselves from the no-longer-reliable Mr Epitome. The Case Against GMY: Mayor Velma Kline and Lynchpin of Crime Harry Flask are indeed in the middle of the largest criminal takeover of a US city since 30’s Chicago. Anti-metahuman legislation passed during Kline’s first term as mayor make it illegal to own or use metahuman powers inside the city limits (although the Lair Legion is protected by national legislation granting them the right to enter GMY in hot pursuit). Kline has assembled a tough, well-equipped police force drawn from ex-convicts and mercenaries who strive to ensure the anti-hero laws are strictly obeyed. Edward Cromlyn was previously an emissary of the mysterious uber-conspiracy the Shadow Cabinet. He fell from grace after the Cabinet’s agenda was usurped and Gramayre himself possessed by the Resolution Prophecy. But now he’s back. Gramayre has been active for at least a century and a half, and he has psychic abilities to control people. He previously ordered Amy Aston to return to the Lair Mansion and slash her wrists to distract the team, for example, and she did. And what happens next to the Dark Knight? I think that one’s up to poster-DK to chronicle, but for now we’ll assume he’s hunted while he hides from his former colleagues, unsure who if anyone he can trust now, borderline crazy. The divide between the Legion and the shadowy coalition including Messenger, McKinley, and Szandor widens. Sharon Rogers is missing, another suspected victim of the insane Dark Knight. Things get darker. The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom Who's Who in the Parodyverse Where's Where in the Parodyverse 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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