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Post By Reassurances and shocks from... the Hooded Hood Fri Dec 09, 2005 at 02:40:28 pm EST |
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#244: Untold Tales of the Morning After | |
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| #244: Untold Tales of the Morning After Previously, in Untold Tales of the Junior Lair Legion: The Juniors are hosting two refugees from the alien planet Caph IX, Prince Kiivan and Ohanna of Raael. Ham-Boy’s mission for Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises went somewhat wrong when he was given a Quest Stave that will compel him to participate in the Order of the Observing Eye’s hero assessment tests. And Kerry’s night out went even more wrong when she was affected by the emotion-manipulating Young Heckfire student known as Lord and Master, then agreed to go home for sex with his team-mate Daniel Lyle. Meanwhile, rival teen team Young Heckfire has recruited Lindy Wilson, falcon’s sister, as their newest member Falconne, and the New Battlers have acquired a clone of their dead leader E-Male and an Apocalyspian Warhound, Ripper. Chapters so far: UT#241: Bad Seeds, or Tomorrow’s Villains Today UT#2: A Bathroom Too Far UT#243: Places That We Should Not Go “They are coming through the proscenium arch now,” Ebony of Nubilia told the nine rescued Caphan slave girls that lived on the Shoggoth’s Lemurian sanctuary. “There is no need to be so nervous though.” “No need to be nervous?” swallowed Deela. “He is the Emir of All Caph! And he is coming to our tents!” “We should have prepared more sweetmeats,” Losiira worried. “And found more precious things to strew his pillows with.” “We should have worked harder to create things of taste and beauty to surround him with,” Noona agreed. “Oh, what will he think of our humble marquee?” “He will think that you have prepared a good welcome for him, and that your hospitality is warm and generous,” Ebony assured the Caphans. “Your Emir has learned to sleep rough. I’m sure your tent will be like a taste of home for him.” “We should have scattered more petals,” fretted Losiira. There was a flash of eye-numbing light as the gateway between worlds opened and the visitors passed through into the conceptual plane of Lemuria. The Caphans all fell to their knees. Even Miiri’s republican sentiments failed her and she prostrated herself before her Emir. Visionary, Kiivan, and Ohanna looked down at the assembled refugees. Kiivan stepped over to the Caphan slaves. “You may rise,” he told them. “Perhaps I should do the introductions,” Visionary suggested through gritted teeth. “That will not be necessary,” Prince Kiivan told him, looking at the women with an appraising eye. “Already these ladies are becoming renowned in song and story.” He studied them carefully. “You must be Deela, Sayaana, and Philaana, Ytirar’s daughters. You have the look of your mother.” “Our mother!” Philanna blurted, then fell silent. “I do not know how she fares,” Kiivan answered gravely. “But I shall know. Here are children of Portaa, Mistresses Noona and Odoona. And this is the famed Luuma Swiftheels, who took the prize at the Great Festival three years in a row.” Visionary had to admit that Kiivan knew how to turn on the royalty. Each of the nervous Caphans blossomed like a flower as he took their hand and recognised them. “Losiira, of the Nine Songs,” he greeted. “I hope you will sing for us later?” “Whatever my lord Emir commands,” Losiira bobbed gracefully, “will be our delight.” Visionary grumped again. He glanced sideways at Ohanna. Somebody had briefed the young Emir. Who? “And this must be fair Kaara of Jaaxa, for whom Vaahir of Viigo set the universe ablaze,” he acknowledged, spotting the object of his warlord’s desire. “Now I know why my councillor cannot stop praising your virtues, my lady.” Kaara flushed a deep green, though whether it was the attention of the Emir of Caph or the fact that Vaahir had spoken often of her it was impossible to say. “Is he well?” she ventured. “Lord Vaahir – is he well?” “He seemed fine when I saw him yesterday,” Visionary assured her. “And a damn sight happier now he’s got some proper baddies to fight for a good cause.” “You will not have heard the forbidden ballads they were singing on Caph about you and your Vaahir, Lady Kaara,” Kiivan suggested. “Perhaps later Lady Ohanna will oblige us with a rendition?” “What makes you think I know the words, my lord?” Ohanna of Raael challenged, speaking for the first time. Miiri looked up suddenly, recognising something in the voice. “Ah, Miiri of Raael, daughter of loyal Kiivas and wise Ekooria. I would have recognised you even without the kind briefing of the Lady Hallie,” Kiivan noted. “Your sister grows into your very image.” “Ohanna?” Miiri reached out an uncertain hand. “A-Anna?” “Miiri! It is you!” The long parted sisters flew into each others arms. “I take it you didn’t warn her then,” Vizh said out of the side of his mouth to Ebony. “She was nervous enough as it was,” the high priestess of the Manga Shoggoth pointed out. She looked at reunited sisters. “Besides… I wanted to see this.” Ham-Boy rushed into Visionary’s lighthouse as Hacker Nine opened the door. “Thanks,” he gasped, leaving his Ham-Scooter propped up outside. “Listen guys, we have a problem.” “Tell me about it,” Zach Zelnitz replied to the agitated Fred Harris. “Kerry’s gonna be grounded till she’s sixty.” “Kerry?” HB puzzled. “What’s Kerry got to do with…?” “Assuming ‘twas fair Kerry’s choice to stay out all night,” growled Harlagaz. “We shouldst be hunting down yon foul New Battlers and smitething them till they confess what they hast done with our boon comrade!” “Perhaps we should warn the Lair Legion?” Glory woofed worriedly. “Visionary left early with Prince Kiivan and Ohanna, but we could tell Mr Epitome that Kerry did not come home.” “Kerry’s missing?” Ham-Boy was almost caught up. “Where’s Samantha?” “FA’s on her way,” H9 assured the world’s meatiest hero. “She was my first phone call, but Kerry didn’t stay at her place last night.” Zach also caught up with the other half of the conversation. “What problem did you think we had?” Ham-Boy held up the Order of the Observing Eye’s Quest Stave that forced him to participate in their graduation tests for neophyte superheroes. “I have a stick,” he worried. “I think I might be becoming the neoNats.” “We shalt admire thine stick forthwith,” Harlagaz assured him, “For now we needs must be locating of fair Kerry, ere she getteth into trouble.” Kerry woke up and did a quick check: strange bed – 1; strange room – 1; amount of clothes – 0; amount of incendiary devices – 0; strange men pottering in the adjacent kitchenette – 1. Memories of the evening before began to cascade back; the unknown youth who had brushed against her, using his psychotropic secretions to dull her inhibitions and inflame her passions; willingly letting herself be dragged into a night club toilet to give herself to him; being prevented by another young man – Danny Lyle, her brain supplied; going home with him instead… “Ack!” she said, cringing. Her panties were still on the ceiling lamp where she’d thrown them. Lyle turned round from pouring the coffee. “Morning, Spitfire,” he called to her. Kerry made the hot mug in his hand explode. “That didn’t happen,” he said, and suddenly it hadn’t. “Listen, I know this would be a new idea for you but do you think maybe you could not set fire to me until we’ve had a chance to talk?” Kerry clutched the duvet to her and accepted the coffee with a cautious scowl. “First things first. Introductions. Hi, I’m Danny, in case you don’t remember. This is my bed.” Kerry nodded. “You know me,” she said, and wondered how well he knew her now. Lyle nodded. “You’re probably wondering what happened last night,” he reasoned. “Drugo’s sweat-stuff mixes your memories up a bit sometimes, specially if you don’t do what he’s prompted you to do.” “So did I?” Kerry demanded. “Do what he wanted?” The young man snorted. “Nah. I chased him off and then…” “And then I offered to have sex with you,” Kerry remembered. “And you said…” “Yes,” supplied Lyle. “And I brought you home with me. Although it was touch and go for a minute there in the taxi. You can sure be grabby.” “And then, did we…?” “Again, no. But if I hadn’t taken you out of that place, the way you were, you’d certainly have found somebody to scratch your itch. So I brought you back here…” “And I threw all my clothes at you. Oh crap!” “You weren’t really yourself, Spitfire,” Lyle pointed out. “If you had been, and you were still tossing your knickers at me, you can be sure I wouldn’t have stopped you.” Kerry realised that she really was unmolested. “Well… I guess I won’t burn you to a crisp this time,” she allowed reluctantly. “Your friend Drugo, on the other hand, is dead meat the minute I find my t-shirt.” “Behind the telly,” Lyle advised her. “And your skirt’s behind that bookcase, I think. And Drugo Lodestone’s not my friend. He’s just my team-mate, that’s all.” “Team-mate?” The whole shattered cup incident suddenly made sense. “You’re a super-hero!” “No,” Lyle said most definitely. “Although all the members of Young Heck-Fire have super-powers or some kind.” “And yours are?” “Top secret,” Danny Lyle assured her. “After all, you’re the opposition. Although if you want to Mata Hari the truth out of me I’d be happy to see you try.” “I think you’ve seen enough of me for one day,” Kerry snorted. “And by the way, if you ever tell anyone about this I’ll have to make your eyeballs explode.” “I’ll deny everything,” Lyle told her. “But Young Heckfire’s not going to believe me. Black Princess saw me leaving with you, so by now everybody will know.” “Black Princess? What the heck is Young Heckfire?” “What, I have to answer and you won’t even let your duvet slip a bit to encourage me?” “Your testes haven’t spontaneously exploded yet,” the probability arsonist encouraged him. “They very nearly did last night when you were squirming under that duvet,” Lyle admitted. “Mostly under that duvet anyway. Young Heckfire is the junior branch of the Heck-Fire Club, consisting of prominent and powerful young people who will be the manipulators and masterminds of tomorrow.” “And this Drugo’s one of them is he? Till I catch up with him.” “Drugo’s the son of Lionel Loadstone, the billionaire pornographer. But in the club Drugo prefers to be called by his metahuman name of Lord And Master. I prefer to call him…” Kerry grinned as she heard what Danny Lyle called his emotion-twisting team-mate. “You’ll make an innocent young girl blush with language like that,” she warned him. “That line would have worked so much better if your knickers weren’t dangling from the ceiling as you said it.” “So are you going to be a gentleman and turn your back while I retrieve them?” “Are you going to be a lady and not set fire to me while my back is turned?” Kerry smiled wickedly. “Live dangerously,” she challenged him. “Find out.” Fashion Accessory grabbed the keys for her red open-topped Chevy and raced down the steps of her parents’ Pierce Heights townhouse. Once again Kare had vanished. It was starting to become a weekly event; but this time Kerry Shepherdson might be in real trouble. Lounge Lizard and Ham Boy were sitting on the hood of her car, waiting for her. Hat Boy was chomping on a burger. Wyrmbait was slouched on the back seat, carving ‘Rich Slut’ on the leatherwork. “What do you want?” FA demanded, tossing all three of them away by hurling their clothing in that direction. “What have you done to Kerry?” “Nothing,” Lounge Lizard smirked at Samantha Bonnington. “Though we have plans. But word is that she went home last night with one of the Heck-Fire boys.” “The who?” FA demanded. “Elite little preppies,” Wyrmbait told her. “Real class. You wouldn’t know them.” “But it’s not Kerry we’re interested in right now, Sammy,” Lounge Lizard told Fashion Accessory. “It’s you.” Samantha Bonnington swallowed hard. “What about me? I have no interest in you pathetic losers any more.” “Yeah, we saw your fitness tape,” Ham Boy retorted. “You’re becoming a real superstar.” “We have some tapes as well,” Wyrmbait smirked. “You doing different kind of exercises with Donny and E-Male and Ludo. We were thinking what a best-seller that video might be.” Fashion Accessory went pale. “I was underage. What you did was illegal.” “We were all underage,” shrugged Lounge Lizard. “Besides, the New Battlers are beyond morality and law.” “You think once those tapes hit the internet everyone’s gonna ignore them because you were fourteen?” Hat Kid demanded. His grin faded to a malicious stare. “It’s the end of your endorsement deals, princess. In fact I think it’d be the end of your whole life.” FA knew they’d got her. “What… what do you want?” she asked them. Lounge Lizard grinned. “All kinds of things, Sammy. But mostly we want you back with the old gang. We’re regrouping. There’s a big-ass competition coming up and we have big plans to be in it this year.” “The New Battlers are entering a completion? And you want me back on the team?” “We have our own reasons for wanting to be there. And yeah, we’ve missed your company, valley girl,” Wyrmbait crowed. “You want me to quit the Juniors?” The New Battlers laughed. “Oh no,” Lounge Lizard instructed her, striding over to stroke Samantha’s cheek. “If you quit the kiddie-legion, how can you betray them to us when the time is right?” “You belong to the Hooded Hood?” Miiri repeated, her eyes narrowing with concern. “This is not good.” “Father gifted me to him at the last,” Ohanna explained. “When… when everything was crumbling.” “Father died protecting the Hall of Artefacts?” Miiri checked. “He protected the sacred relics of the Caliph of Caph, to the last of his blood, though the world burned around him?” “This is the first duty,” Ohanna agreed, recalling the words of the sacred vow the house of Raael had taken many generations before. “But he fell. Peerin, Deenis, Jaydeen… Everybody. Even mother!” The Caphan females were gathered by lamplight in their tent in the quiet of the evening, awaiting the menfolk’s return from the hunt. They clustered around the new arrival and tried their best to care for one so young who had been tried so hard. Miiri held her little sister close. “You did what you were supposed to. You have brought honour to our house, little one. Peerin and Deenis and Jaydeen and Lady Ekooria would be proud of that.” She thought again. “Have you bestowed the treasures safely until they are needed again?” “Yes Miiri,” Ohanna reported, nodding like a little girl. “I brought away the first crown of the Caliphate, with the Sceptre of Korrvis and the Orb of Truul, the Honour Sword of Gaath, the B’Tari Codex, even the Xindii Vision Stones. And I took copies of the grand database from Terminal One, everything.” “You saved the treasures of Caph, and our literature and lineages!” Kaara admired. “No wonder you have become so renowned.” “I’ve deposited them all in the Lunar Public Library, under the care of Lord Bookman,” Ohanna reported. “He was especially happy to have the database.” “Your value is without measure now,” Sayaana comforted the child. “Your service and your sacrifice have assured you a place in our legends.” “Which makes it all the harder for her to be bought from this Hooded Hood,” pointed out Losiira. “Is he a cruel master, Ohanna?” “He has been most considerate,” the Caphan teen admitted. “Others call him an archvillain, but I have seen naught but his thoughtfulness. Although he has compelled me to…” “To what?” frowned Miiri. “To read and write,” Ohanna confessed. “It is hard to survive outside Caph without such skills.” Mirri’s face crumpled into a relieved smile. “My dear little sister, would it shock and horrify you to know that several of us can also read and write now? And Noona understands the mysteries of the e-mail also.” “Oh.” “What of Prince Kiivan?” Sayaana asked curiously. “The Hood has had you spend much time with his excellency…” “What our sister is trying to ask,” Philaana explained, “is whether you pleasure the Emir, and whether we too should offer ourselves to him in hospitality.” Ohanna blushed again. “The Lord Hood has commanded that I remain a maiden,” she explained. “Prince Kiivan has respected his wishes. As for you going to him… I suppose…” “We are not Kiivan’s chattels,” Miiri interrupted. “If he seeks our company, then each of us is free to decide what we wish to do. But I believe he will not, unless we first approach him.” “I think you’re right,” Ohanna agreed. “Kiivan… I mean Prince Kiivan, he’s not like other men of Caph.” “He prefers boys?” Odoona suggested. “He prefers justice,” Ohanna answered passionately. “One day he will become the finest ruler our world has ever had, and he will bring about a new age of peace and fairness such as we have never dreamed.” The girl caught herself and grinned ruefully. “If he can work out how to parry a cross-down-thrust from a plas-gar” she added ruefully. “And figure out calculus.” “I see,” said Miiri. And she did. “Why did the Hooded Hood send you to us, Ohanna?” Sayaana wondered. “To spend some time amongst our own people, I suppose. To stop Kiivan racing forward for a few days, pushing himself to his limits all the time. And… well… There are some things I never got trained to do.” “Ahh. So the Lord Hood wants you prepared for his bed, does he?” Philaana concluded. Ohanna shook her head. “I do not think my master will ever use me as his pleasure slave. I do not think I am… complicated enough for him. But I am sure that he does want me prepared for something. For someone.” “For Prince Kiivan?” Miiri asked. “Perhaps,” Ohanna shrugged, trying to be casual. “Some day, when we are older, and he needs…” “Needs what?” asked Kaara “Needs me.” Miiri of Earth considered complicated new feelings; of sisterhood renewed, of a rapidly-adjusted mental picture of Ohanna no longer a small girl, of slowly-blossoming independence, and of a deep yearning for the world of her birth. “And what about you, Ohanna. What do you want?” Ohanna of Raael seemed taken aback by that question. “Me?” “You. We have learned on Earth that our own dreams and hopes have value too. What do you dream of and hope for? That you will be owned by the Emir of All Caph? The pride of his harem? His most favoured?” “I want… I don’t want to be owned by Kiivan,” Ohanna confessed. “Every day I work beside him, I care for him, I practice beside him with the sword and with the pen. Zaahir knows I argue with him, all the time, because sometimes he can be so… At night I share his bed, and we hold each other, the last remnants of a lost world. But I do not want to be his slave.” “That’s what you don’t want, then,” Miiri acknowledged. “So what do you want?” “I do not know. Zaahir help me. I do not know.” “Don’t trust them. Don’t trust them as far as you can throw them. In fact just try to throw them as far as possible.” Bry Katz clenched his fists as he gave his opinion of the Order of the Observing Eye who had raised him from childhood to be a superhero. “I don’t trust them,” Lisa assured him. “But on the other hand, I don’t have any way of breaking whatever whammy that this Quest Stick they gave Ham-Boy packs.” “Some kind of techno-psychotronic charge, I think,” Al B. Harper suggested. “It sets up an imperative in its subject’s brain, and if that imperative isn’t obeyed then it sends out destruct signals to all the cells in the body, a kind of super-cancer.” “That doesn’t sound too good,” Ham-Boy admitted. “But you can cure it, right?” “I have a few ideas,” the archscientist agreed. “But it’ll take me four to six weeks of R&D to make them practical. “But this trial thing is next week,” Kerry pointed out. “HB could be dead a month after that.” “Indeed,” snorted Sir Mumphrey Wilton. “Bad show all round. So we do what has to be done.” “And that is…?” Ham-Boy asked cautiously. “We must smitheth these Observing Eyes most righteously,” urged Harlagaz, “and avenge upon them the death of our boon-comrade.” “If I could get the code for this techno-psychic programming I could probably crack the imperative,” offered Hacker Nine. “Is it okay to dissect Ham-Boy’s brain?” “Hey, I’m right here!” “It’s evident that young Ham-Boy will have to enter this bally contest thingie,” Sir Mumphrey determined. “Only way to stay alive. Meanwhile the Legion will be taking a dim view of the Observin’ Eye attacking one of our lads. A seriously dim view.” “At last,” hissed Goldeneyed. “Count me in.” “Count us in as well,” Kerry Shepherdson insisted. She saw Dancer about to object but pressed on. “Look, we can’t let Ham-Boy go to this dumb test alone. We’ve got to go with him. All the Juniors.” “It art only fair,” agreed Harlagaz. “Also, there might be violence to be had.” “You have taught us to be loyal to our pack-mates,” Glory barked. “It would not be consistent to deny us the right to support Ham-Boy now.” “Also,” Hacker Nine pointed out. “Now we’re in the competition, we have to win. I hate losing academic competitions. It’s a geek thing.” “What about you, FA?” Kerry challenged Samantha Bonnington. “You with us?” “I’m with you,” Fashion Accessory answered faintly. “Of course I am.” “There’s more going on with these tests than meets the eye,” warned Dancer. “And we’ll get to the bottom of it,” Lisa promised. “No reason we can’t run a few tests of our own on the Observing Eye, is there?” “Jolly good,” Sir Mumphrey approved, clapping his hands together. “So it’s settled. The Juniors’ll enter the contest for the honour of the Legion, and we’ll find a way to pot these Observing Eye blighters into the corner pocket so hard they’ll wonder where their balls have gone.” He turned to Lisa. “Sign the Juniors up.” Laurie Leyton whirled round as she heard the electrical crackle, fast enough to see the Reverend Mac Fleetwood crumble to the floor. “Hello, Lisette,” said E-Male. Laurie didn’t waste time wondering how Rico Torino had come back from the dead to torment her again. She just picked up the font, shorted the electricity-generating New Battler out with the water from it, then clubbed him on the side of his head with the heavy marble vase. E-Male staggered back, surprised by the ferocity of her attack. “Hit me again,” he threatened, “and I fry the priest!” Lisette faltered in her assault. She might be able to take her enemy down with a single blow, but then again Torino was now composed of living electricity, so maybe not. It was too big a risk to take with Mac lying unconscious on the floor of the Zero Street Mission. “Better,” E-Male commented, feeling the side of his head. He had no blood to shed, but the blow had still hurt. “You play for keeps these days.” “You’re dead,” Laurie Leyton objected. “Long dead. Why can’t anybody just stay dead?” “You’re confusing me with the guy I was cloned off,” E-Male replied. “Six months before he went soft and died his noble death I was set gestating. Special contract with the diabolical Dr Moo. Of course, the whole project went on hold while she was imprisoned by that Shoggoth thing, but now she’s back and… well, here I am.” “I don’t like clones, either,” Lisette scowled. “Or any kind of doubles.” Torino perched insolently on the altar. “I have all the original’s memories up to six months before he fell of his perch,” he assured Laurie. “I remember us.” “Then you’ll remember I escaped you and kicked your ass when you came after me?” she retorted. “I’m not your victim now, Rico.” “Yeah, I saw your snuff video from your druggie-whore phase. Now you’re everybody’s victim.” Lisette blanched. E-Male had always known how to push her buttons. “Anyway, I’m here today to recruit you back into the New Battlers,” Torino told her. “Join the team and save lives.” “Since when are the New Battlers interested in saving lives?” snorted Laurie. “You’re not getting me.” E-Male handed over computer-printout pictures of Beth Shellett and Lisette’s young friend Gloria. “I mean join the Battlers and save their lives, honey.” Lisette went cold. Then she said, “No.” “No?” “No. My days of being your victim are over, Rico. It doesn’t matter who you threaten. I’m never coming back. I’m never being your toy.” “Your choice,” E-Male shrugged. “Their funeral.” “And then yours, Rico,” Lisette told him, leaning in close. “You said I’d changed? You were right. I’ve grown up. I’ve toughened up. I can’t stop you hurting my friends, but if you do…” She snarled in E-Male’s face, “If you do, I know you. I know how you think, what you can do, where you’d hide. I know how to find you and I’ll work out a way of killing you, very slowly and painfully. Look into my face, Rico. See that I’m ready to kill you if you give me the very slightest excuse.” E-Mail looked into her face and saw death staring back at him. He pulsed fifteen thousand volts through her, leaving her burned and twitching on the floor. “We’re finished then,” he shrugged and walked out of the mission. Next Time: The Juniors prepare to go to the trials, G-Eyed finds out about Laurie, Yuki and Trickshot hunt the Observing Eye, Mumphrey and Yo hire some outside help, Daniel Lyle faces the consequences of his mis-misbehaviour with Kerry, and Visionary finds out what his pupils have got into: Youth Is Wasted On the Young, coming soon (and sooner if people reply to this chapter!)> They Also Serve Who Only Stand and Footnote: The Order of the Observing Eye are a monk-like sect who gained access to one of the three Books of Prophecy written by Wilbur Parody (the only person to have held all three of the cosmic offices of the Triumverate at various times). Learning of the coming Resolution War they set out to identify, train, or even create the protagonists mentioned in the volume. They have worked with the late Professor Xalter to create a School for Gifted Young Ones, with the Amazons to find homes for abandoned female children with potential to be warriors, with the Little Sisters of Discipline, with Granny Grimness’ Orphanage of Joy, and with many other groups who hone the skills of the next generation of metahumans. Amongst their alumni are Goldeneyed and his cousin Exile, and the new Director of SPUD, Exemplary. The monks have access to advanced technology including dimensional and time travel. Visionary’s Lighthouse was formerly the Willingham light, now occasionally translocated to the Lair Island, and acquired by Vizh at the conclusion of Heart of Darkness. 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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