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Post By The Hooded Hood masochistically launches another new story arc Fri Jun 23, 2006 at 03:23:10 pm EDT |
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#275: Untold Tales of the Parody War: The Day War Broke Out | |
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#275: Untold Tales of the Parody War: The Day War Broke Out There is a universe made from stories, linked together by unknown creators for purposes of their own. In that universe belief shapes reality, peopling worlds with gods and heroes and monsters, with weird science and high magic, reflections of other realities and other tales. The people who live there call it the Parodyverse. There are prophecies that a final Resolution War will fulfil that universe’s destiny and satisfy its creators. Some believe that the all-powerful Parody Master, conqueror and overlord, will be the instrument of that war and the architect of the Parodyverse’s destruction. Yet for the people who live their everyday lives in the Parodyverse this is no glorious destiny but a waking nightmare, and they want no part of it. The Parody Master gave Earth an ultimatum: abandon its heroes and surrender to his absolute will, or be destroyed as so many planets had before. He pointed his overwhelming war machines at the human race and forced them to choose between abject slavery and impossible battle. They chose battle. In a universe made from stories, this is the story of the Parody War. ++ COMMUNICATIONS TRANSCRIPT: DAY 0 ++ LOG BEGINS: COL. TRENTON SPAN, ACTING CMDR, S.P.U.D. HELICARRIER: Okay people, I’m calling a communications check. Are we completely sure our channels are clear from enemy monitoring now? AL. B. HARPER, EXTRAORDINARY ENDEAVOUR ENTERPRISES FIREHOUSE: Completely sure, unless the Parody Master has people who can bust an entirely original set of comms algorithms and a new way of randomly encoding through split-pair tachyons in real time in less than the four days it took me to invent it. In which case frankly we’re screwed anyway. MISS FRAMLICKER, INTERDIMENSIONAL TRANSPORTATION CORPORATION HQ TOWER, PARADOPOLIS: That’s the long-winded arrogant geek version of saying yes, Colonel, we are secure. COL. SPAN, HELICARRIER: Well then, in that case I’m calling a readiness report. We have less than eighteen hours before the deadline expires. Call in. GEN TIMAUS ROTT, NORAD, CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN: Troops are ninety percent deployed at likely targets. One hundred percent deployment by 2200 hours. Reserves have been called up, all emergency services will be on full watch. HATMAN, LEADER OF LAIR LEGION, LAIRJET ONE: We’ve located another cache of sleeper droids. The Parody Master has seeded hidden forces away pretty good while we were all getting distracted in the past few months. I have Donar and CrazySugarFreakBoy neutralising them now. [BACKGROUND SOUND OF RENDING METAL, ARCHAIC SHOUTING, AND GIGGLING] AARON SOAMES, DIRECTOR, OFFICE OF PARANORMAL SECURITY: Intelligence also identified another Parody Cult cell in the slums of Karachi. We’ve deployed agents to deal with it. Update, Mister Dawes. SPECIAL AGENCY LESTER DAWES, O.P.S., KARACHI, INDIA: We’ve contained the area, sir. Mr Epitome has gone in. We can hear sounds of things exploding, so we assume the mission is running to plan. AL B. HARPER, EEE: Colonel, I believe we’re ready to hook up the planetary sensor grid so we can spot any dimensional rifts or teleportation effects. Can you confirm, Citizen V? CITIZEN V, LAIR LEGION, AT B.A.L.D. TERRORIST BASE, UTAH: Yes, I can confirm. Spuddy little MODEM here knows what’ll happen to him if we don’t get the tech support we want. The Zemo metahuman monitoring system has been adapted and is just waiting to be fed the proper profiles. NATALIA ROMANZA, S.P.U.D. ESPIONAGE OPERATIVE, STRONGHOLD ONE: Citizen Z, I’m patching through the signatures of the dimensional jumps we recorded in the Swordrealms mission. They’ll be your template. Over in that reality, the Parody Master had to create micro-portals first to send through nanobots that constructed larger gateways for his troops. Here he might elect to create the full-size invasion doors right away. GENERAL ROTT, NORAD: What about our promised deep space radar or whatever the hell it is? We’re still blind to attack from the skies, blast it. TRICKSHOT, LAIR LEGION, LAIRJET TWO: Keep yer medals on, General. We’re up at LegionSat Alpha right now, and Yuki’s doing the spacewalk thing to connect up the frammistats to the gizmotrons. Yuki? YUKI SHIRO, LAIR LEGION, LEGIONSAT ALPHA: Yeah, I’m there. This is a real pig to do in zero G. I’m glad I don’t need to wear a space suit. Okay, let’s give this a shot. D.D.? D.D., ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE OF THE MOON PUBLIC LIBRARY: …hear me yet? Hello? Yuki? Wow, I really didn’t think these systems would be compatible. YUKI SHIRO, LEGIONSAT ALPHA: I brought a big heavy spanner. Are you able to link now? D.D., MOON PUBLIC LIBRARY: I think so. I should… [WHINEY SHOUTING IN BACKGROUND THEN LOUD METALLIC THUD] A.L.F.RED, ROBOTIC MAJOR DOMO, MOON PUBLIC LIBRARY: Sorry about the interruption. We had a sudden audit from our former employers, but its done now. Carry on saving the universe. NATALIA ROMANZA, STRONGHOLD ONE: It’s working. We’re getting near Earth space on our sensor grids here. We have a clear view up to around two light years out. That Library technology is amazing! GENERAL ROTT, NORAD: Hmph. So why wasn’t this strategic asset wasn’t made available for our defence efforts before, eh? DR BLARGLESLARCH, CHAIR OF THE BOARD, MOON PUBLIC LIBRARY: The Intergalactic Order of Libraries rules forbade it. But now we’ve declared ourselves to be an independent institution. And really, your defence is our defence given we’re right here on the only moon orbiting your planet. ARNIE J. ARMBRUSTER, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW/PRIVATE DETECTIVE, MOON PUBLIC LIBRARY: And still getting paid by the hour, right? COL SPAN, S.P.U.D. HELICARRIER: Right, so we have deep space tracking and we’re watching for teleport and dimensional incursion. Can we bring the local stations on line now? SIR ISSAC IAN BRADBURY, DIRECTOR, PROJECT PENDRAGON, U.K.: We’re patching through to the various watchtowers now, ladies and gentlemen. I’m getting green lights for Sydney, Matto Grosso, Falklands, Saltilli… Yes, there’s Athabaska reporting in… Spitzbergen… Pretoria, Fezzan, Rome, Kabul, Lahore, Berezov, Midway, Istanbul… That just leaves Wuhan. Confirm, Wuhan. AL B. HARPER, EEE: I’m still getting a yellow light from China. NATALIA ROMANZA, STRONGHOLD ONE: Hold on. I’m informing Stronghold Actual. I don’t like technical glitches at this point. MISS FRAMLICKER, ITC: That’s no way to talk about Al after all his hard work. AL B. HARPER: Hey! COL. SPAN, HELICARRIER: If you civilians could contain your unprofessional bickering for after the world invasion attempt we’d all be a lot happier, people. This isn’t… HATMAN, LAIRJET ONE: Isn’t one of the usual scenarios where these same civilians save the world, Colonel? SIR MUMPHREY WILTON, CIC, STRONGHOLD ONE: Good afternoon, chaps. Stronghold Actual here, what? Think we’d best do a face to face check on the Wuhan watchtower, please. SIR IAN ISAAC BRADBURY, PROJECT PENDRAGON: I’m getting a go signal from them now. Light is green. SIR MUMPHREY WILTON, STRONGHOLD ONE: All the same, I think we’d better take a shuftie. Who’s the nearest special force to that area, Mr Boaz? HATMAN, LAIRJET ONE: That’d be Giant Robot Six out of Tokyo. I’ll call Professor Tofu and get him to send them on reconnaissance. SIR MUMPHREY WILTON: Jolly good. As for the rest of you, stay alert. Just because we have eighteen hours to that Parody Bounder’s deadline doesn’t mean he has to stick to it. Don’t forget he’s an arrant villain. General Rott, we need those remaining forces deployed sooner. Dr Harper, we still need a reliable counter to that dimensional warping once we’ve detected it. Mr Boaz, more work on how we could counter one of those Dreadnaughts please. Come on, chaps. Earth expects every man to do his duty. LISA WALTZ, LAIR LEGION, STRONGHOLD ONE: And every woman. The LairJet landed in the cordoned centre of Parody Plaza, the heart of the city of Paradopolis. The expensive state of the art aircraft only bounced twice and crushed nothing worse than some traffic cones. When the occupants disembarked Dancer was laughing. “Don’t feel so bad about it. They call it a crash course for a reason, Manny.” ManMan, probationary member of the Lair Legion, scowled. “I only had two lessons before Hatman made us go and clean out that vampire pack that was working for the Parody Master,” Joe Pepper complained. “I don’t know why you made me drive.” “Comedy value?” suggested Knifey, ManMan’s sentient blade. “Oh don’t take it so seriously,” Dancer advised the Elvis impersonator (ManMan’s idea of superhero attire was a white Elvis suit complete with rhinestone belt). “I asked you to pilot because I still hate flying these things. The only way I ever land them is by using my probability powers to stop us from dying in a ball of flame. Really.” “That makes me feel so much better,” ManMan swallowed. The two Legionnaires crossed the causeway under the shadow of the remaining Twin Parody Tower. It was amazingly quiet in the usually bustling civic centre. “This is what it’s always like,” Knifey remembered. “The time before the war. People trying to go about their daily lives, but knowing what’s coming next. Wondering who will live, who will die, how their lives will change forever.” “I heard all the churches were full yesterday,” Joe Pepper replied. “Mac Fleetwood had eight weddings to do.” “I guess people feel they’re running out of time,” shuddered Dancer. “We’ve had doomsdays before, but never with this much notice. Never with this much preparation.” She led Joe through the doorway of the Bean and Donut Coffee Bar, into the familiar interior of the place where she secretly worked as mild-mannered waitress Sarah Shepherdson. Proprietor Mr Papadapopolis himself was behind the counter to greet them. “Ho, Dancer, ManMan, Knifey! Come have coffee. Is fresh. And pastries, yes? First coffee is free at Bean and Donut for all our brave boys and girls in uniform!” ManMan noticed the changes to the shop. The security shutters were half down and the windows had been taped so they wouldn’t shatter in an explosion. There were sandbags around the counter. The walls were streamered with American and Greek flags. There were quite a lot of soldiers sitting around the diner in full uniform, kit bags slung beside them, waiting for a call to arms. Most of them were staring appreciatively at Dancer’s leotard-clad perfection. But there were a few regulars as well. “Hello, Mr Douglas, Mrs Kasperetti. How’s your little Tommy, Mr Kwapitz?” Dancer called. “If you are looking for Sarah, she is not here today,” Mr Papadapopolis told ManMan. “I give her some time off. If the world is ending, she should be with her loved ones.” “I’m sure she is,” Dancer assured him. “Hey, are you Captain Turner?” she asked, spotting the commander of the military forces defending the Plaza nibbling at a kebab. “Didn’t you stop the tanks rolling over civilian protestors at the Sheldon Bay Bridge?” “Major Turner,” Knifey corrected her, observing the shoulder tabs on the young officer. “They obviously didn’t court martial him.” “No ma’am, and, uh… sir? I thought I was for Guantanamo Bay or something, but instead they hauled me in front of Sir Mumphrey Wilton. And… he shook my hand.” “Give this man another Danish,” Dancer told Mr Papadapopolis. “Is it as quiet as this all over the city?” ManMan asked the Major. “Pretty much,” Turner admitted, still blushing from Dancer’s approval. “A lot of the children have been evacuated, given that Paradopolis is such a likely target. People are keeping indoors as much as they can, keeping an eye on the TV for news. But…” “But?” prompted Dancer. “But it feels better out there than it did this time last week,” Turner ventured. “At least now we’re all fighting the same enemy.” ManMan snarfed a second cruller from the display case. Heroes needed to keep their strength up. “Why haven’t you been evacuated, Mr P?” he asked the old Greek proprietor. “Not that we don’t appreciate the essential supplies.” “This is my home,” Mr Papadapopolis told him. “I come here with my father in 1947, to be an American. I work to make this shop a good place. You think I run away just because some big bully comes to steal from me? You think I let good men and women fight for me and not stand next to them? My father, he fought in my homeland when a madman invaded. I am proud to do what he did.” Dancer gave the surprised proprietor a hug. “And that,” she told the world, “is exactly why we are going to kick the Parody Master’s butt.” “Ten-hutt!” shouted the top sergeant, but the three thousand men under canvas were already on their feet, cheering and whooping. Word got round fast in the armed services, and the men of the companies newly billeted alongside the Indian Army has already heard about Mr Epitome’s visit to the Parody Cult temple earlier today. “As you were,” the star-spangled splendour told them, but even he couldn’t hold back one quick smile at the flood of approval and enthusiasm that washed over him. “Yes, sir Mr President!” called out one soldier. “That wasn’t me being President…” Dominic Clancy began to explain, but again there was a roar of support. “Well, you evidently have their vote,” Agent Clarice grackle told him in a low sotto whisper. “Pay attention,” Mr Epitome told the troops under the camouflage canvas and the thousands more linked via the video cameras when their non-com officers had finally brought them to order. “This briefing summarises what you’ll probably be facing in the next few hours.” The Legionnaire was dressed in his customary combat outfit, halfway between military fatigues and a superhero costume. He flipped over a lead on the easel beside him and showed a grainy picture of a tall armoured man carrying a sword and an axe. “This is the Parody Master,” the man of might began. “The big bad. From what we can tell, he’s some kind of recurring phenomenon that possesses a human body and overwhelms its personality. We have reports of him cropping up from time to time throughout recorded history, and intel of similar incursions on other planets. He’s been to Earth a few times in the modern age and clashed with the Lair Legion.” “Nice breastplate,” a soldier mocked, staring at the picture of the red and gold-clad conqueror. “It’s been known to shrug off a nuke,” Mr Epitome scowled. “The Parody Master is insanely powerful, as strong as he wants to be. Energy blasts, force fields, psionics, telekinetics, he doesn’t seem to have any limits except those imposed by his host body. And this time he seems more powerful than ever. He fights with that sword that can shear through almost anything, and an axe which allegedly drains souls.” The paragon of power tapped the image. “If you encounter the Parody Master, do not engage. He’s out of your league. Your orders are to retreat and report. However, since the Parody Master has pretensions to play Alexander the Great or Napoleon you’re more likely to encounter his forces.” Epitome flicked over the page. “These are Avawarriors. Note their full body armour and helmets. Those things are grafted on, worn for life. Devotees of the Parody Master’s cult are raised from birth to covet this transformation. They vie for the chance to be surgically altered into Avawarriors.” The troops expressed their views of such fanatics. Crudely. “The Avawarrior armour increases the wearer’s strength enough to bench press a jeep and ups reflexes and speed enough to run at around sixty miles an hour. The shield absorbs energy and doesn’t break because the Parody Master doesn’t want it to. The molecule-thick Avaswords can slice through tanks.” Mr Epitome gestured to the accompanying diagrams. “Small arms fire is useless against these guys. So is gas. Take them down like you’d take out tanks. Use bazookas, rockets, or clusters of grenades to crack the armour first. Then fire into the breach.” “Sounds doable,” a soldier opined. “Just like lobster.” “Lobsters don’t come in units of a hundred, all telepathically connected with their commander to act in perfect unison,” Epitome pointed out. “This is their senior officer, the Avatar. Note the different helmet and chestplate trim. Frag him if you can.” “Also watch out for their teleport technology,” Agent Grackle chimed in. “In your mission packs are accounts from the Australian forces that struggled against the Parody Master’s first modern invasion back in ’99. The Avawarriors set up what they call dimensional gates, pinch-points between two distant places, to bring men and materiel through very quickly. If you locate such a point, destroy it as a priority.” Mr Epitome moved the slide show forwards. The next image showed a robed Parody Cultist. “These guys are the Parody Master’s clergy. They literally worship him, and in return he grants them powers. They call them miracles. We call them high-end telepathic mind control and arcane energy projection. Some use staffs as power storage devices. If you can, engage these guys at range before they see you. Up close they can probably command you to blow your own heads off.” Epitome carried on with the briefing, covering the robotic weapons platforms, the mutate battle drones, the mind-slaved metahuman prisoners of previous campaigns, the gravity tanks, the nano-assassins. “But especially watch out for these,” he concluded. The easel showed a charcoal sketch of a dark cloaked figure on a black smudge that could have been a bat-winged steed. “Ringwraiths?” quipped a noncom. “Doomwraiths,” Epitome told him in tones that shut down the levity dead. “The Singularity Riders. Seven unique and powerful bad guys created from the collective dead of seven planets the Parody Master didn’t like. They suck life energy. If you find one of these things you call for metahuman support right away.” And then we’ll try and figure out some way to stop them he didn’t add. “And we have to stop all of that?” one soldier whispered to another. Mr Epitome could hear a pin drop half a mile away. “You’re American aren’t you, soldier?” he demanded. ++ COMMUNICATIONS TRANSCRIPT: DAY 0 ++ LOG CONTINUES: TRICKSHOT, LAIRJET TWO, NEAR EARTH ORBIT: Hey guys, I’m getting radio chatter from Giant Robot Six in Hubei Province. They’re taking fire! There’s something happening around the Wuhan Watchtower! YUKI SHIRO, LAIRJET TWO: Jay, we’re in the upper atmosphere. We could do a power dive and be there in under fifteen minutes. Okay, Tricky might be strayed across the back wall, but still… HATMAN, LAIRJET ONE: Hold your position, Yuki. That’s an order. This could be a diversion. NATALIA ROMANZA, STRONGHOLD ONE: Carl, is there any indication that Giant Robot Six need help? TRICKSHOT, LAIRJET TWO: Hard ta say, princess. I think there’s scrambling goin’ on down there. HATMAN, LAIRJET ONE: Okay, I’m recommending a second reconnaissance with enough firepower to pull a rescue if required, but I don’t want any of our existing deployments pulling off station for this. Shoggoth? THE MANGA SHOGGOTH, LOCATION UNKNOWN: Yes? You’d like me to slither over there? No problem. I’ll open a chymeric gate right ‘now’, as you humans so quaintly call it. HATMAN, LAIRJET ONE: Er, thanks, Shoggy. And next time, could you remember to use the communications devices provided? GENERAL ROTT, NORAD: If there’s an attempt to take out one Watchtower we could be facing attacks at others. Get them all to send back secure recognition codes. Now. SIR IAN ISAAC BRADBURY: We’re not getting a proper code back from Spitzbergen. It’s the older code, before yesterday’s upgrade. COL. SPAN, SPUD HELICARRIER: Okay, there’s something screwy happening and we need to find out what. Who’s available to check that one? HATMAN, LAIRJET ONE: I’m deploying the Federal Metahuman Resource Centre team. They’ll be there in twenty minutes. GENERAL ROTT, NORAD: A lot can happen in twenty minutes. SIR MUMPHREY WILTON, STRONGHOLD ONE: Then let’s be ready for it, what? CRAZYSUGARFREAKBOY!, LAIR LEGION DEPUTY LEADER, LAIRJET ONE: Right. Let’s make a sudden inspection of a couple more of those watchtowers before we get another red flag. We got the Globetrotting Gangbusters in South Africa. They could check on the Pretoria station pretty fast in their RVs of Righteousness. And could the Belgian Waffle Five get to Rome in time? NATALIA ROMANZA, STRONGHOLD ONE: That’s committing an awful lot of our reserves for a snap inspection. HATMAN, LAIRJET ONE: But we have no chance of covering everything everywhere anyhow. I’ll back Dream’s gut call on this. I’m sending them in. “Why me?” asked Bernice Teschmaker. “I’ve spent my whole career as a journalist and columnist speaking out against the excesses of superhero arrogance. So why give me the privilege of being embedded with the Commander in Chief of the Combined Forces of Earth?” Sir Mumphrey Wilton looked up from his desk. “Why? Because you’ve also spent your whole career speaking the truth as you see it, Miss Teschmaker. Because you stood out against Special Resolution 1066 despite the significant threats made against you by serious sinister people.” “Is that all?” “And because history has got to have the facts,” the eccentric Englishman admitted. “History has to have the facts so history can judge.” “Assuming there’s anybody alive to judge after this is over,” Bernice pointed out. “Are you saying you’re not entirely sure that what we’re doing is right?” Sir Mumphrey Wilton shook his head. “Of course I’m not sure. I’m not a fool. Not that big a fool anyhow. We’re gambling the whole future of the human race that we can do something that’s never been done, beat a power that’s never been beaten. The odds aren’t good.” “So you’re leading us all to destruction?” “Possibly,” the old man admitted. “But if we took the other path, surrendered and became slaves of the Parody Master, we wouldn’t really be the human race any more.” “Nations have been conquered and enslaved before,” the reported pointed out. “Some of them survived, gained their freedoms again.” “Not this time,” Mumphrey told her. “We have offworld intelligence about what the Parody Master is doing. Whole sentient species eradicated. Planets dismantled for their natural resources. Others becoming factory worlds dedicated only to the building of a bigger and stronger war machine.” “And all arrayed against us,” Bernice noted. “Populations taken for medical experiments,” the eccentric Englishmen went on. “Ten billion dead so that one subject amongst them might mutate into something usable by the Parody Master. Whole worlds turned into breeding camps to beget more of those Avawarriors the Parody Master uses as uncountable shock troops.” He clenched his fists. “I tell you, I love my grand-daughters but I would shoot them in the head rather then see them enslaved to that arrant bastard.” “I… I see.” Bernice Teschmaker was surprised by the sudden intensity of the usually-genial old man. “So how can we win?” Sir Mumphrey paused. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I only know that we have to try.” “Tell me why we’re here again,” Silicone Sally asked Baroness Beth von Zemo; except that the pliant shapeshifting mercenary was currently moulded around the Baroness in the form of her Citizen Z superhero disguise, so the whole conversation looked like the vigilante Legionnaire muttering to her cleavage. “We’re here because Mumphrey Wilton isn’t,” Beth explained again. “Because he somehow knows that you’re not who Hatman thinks you are, that you’re really Legion enemy Elizabeth von Zemo masquerading as a hero to infiltrate their organisation for your own ends.” “No. Mumphrey will keep quiet while my being there furthers his own agenda. He gave his word on it. We’re here away from him because when the Parody Master gets going, Wilton will be ground zero. I’m a lot happier rooting through B.A.L.D. technology stats, terrorising that big floating spud-head M.O.D.E.M., and being a good few states away from whatever happens to Sir Mumphrey Wilton.” “Makes sense when you say it like that,” Sally conceded. “So we’re fighting for the good guys against the Parody Master, then?” “We’re fighting alongside the good guys against the Parody Master,” the Baroness answered precisely. “How else can I come out of this war ruling the Earth?” Yuki Shiro climbed through the airlock and pulled on her leather jacket. She hadn’t taken it on her extra-vehicular activity as the cold of absolute vacuum wasn’t good for calfskin leather. “How’s the weather?” asked Trickshot, feet up on the LairJet console as he ate potato chips that free-floated in front of his face. “Well, not yet raining hot nuclear death,” the cyborg P.I. noted. “So it could be worse.” Trickshot checked that the aircrafts manoeuvring thrusters were keeping them in geosynchronous orbit beside LairSat Alpha. “I hate havin’ ta wait for the alien invasions to get started,” he complained. “I don’t suppose you brought a deck o’ cards.” Yuki slipped out a Vegas Rules pack from her inside pocket. “I just happened to have one with me. But I don’t play very well.” “Me neither,” agreed Trickshot. “You might have to remind me of the fine points as we play.” “I’ll try to remember them,” Yuki promised. “Shall I… what’s it called, shuffle them?” Fortunately the Parody War began just then, thus saving the world from an altogether more personal clash. ++ COMMUNICATIONS TRANSCRIPT: DAY 0 ++ LOG CONTINUES: TRICKSHOT, LAIRJET TWO: Okay, I’m getting some signals again from China, but it’s really weak. Can anybody clean this up fer me? D.D., MOON PUBLIC LIBRARY: Yes, hold on. We have all kinds of information restoration techniques here. Try this… BISHOUNEN, TEAM LEADER, GIANT ROBOT SIX, WUHEI: …again, this is Bishounen. We’ve got Avawarriors on the ground here. Maybe fifty. We couldn’t contain them, but now there’s this… kaiju… GENERAL ROTT, NORAD: A what? Say again, boy. CRAZYSUGARFREAKBOY!, LAIRJET ONE: A giant monster, General. You need to read more Japanese stuff, maybe starting with Lone Wolf and Cub, then… HATMAN, LAIRJET ONE: They mean the Shoggoth has arrived. What were the Avawarriors doing, Bishounen? BISHOUNEN, WUHEI: They were in the Watchtower. Actually in it. We don’t… [SIGNAL LOST TO WHITE NOISE] CITIZEN Z, B.A.L.D. HEADQUARTERS: There’s some more unusual jamming happening around some of the other surveillance bases. I’m just going to motivate M.O.D.E.M. to find a way to punch through it. SIR IAN ISAAC BRADBURY: We’re also getting alarms from the Belgian Waffle Five. We may be getting incursion attempts at all the Watchtowers! COL SPAN, SPUD HELICARRIER: Set Defence Condition Alpha! Now. Now! GENERAL ROTT, NORAD: This is NORAD Actual. Get our birds in the air. Send signals to the fleet. All submarines to Protocol Apple. Initiate Operation Mayhem. Initiate Operation Glove. D.D., MOON PUBLIC LIBRARY: Uh oh! Folks, we have multiple contacts on the long range sensor grid. Things coming out of transwarp about two light years out. Lots of things. ARNIE J. ARMBRUSTER, MOON PUBLIC LIBRARY: Damn, that is a lot of things. Snookie, maybe we should be getting back to the office now? TRICKSHOT, LAIRJET TWO: Dammit, the villain’s cheating. We should have twelve more hours. NATALIA ROMANZA, STRONGHOLD ONE: Well, technically he may just be moving into position. A show of force, a last attempt to intimidate us into surrender. SIR MUMPHREY WILTON: We will not surrender. We will fight him to the last man, with all the courage our love for our homes and our families can give us, knowing that our darkest time can also be our finest hour. Hatman leaned forward to look over CrazySugarFreakBoy!’s shoulder at the readout on the LairJet instrument pack. “Take us right over Paradopolis,” he told the wired wonder. “If they’re going after civilian targets that’s where they’re most likely to start.” “If they dost wish to terrorise innocents they must first remove mine enchanted baseball bats from their skull cavities,” Donar, hemigod of thunder, growled warningly. In the distance dark clouds began to gather. “Contact Dancer and ManMan. Tell them to get LairJet Three in the air.” Hatman pulled on his Jets cap. “Tell them I think it’s starting.” “They think it’s starting,” Katarina Allen told the Bottled City of Badripoor. The shrunken metropolis was secured on a shelf in the Lair Mansion’s Meeting Room, and Mr Epitome’s lady-friend was updating President-For Life spiffy and indeed the whole population by peering through the bell-shaped forcefield and talking quietly. “The Lair Legion are out there now, along with pretty much every other hero available.” “Except us,” complained spiffy. “We could be of some use, even at this size.” “I already explained,” Letiticia Gahagan, the Idiom, reminded him with a sigh. “The force field is interacting with the cocktail of other energies that shrunk us down like this. If I shut it off so we can get out, we might regain our regular size too unevenly and simply burst.” “Now there’s a wonderful image,” shuddered Banjooooo, king of the Sea Monkeys. “So we just get to watch the big pretty lady in the sky and sit on our shelf while the fate of the world gets decided?” “Well,” suggested Beverly Campbell, spiffy’s aide, “We could order in pizza.” ++ COMMUNICATIONS TRANSCRIPT: DAY 0 ++ LOG CONTINUES: NATALIA ROMANZA, STRONGHOLD ONE: Flash message at 2218 hours. Priority. We now have confirmed intelligence that Parody Master forces have previously been concealed on Earth in readiness for assault. These forces are not triggering our teleport and dimensional warning grids because they’re already here. We have conflicts in progress in China, South Africa, Rome, and Russia. It’s possible there are incursions at all other watchtower locations. AL B. HARPER, EEE: If there are Parody Master forces in the field then we have to assume that all the Watchtowers intel might be compromised. What aren’t we seeing that we should be seeing? GENERAL ROTT, NORAD: Military forces are now engaging the enemy. We have air battles in Wuhei and Pretoria, and ground conflict in all four zones. So far we’re coping. We’re coping. Enemy numbers are small. SPECIAL AGENT DAWES, INDIA: Mr Epitome is now en route for Karachi watchtower to investigate that site. CITIZEN Z, B.A.L.D. HEADQUARTERS: Tricky, switch over entirely to the Legion satellite network. D.D., filter out everything from the Watchtowers for now. What have we got? D.D., MOON PUBLIC LIBRARY: This will take a moment… But there’s something there. I’m getting… a cloaked vessel, something big. Really big! HATMAN, LAIRJET 1: Where, D.D? What? D.D., MOON PUBLIC LIBRARY: Right here! Right over the Library. A Dimensional Dreadnaught! It’s launching… DR BLARGELSLARCH, MOON PUBLIC LIBRARY: Here? You mean here as above us on the moon? Here here? A.L.F.RED, MOON PUBLIC LIBRARY: Multiple incoming transnuclear warheads. Initiating defence protocol Alexandria. Shifting primary… [STATIC] HATMAN, LAIRJET ONE: D.D? A.L.F.RED? YUKI SHIRO, LAIRJET TWO: Satellite telemetry is showing a massive multi-megaton explosion in the Mare Ingenii on Luna. Somewhere in the… in the 5000 meg range, enough to flatten the Rockies. GENERAL ROTT: Are you saying they’ve been nuked out of existence? We’ve lost our only long-range scanning capacity? COL. SPAN, SPUD HELICARRIER: Alert One! We have a Dimensional Dreadnaught warping in above us. Battle stations! Launch fighters! I repeat, we have… [STATIC] HATMAN: We’re reading signs of movement around Lair Island. Avawarriors coming up from the sea! Dancer, ManMan, join us. We’re going in! GENERAL ROTT, NORAD: Helicarrier, respond. We are no longer receiving your transceiver signal. Helicarrier? Span? TECHNICIAN TERRENCE, STAFF AIDE, NORAD: General, I have a message for you. GENERAL ROTT, NORAD: Well then! Out with it, soldier. TECHNICIAN TERRENCE, NORAD: In the name of the Parody Master! [SOUNDS OF GUNFIRE, CONFUSED SHOUTING, SCREAMING] HATMAN, PARODY ISLAND: Stronghold, there’s around a hundred Avawarriors attempting to invade the Lair Mansion. They have war cyborgs and automated combat drones with them. Dancer and Donar are going in. SIR MUMPHREY WILTON, STRONGHOLD ONE: It looks like the bounders are going after all our command and control centres. Take defensive measures. Mr Bastion, Ms Shiro, watch out because logically the satellite network is next, what? TRICKSHOT, LAIRJET TWO: Great call, boss man. We just spotted some kind of big-ass Skunk flying saucer headin’ fer LairSat One. We’re on it. YUKI SHIRO, LAIRJET TWO: Ramming speed! SIR IAN ISAAC BRADBURY, PROJECT PENDRAGON: We’re not receiving any transmission signal from Cheyenne Mountain any more. The control room’s gone dead, even the automated systems. I’m initiating secondary remote backups. NATALIA ROMANZA, STRONGHOLD ONE: We are getting visual confirmation now that the Helicarrier is down, sliced in two, burning in fragments. No word on casualties yet but… it has to be high. Maybe everybody. CITIZEN Z, B.A.L.D. HEADQUARTERS: Okay, the computers here have locked into the NORAD defences grid. Don’t ask how, this is a supervillain science base. Except there isn’t a NORAD any more, just a big hole in the side of Cheyenne Mountain and a hovering Dimensional Dreadnaught. DIRECTOR SOAMES, OPS: The helicarrier, NORAD, and the Watchtowers, all gone in less than five minutes? We’re running out of assets. MISS FRAMLICKER, ITC: Uh oh. We’re getting invasion alarm signals here at the ITC offices. Something’s breaching our dimensional safeguards. Something powerful! AL B. HARPER, EEE: No! Get out of there now! You need to get everybody out of that building right now. I should have realised that they’d find ways past ITC defences while all that SR 1066 stuff was going on! Muffy, you need to get out now. Muffy! MISS FRAMLICKER, ITC: No time. They’ve locked dimensional barriers in place to stop us getting out that way. And I think we’ve seen what’s attacking before. One of those… cold things. Those Singularity Riders! Al! MANMAN, LAIRJET THREE, PARADOPOLIS: Hatty, I’m seeing a massive flare explosion over on the other side of the park. I think it’s the ITC building! It’s falling! Burning! [BACKGROUND SOUND OF COLLAPSING CONCRETE AND STEEL] AL. B HARPER: Muffy!!! CITIZEN Z, B.A.L.D. HEADQUARTERS: The Dimensional Dreadnaught! It’s here now! All this devastation from just one ship! It’s over us in Utah. Oh crap! NATALIA ROMANZA, STRONGHOLD ONE: Citizen Z, you are authorised to abandon station. Get out of there. CZ? [STATIC] SIR IAN ISAAC BRADBURY, PROJECT PENDRAGON: Mumphrey, they’ll be coming after Stronghold One next. You know they will. SIR MUMPHREY WILTON, STRONGHOLD ONE: Let ‘em come. NATALIA ROMANZA, STRONGHOLD ONE: We’re getting a signal. Dreadnaught appearing over Area 51, Nebraska. They’ve worked out where Stronghold One signals are coming from. They’re launching missiles! “It is the end of the world,” Reverend Draco told the frightened people huddled in his meditation rooms. “You know it is. Already our cities are burning, our defences in ruins. Only I can save you now.” “Save us!” cried one of the rich and famous who flocked to the lifestyle guru for guidance. “Please! I’ll pay anything!” “Of course,” the Reverend told them. “And so you shall. All I require from you to take you from this place is a single autograph. A signature on this legal contract. A signature in blood.” “Like… like a contract with the Devil?” a frightened young starlet puzzled. “Exactly like that,” Reverend Draco agreed. “You sign over your soul to the Beast and your flesh will be saved.” He smiled coldly. “And who believes in such a thing as a soul anyhow, these days?” “I do,” Xander the Improbable told him, elbowing his way through the seething mass. “And I don’t appreciate such blatant recruiting on my watch, Diabolus.” Reverend Draco pretended to shy back. “Ooh, it’s the sorcerer supreme. I’m so scared!” Then he leaned forward again. “You think I’ve not prepared for you, little man? For you and you pretty swanmay companion there? I’ve placed contingencies in place to deal with both of you. Xander didn’t seem that perturbed. “I’m not Cleone Swanmay,” the young woman with him told Diabolus. “I’m Liu Xi Xian.” The Manga Shoggoth bubbled out of the teacup in which he’d left a small part of his biomatter, willing it to swell and multiply until he enveloped the first of the Avawarriors to breach the hasty makeshift repairs on the front of the Lair Mansion. “You forgot to knock,” he told them, “And it is rude not to wipe your feet.” “I can just about handle the multi-dimensional loathsome elder beast,” ManMan told Knifey as he carved through Avawarrior armour. “It’s the attempts at banter that rob my sanity.” “Wait till he starts on the puns,” Knifey replied. “Or don’t. My advice is to run screaming for the hills.” “Something’s wrong here, Hatty,” CrazySugarFreakBoy! warned as he bounced off one war platform to shatter the mechanisms of another. “These things are just trying to keep us pinned down, hold us in position. They’re waiting for something else.” “I agree,” the capped crusader called back. He pulled on his Eagles cap and threaded his way through the missile fire to get altitude and a tactical overview. He got it. “Three o’clock!” he called out to the others. “Three things in black riding three even worse things in black.” “Singularity Riders,” Dancer guessed. “The Parody Master’s sending in his big guns.” “Guns art overrated,” Donar told them, racing towards V’Zel the Pious. “Ne’er underestimate the usefulness of a heavy stick with a nail in yon end.” “Wait a minute, though,” ManMan pondered. “Aren’t those Doomwraiths cosmic level beings? So why doesn’t…” Then his words were drowned out by a shrill shriek as the Lair’s resident banshee reacted to undead intruders of above-mortal power thresholds. There was a white blur as Marie Murcheson awoke from whatever slumbering state her unquiet spirit usually laid in and struck at the Singularity Riders. But each one of the Doomwraiths was a collective spirit formed from the tortured souls of an entire planet. Marie gave them pause for a second but then they moved forward again. Donar batted V’Zel in the chest and sent him arcing over the waters far out to sea. Touching the being left the hemigod so weak he couldn’t even stagger. Marie drew upon the strength of the Celestian defences woven into the fabric of Parody Isle and screamed. K’Soth the Cruel was pounded down by a wall of spirit-sound, his essence and that of his steed smeared over the island’s rocks to seep away and painfully reform in dark secret places far from hope. The energy barrier that had protected the Mansion from invasion by the Doomherald one week earlier sprang into being again, holding W’Lure the Bitter at bay, unable to advance. “Quick, while the Avawarriors are disoriented,” Hatman called, “while they’re wondering why their commands from the Parody Master have gone silent and he can’t replenish their energies, take them down!” “The poor things,” pitied Dancer as she dropped them. “Never mind them,” Knifey told the Legion. “Don’t you realise we’ve just been trapped behind our own defences?” “Okay, I told you they wouldn’t expect us to fly a LairJet through the cockpit of their flying saucer,” Yuki Shiro told Trickshot. “Good call, babe. Now all we’ve gotta do is beat a ship full o’these alien uglies, take over the spooky Skrull spaceship, an’ use it ta keep any others at bay ta keep this satellite satelliting. Let’s go” The Dreadnaught Joy of Slaughter hovered over the US Airforce base at the infamous Area 51 at Nebraska’s Nellis Air Force Base. The vessel was the size of a small city, with more firepower than every weapon Earth had to offer combined. It ignored the surface to air missile batteries and conducted a deep scan of the subterranean complex until it located the room where the Stronghold signals were coming from. Then it fired. A column of superheated plasma a quarter of a mile wide punched thirty miles into the surface of the planet, cracking the tectonic plate, boiling away millions of tons of rock. The base was destroyed instantly, along with all habitation within twenty miles. The Roswell mystery burned. Aliens had come at last. Then the transnuclear weapon hidden beneath the base went off. The shaped charge was directed upwards, an explosive lance that burned back along the plasma stream from the Joy of Slaughter right up into its own energy vents, triggering catastrophic feedback. The energy shunt buffers buckled and failed, and the entire Dimensional Dreadnaught exploded in a flower of flame with a sound that was heard from coast to coast. And then it all went quiet. ++ COMMUNICATIONS TRANSCRIPT: DAY 0 ++ LOG CONTINUES: AL B. HARPER, EEE: Hello? Mumphrey? Hatty? Anyone? Tricky? CZ? Anyone at all? AL B. HARPER, EEE: Hello? Please? “What happened?” demanded Sir Mumphrey Wilton. “Contessa?” “I have no idea,” Natalia Romanza replied, sitting back in her communications chair and gesturing to the blank screens. Even the hologram globe in the centre of the Lair Legion Operations Room – the real Stronghold One – had gone blank, no longer showing the tactical update on the global battle. “We’ve lost all signals. Completely cut off.” Hatman reached the security door and called through for access. “We were outsmarted,” he reported. “The Parody Master worked out what would happen if he sent his Probability Riders in here, the knee-jerk Celestian defences reaction. The dome’s back, so we’re trapped in here unable to stop him while he conquers the world.” “That’s pretty clever,” the Contessa admitted. “Using our own strengths against us.” “Are you saying we’re beaten?” Bernice Teshmaker demanded. “After all that big talk? Are you saying we’re done?” “That depends,” Lisa Waltz judged. “It depends if the PM was fooled by us routing all Stronghold One signals through Area 51. There was only one Dreadnaught in this attack. If it blew up Nellis, and the transnuke that Finny left word about and we planted there went off and took the Dreadnaught down…” “We might still have a chance,” Sir Mumphrey said grimly. “At the cost of the lives of those volunteers who manned the base to make the decoy work.” “The Dreadnaught’s the key to this battle,” Hatman agreed. “If that’s down, we might just survive.” ++ COMMUNICATIONS TRANSCRIPT: DAY 1 ++ LOG BEGINS LOCATION: LAIR LEGION MEETING ROOM, STRONGHOLD ONE TIME 0104 NATALIA ROMANZA: The barrier’s down. We have intelligence. We have the final score. HATMAN: Yeah. The good news is, we won this round. We fended off the attack. TRICKSHOT: And got ourselves a sweet little flyin’ saucer. HATMAN: The bad news is the cost. The first attack cost us NORAD centre, the Helicarrier, the Moon Public Library, Interdimensional Transportation Corporation, the B.A.L.D. HQ and its sensor network, Nellis base, and all the Watchtowers. CRAZYSUGARFREAKBOY!: Eleven thousand nine hundred and twenty-one military casualties, six thousand and some civilians. They’re still counting. No-one expected the Dreadnaught to blow up that good. MR EPITOME: Four hundred and thirteen Avawarriors dead or captured. An estimated hundred and seven still loose and being hunted. MANMAN: One Dimensional Dreadnaught down, using the only transnuke available to us. Where did Finny get that thing anyhow? DANCER: When he and the Dark Knight were collecting up Vaahir’s weapons he ‘miscounted’ and kept one. When Finny went missing I received a mysterious birthday card telling me where he’d hidden it. Still, at least DK remembered my birthday. CITIZEN Z: Any other survivors from the key personnel losses? Apart from me, I mean. I had the advantage of being in a supervillain base. There’s always a secret emergency exit in those things. You just have to know where to look. AL B. HARPER: I don’t think so. They… Rott was assassinated even before the base blew. Span went down with his Helicarrier. Miss Framlicker… The whole ITC building was in rubble. Nobody got out. YUKI SHIRO: Maybe… she dimension jumped? THE MANGA SHOGGOTH: A counter-dimensional screen was used to prevent that when the assault began. Very clever again. I am beginning to dislike such cleverness. LISA L WALTZ: Aren’t we all? This wasn’t a win for us, folks. This was Pearl Harbour. In one attack, with a fraction of his fleet, the Parody Master has wiped out nearly all our strategic assets, leaving us helpless. Could we fend of another assault of even the magnitude again? Or is it game over before we’ve even started? DONAR: ‘Tis not o’er till the fat valkyrie sings. We needs must fighteth on. SIR MUMPHREY WILTON: Indeed. We knew this would be hard, be costly. If our assets are lost, we find other ones. If we failed this time, next time we’ll fight harder and smarter. Have to do. Essential. HATMAN: Okay people. Two hours sleep while Mumph and I plan, and then it’s back to work. Tomorrow we have a war on. THE PARODY MASTER: People of Earth, you have seen the barest fraction of my power, a mere introduction to the devastation I can rain upon you. The deadline for your capitulation approaches: noon today. Your defenders have failed you. Your resistance is crushed. Either come to me in abject surrender and pay tribute as I have commanded, or become a warning to all worlds everywhere about incurring the wrath of the Parody Master. Your time is running out. Next Time: Can the Lair Legion take on the overwhelming odds of the Parody Master’s forces and save the world before high noon? Or is it time to just surrender to the inevitable? See the Parody Master take off the kid gloves and come after our heroes with everything he’s got in Untold Tales of the Parody War: Ground Zero Tie-Ins: The Baroness #44: An Intimate Interlude by JJJ Phoning Home by Dancer A Footnote That Will Live In Infamy: Our Cast The Lair Legion Hatman (Jay Boaz; leader), with the ability to take on the powers of whatever hat he wears CrazySugarFreakBoy (Dreamcatcher Foxglove, Deputy), sucrose-powered gymnastic avatar of chaos Donar, hemigod of thunder Lisa Waltz, amorous advocatrix, keeper of the Booke of the Law Trickshot (Carl Bastion), irritating archer The Probability Dancer (Sarah Shepherdson), with the ability to alter chances The Manga Shoggoth, a loathsome elder beast made of goo Mr Epitome (Dominic Clancy) US government-created super-soldier Al B. Harper, archscientist Yuki Shiro, cyborg private investigator ManMan (Joe Pepper), wielder of the sentient knife Knifey Citizen Z (Baroness Elizabeth von Zemo), disguised supervillain Legionnaires absent (off-dimension) this issue: Visionary, possibly-fake man Yo, pure genderless thought being Military and Federal: Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Commander in Chief of Earth’s Allied Forces Colonel Span, Acting Director of the Super-Menance Principal Undercover Directorate (SPUD) Contessa Natalia Romanza, espionage and intelligence operative, SPUD General Rott, Pentagon Command Staff Sir Ian Isaac Bradbury, head of the UK-based spy group Project Pendragon Aaron Soames, Director of the US Office for Paranormal Security (OPS) Special Agent Lester Dawes, OPS Major Matt Turner, newly promoted army officer responsible for the defence of Paradopolis Giant Robot Six, Japanese superheroes under command of the teen idol Bishounen, using a giant robot created by Professor Tofu Belgian Waffle 5, Belgian superheroes who have never been described Science and Technical: Miss Framlicker, co-owner of Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises (with Al B. Harper), operating in this chapter from her former workplace, the Interdimensional Transportation Corporation D.D., the artificial intelligence system of the Moon Public Library (which is just what it says, a galactic library on Earth’s moon) A.L.F.RED, the somewhat psychotic robotic major domo of the Moon Public Library Miscelleneous Dr Blargelslarch, alien chairman of the Friends of the Moon Public Library, recent instigator of its declaration of independence from the Intergalactic Order of Libraries (IOL) Arnold J. Armbruster, detective / attorney for hire, currently supporting the Friends of the Moon Public Library in their bid to break free from the IOL Snookie Takahashi, Arnie’s secretary Mr Papadapopolis, owner of the Bean and Donut diner where Dancer works in her secret identity Bernice Teschmaker, reporter, columnist, and critic of super-heroes. Katarina Allen, Mr Epitome’s lover, currently helping out at the Lair Mansion spiffy (Mark Hopkins), President-for-Life of the Bottled City of Badripoor Beverly Campbell, spiffy’s aide-de-camp and girlfriend, also trapped in Badripoor Banjooooo, King of the Sea Monkeys, also trapped in Badripoor M.O.D.E.M is an artificial lifeform bred by the evil scientists at B.A.L.D. to be their leader Xander the Improbable is the Parodyverse’s sorcerer supreme. His familiar is the beautiful swan maiden Cleone. Liu Xi Xian is a teenaged elementalist of growing power, and she’s not going to be affected by the kinds of defences set up to stop Cleone. For previous correspondence between Miss Teschmaker and Sir Mumphrey Wilton, refer to A Dissenting View: On Our “Superhero Saviours” and A Reply To Miss Teschmaker’s Article. Previous Untold Tales are archived at The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom Fuller character descriptions can be found in Who's Who in the Parodyverse Location descriptions can be found in Where's Where in the Parodyverse Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2006 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2006 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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