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Post By Spring break comes early from... the Hooded Hood. Fri Dec 08, 2006 at 04:10:24 am EST |
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#297: Untold Tales of the Junior Lair Legion: Where No Juniors Have Gone Before | |
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| #297: Untold Tales of the Junior Lair Legion: Where No Juniors Have Gone Before The Junior Lair Legion Training Program and their friends: Missing in far dimensions: Kerry Shepherdson, fiery-tempered probability arsonist Fashion Accessory (Samantha Bonnington), fabric transmuter Harlagaz Donarson, demihemigod of thunder Denial (Danny Lyle), reality-denying self-defined supervillain Kid Produce (Jasper Stevens), the vegetable-using vigilante Glitch, girl-Transformer robot from a distant star Captain Courageous (Christopher “Kit” Kipling), the world’s politest crimefighter Looking for them: Ham-Boy (Fred Harris), the world’s meatiest hero Falconne (Lindy Wilson), anarchist aviator in a combat flying suit Hacker Nine (Zach Zelnitz), computer geek interning with the Hooded Hood The Apocalypse Boys rode up as the storm hit, as if the bikers had brought it in their wake. Perhaps they had. They homed in on the asteroid hanging on the edge of the transdimensional vortex between worlds and screamed their machines to a halt outside the seedy front door. They were feeling mean and looking for trouble. The Bar at the Centre of the Parodyverse was mis-named. More properly it hung at an axis point where the various realities were nailed to the framework of the multiverse, but there were as many different explanations for it as there were patrons. And these days the asteroid was crowded indeed, a little city of travellers in its own right clustered together on the edge of a war zone; observers, mercenaries, refugees, merchants, pushed together in the crowded guesthouses, apartments, brothels, temples, guilds, and no-tell motels that clung to the spinning rock where the cosmic beings of the Parodyverse ordered their drinks. Soulwrecker pointed down towards the Bar itself, whooped a war-cry, and led the Apocalypse Boys in. Tonight this aspect of the hostelry was presenting itself as a seedy roadside diner, with a long porch and cheap 1950’s Earth design. That suited the riders, who’d chosen their shapes and their leathers and their space-bikes to match. A neon sign blinked into the night of space: BAR AND GR-LL. “Excuse me, sirs,” the valet parking attendant told them. “I’m afraid you can’t park there. That’s a no dimensional chariots zone.” Soulwrecker sneered, flicked out a thumb to Kidneypuncher and Gorefest, and watched as the two huge hairy bikers grabbed the attendant and dragged him off into an alley to show him that the parking rules had changed. The rest of the Boys lined their hogs right in front of the porch and pressed into the Bar. Despite the crowded accommodations in the residential blocks, this aspect of the Bar at the Centre of the Parodyverse was quiet tonight. The Parody Master’s war in the mundane planes had already spilled over into Faerie and the Abyss. Plenty of the regular patrons, mostly conceptual beings and cosmic types, were home looking after their own back yards, or staying out of the eye of the Parody Master’s local representative – or just keeping their heads down. The coming cosmic storm had encouraged almost everyone to retire early to the jumble of wayfarer’s lodgings behind the establishment. Soulwrecker looked around to see where the fun was. The juke box picked up his mood and began to play Thin Lizzie’s 1976 one-hit wonder: Them wild-eyed boys that had been away Haven't changed, haven't much to say But man, I still think them cats are crazy” Mron was still there. The fat man at the end of the bar had been drinking in that spot since before Earth’s mantle cooled from a liquid state. Well, he’d taken a few bathroom breaks. He ignored the newcomers; they’d be gone in less than an eon. Other than him there were just a couple of entities playing pool at one end of the room and the barmaid behind the counter. The boys are back in town…” “Ten beers,” shouted Soulwrecker at the girl behind the counter. “And ten beers for each of my buddies as well!” “Oh, that’s original,” muttered the waitress. There were well over a hundred thousand brews on tap here, from Divine Ambrosia to Conceptual Saki to Regurgitated Hellslime. It was so tempting to pull the Apocalypse Boys something from the abyssal planes; but she’d been warned about that before. She poured them long cool tankards of Duff. Every night she'd be on the floor shaking what she'd got Man when I tell you she was cool, she was red hot I mean she was steaming.” “You’re new here, aren’t you?” Soulwrecker asked as she brought the tray over to their table. “What happened to that Myrna chick, with the eye in her forehead? She was sexy.” “She pupated into a personification of the number three and moved to the Platonic conceptual realm,” the barmaid answered, avoiding Bludchain’s wandering hands. “Her number’s still on the bathroom wall if you want to call her up, but I think she’s seeing some solar deity from the Crab Nebula.” “You’re pretty sexy too,” Soulwrecker leered, moving impossibly fast to grab the girl’s wrist. “Why don’t’cha sit here on my knee an we’ll get to know each other.” “Why don’t you learn about breath mints?” rejoined the barmaid. “Let me go. I’m not interested. I don’t date lower life forms.” Well this chick got up and she slapped Johnny's face Man we just fell about the place If that chick don't want to know, forget her.” “Oooh!” the Apocalypse Boys mocked as she struggled to detach herself from Soulwrecker’s grip. “Looks like she’s going to need a lesson,” Soulwrecker smirked. The Boys rose up and dragged the waitress over towards the pool table. The young man in the leather jacket there finished his last shot and won the pot just before the bikers pushed him and the Celestial Rain Dragon he’d just bilked of five hundred lesser blessings aside. “Hey, I wouldn’t do that,” advised Danny Lyle as the bikers the barmaid onto the table. “Keep out of this,” Samantha Bonnington told him. She was the barmaid, of course. Nobody else could make a check smock and apron look like a fashion statement. “I can handle this.” “You know that and I know that,” Danny agreed, frowning a little. “But does the short-order cook know that?” Then the kitchen door burst open and Kerry Shepherdson flew out of it wielding a red-hot skillet. “You stay away from her!” “Another one,” Soulwrecker grinned. “It’s gonna be a good night.” “It really isn’t,” Denial warned him. “But it’s not too late for us all to just sit down and drink our beer quietly. Well, not if I can stop the Firecracker from burning your private bits off.” “Chill, Kare,” Fashion Accessory told her friend. “I can totally cope with some grabby bozos.” Things might just have calmed down at that moment – although probably not – when Kidneypuncher and Gorefest came smashing through the wall to land in a crumpled heap at Soulwrecker’s feet. The remains of their bikes were wrapped around them. “Like I said,” the parking attendant warned, looking in through the shattered side of the diner, “you can’t park there.” Kit Kipling, Captain Courageous, took his duties very seriously. Down at Dino's bar and grill The drink will flow and blood will spill And if the boys want to fight, you'd better let them “Oh, now you’ve done it,” Danny sighed. “Now it’s going to get graphic.” “Him?” Soulwrecker looked over at the clean-cut young man in the parking attendant’s tunic. “I’m gonna carve him so bad his mother won’t know him.” “Not him,” Samantha Bonnington supplied, pointing behind the bikers. “The bouncer.” “Heilsa, ill-mannered felons,” Harlagaz Donarson called out, cracking his knuckles. “Tis time to pay thy bill.” Across the room the juke box clicked over to the next record. The room was filled with the sound of Europe’s 1986 hit: Glitch, female autobot from a galaxy far far away, found herself humming the imperial march from Star Wars. Commissioner Morgun’s sleek black dimensional cruiser had just come in to land, battling the growing cosmic crosswinds that warned of a storm between realities, and now the Parody Master’s envoy was descending the gangplank, flanked by his squad of perfectly trained Avawarriors. “The crap is strong in this one,” she muttered as she watched him intimidating the landing master. “Do not get involved,” Kid Produce advised her. “Everyone who comes here always asks the same question. We did. Who’s in charge? And nobody knows.” It was true. There were overseers in the garage where Glitch was holding down a temporary job as a mechanic, but there didn’t seem to be any one person, or any kind of being, in total control of the asteroid where the Bar squatted. Things just happened because they did. “I have travelled long and far,” Commissioner Morgun warned. “I have come to speak with the person in charge. You will take me to him at once, or suffer my wrath.” “Aw crud,” Kid Produce snarled as it became clear that the envoy was going to start using lethal force if he didn’t get an answer. “Don’t kill him!” he called out. “Hey! What happened to not getting involved?” Glitch demanded as the vegetable vigilante surged forward. “You gotta go to the Cult of the Inverted Stick,” Jasper Stevens told them. “Down at the end of Small Gods Alley, past the gift shop. Ask for Meepo.” Morgun turned away from the yard supervisor and snapped his fingers for his Avawarriors to follow him. “Wash my cruiser,” he ordered Kid Produce, then stalked away. “There is no Meepo, is there?” Glitch asked as she watched the envoy depart. “There is no Cult of the Inverted Stick,” KP replied. “I think maybe I’d better get on with delivering this pizza. The clock’s ticking.” The youngsters of the Junior Lair Legion clustered together in their two-room trailer on the edge of the parking lot. As the cosmic winds rose the battered metal box shuddered on its blocks. Kit Kipling put on a pot of coffee and handed FA her diet coke. “This sucks,” Samantha Bonningtom complained. She’d morphed her waitress uniform into smart casual designer jeans and a water-silk blouse, but her face was still sullen and angry. “I’m amazed that Pepsi isn’t available here too,” Kit assured her. “Maybe in one of the really hidden vending machines?” “I don’t mean the drink. I mean this. Here. Me having to wait tables and tend bar. I have a trust fund.” “Well somebody had to get the waitress gig, FA,” Kerry pointed out. “And I don’t do the W-word. Next thing you know I’ll be taking home strays and losers for wild guilt-ridden sex and wanting to save the planet.” “coughDannycough,” said Glitch. “Robots don’t cough,” Denial pointed out. “Look, we just need to earn enough to buy our passage out of here,” Kit pointed out. “We already learned that Glory and Uuuukelele got home, so now all we have to do is…” “Is find somebody powerful enough to punch through the Celestian barrier round Earth and teleport us back there,” Kid Produce snorted. “Come on. If there was such a dude the Parody Master’s local creep-in-ordinary would have already recruited him.” “Even deities drink here,” Fashion Accessory pointed out. “There must be somebody.” “There was that demon trucker,” Kerry pointed out. “He said he could get us back through the hells if only you’d…” “We don’t get back that way,” Samantha snapped. “You mean through the hells?” Glitch wondered, “Or by…” “We must be saving up quite a bit now,” Kip pointed out. “What with FA’s and my tips, and Jasper’s pizza delivery, and Danny’s… pool-playing efforts.” “You can say sharking,” Kerry told him. “Let’s call a shark a shark.” “I never use my powers in a game,” Denial denied. “It’s against house rules. The bouncer would throw me out.” “Tis sooth,” agreed Harlagaz. “I wouldst. I hast seen the rules of the establishment, and the list of those who art to be ejected immediately.” He paused for a moment then added admiringly, “Mine own father art banned for the nonce.” “Donar?” blinked Captain Courageous. “What did he do?” “Well, he’s still allowed in the quaffing section of the bar, but he art banned from the no-chundering zones,” the demihemigod clarified. “Just how much cash do we have now, Kip?” Kid Produce demanded. “I mean we’ve been slaving our butts off in this nowhere hole for, what, two months or more now, and what do we have to show for it except some pinch bruises on FA’s backside?” “Hey, leave my backside out of this,” warned Samantha. Captain Courageous did a quick calculation. “Well, pooling our wages and tips and deducting the damages from Harlagaz’s bar fights… um… enough for a cheeseburger each if we leave off the pickle.” “No pickle?” Kerry scowled. “I’ve torched places before now for that.” “This plan’s not working,” Danny recognised. “We’re surviving but not much else. We’ve got to try something else.” “You get a job as the waitress,” Fashion Accessory told him. “See how your butt feels next day.” “We could just burn the place down, grab a flyer, and head off on our next wacky adventure,” Kerry suggested. “Or, you know, just burn the place down.” “We can’t stay here forever,” Kid Produce admitted. “Not now that Commander Maugun guy has arrived. He’s here to ‘advise’ on behalf of the Parody Master. He’s checking out who everybody is and how they got here.” “The Parody Master ist searchthing for beings who art minor cosmic office holders or conceptual entities,” Harlagaz explained. “These he doth press into his service or hurl into yon Infinity Forge to swell his might.” “And he’s gonna have a special interest in us,” Kerry noted. “So we’ve gotta book.” “There is one possibility,” considered Glitch, her orange eyes twinkling with mischief. “That Commander Maugun has a really nice dimensional flyer.” Interlude: “I’m just saying, is all,” complained Director of SPUD Colonel Daniel Drury. The grizzled old war hero was crouching beside young Cody Harper and Amazing Guy in a chariot-like energy construct of AG’s making as they flew through the grey skies of Comic-Book Limbo. “Down there we got all kinds of dangerous alien races an’ stuff frozen in stasis where they got ripped from their rightful places by the Parody Master, right? So just think of the secrets and tech we could get if we took the time to search them properly.” “I think the word you’re looking for is loot,” Amazing Guy disapproved. “Or steal.” “But it’s desperate times,” Cody pointed out. “Every day it gets harder to survive in this place. Every day we feel a little bit… thinner. How much longer before we’re just mindless ghosts bumbling about like those Hero Feeder-fodder shades down there?” “Plus, there’s got ta be a reason these cities and stuff were judged by the Parody Master to be too dangerous to leave in action,” Drury argued. “If we find out what scared him about these places…” “If there was anything of immediate use my cosmic awareness would have sensed it by now,” Amazing Guy insisted. “The rest is just thieving.” “But we’re in the trash can of the Parodyverse,” complained Cody. “Anything that’s in here is going to get thrown out anyhow.” He looked uncomfortable. “Except us, of course. Right?” Below them the misty broken landscape changed again. All of Comic-Book Limbo was a patchwork of abandoned terrains, jumbled together beneath the cloying icy mists. In today’s long sweep they’d crossed desert and arctic tundra, seas, lava, a petrified forest, a valley of crystal, and thousands of acres of the dull grey rock that all the rest would eventually default to. Comic-Book Limbo leached even the distinctiveness of the lands that slipped into it. “We could at least take a look at Wakandybar and Austernia,” urged Drury. “Those guys have got secrets coming outta the wazoo that we need ta know.” “Invasion of privacy,” AG countered. The SPUD agent pointed to the logo on his shoulder. “Spy-boss,” he pointed out. “I was just hoping we could find some new magazines,” Cody admitted. “We keep on trying to find a way out,” Amazing Guy told them. “We’re ranging a lot further than ever before today, trying to find another trace of that energy reorganisation I sensed yesterday. It was from somewhere round here but this place screws up my cosmic awareness. Too many… echoes. We’ll have to go down and search manually.” Cody Harper looked down on the forbidding rocky landscape below. “Starting with that spooky old ruined church, right?” he guessed. “Because that’s place I’d most want to avoid.” “It’s the main structure in sight, kid,” Drury pointed out. “And the one that’s most intact. But that’s not like any church I’ve ever seen.” “It’s a temple,” Amazing Guy observed. “But old. Very old. And it must have been a very powerful meme in its day to have survived here so very long.” “Who’s it a temple to?” Cody wondered. “Thos faded carvings on the outside don’t seem very nice.” AG searched his cosmic awareness and came up blank. “Whoever it was, I think they’ve been erased from the Parodyverse. But the transmutation exchange I sensed took place near here, I’m sure of that.” As AG lowered his impromptu flying bathtub down towards the black melted building Drury gave the alarm. “Hold it, cape-man! What’s that? Over there!” The others followed the G-Man’s pointing arm and looked down to where the cold mists seemed to be… spiralling. Something dark and huge was moving below them, stalking towards the temple. Something they’d awoken days earlier with the energy spike that had freed Drury from stasis. Something that knew when it had been spotted, and looked up, and saw new prey. “What is it?” Cody panicked as the thing evolved huge black wings and began to fly up towards them. It radiated cold and fear in the same way humans breathed out carbon dioxide. “Well,” AG sensed, “you know how before humans ruled the Earth there was an age of dinosaurs? And here the dominant predator is the Hero Feeder these days…?” “That’s a Hero Feeder T-Rex?” Cody worried. The thing was vast, and it screeched once before it swooped up to erase them. “Gosh,” simpered Fashion Accessory, “Tell me more.” “Well, simply put,” the Xnylonian dimension-weaver told the attractive young serving maid, “there has to be an accrual point where the various conceptual layers of the Parodyverse are stapled together. In actuality there are several, but most of them have unpleasant guardians or are inimical to travel. I could tell you stories.” “I bet you could,” FA said with an encouraging smile and a slight lean forward. This was too simple. Zorkol went on, while he slid his arm casually along the back of the diner bench where Samantha Bonningon sat. It was true: Earth girls were easy. “Naturally, a place like this would grow up around such a transit point. A place where people can rest, shelter if the interdimensional storms are bad as they are now, find a little… comfort.” He let his fingers brush the back of the waitress’ neck. The little dab of euphoria paste on them was all it would take to make her his. “And from here you could get to anywhere?” FA asked him, wide eyed. “Even through that Celestian barrier around my homeworld?” “Well I don’t know about that. There’s a rumour that the Parody Master has tried to circumvent it by using the common sylvan plane and the places of eternal forfeit, both of which are standard to all parts of the mundane layer, but he doesn’t seem to have succeeded so far.” Zorkol smiled. “But that’s okay. There’s a place for you in my bed.” “Really?” Samantha asked. “Just because you tried your nasty chemical goo on me?” “Er, what?” FA was frowning now. “Really, do you think I’m going to fall for that old trick, especially when I can transmute myself a skin-like sheathe to protect me from your date-rape paste?” “It wasn’t… I was just…” “Besides, first rule of fieldwork is: always have a backup.” Zorkol realised that something was casting a shadow over him. He looked round and found a huge hairy demihemigod glaring down at him, arms folded. “Heilsa,” said Harlagaz, not smiling at all. “This… this is a misunderstanding,” the Xnylonian babbled. “Really. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.” “He doesn’t know anything, Gaz,” FA reported. “Then I wilt teach him,” the young Ausgardian promised. Those Xnylonian chemicals really weren’t intended to be used as suppositories. The main bulkhead door slid open to reveal an annoyed-looking ship’s technician. From his disarray it was clear that the summons had dragged him from his sleep cycle. “What?” he barked. “Excuse me, sir,” Captain Courageous told him, holding out his ID as a parking attendant. “This is purely precautionary, you understand, but we’ve had complaints that your transwarp drive generator might be leaking particles on the conceptual level.” The technician scowled. “Do you know whose ship this is? Who our Master is?” “Yes sir,” Kit went on. “That’s why we want to be so very careful that you don’t have a technical problem that could inconvenience your Master’s plans later on. If you do have some kind of system failure in your drive generator it’s better that we find and fix it now, not when it’s too late.” It was hard to argue with the courteous earnest young man. “Very well,” the technican conceded. “We’ll take a look at it. In the morning. Now get lost.” “I’m sorry, sir,” responded Kit. “The leak is causing some of the metaspiritual entities at the Bar and complex to have headaches. Hence the complaints.” He pointed to the green and orange robot at the foot of the loading plank. “I’ve taken the liberty of requisitioning an engineering droid to come and examine the problem for you.” “Bzt,” said Glitch. “Click.” The sleepy technician looked suspiciously at the female-shaped robot. “I don’t recognise the model.” Captain Courageous glanced down as if noticing that for the first time. “This place is a real crossroads, sir. We get all kinds of detritus washed up here. But I know she’s able to strip down and retune transwarp generators very well. And of course there’s no charge for a vessel of the Parody Master’s.” “Very well,” the technician decided. “Get on with it.” “Klaatu barato nikto,” said Glitch as she was led down to the engine bay. “Kalak pel kasa kree salvak.” Kerry put the phone down. “Got it,” she said with satisfaction. “Commissioner Morgun’s administration would like thirty-six spacewhale burgers to go. With fries.” Danny lounged against the wall of the bar’s crowded greasy kitchen (next to the No Unauthorised Personnel sign) and watched his sometimes-girlfriend flip burgers. She was using her powers as a probability arsonist to cook them to perfection. “You do realise the chance of you being able to get an entire squad of Avawarriors and their support people to eat drugged take away is pretty remote, don’t you?” Kerry jabbed a squirt of special sauce in his direction. “Aren’t you supposed to be able to deny sceptical comments like that?” Danny dodged. “Too risky,” he judged. “Too many beings here who can tell when that kind of stuff is being done. Too many who can do it. You don’t think the PM will have sent somebody who’s alert for that kind of thing?” Kerry hissed like the bacon she was frying. “It makes me mad, Danny, how that Morgun guy bosses people around. I mean, there are entities here that could erase him to atoms, spread him across time and space. But he works for the Parody Master so they submit to his questioning, let him push them about, bend over and touch their toes for him.” “The PM’s a scary guy,” Denial admitted. “Yeah, but… look how everybody’s pretending this Commissioner is only here to help, to advise. We’ve got an asteroid in the middle of… everywhere, and its crowded with all kinds of refugees and fugitives from what’s happening out there. And everyone’s acting as if Morgun’s not from the guy behind all the trouble.” “The Parody Master’s keeping up the scare,” Danny judged. “It’s an archvillain thing. I don’t think he’s ready yet to take on all the forces gathered here. There are some cosmic heavy hitters around. If they fought back now it’d distract him from going after Earth.” Kerry pressed her skillet down to make the meat sizzle. “So why aren’t we provoking that?” she asked. “Because we want to live, Firecracker?” Kerry scowled. “Or maybe this is another one of your long-range master plans?” she scorned. “Or your daddy’s.” Danny sighed. “Didn’t we do this argument before about, what, nine billion times?” he asked. “So?” challenged the probability arsonist. “Maybe we have to keep redoing it till we get it right.” “Half the time it ends in you trying to fry me,” Danny pointed out. “Mind you, the other half of the time makes up for it, I’ve gotta admit.” Kerry couldn’t keep up her cross face. “You’re a bad man, Danny Lyle.” “And you’re a hot girl. But let’s try not to start any more wars today, okay? Let’s stick to the plan.” Kerry shrugged noncommittally. “You know we could still have some of the most powerful beings here attack Commissioner Morgun and his parody Goons, don’t you?” “Who?” Danny asked. Kerry pointed at herself, then at Danny. “You know we could. You know what we could do if we really… let go.” “Let’s keep hold, for now,” Denial advised. “We’re too young to die.” “And too fast to live,” Kerry retorted. “Okay, back to the trojan burger plan, then. I know how to fix it.” “How can you be sure that every Avawarrior will eat drugged food, then? Or that it’ll affect them. Do Avawarriors even eat?” “Dunno,” Kerry replied, flipping the patties into buns ready for boxing. “Don’t care.” She grinned up with a brilliant, manic smile. “I just know that every one of these burgers is going to explode in the half megaton range in around thirty minutes time.” Kid Produce knocked on the door of the Pantheon Suite, the most exclusive accommodation in the clutter of buildings clinging to the side of the Bar at the Centre of the Parodyverse. Elsewhere the hotels and lodgings were crowded, with refugees even crowding into the corridors – dimension-stretching was temporary and unreliable here at the hub – but on the Pantheon Floor all was calm, ordered, and private. “Take out delivery for Commissioner Morgun,” he told the black and red armoured Avawarrior by the elevator. “That’ll be two hundred and sixty-eight concepts plus tip.” The Avawarrior didn’t move or speak. Kid Produce knocked on his chest. “Hello there. I’m talking to you, clanky. You want these burgers or not?” When the sentinel moved it was faster than the eye could see. Jasper Stevens suddenly found his wrist gripped painfully tight. “Hey!” he objected. “I’m here within the time limit. No discounts!” “You carry a dimensionally-transcendent artefact,” the Avawarrior accused. “Is that a way of saying no tip?” The Avawarrior reached for Kid Produce’s apron. “Ah, that,” KP understood. “Yeah, that’s a dimensionally-transcendent artefact all right. He grinned sourly. “Wanna see what it dimensionally transcends?” he plunged his free hand into the pocket of his apron. He brought out his celery sword and hacked off the Avawarrior’s hand at the wrist. The delivery went downhill from there. Kit Kipling heaved the last of the unconscious crew from Commissioner Morgun’s dimension-flyer. Once Glitch had reprogrammed of the atmospheric controls it had been simple to flood the ship with sleeping gas. “That’s all of them,” Captain Courageous reported. “And I’ve just rewritten the ship’s computer system,” Glitch replied. “It was filled with all kinds of failsafes so I’ve just stripped it down to core functions. I can handle the rest internally. But we do have one problem.” “What’s that?” “Well, you know how we were supposed to get out of here without a fight?” Just then the Pantheon Suite exploded. “Have at thee, Parody felon!” Harlagaz shouted as he hit one Avawarrior with another Avawarrior. Fashion Accessory transmuted one of the warrior’s invincible armours into an 80’s shell suit then kicked him in the face. “This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan,” she objected. “There wasn’t supposed to be any fighting.” “We still hath Kerry in the Juniors, do we not?” Gaz answered, gleefully. “There wilt always be fighting.” They retreated back into the bar, where Kerry and Danny were dragging Kid Produce from under a pile of angry (and now slightly charred) Parody Cultists. “This wasn’t me!” Kerry told FA. “Honest.” “Oh, sure,” Samantha answered sceptically. “It really wasn’t,” Danny assured her. “Kid Produce just came flying in here, followed by that pack of fanatics.” “I was just showin’ them the many uses of a Golden Delicious…” Kid Produce mumbled, half-conscious. Denial was working hard to keep them alive now, although nobody could see it. “That didn’t happen. That didn’t happen. No way did that happen…” He couldn’t stop Commissioner Morgun blowing in the windows and stepping forward with his elite Avaguard. Harlagaz made a determined effort to blow them back out again. The juke box started up all by itself: When two tribes go to war, a point is all you can score… Kerry detonated the record machine so the largest fragments ploughed into Morgun. The Commissioner’s personal shields protected him, but he was vexed. He fired off a concussion blast that could punch through a small moon. Kid Produce dived across the bar and dropped Kerry out of the way just in time. The counter shattered as the blast pounded through the bedrock of the asteroid. M’Ron looked up angrily for the first time. “You spilled my drink!” he told Commissioner Morgun. “Out of my way, fool!” the Parody Master’s agent demanded. M’Ron glared at him and erased him from existence. “Down,” Danny called to the Juniors, sensing what was coming next. “The PM had contingencies laid. Get down!” Suddenly the bar was devastated by an influx of avawarriors through half a dozen dimensional rifts. “They’re coming!” a patron shrieked from one of the alcoves. “Protect yourselves!” And then the battle escalated. “Most excellent,” approved Harlagaz, still standing with his impromptu Avawarrior club amidst the growing tempest. High energy exchanges were searing local reality. The shields holding out the dimensional storm buckled then failed, spilling the howling maelstrom down upon the complex. Commissioner Morgun’s dimension-flyer wobbled its way through the tempest to hover above the now-roofless Bar. The aft hatch opened and Captain Courageous called out. Fashion Accessory grabbed her team-mates’ clothing and used it to hoist them all up into the vessel. “All aboard!” Kip called as he hauled the struggling Harlagaz onto the loading deck. “Get us out of here.” “Aye aye, keptin!” Glitch called back. “Warp speed!” The dimensional dreadnaught Tears of the Vanquished shimmered in behind the dimensional flyer and aimed its guns. That would have been game over had their initial volley not been thwarted by improbable malfunctions as their main arsenal overheated. “Of course they’d have a warship hidden out in the void,” Captain Courageous reasoned. “Gunboat diplomacy.” “But we can out-run it, right?” Kid Produce checked. “Right?” “I can out-smart it,” Glitch told them. The autobot was wired into the flyer’s nav-systems and was jinking the vessel, devising new evasion strategies to keep them alive for another thirty seconds at a time. “I just can’t outrun it. Be thankful for this reality storm or there’d be nowhere for us to hide.” “I can’t get through to their systems again,” Kerry frowned. “They’ve done something. Shielded them.” “They haven’t,” Danny told her. Kerry concentrated, then grinned. “You’re right. Thanks, lover.” “If I’m getting these sensor readings right, though, we’ve still done less than 10% damage,” FA noted, scowling at the computer readouts. “That thing’s just too damned big!” The flyer lurched as a near-miss electromagnetic pulsed out some guidance systems. “And it’s a fast learner,” Glitch complained. “Help me into yon torpedo bay,” Harlagaz called. “Fire me at yon big bugger and let the battle be joined.” “We aren’t shooting you at the bad guys,” Kerry told the demihemigod. “Not yet. Glitch, any way we can, I dunno, zap ourselves out of here?” “Everything we can do in this ship they can do in theirs,” the Autobot replied. “Except faster and with more power.” “How about we turn round,” Kit proposed, “and ram them?” Everybody looked at him. “What?” he asked. “It’s a logical strategy under the circumstances. We might just survive, and it brings the battle onto a different battlefield with different odds.” “Sure, makes sense,” agreed Danny. “Just didn’t expect to hear it from you. Kes?” “What?” “Well, Glory’s not here,” FA pointed out. “It’s your call.” “Mine?” A big smile painted Kerry Shepherdson’s face. A glancing hit took out the port engine rack. “Okay,” Kerry decided, “better dead than captured by these guys, and we might just have a chance. Ramming speed!” “On it,” Glitch announced. “And before we go, I have to say… Wheeeeeeeee!!!” “They’re activating anti-impact shields,” Fashion Accessory warned. “No, they’re not,” Denial said. “Impact in five,” KP called out, “four, three, two, one…” “Yay!” grinned Kerry, her eyes burning. The dimensional flyer exploded across the front of the Tears of the Vanquished in a massive fireball that improbably spread out down the length of the city-sized ship. The dimensional dreadnaught trembled in the midst of the tempest, then shattered into blazing wreckage that was lost in the teeth of the storm. Kid Produce opened his eyes. “Okay,” he said. “First impressions. Heaven’s a good place. It has cute girls to mop my brow. This is a plus.” Falconne dropped the wet flannel onto his face. “Do the rest yourself,” she told him. “I’m guessing that’s not the first time you’ve heard that from a girl.” “Lindy?” Fashion Accessory called from the bunk-bed opposite. “Lindy, is that you?” Belinda Wilson turned round to Samantha Bonnington. “In the bootylicious flesh, sister. Who were you expecting?” “Well, Death,” FA admitted. “Where are the others?” The bunk above her shifted and Kerry Shepherdson looked down. “I’m here. We’re all accounted for. Gaz and Kip are already up. Glitch wasn’t even scratched. Danny’s fazing in and out. We survived.” KP dragged himself off his bunk. “I have many questions,” he admitted. “Number one is where did you come from and how did you rescue us?” Fashion Accessory told Falconne. “And where did you get this ship from?” “Actually that’s questions one through three,” Hacker Nine noted from the doorway. “Math was never your strong suit, Samantha.” “H9?” KP was really puzzled now. “But what…” “We came from the Hooded Hood,” Hacker Nine answered FA’s questions. “We were able to transfer you here via the Portal of Pretentiousness as your ship did… well, pretty much what every vessel I’ve ever seen any of you pilot did. This is a ship I borrowed from the Skree Accosters and convinced to prefer working for us.” “All the other answers had better wait till we’re on the flight deck,” Falconne suggested. “Ham-Boy says we’re almost there.” “Ham-Boy?” Fashion Accessory asked. “HB’s here too?” “Is that a little smile I see there, FA?” Kerry teased. “Surely not.” “Absolutely not,” Samantha told her. “Stick to kissing your villainous boyfriend better.” Ham-Boy was indeed on the command deck, piloting the light cruiser that H9 had provided for the adventure. “Hey folks,” he greeted them as Kerry, Fashion Accessory, Kid Produce, Falconne, and Hacker Nine joined them. “Great to see you again.” “Tis good to see old comrades at arms,” Hgarlagaz agreed. “Now need we something to smite.” “I’m still not sure about doing a deal with the Hooded Hood, though,” Captain Courageous objected. “Even if it saved out lives.” “And Danny’s gonna bust our chops for it,” Glitch predicted. Kerry winced. “If the Hood’s agenda and ours line up for a it, where’s the harm?” Hacker Nine challenged. “I’d do worse than that to save my f… people.” “So where are we?” Fashion Accessory asked again. “And why aren’t we back home?” Ham-Boy looked a little bit uncomfortable. “Ah well, that was the deal,” he confessed. “With the Hooded Hood. He’d send us to save your lives but in return we’d have to go do him a favour.” Kerry looked suspicious. “What favour?” Just then a Z’Nox Stealth Ship decloaked right in front of them. “That’s a hostile!” Kit warned, recognising the profile from the Project: Pendragon briefings after the Transworlds Challenge. “Arachnid assassin race with advanced concealment technology. Imagine kung-fu ninja spiders with death rays. We’re got serious troub…” He glanced at HB, at Falconne, at H9. “Am I missing something?” “That’s who the ship used to belong to,” agreed Hacker Nine. “It’s under new management now.” He flicked the communications monitor switch and the bridge of the stealth ship appeared on the big screen. “Well met, companions and friends,” called Ohanna the Caphan. “I am very happy that you were all able to come and join with us.” “Ohanna?” Kerry recognised. “And Kiivan? I mean Prince Kiivan.” “The same,” agreed the Emir of All Caph. “You one assented to assist in the liberation of our world. That time has now come. Will you still fight to free my people?” “This,” declared Harlagaz, “ist turning into a good day.” Next Time: Al B. Harper has a to-do list. All he needs is to restructure reality, transcend time and space, thwart a pair of archvillains, discover the secrets of the Parodyverse, and return his library books by Tuesday. Tune in for The Adventures of Al B. Harper in the 23rd Century, coming soon. Tie-in: Strangers in a Strange Land by CSFB! Don’t Panic! And Always Know Where Your Footnote Is The Bar at the Centre of the Parodyverse had its most prominent appearance in Untold Tales #84: Where Everybody Knows Your Name (but Not Your Truename) More Juniors goodness is linked at The Junior LL Archive. The Comic-Book Limbo interlude is converging on stories told in Destination Part One Part Two and Part Three, by Jason and HH. 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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