 |
|
|
Post By The Hooded Hood works on some complications for many characters Fri Apr 27, 2007 at 11:44:18 am EDT |
Subject
#310: Untold Tales of the Parody War: Loose Threads (and why it’s best not to tug on them) | |
|
|
Next In Thread >> | |
| #310: Untold Tales of the Parody War: Loose Threads (and why it’s best not to tug on them) Previously: The Parody Master’s war of conquest against the Parodyverse nears completion. Many alien worlds and other dimensions have fallen to him. Galactivac, the Celestian Space Robots, the Triumverate and the other great powers can no longer stop him. In fact the only planet still holding out is Earth, where the ancient Celestian defences around Parody Island are currently being projected by a pain-wracked Goldeneyed to be a defensive barrier around the entire solar system. Earth’s heroes and armed forces have fought against the Parody Master’s Ava-armies several times over long months and have so far thwarted his ambition. But the barrier is weakening, and will fail within a few days. The Parody Master intends to claim a number of Earth women as his Brides, including Dancer, Liu Xi Xian, Sorceress, Pelopia, Rabid Wolf, and the mysterious Celestian Madonna. Mostly he wants Jury, former Shaper of Worlds, who has hidden the source of cosmic power, the Storyheart, somewhere beneath the Lair Mansion. A number of Legionnaires are missing in action: Hatman, Sorceress and Rabid Wolf escaped the Parody Master by dropping into the Cthulic domains; Dancer, Kerry, and Denial were last seen on the receiving end of a PM power blast; Yo is lost without trace, possibly destroyed; Finny frozen and trapped in Comic-Book Limbo; Lisa is dead, her soul trapped inside the Parody Master’s axe. Nobody yet knows that the Librarian has been captured in his own Lunar Public Library by the Supreme Interference. This story takes place after Parodyverse Team Up #1: Faking It Parodyverse Team Up #2: The Naked Truth Parodyverse Team Up #3: Shirts and Skins Previous chapters at The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom Descriptions of cast at Who's Who in the Parodyverse Locations explained in Where's Where in the Parodyverse  “Well?” demanded Visionary, pointing at the coffee cup. “Yes,” agreed Rupert Weismann, “I can appraise it for you, if that’s what you want.” Asil looked around the gloomy appraiser’s shop, halfway between a junkroom and a pawn store. “If he didn’t want it appraised he wouldn’t have come here, would he?” she asked scornfully. The short man with the milky-white eyes regarded Asil from behind the mesh and glass security screen that protected him from his customers. A handwritten sign on the booth said ‘Don’t ask for credit as a shotgun blast to the gut often offends’. “You bring the most interesting merchandise to my shop and you don’t want them valued,” Weismann noted. “First those Caphan pleasure slaves…” “Former slaves,” Visionary corrected him. “And now this one, the genetically-corrected clone of a cosmic office holder. Very nice work indeed, and of considerable interest in the right marketplace.” “I am Asil Ashling, and I am a person now,” Asil warned the nasty little man. “All we want from you is some information about the coffee cup, thank you.” “What she said,” Vizh added. “So spill the coffee beans, buster.” Weismann examined the black ceramic mug, running his finger over the enamel, even tasting the black sediment gunged at the bottom of the cup. “Let’s discuss a fee, shall we?” he suggested. “After all, appraising the Chronicler of Stories’ coffee mug doesn’t come cheap.” “I’d have thought that everything in this shop was cheap and shabby,” Asil retorted, glaring at the owner. “How much?” demanded Visionary. He’d met the appraiser before and he knew that nothing was for nothing with him. “Oh, how about a favour to be announced,” Weismann suggested. “Perhaps if you somehow achieve your grand objective and gain control of the Celestian Space Robots?” Asil’s face showed alarm. “How did you know about that?” She turned to Vizh. “How did he know about that? It’s supposed to be a dark secret. Even the Legion don’t know that we’re…” “It’s his stock in trade,” Visionary answered. “But he’s asking too high a price. Let’s stay in the realms of reason.” He reached into his pocket and stopped a thick bundle of NTU-150’s cash on the desk. “Let’s try unsequential banknotes, shall we?” “That’ll do nicely,” Weismann sighed. It had been worth a try. “Well, this and the bundle you have concealed in your other pocket.” “Fine,” snarled the possibly-fake man, dragging another wad from his yellow overcoat. “Take the damn money and get on with your job. Tell me where and how to find the Chronicler of Stories.” The dimensional reavership burst through the weak point in the Celestian barrier. It was a sleek black flying war-vessel about the size of a cruise liner, and it carrier three hundred avawarriors whose orders were to do as much damage to the metropolis below as they could to erode human morale. But first there was the defence force to deal with. “Scanifax systems identify Lair Legion personnel on the ground,” the sensor sergeant reported. “Hostiles designated CrazySugarFreakBoy!, Mr Epitome, Trickshot, Yuki Shiro. Scanifax recommends maximum termination.” The Avacommander had done his homework. “None of them are flyers,” he sneered. “What kind of fools try to stop a reavership from the ground.” A half mile below, Mr Epitome wound back his arm and hurled Glory, the mutt of might, at terminal velocity straight at the intruders. The dog shattered through the plate steel hull and began her ferocious assault, aiming for the power core. “Sir, the targets are approaching us on primitive skycycles,” the sensor sergeant called. The Legion were taking flight from the streets of Sydney and coming to join the fight. “Jam their systems,” the Avacommander orders. “Send them plummeting to their deaths. And somebody get that… thing… off my engineering deck!” “The cyborg woman is generating some kind of blocking field to counter our jammers. They’re moving in!” Just then Glory tore through the main power coupling and the reavership became subject to Earth’s gravity. To add insult to injury CSFB! painted a big smiley face on its back as it plummeted. “The incursion over Australia is contained,” Amber St Clare reported, flicking off the red light on the giant holographic globe of the world that spun in the middle of the Lair Mansion Operations Room. “Trickshot’s launched a beacon arrow at the exact point of the anomaly.” “Lara’s all strapped in and ready to project,” Miss Framlicker reported over the communications feed from the Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises firehouse. “Give her a few minutes and she should be able to stitch up the breach.” “Tell her to pace herself,” Beth Shellett warned. “There’s quite a few more.” “I’m diverting the operations team to Africa,” Amber called out. “That’s the next urgent incursion. Then we’ll need to get them to Finland as fast as we can.” NTU-150 sat back uncomfortably and caught his breath. He was far from recovered from the injuries he’d taken in combat with the Parody Master. “Are you alright, Mr Bautisa?” Marie Murcheson asked worriedly. She had a banshee’s sense of death and she knew that that Filipino inventor on the Mansion workshop floor had been very close indeed. “Just a few twinges,” Jamie replied gallantly. “But I’d say the Vortex Flyer was about ready to go. “It does look kind of like a golf cart,” ManMan worried, regarding the device that would take a small group of adventurers into the dangerous realm between dimensions. “A golf cart with a nuclear generator strapped to it,” Enty clarified. “That makes all the difference.” “It’s a really clever design,” Al B. Harper assured them, emerging from under the phlogiston converter and taking off magnifier goggles that made his eyes seem ten times bigger than normal. “It should be able to pilot us even into the deep vortex, assuming we don’t all explode.” “I’m voting for the not exploding option,” Manny admitted. “It’s always a bonus,” agreed his talking knife, Knifey. “But vortex travel is often a bit tricky.” “You have been to this vortex place before, Knifey?” Marie ventured. The Victorian girl had just recently been resurrected and everything was new and strange to her. “I don’t remember,” the sentient blade answered evasively. “But if it wasn’t that bad we wouldn’t need an atomic golf cart, now would we?” Flapjack entered the room with his ninth tray of sandwiches. “Cucumber and egg,” he told Marie. “Just like you like them.” “Well thank you, Flapjack, that’s very kind,” the former banshee smiled at him. “But I couldn’t eat another thing.” She gestured to the stack of unfinished food from the other eight plates. “Perhaps Mr Pepper or Dr Harper would like some?” “Oh, don’t worry about wonderful Joe,” Flapjack snorted. “I’ve brought him another of my special meat pies. Oh yes.” Al B. checked off a list of to-dos on a clipboard. Everything had to be ready for the moment when his dimensional shear calculations indicated the Celestian barrier that protected the solar system like a giant force bubble would be weak enough to slip the Vortex Flyer through to the void. “I just want to check the interstitial decoupler pistons again,” he muttered, chomping down on his bubble pipe. Enty dragged himself to his feet, his newly-restored armour responding to nerve impulses from his crippled body. “Good idea. I was a bit worried about the x-node neutraliser as well. Give it an extra thump.” Marie hurried to help him. “Mr Bautista, I wonder if I could possibly have a word with you?” she blushed. She still wasn’t used to talking to strange men. “Of course,” NTU-150 told her. “What is it.” “Oh sure,” ManMan complained in a jealous whisper to Flapjack. “Girls always go for that sick sensitive act. I should go get myself crippled.” “You really should,” agreed the Lair Mansion butler. “I wonder if Bautista would like one of my pies.” Marie stood a little apart with Jamie. “What I was wondering,” she ventured “was whether… well, the Lair Legion can do many amazing things. I heard that on occasion it has even time travelled.” “We have,” agreed Enty. “Aunt Sally, the Austernal exploration ship, could chrono-shunt, and there was a platform we used that was powered with…” Finally his mind caught up with why the girl might be asking. “Ah.” Marie’s face flushed with hope. “Yes. I was wondering when you could time-travel me back home to my time.” Jamie winced. “Sir Mumphrey hasn’t explained this to you?” “He’s been very kind, but I understand that as Keeper of the Chronometer of Infinity he is fixed in one point and cannot travel far in time himself.” NTU-150 nodded. “Time travel’s not simple. We don’t fully understand the mechanics of it. And right now the Celestian barrier is inhibiting entry to the flux zone, the temporal aspect of the interdimensional vortex.” “But later?” Marie asked. “When things are under control once more?” “Marie,” Jamie said gently, “we know from history that you died back then. You didn’t return to you own time. Ever. You were buried and mourned. You never went back, and we can’t change history. I’m sorry.” He winced again as the light went out in those bright blue eyes. “Still no better?” asked Citizen Z, looking down as Donar was spoon-fed mush by his loyal wife. “No,” agreed Annj. “It was a terrible blow that crushed his skull. Any but the Oldmanson would have been slain. As it is, he remains like this, a vegetable, unable to care for himself, to speak, even to think, beyond even the power of Ausgard to restore.” “Shame,” the disguised Baroness Zemo responded neutrally. Annj wiped another tear from her red-rimmed eyes. “It’s good of you to keep visiting him like this, Citizen Z.” “Not at all,” the Baroness assured her. “I enjoy coming to see him. It reminds me of what I’m fighting for.” “The transit point’s open,” Cody Harper reported. “How you doing, Lara?” “Coping,” grimaced the visitor from another reality. It was her elemental power that was temporarily folding back a tiny patch of the Celestian barrier that protected the Earth from the Parody Master so that Amazing Guy and the Manga Shoggoth could return from their scouting mission. The Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises jump-pad was suddenly filled with electrical discharge, and then a steaming man dropped to the metal mesh floor of the platform. The shimmering protective field of multiversal energies around him evaporated, then the thin layer of protective Shoggoth-goo peeled away too and flowed up into the bathrobe that Ebony of Nubilia was holding. “So how was your trip?” Kara Harper asked breezily. “Much traffic?” Amazing Guy dragged himself from the platform. “It’s getting harder,” he reported. “The Parody Master is turning more of his attention to Earth and its barrier now.” “Tell me about it,” complained Lara Night, massaging her upper arms where the muscle spasms were worst. “This has always been tough, but now it’s becoming murderous.” “The Parody Master is preparing to annihilate all humans,” the Shoggoth pointed out. “One might expect him to increase his efforts to overcome the Celestian barrier.” “But did you get what you went for?” Ebony checked. “News of Dancer, or Hatman, or the Juniors?” “We did,” AG told her. “And you’re not going to believe what we found out.” “”Why should we tell them if they’re not going to believe it?” the Shoggoth grumbled, missing the nuances of human speech again. “I am a very honest elder spawn.” “Just get us a line through to Mumphrey, please,” Amazing Guy asked Cody. “We’ve got hot news.” Visionary looked bleakly at the charred remains of his old Condo. Even half-submerged and with collapsed burned-out walls it evoked a lot of memories. “Are you sure about this?” Asil asked the possibly-fake man with a mission. “Urhula wasn’t sure that this would work.” “It has to work,” Visionary answered determinedly. “The Necronastycon owes me one anyway.” “One what?” Asil challenged. “One heart,” replied the determined man in the yellow raincoat. “So if I say it wipes me into oblivion then it wipes me into oblivion.” “Us,” his companion insisted. “You are a Great Man, but you can’t do this alone.” “This is dangerous, Asil.” “Vizh, it’s Lisa. And George. And all our friends. If you think this is the only way, then I’m coming with you.” Vizh struggled with his feelings for a moment, but in the end Asil’s uncompromising stare overcame his reluctance. He pulled out the Nether Scroll and began to chant. Asil helped him with the tongue twisters. After a while a Portal of Negativity opened up. The Celestian barrier stopped it dropping the chanters into the Negativity Zone. Instead they were just bounced to the oblivion of Comic-Book Limbo. “Okay, that definitely updates the situation board,” Amber St Clare admitted as she heard the Shoggoth and Amazing Guy’s report on events beyond the Celestian barrier. “So Caph’s safely out of the way, the PM’s taken down Galactivac but can’t do anything with him yet because we broke that Infinity Forge, Hatty got sprung by Whitney and Zdenka but has vanished, Dancer rescued the Juniors on Caph but is MIA again with Kerry and Danny, and the Parody Master can now devote all his attention to us.” “Pretty much,” agreed AG. “His main assault force is heading towards the barrier. I think it’s coming down to the wire.” “I sensed Hatman using my hat, of course,” the Shoggoth noted. “I can’t seem to find where he’s folded himself to, though. If he went into some of the nether dimensions with a value of less than the inverse square of minus one it could be a serious problem. Those are some bad neighbourhoods.” “We have another problem as well, chaps,” Sir Mumphrey added. “Accordin’ to young Harper the barrier’s getting too fragile for us to keep pokin’ holes in it. Miss Night’s spendin’ all her time now patching and mending it, and of course young Katz is spending the last of his strength just to keep the thing there in the first place.” Amazing Guy extended his cosmic awareness to check the barrier. “Forty-eight hours at the most,” he sensed. “It’ll be down in two days unless we can do something else to shore it.” “Two days isn’t enough for us to send a team into the deep vortex for this mystery weapon, is it?” Amber worried. “What do we do?” Everyone turned to look at the sorcerer supreme who was sitting in the corner of the Operations Room unwrapping a cheese and ham sandwich. He paused with it halfway to his mouth as he realised everyone was watching him. “Someone want the other half?” he asked sheepishly. The grey soil was lifeless beneath a barren lead sky. Freezing mists clogged the air making every breath an effort. Visionary looked around Comic-Book Limbo and shivered. “I should never have brought you here,” he told Asil. “Nonsense,” the Lisa-clone answered in tones she usually reserved for Mumphrey when he was being particularly intractably British. “This place sucks identity away, leaving nothing but a sad smear of almost-forgotten lost soul. You need somebody to remember that you are a Great Man.” Something big and dark grazed past, snuffling for stories it could devour. “I shouldn’t have brought you,” Vizh repeated when the Hero Feeder had moved on. “I don’t know what came over me.” “You’ve been in a dark place since Lisa was murdered,” Asil told him. “So have I. Now we’re in a dark place together.” She tried to see through the mists. “So which way to the Hall of Stories?” Visionary had been Chronicler of Stories for a day. He looked around, trying to remember what it had been like as the cosmic arbiter of narratives. “I’d really expected to have some sort of vestigial Chronicler-sense,” he admitted. “That makes the best story, after all.” “Way better than ‘they jumped to Comic-Book Limbo and faded away until they were devoured by Hero Feeders’,” Asil agreed. “Although if that happened people wouldn’t even remember that we ever existed.” She hugged her arms round her torso. “I don’t want to be forgotten, Visionary.” “Nobody’s being forgotten,” Vizh told her. “We’re here because we don’t want to forget Lisa or George or all our other friends. We just have to find the Hall of Stories and use that as a way to get to the place where the Space Robots are based and then use the devices there to reprogramme the Parodyverse so that it’s better.” “And how did you expect to find one tiny bit of evacuated cosmic real estate on an infinite plane of abandoned plotlines and forgotten events?” Vizh and Asil looked around. Neither of them had posed the question. “Well, I expected that the stories would help out,” Vizh replied with a smile. “Fleabot.” The micro-robot leaped up onto Vizh’s shoulder. “Congratulations. That might be the dumbest Visionary statement yet,” he admired. “So this is where you slunk off to after the Conceptual Plane collapsed,” Asil accused the robotic flea. “You had people worried, you know. Not me, obviously, but people who can stand you.” “What’s dumb about seeking out the Chronicler and using the Celestians?” Vizh demanded. “I had the chance once before…” “And saved the Parodyverse by not using it,” Fleabot pointed out. “Anyhow, that’s not the problem right now.” “What is the problem,” Asil demanded, glaring. “Apart from you being here?” “The problem would be me, I’m afraid,” Quoth, the raven of destiny explained, winging out of the mists. “I’m sorry about this, but I’m going to have to destroy you.” “The perimeter is secured, madam,” the polite special agent told Cleone Swanmay. “You can go in now.” “Thank you, Mr Dawes,” the silver-haired creature from a fairy-tale told the operative from the Office of Paranormal Security. “We’ll try not to be long.” “Good idea,” Special Agent Gardener agreed, eying the wild hills with their tall swaying grass. “There’s something about this place…” “Well, that’s what we’ve come to find out, isn’t it?” Cleone pointed out. “Shall we, ladies?” Hallie nodded. She’d downloaded her computer sentience into one of her heavy duty Holographic Emitter Drones because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to maintain an uplink with her mainframe at the Lair Mansion on the opposite coast once she moved into the blast zone. Jury just wrapped her coat tighter round her against the sea breeze and made no other response. “It’s hard to imagine that a bomb went off here,” Hallie admitted as the three women made their way over the untamed landscape. “Everything is so… natural.” “There’s nothing natural here,” Cleone contradicted her. “Can’t you feel it? This place has been… overwritten. Everything’s just waiting to happen. It’s heavy with potential.” The land they trekked across had been an urban centre a few days earlier. The thriving west coast metropolis of Arachnight City had been ground zero for the detonation of a Narrative Bomb. It had been literally erased, all of its occupants removed from the story of the Parodyverse. It was as if no human had ever been to this territory before. “Are you picking up anything, Jury?” Cleone asked the third member of their party. “No,” the former Shaper of Worlds answered tersely. “I told you before, when you used my remaining gifts to power those dimensional exit routes for the soldiers who were trapped at the battle of the Conceptual Plane you burned off the last of my cosmic office powers. I’m just human now, helpless and defenceless.” “You saved millions of people,” Hallie pointed out. “And I’ll never be Shaper again,” Jury retorted with a shudder. “You can’t imagine what it’s like… To have had all of that, to have known so much, and now to have it denied…” “When a cosmic office holder steps down they lose so much of the knowledge they once knew,” noted Cleone. “Xander says it’s to protect the secrets of the universe.” “Oh well, as long as there’s a good reason for the aching void inside my soul,” Jury spat. “Look, I’m useless now, okay? Just accept that. There was no reason to bring me here, to make me face… this.” “Sorry,” Hallie sympathised. “But we really don’t know that you might not be able to remember or sense something here. We need to assess the after-effects of that Narrative Bomb, check we can’t do anything to save anybody who was lost in it, assess any threat level there might be from the fall-out. And you…” “I made the device,” Jury interrupted. “You think I don’t remember that? I created the Narrative Bombs as tools of last resort to use in my work as Shaper of Worlds. A radical rewrite in case things ever went terribly wrong.” “The Parody Master is almost unstoppable,” Cleone pointed out. “He captured your workshop and took your things for his war effort. That’s how he was able to neutralise the Lair Banshee. He simply brought Marie back to life.” “Brought her back for now,” answered the former Shaper. “I have no idea how long that plotline will last. Don’t tell Marie.” “I know it’s hard when your technology gets used for wrong things,” Hallie ventured. “But it wasn’t you who detonated this Narrative Bomb. You aren’t responsible for what the Parody Master did.” Jury climbed a ridge and looked down at the tangled forest that hasn’t been there a month before. “I made it, though, that Narrative Bomb and the others. Eleven more, just like that, still in the Parody Master’s hands.” “Maybe just ten,” Cleone advised. “Xander thinks that one might have been used against the Hooded Hood.” Jury winced again. “Well, that’s what I made them for,” she admitted. Hallie dared venture a question. “So you and the Hood…?” Jury shrugged bitterly. “He can be very charming.” “You loved him,” Cleone recognised. “But what about his feelings for you?” “It doesn’t matter,” Jury said. “If he’s been hit by a Narrative Bomb he’s gone now. That’s what I intended when I created them.” “Except this is the Hooded Hood we’re talking about, master of retcons,” pointed out Hallie. “He’s probably got a hundred contingencies waiting to do complicated and unpleasant things to bring him back.” “I took that into account when I made the bombs,” Jury answered. “I remember that much.” She turned away and looked at the distant hazy smudge that was the Pacific Ocean. “It doesn’t matter anyhow. He was probably only romancing me so I’d tell him where I hid the Storyheart.” “The what?” asked Hallie, checking her databanks for the new term. “That’s real?” Cleone asked. “The legendary source of all the cosmic office holders’ power? The secret artefact that empowers all those other objects of power?” “Well, when we’re talking about something like the Storyheart then ‘real’ becomes a bit of a pliable term,” Jury noted. “But yes, there was such a thing, an allegory hidden beneath the Conceptual Plane. Yuki and Trickshot stumbled into its shrine as the Plane was breaking up but by then the Storyheart was long gone.” “Where, then?” Hallie asked. “We can’t let the Parody Master get his hands on such a massive source of power.” “I imagine it’s his final goal,” Jury admitted. “If he gains that then he’s won everything. His will becomes supreme in the Parodyverse. The Parodyverse becomes his toy.” She shuddered. “Maybe that’s why he is so determined to take me as his bride? I can dowry him the Parodyverse.” “Where is it then?” Cleone asked. “Xander could perhaps use it against…” “I don’t know,” Jury interrupted. “I really don’t. I did once, when I sent it from the Conceptual Plane to somewhere I considered it would be hidden safely. But since then my memories have faded as my office has gone from me. There’s nothing left now. I don’t know where I hid the Storyheart.” “We’d better add it to the list of questions to worry about,” suggested Hallie. “We’d better be getting back to the Special Agents too,” suggested Cleone. “It’s getting dark, and… I feel like I’m being watched. By the hills here.” The others agreed. They headed off down the slope towards the base camp, carefully picking their way past the briars that hadn’t been there on the walk up. The stories watched them go and bided their time. “Sorry I can’t be there to brief you in person,” the image on the monitor screen told them. “I’m really tied up in my researches right now here on the Moon Public Library. I think I’m close to identifying the power frequencies the Parody Master uses to channel his energies, and then there might be a way to block them.” “That’s fine, Mr Bookman,” Liu Xi Xian told him politely. “Just brief us on what we need to know about our mission.” On the screen the Librarian checked his notes. “Well, let’s see. You’re going to the transdimensional vortex, also known as the space between, the nexus, and the infinity maelstrom.” “Catchy,” admitted ManMan. “Who spends their time making up these titles?” “What it actually is is the space between the dimensions of the Parodyverse,” the briefer continued. “The raw unformed source from which new narratives are created and the detritus of old realities that have melted into formlessness.” “It’s kind of like the fuzzy felt board that the realities get stuck on,” Knifey contributed. “But it’s also the squidgy play-doh that realities get made out of.” “With a little touch of added inspiration from the Plane of Corposant Fire,” footnoted Al B. Harper. “At least, recent studies by Weed Wrichards indicate that…” “The briefing?” Liu Xi prompted. “What do we actually need to know?” “There are many things that mortals are not supposed to know,” the Shoggoth bubbled from his corner. “I suppose that is why they want to know them so much. Might as well put up a sign saying ‘know this – you’re not supposed to’.” He sighed a frothy sigh. “That might work if you put the signs over your schools, do you think?” The Librarian’s image continued. “We know that the Parody Master is looking for a weapon that was lost in the Vortex,” he summarised. “When you were there before, Liu Xi, you encountered some of his cultists searching for it. Now that search has gone into the deep vortex, where the narrative shear and the plot twists are most dangerous.” “The bad guys also seemed to think that I knew about the weapon,” Al B. added. “That I’d seen it before it dropped into the Vortex.” “That’s why you get to drive on this trip,” ManMan pointed out. “Well, that and only you know how to make that vortex flyer thing not explode.” “Probably,” qualified the archscientist. “The deep vortex is a considerable challenge to navigate,” the Shoggoth admitted. “I will attempt to keep the major portions of your biomasses from evaporating.” “Have you thought of a career as a tour guide?” shuddered Manman. “Between my ability to manipulate void, Dr Harper’s sensory equipment, the Shoggoth’s unique perspectives, and Knifey’s experience we probably have a good team to hunt for this weapon,” Liu Xi judged. “And we’re also taking Joe,” quipped Knifey. “Hey!” ManMan objected. “I’m downloading the main materials for your journey, the co-ordinates you’ll need,” the Librarian’s image told them. “Study the briefing packs and use the navigational charts scrupulously. One shift from the paths that have been charted over millennia could lead to your destruction.” “Thanks for the encouragement,” ManMan told the Librarian. “Oh, one other thing,” Lee Bookman’s image told them. “I might need the Legion operations team up here in a little while, to brief them on my findings about the Parody Master’s power. I’ll let CrazySugarFreakBoy! know when I’m ready for him.” The image winked out and Al B. began to input the co-ordinates into the vortex flyer. The Hall of Stories had seen better days. The vast structure was sundered with tears and cracks, revealing the roiling grey skies of Comic-Book Limbo above. The endless chambers were absolutely silent. “Where are all the other ravens?” Visionary wondered. “In a state of potential existence,” Fleabot answered. “They can’t be reset while the Hall’s here, and if the Hall shifts the Parody Master would know the Chronicler’s back in the game. So Pallas and the rest can’t help out. Quoth’s the only raven of destiny right now.” “Until I get fired again,” Quoth pointed out. “I had very distinct instructions to destroy you from the Chronicler himself.” “But why?” asked Asil. “That’s not fair.” “Greg probably hasn’t had his coffee yet this morning,” Vizh suggested. “He tends to get a bit grumpy.” Suddenly the Chronicler of Stories was there, a youngish-looking man in a formal black suit, his eyes darkly reflecting every tragedy in the history of the Parodyverse. “I get grumpy when idiots try to destroy the fabric of reality,” he snapped at Visionary and Asil. “Why aren’t these people dead yet, Quoth?” The raven looked very unhappy, shedding a moulting wingfeather and shuffling her feet. “Well, sir, the problem is this is Visionary and Asil, and as you know they…” “What part of my orders weren’t clear?” the Chronicler demanded. “The part where you explained why you were being such an a-hole,” Fleabot challenged. “Look, we’re grateful you rescued us from the Vortex and stuff, and Quoth was really missing the whole raven of destiny job, but that doesn’t make us you puppet executioners, sparky. So take the stick out off your butt and explain to Vizh what’s making you unhappy, and enough with the death warrants, okay?” “Fleabot!” squeaked Quoth. The Chronicler turned his gaze on the raven of destiny. “Are you going to carry out my orders or not?” Quoth wilted. “Um… not, sir. Sorry. I’m really sorry, but it would be… wrong.” “We do not concern ourselves with right and wrong in the Halls of Narrative,” the Chronicler noted. “We concern ourselves with necessary.” “I won’t do it,” Quoth whimpered. “A-and if you kill them you’ll have to kill me too.” She closed her eyes and braced herself for the worst. “Am I fired?” “What’s your problem, Greg?” Vizh demanded, stepping between the Chronicler and the trembling raven. “I thought you’d be glad of a way to get rid of the Parody Master.” “I thought you’d have got rid of him yourself by now,” accused Asil, glaring at the Chronicler of Stories. “I can’t get rid of him,” the cosmic office-holder sighed. “He’s absorbed the Resolution Prophecy, and the Triumverate’s powers can’t affect that. He’s holding the narratives of the Parodyverse in his grasp, so if I move against him it’ll destroy everything I’m tasked to preserve.” Asil wasn’t impressed. “Then what use are you?” she demanded. The Chronicler closed his eyes and tried to hold onto his dwindling patience. “I keep the stories. Good or bad doesn’t matter. They have to be kept. I have duties you can’t conceive. Yes, I’d dearly like to see the Parody Master ground into paste, and yes, when the right moment comes I’ll do the one thing I can to make that at least become a possibility. But I can’t act prematurely and I can’t take him on face to face because he’s far too powerful now.” “So you’re not bothered about what’s happened to Lisa, or Yo, or Donar, or Dancer?” Vizh accused. “It’s all just ‘necessary’? Like Cheryl was necessary? Like Pricilla?” “I didn’t say I wasn’t bothered,” the Chronicler snapped back with a flash of temper. “Just that I can’t do anything. And I can’t allow you to do anything either. You can’t mess with the Space Robots’ programming. What you’d cause would be worse than the Parody Master.” “You know this for a fact?” Asil challenged. “Hey, we are talking about Vizh here,” Fleabot pointed out. “You’ve seen him with a remote control. Do you really want to see him with the operating system for the Parodyverse?” Quoth jumped in unexpectedly. “Actually, he’d be on my shortlist,” she admitted. Visionary turned to the keeper of tales. “We came all this way, a long difficult way, because I need to do something,” he said. “You can’t. I understand the reasoning even if I hate it. But I can. I’m not tied to some portentous cosmic office or great destiny. I’m just me. Send me to the closed demiplane of the Celestians. Let me try and save my friends.” “You’d risk all your remaining friends, your family, your world, the whole Parodyverse for that?” the Chronicler challenged. “My friends and family wouldn’t give up on Yo or Lisa or Hatty,” Vizh replied. “We all stand together. We have to.” “It does make for a better story that way,” Quoth ventured. “Sometimes the narrative has to take risks.” The Chronicler turned aside. “Big ebony doorway on your left,” he sighed. “Just Visionary and Asil. One time trip. Do not break the Parodyverse or I will hunt you down.” He turned back to glance at Asil and Vizh. “You do realise that there are tests beyond that doorway too, don’t you? And that you’ll probably die and take everything with you?” “It is better to try than to do nothing,” Asil answered. “That is what a person is supposed to do.” “Just go before he changes his mind,” Fleabot advised. “Oh, and if you could program the Parodyverse to get me a wide screen plasma TV that would be great too.” Visionary took Asil’s hand and they stepped across the threshold to the Celestian demiplane. Citizen Z arrived at Schloss Shreckhausen in a bad mood. The poor weather made the front door of the massive castle looming over Paradopolis stick and she had to struggle with it in the driving rain before it let her in. “Memo to self, drop maintenance crew in the crocodile pit,” she noted. “Grandfather, where are you?” Baron Ottokar Attila Kublai Tamerlane von Zemo had died many years ago, but he didn’t allow that to stop him. In fact he rather looked down upon his brother Heinrich for giving in so easily. “I’m here,” he called. “Haven’t you conquered the planet and ascended to all power yet?” “Not yet,” Beth told him through gritted teeth. “I won’t be ascending to all power for a month or so yet. More, if the printers don’t come through with the victory celebration invitation cards soon enough.” “Well, it’s not like I’m getting any older,” sighed the Baron. “But there are so many people I need to torture once the von Zemos rise to their rightful destiny.” The Baroness cut off the von Zemo destiny speech and went to business. “Is everything in readiness?” she demanded. “Of course,” her unalive relative answered. “I called in Vrykolakas. Nothing but the very best for my precious soon-to-be-ruling-the-planet grand-daughter.” “I don’t see why we had to do this here,” Silicone Sally complained, although the sounds came roughly from Beth’s backside. “Why couldn’t we set up a trap at the Lair Mansion? That way the heroes could take out the monster and we could stand back and watch Mr Epitome’s muscles ripple.” “I can’t enter that place,” hissed the Baron. “Not without triggering off half a dozen mystical wardings and giving their banshee the vapours.” “That’s not what ManMan wants to give her,” snickered Sally. “I can’t risk the Legion catching and interrogating the beast,” Beth explained as she followed Otto into the dungeons. “They might start putting two and two together, and a few of them might even be able to count that high.” Sally recalled the great hairy monster that had attacked Citizen Z on the night of the farewell party. “And it’s thing’s chasing you why?” “The beast senses the psychic spoor of the wench Lisette upon her,” Otto explained. “For some reason the troll is fixated on the mortal slut and wishes to locate her.” “This is the same monster that abducted Laurie Leyton from her hospital bed a while ago,” the Baroness reported. “Evidently there is some kind of bond between them, but I can’t dredge anything up from the echoes of Lisette’s memory. I suppose she may have kept that fragment.” Otto grunted. “Vrykolakas’ original workings transferred a veneer of Leyton’s soul essence and her memories to Elizabeth. Apparently that was sufficient to attract the troll.” They were in the deep cellars now, far beneath the schloss. Otto opened the heavy studded door to the summoning chamber. The Baroness looked around. “We’ll set up the trap for the monster here, then,” she decided. “If it wants to join with Leyton again so much, it can do.” “So all we need now if to lure the creature into this room and…” Baron Otto’s summary was interrupted by him being seized by an angry troll and torn into two pieces. Wangmundo had already arrived. “Oh crap!” said Silicone Sally as the angry beast loped across the chamber towards them. “Yes,” Beth von Zemo was forced to agree. “GIVE ME MY TALISMAN BACK!” Wangmundo howled in a voice that carried death to all who heard it. “GIVE ME LAURIE LEYTON!” “All systems are green,” Miss Framlicker frowned, looking up from the Celestian barrier monitoring board. “Well, greeny-orange, verging on explosion red, but I think that’s the best we’re going to get for the Vortex Flyer.” “If its bothering you too much, try unscrewing the warning bulbs,” NTU-150 advised. “Good tip. Comforting, Thanks,” ManMan gibbered from the co-pilot’s seat. “It is a shame that our team-mates could not be here to see us depart,” the Manga Shoggoth bubbled from the back of the vehicle. “Why you humans don’t simply occupy two locations at the same time eludes me. I’m sure you only avoid it to be annoying.” “Yet another mission for the Field Team,” Sir Mumphrey Wilton apologised. “I’m afraid our chaps are getting’ a bit overworked.” “We will try and find this weapon that can help them, Sir Mumphrey,” Liu Xi promised. Miss Framlicker pointed a finger at Al. B. “Just get yourselves back in one piece. I don’t want the paperwork of having to find another genius.” “I’ll try and remember that,” the archscientist promised. “All systems are active. Ask Lara to hold open the barrier for a moment. We’re good to go.” “Did you all take your car-sickness tablets?” Knifey checked. “Even with the Shoggoth and Liu Xi helping out, this is going to be bumpy.” “Is it too late to rethink this Lair Legion membership thing?” ManMan checked. “And go!” called Enty. There was a bright flash of interdimensional light, then the Vortex Flyer was gone from its launch grid. In fact only the melted remains of the metal frame remained. Vizh felt somebody smacking his face. “Hey, wake up! C’mon sleepyhead. Get with the programme!” Another hand slid down his chest and belly to tweak another part of him that helped him come to sudden consciousness. “Ack!” the possibly-fake man gasped, sitting up quickly. “What? Where?” “Still with the insightful questions, I see,” Priscilla DuBois grinned, sitting back on her haunches and examining her former boyfriend. Vizh’s jaw dropped. “How?” he managed to stammer. The Vermillion Vex shrugged, which was a fun thing to watch given her tight red-leather bustier. “You really researched this well, didn’t you? When you enter the Celestian demiplane you get a guide. It could be anyone you want, anyone you need, from all history. Well, almost anyone. But I was definitely top of the available shortlist, so here I am to be Tonto to your Lone Ranger. Let’s pow-wow.” “Priscilla!” “In the flesh. Want me to prove it?” Vizh swallowed hard. “That’s… that okay. I believe you. I’m just a bit… I mean, you were kind of wiped across the Parodyverse when you did that thing to save Josh and de-mutate all mutates.” The Vermillion Vex grinned. “And yet here I am. I figured that if you’re going to rule the Parodyverse you’d need someone like me to help you with the tough decisions.” “Rule the Parodyverse? No, I just…” Pricilla linked her arm with Vizh’s. “It’s okay, lover. We can sort out the details later. Right now the important thing is I’m back, you’re going to be all-powerful, and we are going to have a blast.” “Wait! What…?” Asil opened her eyes and saw her guide. “Hi,” said George Gedney. “We have a problem.” Betty Marsh led the former C-Team of the Federal Metahuman Resource Centre down the narrow alleyways of urban Lahore. The Indian city was a jumble of old and new, a sprawl of ramshackle corrugated iron buildings propped up against colonial Victorian architecture, surmounted by a few modern steel high-rises. And everyone was dead. “Teen Avenger to base, are you copying this?” Betty called. “It’s bad. I don’t know what happened here but… I’ve never seen anything like it.” “Have you found the possible dimensional rift yet?” G. Matthew Summers asked her over the comm-link. “We can’t get any clear readings from there.” “Negative. But the casualty count… Maybe in the thousands?” “What could do this?” worried Semi-Transparent Lad. “We really need back-up here. Lots of back-up.” He turned because he felt the coldness behind him. “Bring back-up, yesssss,” hissed the tall ragged-robed form that loomed out of the charnel darkness. “Bring them all to ussss.” The waves of fear washed over the heroes and they found themselves scrambling away, blindly panicking in atavistic fear, racing with no thought but to escape the creature before them. “Tell the Lair Legion that we have arrived,” commanded Great Br’Kath, leader of the Singularity Riders. “Tell them we await their coming. Tell them the time of their deathsss hasss come.” Then Great Br’Kath, T’Vorkh the Cancerous, W’Lure the Bitter, M’Rak the Vicious and T’Tharn the Lurid moved on to continue their killing spree. Lee Bookman hung on the rack that he’d been tortured on for days now, trying to keep the pain from overwhelming him. before him the vast display screen showed the multi-tentacled head of the Supreme Interference, the Skree gestalt consciousness that had been taken over the Lunar Public Library. “Tell him what he wants,” begged Senior Auditor Blay-Kee. “Please, Bookman, before he starts on me again!” “I.. took… an… oath…” gasped the Librarian. “So… did you!” “But nobody can fight something like that!” Blay-Kee fretted. “He’s taken over the whole library, overridden the controls on you’re A.I. D.D. and over that psychopathic A.L.F.RED model you insist on keeping around, turned them into his slaves. He’s got access to the last remaining copy of all IOL knowledge that you took from the Central Library. Now he’s unstoppable.” “And you let him free,” Lee reminded Blay-Kee. “I thought I could control him, use him to preserve the information we were in danger of losing…” “And he’s not unstoppable. Not yet. He still can’t access the protected files. Not unless I allow it.” Blay-Kee trembled. “But you have to. He’s going to kill me if you don’t.” “Shame.” “Please, Bookman… Lee.. He’ll make you talk eventually. He’ll torture you until…” “Enough whining,” the Supreme Interference interrupted. “If Mr Bookman required further incentive, he need only watch what is happening on Landing Pad Chaucer. We are about to have guests.” The screen showed a picture-in-picture image of a Lairjet landing on one of the Lunar Public Library’s docking platforms. A radio feed was piped in: “This is Yuki Shiro of the LL. Are we cleared to disembark, D.D?” “Sure,” came back the Library A.I.’s response. “Air pocket’s in place. Come on in.” Lee Bookman watched as the monitor showed Yuki, CSFB!, Mr Epitome, and Trickshot disembarking from the craft. “Last chance to tell,” the Supreme Interference advised the Librarian. “Otherwise it’s goodbye Lair Legion.” Lee Bookman shook his head. “Very well then,” the Supreme Interference said. “A.L.F.RED, the countermeasures.” As Mr Epitome reached the station doorway the atmosphere sheath vanished, plunging the visitors into hard vacuum. Artificial gravity was reversed, hurling them off the moon’s surface into space. Computer-guided laser cannons flared in a total destruction grid. And that was that. Note to self: So next issue we need to cover Vizh and Priscilla vs Asil and George for rulership of the Parodyverse, the Librarian vs the Supreme Interference, Beth von Zemo vs Wangmundo, Lara Night vs the Parody Master, the fate of Hatman, Whitney, and Zdenka, what became of Dancer, Kerry, and Danny, a catch-up on Goldeneyed’s situation, and to show what’s left of the Lair Legion vs the Singularity Riders; plus the actual main theme of the chapter, Raiders of the Lost Vortex. It’s not going to be a short chapter. Note to readers: I’ll decide when and if to write it based on feedback to this issue. Comments about how characters might react to the situations outlined herein would be very welcome. Nobody Footnotes the Trouble I’ve Seen: Rupert Weismann Appraiser, debuted in Appraisals by Visionary, wherein he was not commissioned to place a value on nine Caphan pleasure slaves. NTU-150 (Jamie Bautista) was critically injured in combat with the Parody Master in Untold Tales #300. This issue marks his first appearance since then as anything other than a stretcher case. The Nectronastycon, the dreaded Book of Rude Names, is an elder artefact of the Fairly Great Old Ones, Lovecraftian entities from beyond the Parodyverse. Vizh’s previous experience of it led to his heart being ripped out in the Heart of Darkness series. Comic-Book Limbo is the recycle bin of the Parodyverse, a desolate almost-inescapable place populated by Hero Feeder lurkers and other nasty things. Recently a number of cities and people have been sent there by the Parody Master, held in a protective stasis until he has time to dispose of them properly. The Chronicler of Stories escaped there with his Halls of Narrative in UT#228: Bride of the Parody Master. Quoth was once the most junior of the Chronicler’s ravens of destiny, servitors of the cosmic office holder. Later Quoth was removed from that position by the Shaper of Worlds (Jury) but regained temporary status after being salvaged from the transdimensional vortex by the Chronicler himself. The Narrative Bombs were detonated in Arachknight City in UT#301 and in Herringcarp Asylum in UT#302. Vrykolakas is a powerful elder vampire specialising in necromantic research. He debuted in UT#267: Underwar, where he was one of the few undead smart enough not to take sides. Wangmundo is a troll who dwelled for many months in the attics of the Paradopolis Municipal Library. Then hunters found his lair and took the talisman that makes a place his lair. After imprisonment and torture and unable to establish a lair, Wangmundo was saved by Laurie Leyton (Lisette), who became his living talisman for a while, re-establishing his sanity. Laurie’s disappearance has again robbed Wangmundo of home and stability. Vermillion Vex (Priscilla DuBois) was the hex-wielding mutate sister of De Brown Streak (Josh Clement). She and Vizh dated as part of her father’s plot to wipe out homo sapiens and Priscilla attempted to wipe out all other women in Vizh’s life, but otherwise they got on fine. Priscilla wiped herself from the Parodyverse in an ultimate manifestation of her mutate powers to save Josh and thwart Morbido the Magnificent, in The intermittent Adventures of De Brown Streak #50 George Gedney, late Keeper of the Chronometer of Infinity, failed to date Asil then died in UT#301. The Federal Metahuman Resource Centre C-Team is a rogue breakway until led by former superhero Gordon Matthew Summers. Its status is unclear after FMRC poster-creator L! decided to reboot his Semi-Transparent Lad series. Some guidance about what should happen with them next would be welcome. The Singularity Riders a.k.a. Doomwraiths are undead servitors of the Parody Master formed from the tortured souls of entire planetary populations. The surviving Riders are Great Br’Kath, T’Vorkh the Cancerous, W’Lure the Bitter, M’Rak the Vicious, T’Tharn the Lurid, and E’Koor the Vengeful. E’Koor is missing from the squad who have come to destroy the Lair Legion. Wonder where he could be? Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2007 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2007 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
| Follow-Ups: |
|
| Echo™ v3.0 beta © 2003-2006 Powermad Software |
|
|