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This message Premiere #12: Incoming was posted by on Sunday, March 10, 2002 at 16:34.
Ever since they had occupied the Lair Mansion three days before, Fleshcrawler, Spinoid and the two dozen other science villains had been conducting a hunt through the ancient labyrinth of caves and tunnels beneath the high-tech basements. They were searching for four of the Lair Legion’s support staff, Laurie (Lisette) Layton, Lady Valeria of Carfax, Amy Racecar, and Amber St Clare. They had plans for these four women.
And at last they found them.
“Over there!” Cortex sensed, pointing to a shadowed archway. “I sense them.”
“We’re here,” Lisette agreed. “And there’s someone I want you to meet.
Fleshcrawler stalked forward, leering at the Legion’s legal advisor. “Another delicious little chippie?” he smirked.
“No. This is delicious big Goldeneyed, my possessive, powerful boyfriend. Those people with him are called Exile, Nats, Hatman, CrazySugarFreakBoy! and Donar. They’re sometimes called the Lair Legion. You might have heard of them.”
Lisette stood back.
Donar cracked his knuckles.
It was brief.
---------------
At 01.15 hours central time the city of Technopolis launched nine Quantum Pulse Neutron Missiles, the most technologically advanced surface to surface weapons yet seen on this planet. Their computer-precise parabola was calculated to take them on a seven-minute arc across mainland America and detonate in a star formation on the state of Gothametropolis, with an estimated casualty rate of 96%, some seven million people.
Accompanying the missiles for verification were two Technopolis Mark III Heavy Grav Platforms supported by a dozen faster and more maneuverable Grav-Fighters. The Red Watchman hardly expected any feasible resistance, but so far the SPUD helicarrier had not been located, and it remained the most significant single tactical armament that could conceivably oppose the devastation.
Five hundred miles out from the city the first of the Heavy Grav Platforms exploded as a sleek black unmarked jet literally drove through it. The Dark Knight had arrived.
“There are nine missiles,” Hunter Victorious reported from the passenger cockpit. “I can hardly get a fix on them even with your tech.”
The Knightjet peeled off a pair of air to air countermissiles, but the neutron devices avoided and disabled them with contemptuous ease.
“Grav fighters forming a box around us,” HV warned.
“Good,” DK answered, twisting the jet aside to hammer another vehicle from the sky. “Do you have a parachute?”
“Yes,” Hunter Victorious answered. “Why? I thought this aircraft was invulnerable, by ordinance of the Chronicler of Stories?”
“Those missiles are avoiding tech intervention. Time to try something else.” And DK ejected HV from the jet, angling his sudden evacuation to aim him right at one of the deadly weapons. HV desperately caught onto the missile and used his tactile control over matter to neutralize the radioactive elements within it. Then he toppled down towards the ground.
“One down,” DK muttered.
A series of shocks pounded the Knightjet as the other Heavy Cruiser brought its weapons to bear. Dark Knight jinked the plane so that the next barrage took out two more of the missiles with friendly fire.
Then the indestructible vehicle jerked, its jet engines faltering. DK checked the instrumentation, but by then it was obvious what the Grav-Vehicles were doing. Unable to damage the Knightjet, they were spraying some kind of fast-drying polymer over it, blocking intakes and gumming up the engines.
The Dark Knight was able to take out one more missile before his aircraft was dead in the air, completely covered by the silicone coating, and dropping like a stone forty thousand feet to the Michigan plains below.
Five missiles burned onwards towards Gothametropolis York.
---------------
The vid-monitor hovered behind Chronic’s left shoulder, recording everything he did as he stalked through the deserted funfair which rotted in the shadow of the supervillain prison called the Safe. Where there was once life and laugher there was now only rotting boardwalks and faded flags fluttering in the grey pre-dawn light. When the whole island off the tip of Gothametropolis had been purchased as a federal penitentiary it had killed the old Destiny Carnival that used to be here.
But Chronic was here to do killing of his own. He was being assessed on his ability and willingness to murder dull thud, who was perhaps the closest thing the young musician actually had to a friend. In fact thud was only hanging about outside the Safe as back up to Chronic’s infiltration of the operation to recruit the Parodyverse’s supervillains to Technopolis’ ranks.
Chronic found the old sub-station and managed to operate the ancient switching gear. Across the fairground strings of colored light bulbs flickered to life. A cheap tinny calliope started playing somewhere.
But Chronic wasn’t interested in the revived funfair. He only needed the amplification system.
Chronic unslung the vintage Stratocaster which some said was the Devil’s Instrument. Chronic called it Steve, because its real name could send people howling mad into the night. One swift connection by jack plug and the electric guitar was purring through the speakers across the island.
“Okay, thuddy, this one’s for you,” Chronic announced over the PA, and took it to the bridge. dull thud might be a friend, but Chronic’s life depended on this.
The deadly sound cleared the island of rats in seconds. Stray dogs died foaming at the mouth. Chronic took it up a bar. And another.
There was a screech from behind him, and the vid drone toppled to the floor, its circuits fused by the wall of sound.
“Oops,” smirked Chronic. “I guess you can come out now.”
dull thud fell through the ceiling. “Not bad,” he judged Chronic’s performance, “but it could do with a stronger backbeat and a little sampling. How’s it going?”
“Not good, man. Count Armageddon – that’s the scary big cape guy with the ability to channel what he calls kaos forces – wants me to bring him your head as an entry fee. On the bright side, I get to date Fashion Accessory afterwards.”
“Okay. So you need the sentient telepathic tapeworm in my gut, Cressida, to psionically transmute something into a facsimile of my head, right?”
“Er, sure,” fudged Chronic. “Yeah, that was my plan all right.”
“Ah,” sighed Count Armageddon from the door. “What a pity. You would have done well in our new world.” He swung his arm out, spraying the room with kaos energies. Then he had some minions collect dull thud and Chronic for later.
---------------
Dan Drury, Director of the Super-menace Principal Undercover Directorate, swore softly to himself as the SPUD helicarrier sensors detected the spread of missiles inbound for Gothametropolis. “We got no choice,” he realized. “Take ‘er up.”
“The missiles are three hundred miles out and closing fast,” Al B. Harper reported as the massive flying aircraft carrier broke surface from beneath the waters of the Parodiopolis Sound. “I don’t know if we can stop them.
“That’s not the problem,” Natalia Romanza on Tactical warned. “We’ve just dropped onto the sensor screens of every Technopolis Science Police unit on the Eastern seaboard. Expect company soon.”
“Falcon, Bald Eagle, Icewing,” Drury barked. “Get out there, get airborne, and intercept those rockets.” He paused before pronouncing his last instruction. “Whatever it takes.”
As the three heroes scrambled to the exit hatches the first weapons impacts from Parodiopolis were hitting the ship. “Eager li’l beavers, ain’t they?” snarled Drury. “Get our flyboys out there doin’ some airscreen stuff. And plan me a way outta this, Harper.”
“Well, given a few months R&D, an unlimited budget, and a chance to retrofit a Skree Armada saucer, no problem,” Al B. answered, trying to avoid the showers of sparks from his equipment as the helicarrier took hits.
“Icewing has intercepted a missile but has gone down,” Contessa Romanza reported. “And that’s Falcon and Bald Eagle accounting for one each. Still two more incoming.”
“Can we block ‘em with the helicarrier?” Drury demanded.
“Not while we’re over the city,” Al B. worried. “All we’d do is drop radioactive helicarrier fragments onto Gothametropolis.
“Falcon here,” crackled the audio link. “I’m running out of options, but I think I could physically wrestle one of the…” Then he got jumped by Technovore, Dimension Weaver, and Random Access out of Parodiopolis and the signal was cut.
“I’m re-aligning the helicarrier anti-grav turbines,” Al B warned. “Everyone hang on.” Then the whole massive vessel lurched to starboard and smashed back down into the water side-on. On the other end of the hastily-reshaped gravity spike another of the missiles was caught in the wake and propelled out of Earth orbit to detonate harmlessly four hundred miles above the surface.
“We’re leaking!” Natalia warned. “Hull integrity 34%. Primary systems at 12%. And the Science Police are preparing for underwater search operations.”
“Still one missile active and aimed at the city!” Al B. warned. “And it’s going to impact. Now.”
The bridge of the helicarrier fell deadly silent.
“Well?” demanded Drury hoarsely.
“No detonation,” Al B. admitted. “I just don’t know why.”
---------------
“Thank you once again,” Xander told the Manga Shoggoth. “Your tapes are in the post.”
“I quite like uranium,” bubbled the elder beast, gesturing to the missile that was dissolving within its protoplasm. “Tastes like chicken.”
---------------
“All nine?” the Red Watchman said when Dr Zalas told him the news. “How ingenious. This planet is proving more interesting than I initially feared.”
“We still don’t know how they stopped the last one,” Zalas warned.
“We will find out,” the Watchman assured him. “In the meantime, launch another spread. We can’t have them thinking they can resist us. Let’s see how they react to three flights of three, targeted…” the science archvillain randomly picked three cities from the map, “there, there, and there. Launch.”
Eight minutes later there were no longer population centers at Lincoln, Nebraska, Lubbock, Texas, and Montgomery, Alabama, with a loss of six hundred thousand lives.
---------------
“This is the President of the United States of America. In light of recent, multiple, unwarranted attacks and invasions upon US citizens and property, and in particular because of this morning’s unprovoked assaults with weapons of mass destruction, this nation and its allies are now at war with the state of Technopolis. And may God have mercy on our souls.”
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