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Post By Hi-tech hijinks as recorded by... the Hooded Hood (who notes lots of new stories but rather less new replies, and hopes this is a temporary situation) Sat Jul 03, 2004 at 02:20:37 pm EDT |
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#155: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion versus Hacker Nine: A Data With Destiny | |
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| #155: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion versus Hacker Nine: A Data With Destiny The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom Who's Who in the Parodyverse Where's Where in the Parodyverse Note: Those who have not done so may wish to read Hacker Nine and Lindy: My First Big Felony before beginning this story. Harry Flask, the biggest crimelord on the East Coast in all senses of the word big, looked down at the trembling clerk at the hot dog concession. “Insufficient funds?” he said dangerously. “There is enough credit on that card to buy a mid-sized European nation, with enough change left over to pick up Zimbabwe or Ecuador.” “Not… not according to my machine, man,” the desperate vendor told the huge fat man. “It says you’re outta cash. And no cash, no thirty jumbo-dogs. Sorry.” The Lynchpin looked at the returned card and glanced at his associates. “Kill him,” he ordered. “Bring the dogs. And mustard.” He turned away and left them to it with a murderous look on his face. Something was happening, and somebody – as well as a hapless hot dog salesman – was going to have to suffer for it. Half an hour later he knew that all his accounts were empty… and so were the bank savings of everyone else in America.. “Four hours!” raged Falcon, pacing the floor of the Lair Legion’s Meeting Room angrily. “It’s four flaming hours and we still haven’t found him!” “We’ll get him,” Mr Epitome assured the SPUD operative. “Every law enforcement agency on the planet is mobilised to find that little pissant, and when we do he’ll think heaven and earth have fallen on his head!” “What?” Visionary worried, poking his heads round the door to see who was shouting. “What’s spiffy done now?” A nasty thought occurred to him. “Where’s Kerry?” “Not spiffy,” Falcon answered crossly. “Hacker Nine! That punk refugee from Technopolis with the ability to mess with computer systems. The kid who broke into a secure SPUD installation and hacked into the SPUD high security mainframe?” “Not just SPUD’s systems,” Mr Epitome added. “OPS, FBI, CIA, NORAD, NATO, damn near everyone. He even hacked into BALD and HERPES and bad guy networks like that. And then he shifted data blocks randomly from one database to another.” Visionary frowned. “Secure data? Stuff like names of secret agents in deep cover and the like?” “Oh yeah,” breathed Falcon grimly. “But then he encrypted it and sent off fragments randomly to everybody else. It’ll take months to find out what’s gone, and years to decode the nuggets he dropped on the systems we can get to.” “That’s not good,” Vizh admitted. “But on the bright side Kerry’s not involved yet.” “Not good at all,” agreed Epitome. “Last night he struck again. He’s emptied out all the information from the National Bank Databases and he’s holding it to ransom.” “He what?” puzzled Visionary. This was a new crime to him. “Details of every bank account and how much it’s supposed to have in it” Falcon explained. “Details of who owes what mortgages or loans or debts, of how much tax on interest is due the government, offshore transfers, stock holdings, share exchanges, the lot. He’s got it and the banks don’t.” “It’s an innovative scheme,” the Librarian agreed, bustling into the room with screeds of fan-folded computer printout and a flatscreen datapad. “It illustrates the importance of data in a civilised society.” “There’s got to be paper backups of this stuff,” Vizh argued. “Even electronic stuff on discs and all.” “And assembling that stuff will take weeks,” hissed the angry paragon of power. “Meanwhile he’s wiped a hundred twenty points of the NASDEQ index today and we’re teetering on the biggest recession since the 1930s, financial transactions are virtually impossible, and this little squit is thumbing his nose at the United States of America!” “How much ransom does he want?” Visionary wondered. “And how is anyone going to pay it if all the banks are shut down?” “Oh, he doesn’t want money,” the Librarian contributed, looking up from his findings. “After all, he could just transfer as much as he wanted from the account data he’s holding. He’s wanting the release of around eight thousand political prisoners in the US, the legalisation of cannabis, stringent new laws against gasoline engine pollution, and a naked photo of Hillary Clinton.” “That’s just wrong,” Vizh shuddered. “They’re not political prisoners,” insisted Epitome, colouring. “They are drug abusers imprisoned with due process in accordance with the law.” “And given harsh sentences because of mandatory minimums,” admitted Falcon. “Minimum sentencing rules exist for use of some drugs but not others, and they just happen to be for the drugs most commonly used by black people. So some poor Negro kid ends up doing fifteen years compulsory jail time because her boyfriend kept a kilo in her night-stand, while a high rich white kid who piles his daddy’s Porsche into a 7-11 gets a suspended sentence because he was taking more expensive drugs.” “You’re saying he’s right?” Mr Epitome challenged. “I’m saying he needs his ass kicking from here to Topeca and back, but I can’t fault his ransom demands. We can’t give into him, of course, but he’s done his homework.” The mood was getting tenser. “I traced his intrusions as you requested, Mr Epitome,” the Librarian offered diplomatically. “And what have we got?” the man of might demanded. “We have a mess,” Lee Bookman sighed. “He may be a nuisance of the first order, but he’s a genius nuisance of the first order. He’s managed to almost erase his data trail.” “Where’s HALLIE?” Falcon wondered. “I set her to chase the electronic leads, see if she can sniff out what that irresponsible little git’s up to next.” Vizh touched the communications panel. “HALLIE? Any update on Falcon’s irresponsible little git?” he asked the Lair Legion’s resident Artificial Intelligence. “HALLIE?” “Don’t bother,” Al B. Harper snapped as he stomped into the room with his own armful of printout. “HALLIE’s not there.” “Then where is she?” Visionary wondered. Al B. dropped the paperwork across the table. “Gone,” he answered roughly. “Removed. Transferred. HALLIE has been kidnapped.” “Alright punk,” said HALLIE, “you have five seconds to surrender before I fry you, three if I find my patience can’t last that long.” “Wow!” gasped Hacker Nine enthusiastically. “You are something special!” HALLIE moved on to her next bluff. “Yes, I am. I’m already taking control of your computer systems here in… NORAD? We’re in NORAD? Cheyenne Mountain? Centre of the US Government’s top security military command and control structure?” “I guess,” H9 agreed. “I just needed somewhere quiet and fairly secure to run my game from, and this seemed about right. I set off some kind of stun gas they’d got as a contingency against intruders. That took most of them down, and their own sonics did the rest. Then I just reprogrammed the phones and computers to simulate the right people making the right replies and…” he gestured around him, “free rooms with cable.” HALLIE found the hologram generators here that were giving her a physical appearance were not giving her a physical form. Nor was she able to make good on her threat of linking into the computers Hacker Nine was using. There was some kind of firewall unlike anything she’d experienced before. She was almost blind, deaf, and dumb. “So what now?” she challenged. “You reprogram me and send me to kill the Lair Legion? Dissect my engrams for information? Try and convert me to your sex-slave?” “Good grief, no!” protested H9. “I’m not that kind of villain at all! As if I’d do anything to hurt a sentient being – any living being, in fact. As if I’d tamper with a work of art like you!” HALLIE decided to let the young man live. “So what then?” “I just have to keep you here, that’s all. Otherwise you’d be able to help the heroes too much,. And then they wouldn’t try following the clues I’ve left them.” “You… left them clues. To your crimes?” H9 looked anxious. “That will understand them, right? I mean, I tried not to be too obscure. The Science Police could be really dumb if they didn’t have Premiere or Clockwork Soldier helping them out.” “You want to get caught?” “No. Of course not. I want to get nearly caught. That’s the buzz. The rush. The thrill of the game.” Hacker Nine beamed at HALLIE. “So sit back and enjoy the show, sweetheart. You’ve got the best seat in the house for Hacker Nine for the people versus the Lair Legion of the Man.” “You are going to get so pounded when they find you.” “Maybe,” grinned H9. Then for the first time he looked anxious. “Is my acne showing?” he worried. “Only, I kind of have a date later.” “Searching hard to learn and see, HALLIE finds she can’t get free, If you want her back some day, Start your search in Column A. What the hell is that supposed to mean?” demanded Falcon irritably. “I don’t know,” Al B. Harper answered. “All I know is it took me different three recursive integration number substitutions to unlock the code into plain text, and I had to invent an entirely new system of pattern matching to do it. It was embedded in the underlying base program where HALLIE used to be.” “It’s a clue!” explained CrazySugarFreakBoy! “It’s an old-time baddie-tells-us-where-his-next-crime-is clue! Oh, this is going to be great!” “Hacker Nine likes his party games,” noted Lisa. “It almost seems a shame to spoil his day.” “Spoil his day,” urged Mr Epitome. “Summons him.” “I suppose so,” the first lady of the Lair Legion sighed. “I summons Hacker Nine!” Nothing happened. “I summons HALLIE!” “So where are they?” demanded Falcon. “I only ask because Drury is going slightly insane over this and calling me every ten minutes with new swear words he’s inventing for the occasion.” “He’s shielded,” Lisa admitted grudgingly. “Of course he is,” grouched Visionary. “Ever since Enty’s Anti-Lisa-Summonsing circuitry got posted on the internet all the really IT-literate villains are using it. And really it was only meant for personal defence applications.” “Hmph,” sulked the amorous advocatrix. “The clue, then,” Librarian prompted. “What does it mean?” “Oh, this one’s easy,” CSFB! breezed. “Remember that HALLIE was based on the engrams of murdered science-queen Helen MacAllistair? And Commissioner Graham discovered her body…?” “Buried in a concrete pillar at a Bautista Enterprises plant,” Al B remembered. “Column A!” “Correct, boy wonder!” grinned CrazySugarFreakBoy! “To the Bat-Poles!” “I require this situation resolved,” growled Harry Flask. The Lynchpin of Crime’s chair creaked dangerously as he shifted his weight. “I want this Hacker Nine found and made an example of. I want him hurt, then maimed, then dead. I want his skin as a throw rug. I want the way he goes out to be a message to every smartass kid in the world that you do not mess with the Lynchpin or his lunch.” He glared over at Gamona, his staff assassin. “So do it.” “With pleasure.” Akiko Masamune had reached a similar decision about the number of Hacker Nines required in the world, albeit her choice to have him eliminated had involved a lot less carbohydrates. She walked down to the dojo level of her Mangatown business complex to select some suitable warriors for the task. All her warriors were strewn across floor and furniture. None of them we conscious. “They’re not dead,” promised the athletic man in the grey combat gear. “As a professional courtesy.” He wore a full-head mask. He had a rifle strapped over one shoulder and a longsword over the other, and an array of other weaponry in belt pouches and limb holsters. “You have come for a job interview, then?” surmised the pinkest crimelord on the planet. “Mister…?” “I’m the new Confiscator. Try me.” “Indeed? The previous Confiscator had quite a reputation in his day,” noted Akiko. “I’m better. Give me a shot. I’ll only need one.” “Very well then, Confiscator.” She handed him the picture of Hacker Nine. “Kill him for me please, my dear.” “This will not do,” Gideon Book, the Word of Order, announced. “Chaos and anarchy, the disruption of the economic stability of the planet, and a direct assault on everything the Order of Order has been patiently assembling. This so-called Hacker Nine is not an element we can tolerate.” He flicked on the bank of black and white TVs that filled one wall of his office. “Already some are mythologizing him as a folk hero. His acts of irresponsibility are breeding rebellion in the hearts of the young. He must be stopped. Permanently. Eliminated.” The Word looked away from the news screens. “Do you understand what I am saying, Pelopia?” “Yes father,” the Priestess replied. “I shall kill him forthwith.” “Pelopia, this mission may bring you into conflict with Dreamcatcher Foxglove. The father of your child.” “If I have to, I shall kill him also.” “All I’m saying, Dominic, is that this kid could be real useful if we catch him alive, given the right inducements,” said the Grey Eminence over his com-link. “Real useful.” “I’ll see what I can do,” agreed Mr Epitome. “Aaagh!” shrieked Visionary, as a turbine the size of an ice-cream truck flew three inches above his ducked head and embedded itself into the Manga Shoggoth. “This is typical! Of all the Bautista factories where HALLIE could have been encased in concrete it had to be the one where NTU-150 manufactures replacement parts for his battle-suit!” “Yeah!” agreed CSFB! enthusiastically, avoiding a pair of unattached and free-flying metal gauntlets then swinging them with silly string to crash into a shoulder-harness laser cannon. “And then H9 hacks into their autopilots and sets this great trap for us.” “Good job I brought me some armour-piercing vibratium tipped homing rounds,” called Falcon, dodging repulsing blasts and fragging a pair of boots that were trying to kick his ass into the metal gantry. “These mechanical parts are not as interesting as they might be,” the Manga Shoggoth commented, shielding Vizh, Al B., and the Librarian from further examples of Jamie Bautista’s inventive genius. “Few of them transform into other objects such as racing cars or helicopters.” “That’s cause Enty’s not wearing them,” Vizh noted with a shudder. “Please don’t suggest it to him.” “And could someone please stop these waffle-makers attacking me?” asked dull thud plaintively. “And tell me how to get butter off a Flint Michigan and the Bionic Ostrich-Impersonators sweatshirt.” ~~Burning would work~~ suggested Cressida, his symbiotic telepathic tapeworm, but she didn’t specify whether she meant to defeat the kitchenware as to deal with her host’s fashion statement. “Okay, I’ve worked out the over-ride code,” Al B. called out. “Falc, can you broadcast this?” Mr Epitome sprung up and intercepted the almost complete NTU combat suit that threatened to blindside the aerial avenger. “Now he can,” he called back. “On it,” Falcon agreed, setting his combat harness to pulse out the signal Al B. had identified. The robotic parts dropped to the ground, and in many cases spontaneously exploded. “What a great little trap,” CSFB! noted. “And I presume this must be the next clue,” the Librarian suggested, starting to line the fallen parts up in serial number order. “These binary dots micro-engraved along the transverse rims… let me just absorb and process them.. Ah, yes.” “Yes?” prompted thuddy “To find your lost one you must go, To quarters of your earliest foe, If you still want to chase and play, Seek clues upon a fresh next day.” “Congratulations, you two crazy kids!” Dancer told Nats as he explained the news to some of his team-mates. “No, you don’t understand!” the flying phenomenon said desperately. “Uhuna damn near killed me when she realised what we’d done. And I mean that literally. Never contract Dutch Elm Disease, take my word for it, it’s not fun. She was really, really upset. Heartbroken.” “You sonovabitch!” growled Trickshot. “First Ruby an’ now Uhuna. We gotta get you some kryptonite shorts or something.” “Where’s Uhuna now?” Dancer worried. “In her room, weeping her heart out,” Nats confessed. “Yo’s with her.” “Yo is being to be back now!” the pure thought being corrected him. “Cute Uhuna-bride is to be sleeping for a while.” “Thanks, Yo,” Nats replied. “But Yo thinks Nats has been very very wicked and uncute!” the new deputy-leader of the Lair legion scolded.. “Yeah. You better stand by that poor kid, Natsy,” Trickshot frowned. “But I didn’t do anything!” Bill Reed wailed. “Well, I might have done something, but what I mean is it wasn’t my fault we got married! I think I’ve been retconned!” “Retconned?” Dancer said suspiciously. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that on dates?” “”What?” Trickshot challenged. “You’re sayin’ that the Hooded Hood made you married?” “Yes!” “Hmmm,” considered Yo. “Yo is thinking then that possibly-uncute Nats is to be having to go and ask him.” “As our new deputy shouldn’t you be out leading the troops rather than hassling accidental grooms?” Nats asked desperately. “Yo is to be thinking is to be far more important to be taking care of big problems for Deputy Leader to do. Any can to be organising fighting.” The pure thought being shot Bill Reed a determined, innocent smile. “Only Deputy-Leadering-Yo can be sending Nats to Hooded Hooding.” “Nice one, Vizh!” dull thud called as Cressida transmuted the attacking bioplasmoid from goo to stew. “You guessed where we should come to get attacked right off the bat.” “Thanks,” the possibly fake man said as the animated gelatin monsters broke from their vats and attacked the Lair Legion. “It was pretty obvious that our earliest foe was Peter von Doom, and he used to be behind New Tomorrow Industries, and ‘fresh next day’ is another way of saying that, so… here we are. Being attacked by PvD’s reserve jello-beasts.” “We don’t have time for this,” growled Falcon. “Time for some collateral damage.” ~~Try to keep the structural stuff to a minimum~~ Cressida advised. ~~We’re way over budget again for compensation payments~~ “New Tomorrow Enterprises is clearly conducting illegal bioengineering experimentation,” Mr Epitome noted sternly, pounding another of the goos into more goo. “Therefore we are not liable for any damage we inflict.” “Yay!” shrieked CSFB!, bounding overhead upside-down and spraying combat candy liberally across the battle zone. “Hacker Nine traps are the best!” “These bioplasmoids are a little bit like marshmallows,” considered the Manga Shoggoth as he digested half a dozen, “but they need more riboflavin.” “I’ve never had to fight walking jelly babies before,” dull thud admitted (if you’re an American he probably said “Gummi Bears”). “I’d be a lot happier if Cressie would stop transmuting the goo into poo though.” ~~I have no sense of smell~~ the parasitic tapeworm explained smugly. ~~Which probably explains why I have survived so many of your drinking binges at the Fatal Toilet.~~ Al B. Harper, Visionary, and the Librarian watched the battle from the sidelines. “This is taking too long,” Vizh noted. “Solving-problem guys?” “We could scramble the genetic coding of those bio-plasmoids,” Al B. theorised. “Over-write the mimetic programming?” “Good idea,” agreed the Librarian. Lee Bookman lunged forward, grabbed the nearest amoeboid, and downloaded the entire works of AA Milne into it’s genetic coding. The monsters turned into something suspiciously like honey and melted onto the floor. “Mmm. This is much better,” munched the Manga Shoggoth. “And I have the strangest desire to do a victory tigger bounce now.” “Any sign of a clue?” Visionary demanded. “C’mon. That Hacker Nine has HALLIE.” “And is also holding the entire United States to ransom,” added Falcon judiciously. “Whatever. Just find the damn clue,” grouched the possibly-fake man. “I see it,” Mr Epitome reported. “Painted in ultraviolet beside the main replicator vat. If you play fairly you’ll have to play foul If you would hurry you’ll need time to waste Look for the battle where Sea Monkeys growl Where the penultimate clue will be placed.” “Do we have to take this kid alive?” grumbled dull thud. “Hi,” said Lindy Wilson. “Uh, hi,” smiled Hacker Nine nervously. “I wasn’t sure if you would show.” “I said I’d come. I didn’t even have to sneak out past big bro. He’s off one some big-ass government mission again.” Well, I’m glad you came,” Zack Zelnitz told Falcon’s little sister. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the stuff you told me last time.” “About how I always wanted to be Whitney Huston before the Bobby Brown crap?” “No. About the environment. And the unfair mandatory minimums and stuff. And how nobody in government seems to care about it.” “Really? You were listening to me?” Lindy smiled. “I’m not used to guys listening when I talk. Usually they’re just trying to figure how to undo my bra strap.” “Playtex Everyday Basics Lace Soft Cup, half-twist, upwards hook, release pressure,” H9 answered promptly, then flushed. “Not that I’ve been conducting research or anything,” he stammered. “Right,” smirked Lindy. “Well don’t be trying that half-twist on me, Zachary Zelnitz, or you won’t like the upwards hook you’ll get back, okay? “I promise,” H9 assured her quickly. “But about all that stuff you were saying. About how somebody needed to sort all that stuff out…” It was a tender reunion. Gamona watched it through her electronic binoculars with a certain satisfaction. “Got you,” she whispered to herself. Next Time: Various people find Hacker Nine, and most of them aren’t delivering congratulation bouquets. Sorceress has a bad night. CSFB! has a bad reunion. Falcon has a bad mood. Visionary has a bad temper. It’s all coming along next time in Untold Tales of the Lair Legion of The Man vs Hacker Nine: Crash Footnote Without a Cause: Harry Flask, The Lynchpin of Crime, is the biggest crimelord on the Eastern seaboard in all senses of the word. Although he resembles a massive lard bucket he is phenomenally strong and well trained in combat. However he rarely resorts to battle, given the massive legal and financial powers at his disposal and the cadre of enforcers that work for him. His base is a skyscraper towering over Gothametropolis York. Don’t get between him and his food. Gamona is the last survivor of an alien race wiped out by Dark Thugos, who trained her from infancy to be the perfect assassin. The mesh tattoos on her body also act as armour plating, making her hard to harm with energy, percussion, and slicing attacks. She is one of the most skilled martial artists on the planet. Abandoned on Earth after Dark Thugos ascended to be Destroyer of Tales, Gamona has found employment as the Lynchpin’s premiere assassin and bodyguard. Zack Zelnitz, Hacker Nine is a science villain from the parallel world of Technopolis who escaped the round-up at the end of the Technopolis War and remained on Parody Earth. Unlike his peers however, young Zelnitz has few violent tendencies, but rather a mischievous anarchistic streak that expresses itself in social disorder and bizarre artistic creations. Given Hacker Nine’s ability to interfere with any kind of computer system this can be rather disruptive in a quiet, well-ordered society. Before this story begins, nobody was aware the H9 had met and dated Falcon’s teenage sister Lindy. HALLIE is the Lair Legion’s resident artificial intelligence, usually dwelling in the computers at the Lair Mansion on Parody Isle. Although originally designed by the mad scientist Dr Vishnar around the engrams of a murdered computer programmer Helen MacAllistair, HALLIE has the ability to rewrite her own code and has since evolved into someone a lot more complex. One day she’s going to surprise everybody. Akiko Masamune, the world’s pinkest criminal mastermind, runs an international crime empire from her headquarters in Hong Kong and Paradopolis’ Mangatown. She debuted in Visionary’s seminal story, International Incident, an adventure that is surely the archetypal forerunner to our contemporary Untold Tales. The Confiscator was the best assassin on the planet, known for his skill with weapons and traps. Amongst his more famous kills were Baroness Zemo and the Dark Knight. He was murdered by a punk newcomer baddie in the Villain’s Week story Third Degree. This is the first time we’ve heard anything about a successor – but not the last. The Word conceals his true identity. Few know him as philanthropist Gideon Book, sponsor of CrazySugarFreakBoy! and his Global Gangbusters. In actuality Book is the unquestioned master of the Order of Order, and amoral ancient cult dedicated to promoting the rule of Order in the Parodyverse. The Word has the power to command obedience from those with whom he speaks, but is photosensitive to colour so dwells in monochrome surroundings in his penthouse office in Seattle. His daughter Pelopia is the cult’s High Priestess of Logos and principal agent. Last time we saw her she had discovered herself pregnant with CSFB!’s baby. The Grey Eminence, secretly aged billionaire and fanatical patriot Aldrich Grey, is the covert sponsor of Mr Epitome’s Office of Paranormal Security. Peter von Doom was the first foe the Lair Legion (then the League of Regulars) ever faced, as documented in Lair Legion: Year One #1 (the original story is long-since lost as far as I know). He was revealed to be connected with New Tomorrow Industries when the site was investigated in The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Sixteen: In which the mystery of the misplaced heads is resolved and the secret of Dr Nomodov is revealed. Hacker Nine’s Clues: The headless body of Helen MacAllistair was discovered in a Bautista Industries factory in the Sheldon district of Paradopolis in UT#110 - Untold Tales of Paradopolis: There Are Five Million Stories in the Big City, or The Mystery of the Skeleton in the Superheroes’ Closet. Her head has not yet been recovered. New Tomorrow Industries has previously been connected with Peter von Doom and with smuggled Doomworld technology. I wonder if anybody can get the Sea Monkey clue before next time? If it helps, the site is mentioned in the Where's Where in the Parodyverse. Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2004 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2004 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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