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Post By The Hooded Hood struggles on with the midweek posting experiment Wed Oct 06, 2004 at 09:44:20 am EDT |
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#176: Untold Tales of the Transworlds Challenge: Interval, or Home Comforts | |
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#176: Untold Tales of the Transworlds Challenge: Interval, or Home Comforts Previously: At the end of the second of four rounds of the cosmic Gamesmaster’s Transworlds Challenge, CrazySugarFreakBoy! is assumed dead. Our heroes are not also mourning the loss of Goldeneyed because he has been secretly replaced by his bitter other-timeline self Blackhearted. Now the team must somehow prepare itself for the third leg of the contest. Who’s Who in the Transworlds Challenge  Sir Mumphrey Wilton was surprised when Dan Drury opened the apartment door. “C’mon in,” he told the eccentric Englishman. “She’s in here.” Mumphrey went into the kitchen, where the object of his visit was sat at the table flanked by her sister Olivia and Sydney St Sylvain. “Ms Hastings,” he said to the woman they were attempting to comfort. “I have called to offer my condolences.” Melanie Hastings, who the world knew as pornstar and radio host Meggan Foxx, looked up at the visitor but hardly saw him. She looked to have aged ten years. “Dreamcatcher Foxglove was a splendid young man, and he served this planet to the fullest measure,” Mumphrey told her. “He shall not be forgotten.” “Best do this later, buddy,” Drury advised the leader of the Lair Legion as Meg looked at him blankly. “She’s not at her best right now.” “I’ll see Sir Mumphrey out,” Sydney offered. She took the visitor by the arm and guided him to the door. “Meg needs some time to deal,” she explained as she led him away. “We all do.” “Quite understand,” Mumph agreed. “Sorry to see such a fine woman so distressed. But…” “But?” asked the Fashion Fairy. “Well, didn’t want to say anything in front of Ms Hastings,” the Keeper of the Chronometer of Infinity confided, “Not when she’s coping with seeing her son lost during the Transworlds Challenge. But the banshee of the Lair Mansion hasn’t howled.” “The banshee? That poor Murcheson woman?” “Marie, yes. She keens all night when one of the household dies. And not a peep about young CrazySugarFreakBoy!” “So he’s alive!” A flush of colour sprang to Sydney’s cheeks like the return of spring. “Don’t know,” Mumphrey admitted. “Can’t be sure. Might just be that Marie’s not able to perceive a death so very far away across space and the dimensions, what? But perhaps… well, if anybody’s resourceful enough to survive a crash and explosion under an ocean-full of acid it’s young Dreamcatcher, eh?”  “How is to be search coming on?” Yo demanded of the Librarian and Miss Framlicker. “Not so good,” admitted the manager of Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises. “The Gamesmaster won’t reveal the location of the last section of the obstacle race route where CSFB! was lost, and so far we can’t find it either. It wasn’t in this dimension, we know that for sure.” “There’s so many possibilities,” fretted Lee Bookman. “Even using the scanning equipment EEE brought along and linking it to the IOL database and focussing it through the communications array of this Gameship it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.” “Cute-Amazing Guy’s cosmicing awareness?” “Baffled. Anything involving the Gamesmaster seems to blur it up.” “Has Lisa been to be able to summons CSFB!?” “Lisa’s off the radar screen as well,” Visionary explained. “She and Dancer are on some mysterious mission of their own.” And he shuddered. “We are not to be giving up on cute-CSFB!,” Yo insisted. “Keep on to be searching!” S/he turned to the monitor screen again. “To be showing what was happening again, pleasing,” the pure thought being asked Miss Framlicker. For the fiftieth time Miss F keyed the playback. “It was the final moments of the second leg of the Challenge,” she said by rote. “Aunt Sally was under attack by the Thonnagarian raptor-ship, and Goldeneyed had teleported Hatman and CSFB! over to fight them. Then the Heralds of Galactivac launched a devastating assault from their space-yacht that damaged both vessels.” “Before the Herald’s ship blew up itself for no apparent reason,” Visionary frowned. “Amazing Guy and Nats both strained their powers to the limits to protect Aunt Sally, and AG tried to cast an energy bubble around the folks on the raptor ship before it was destroyed. He only managed to get Hatman.” “Goldeneyed teleported to safety as the raptor-ship’s force fields went down,” Lee Bookman noted. “Before the acid ocean melted the vessel to nothing. CrazySugarFreakBoy!… he’d have had no chance.” “Yo is not to be believing that,” Yo answered doggedly. “Please to be playing back of it all again.”  “Are you ill?” demanded Asil of Kerry Shepherdson. “No,” Dancer’s little sister said sullenly. “I only ask because since the incident where you attached guest lecturer Fetish Lad to the mains three days ago you’ve been very quiet.” “Hey, you shouldn’t go around calling yourself Fetish Lad if you can’t enjoy 220 volts through your nipple clamps,” Kerry objected. “Frog Boy needed to grow a new head after his class with you.” “That wasn’t entirely me. Harlagaz was distracted by FA at the critical moment and forgot to pull his swing.” “But since then, nothing,” Asil said suspiciously. “What are you up to?” “Nothing,” answered Kerry. “Nothing. You?” The probability arsonist looked at Lisa’s clone defiantly. “So? I can not set fire to people if I want to. Anyway, who made you the boss of me? Aren’t you like, what, five years old?” “Visionary made me the boss of you,” Asil said determinedly. “And I am mentally much more mature than somebody who can’t even appreciate the wonderful opportunities of being the Great Man’s ward.” Something quirked in Kerry’s face. “What?” puzzled Asil. “Don’t tell me… you’re missing Visionary?” “Of course not,” scorned Kerry. “I can do whatever I like, go out, stay in, practise with my flame thrower. Why would I miss fake-o?” “You do! You miss him!” “Okay, I like a bit of a challenge in my life. It’s no fun if things are too easy…” “You miss the Great Man! I knew it! You miss him and you’re worried about him, ever since that tragedy with CrazySugarFreakBoy!, and now you’re worrying Visionary will not come home either, that you’ll never ever see him again.” Asil choked back a sob herself. “Am not. No way. I don’t even like the feeb. No. Absolutely not even close,” Kerry declared fervently. “Anyway, he’s going to be okay. Don’t you dare say otherwise.” “I knew it!” Asil smirked triumphantly. Then her smile faded. “He will be alright, won’t he?” “Sure he will,” Kerry answered fiercely. “He will be, the stupid lame loser fake hero-wannabee. He will be!”  “Damage report?” Hatman asked Amy Aston. The mechanic wiped her greasy hand across her forehead and stepped back from the vehicle she was working on. “Aunt Sally?” “Much better now, thank you,” the Austernal exploration unit answered for herself. “It’s a good thing the equipment you brought can boost my own self-repair mechanisms though, or I wouldn’t be fit for the next leg of the race.” “We still need to recalibrate her quantum transfer thrust propulsion engines though,” Al B. Harper noted, his voice echoing out from one of the rocket tubes. “If we don’t get that right you’ll all explode on takeoff in a big ball of nuclear fire.” “So yeah, work on that,” agreed Hatman. “Can you do it in three days?” “Sleep is for the weak,” answered Amy. “We’re going to need to be in top condition fer leg three,” Trickshot warned, climbing out from the crumpled starboard nacelle casing, stripped to the waist and with a welding torch between his teeth. “Who knows where that scavenger hunt’s gonna take us?” “I’m doing my best to tune Aunt Sally’s sensor array to the broadest possible spectrum,” Al B. promised, “but without any information about the likely venues for the hunt there’s only so much I can do.” “Any word on that, Hatty?” Trickshot asked Hatman hopefully. “Plenty of rumour, no hard facts,” the capped crusader frowned. “We know we’ve got to locate six objects and return to a given set of co-ordinates, but that’s all.” “You guys had better start winning though,” Amy warned them. “I mean, you got two points now for finishing two legs, like everybody else who’s still in the running. But the Z’Sox and the Slimy Slavers have six, and the Nacluv and the Imperium Guard and the Skree all have four. Either you start racking up the scores or…” “Or we lose Whitney,” growled Hatman through gritted teeth. “I’m going to be talking with the Hooded Hood about forcing her to be the stakes in this stupid Contest.” “Sure, that’ll work,” snarled Trickshot. “On the bright side less people want to kill us now they think we’re lame,” Al B. Harper comforted everybody. “Keep working,” said Hatman darkly.  “Bry!” gasped Laurie Leyton, as the young man teleported into the kitchen of the flat she shared with schoolteacher Bethany Shellett. “You’re back!” “I’m back,” Bry Katz agreed with a strange satisfaction. He clasped his arms around Lisette as she ran to hug him. “It’s three days to the next leg of the Challenge, and Amazing Guy wanted to see his family, so I hitched a lift. I can’t teleport this far safely on my own.” “But you came,” answered Laurie, clinging to him. And then suddenly she stiffened and stepped away. “What?” Bry asked, suddenly worried. “What is it?” “Bry, I know,” Lisette told him. “You do?” “Yes.” The young man looked worried. “How?” “I could tell,” she answered. “And I asked Beth.” “Beth?” Bry frowned. “What about Beth?” “You love her. She loves you,” Lisette whispered, turning away. “I know now.” But suddenly Bry was behind her, pushing up to her. His hands slid round her waist and slithered up under her t-shirt to cup her breasts. “I love you,” he promised. “Want me to prove it?” Laurie stiffened in surprise for a moment, then melted. “Yes,” she admitted. “Bry, you haven’t touched me like this since before… well, since you brought me here.” “More fool me,” said Blackhearted as he lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom.  “I’m sorry,” Yesmin, seeress of Klan Clayhog told Visionary and Trickshot, “Sorry for your loss and sorry because my time-space visions cannot locate your missing friend.” “You tried,” the archer told her. “That counts fer something. Lots of the people here are just really smug that one of us bought the farm.” “A farm?” Yesmin asked puzzledly. “I thought…” “There are limits to what these translator pins can do,” Visionary pointed out. “And even we have trouble understanding what Trickshot says sometimes. He means since CrazySugarFreakBoy! was apparently killed. Plenty of the contestants and their support crews see that as a little win for their side.” “Yes, you Earth people are not popular,” the time-seer admitted. “Dronon of the Skree is threatening all who give you aid and succour with the wrath of the Skree Star Armada once the contest is over.” “That’s why you insisted on coming ta help us secretly,” Trickshot realised. “Our clan is not strong,” Yesmin admitted. “We survive amidst our nebula home as nomads searching for the resources we need to endure. We could not withstand the wrath of the Skree, or the Skunks, or the Shee-Yar. Few could, and if there is a consensus amongst the great powers of the galaxy to eliminate your world then there are few who would voice their opposition.” “Ouch,” winced Visionary. “Well, we’ll add that to the long list of things to worry about. Thanks for trying to help.” “Thank you for bringing us safe through the first contest. We have never qualified for the second round before in our long existence.” “Hey, you helped us, we helped you,” Tricky assured her. “Only guys that were P-Oed about it wuz the Maxellians, cause they were five-hundred-and-first so you bumped ‘em from the contest. They’d had their engines taken out by that Z’Sox trick and those guys were flyin’ their ship along under their own power!” “Another race that’s joined the Earth fan club,” sighed Visionary. “After this contest the next race is going to be who gets to wipe us out first!”  “You have to be the shortest private detective I’ve ever seen,” ManMan admitted. He couldn’t help himself. This PI was remarkably short. “I’m very tall for my height,” answered Indiana Gnome. “Now are you interested in what I’ve found or not?” “He’s interested,” Knifey, ManMan’s talking blade answered for him. “Easy to see where the brains are in that partnership,” noted Indy, staring at Joe Pepper’s waistband. “Am I paying extra for the abuse?” Joe Pepper wondered. “You sure are,” Indy promised him. “But I got what your secret boss wanted.” “He’s not my boss,” ManMan answered fervently, “Just the guy who tells me what to do.” “Yeah. If he was Joe’s boss then Joe would be getting paid,” snickered Knifey. “I figure he’s getting paid everything he’s worth,” the gnome observed acerbically. “Anyway, I’ve located this new dimensional gateway. And boy that was not an easy thing to do, I can tell you. I had to check the astral vertices of damn near every occult landmark in Parodiopolis to be sure of what had changed. Whoever hid this baby knew his business.” “By baby you mean the portal,” Joe checked. “No, I mean the stolen infant sacrificed to make the portal open,” Indiana Gnome answered darkly. “Very black magic, and very well done.” “Evil and competent,” worried Knifey. “Always a bad combination.” “You don’t know the half of it,” Indy went on. “I couldn’t get too near the actual portal, but I could tell where it went, to one of the pocket dimensions swirling round the Vortex. One of the dimensions of light.” “A good guy place?” puzzled Knifey. “Not now. Totally corrupted, black as sin. A crystal fortress turned to jet, every creature in the realm slaughtered. Not that that’s stopping some of them from walking around and guarding the portal.” ManMan swallowed. He hated fighting undead. He’d once had to plough his way through a city full of Dark Thugos’ necrocyborgs and he still got twinges when he saw Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Indy handed over the co-ordinates of the site he’d discovered. “You tell your boss this is a very bad place indeed. It’s bad juju central. A necromantic signature like you wouldn’t believe, and some heavy duty guard dogs. You’d need an army to get to the gate, and a pantheon to storm them. And then things would get heavy.” “Sounds like you’re going to get some exercise, Joe,” Knifey said brightly. “Well, you have been getting a bit thick round the waist recently.”  Dead Boy couldn’t say what it was that drew him to the shabby former firehouse in Gothametropolis’ seedy Sixways district; but he felt drawn. “Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises,” he read the new sign over the peeling paint of the folding wood doors. “Okay.” He braced himself and knocked. Dead Boy didn’t like being seen by normal people. Ever since he could remember – since waking up on a slab and finding he was some kind of walking cadaver – he’d avoided the company of the living. His translucent skin and hollow eyes tended to disconcert people. Even him. The man who answered the door to him made him look healthy. “They’re not here,” said the lank-haired rocker in the shabby leather coat and the torn jeans. Chronic always looked a little seedy, but now he looked terrible. Only the electric guitar slung across his back looked sleek and well cared for. “Who’s not here?” Dead Boy asked. He still didn’t know what had called him to this place. “Anybody alive,” said Chronic. That was when Dead Boy noticed the old open gashes along the guitarist’s forearms, right where the main blood vessels ran. “And alive doesn’t include us,” Dead Boy noted. “Not noticeably,” Chronic told him. “Listen I need you to pass on a message for me.” This was an unusual request to make of a living dead man. “What, that you’re well and happy and waiting on the other side or something?” Chronic snorted. “Hardly. But I can’t talk to the heroes myself. Orders. Compulsion. So I’m telling you.” “The heroes?” “You know. The Lair holier-than-thou Legion on their big moral high horses.” “You want me to contact the Lair Legion.” “And they say that brain-dead means stupid,” scorned Chronic. “Yeah, rot-man, the LL. You got to warn them there’s an enemy they don’t know about, and that enemy’s going to make sure they don’t finish this Transworlds Challenge.” Dead Boy frowned. “Who? How?” “Can’t tell you. But they gotta stop the guy that the baddies are sending to kill their competition team before he wipes them out and their little super-car too. Tell ‘em to watch for an attack in the final leg.” “And if they ask me how I know this, and who you are?” “Then you tell them I’m the guy working for the baddies, but I don’t do well being given orders. And you tell them I’m the guy being sent to kill them all.”  On the concourse of the Gameship Nats and Uhuna shared an improbably big alien confection that looked like ice-cream soda, but neither of them felt much like celebrating. “I hate death,” confessed Uhuna at last. “That’s fairly universal,” Nats pointed out. “I mean I really hate it,” the princess told him. “People dying, not being able to save them. All my power, all my nature is about keeping people well. Death is… horrid.” “I’ve been dead a couple times,” Bill Reed assured her. “It’s not so bad.” Uhuna raised one eyebrow. “Because you get to cuddle up to that fat woman with too much mascara on?” she demanded archly. “Temporary Death or whatever the cow calls herself?” “Er, Temporary Death?” Nats swallowed. “You, er, you heard about that then. Silly misunderstanding.” “Yo said she was very fond of you, apparently.” “Not… well, more fascinated, I think. I was carrying the Psychostave at the time, and that has some kind of special relationship with death.” “And now the Psychostave’s power is in you, so you have a special relationship instead,” accused Uhuna. Nats flailed round for a means of changing the subject and got it as he was bumped off his seat by a passing Skree officer. “You worm!” the man of the Skree scowled down at him. “Apologise for touching me!” “Are you kidding?” Nats flared. “You’re lucky we got a truce of they’d be picking your teeth from the bulkhead right now!” “Brave little man when he’s protected by the big bad Gamesmaster,” the Skree mocked. “but you Earthlings die easy enough out in the field, don’t you?” “That does it,” Bill Reed snarled. “I’m gonna teach you this Earth custom we call ripping you a new hole.” “Bill, don’t!” Uhuna called out, stepping between the two men. “He’s trying to provoke you. Then we’ll get eliminated and so will our planet!” “Yeah,” Nats realised, calming down. “You’re right. Thanks babe.” “Hide behind your woman, then,” the Skree officer scorned. “I’ll be looking for you on the field of combat.” “That’s nice,” Uhuna told him, patting the Skreeman on the wrist. “You go do that. Until then have a nice day.” Nats watched the bully swagger off. “He’ll be sorry,” he promised Uhuna. “Oh yes,” agreed the girl who could transfer illnesses just by touching somebody. “But I’m glad we met him. I feel much better for it.”  “A what?” gibbered Nitz. “A formal reception,” repeated Ebony. “I’m not going.” “You have to,” Falcon told him. “It’s not optional.” “I never asked to be Earth’s diplomatic representative,” the Priest of Zeku protested. “Live with it,” snarled Falcon. “But I don’t know how to diplome,” Nitz gibbered. “Not with all these representatives from all the other competing worlds, all the guys that hate us. I’ll start a war.” “That will make it more interesting than many official functions,” Ebony noted with mild approval. “I don’t want to go.” Falcon leaned over and pressed his face up near Nitz’ helmet. “And I don’t want to spend my time bodyguarding your skinny ass, priest-boy, when I could be home with my girl and my sister for maybe the last time. But I’m here, and you’re here, so you suck it in and do the job, right?” “On the bright side,” Ebony noted helpfully, “it’ll be new people to argue with.”  “You’re not the boss of me,” objected Lindy Wilson. “I kind of am,” Julia Thompson told Falcon’s little sister. “Since your brother’s away and he left me looking after you.” “What, just because you’re his uptown whitemeat girlfriend right now?” “Just because,” Pigeon told her. “We did just fine before you turned up,” Lindy told her. “Life’s just a bitch sometimes. But you’re not going out this late at night.” Lindy cocked her fists on her hips. “And how you gonna stop me, sister?” “SPUD unarmed combat training and Olympic-level martial arts skills,” Julia suggested. “Where have you to go that’s so important at this time of night anyway?” “None of your business.” “I’m a spy. Of course it’s my business. You think I haven’t worked out yet that you’re meeting up with a boy?” Lindy looked a little disconcerted. “A boy?” Pigeon smiled. “You can fool Sam but you can’t fool me, kid. The extra pizza boxes in the trash, placement of cushions of the couch after I’ve been out. And then there was that whole bit where I tracked you to a deserted army base in the middle of the desert.” “So? I was exploring.” “I bet you were. And that’s why you’re not going out tonight.” “I can look after myself.” “Great stuff. Don’t forget to brush your teeth before bed then.”  “So lemme get this straight,” demanded Killer Shrike. “Blackhearted teleports off leavin’ me to die so he can go replace G-Eyed and get himself laid, and he’s done the right thing?” “That is not precisely how I would summarise the situation,” the Hooded Hood replied, “but I am pleased to have an agent present amongst the champions as additional protection against the mysterious forces that work for their downfall.” “And Blackhearted replacing Goldeneyed won’t get the team disqualified?” Keiko checked. “They are both essentially the same person, merely divergent versions,” the Hood answered. “No rules infringement has occurred.” “What about the real Bry?” Sorceress demanded. “I mean the one from the prime reality? And Dream? Are they alive?” The Hooded Hood sighed. “One doesn’t kill Dreamcatcher Foxglove that easily…”  The cells were made of coherent light, and they cast a sickly green glow over the occupants. CrazySugarFreakBoy! was the first to wake up, and as his eyes accustomed to the gloom he realised he was on some kind of alien vessel. He checked his eerie earring but he couldn’t pick up any transmissions. His wowie-zowie walkie-talkie couldn’t send a distress call. The cell block was shielded. There were two other cages, and Bry Katz was in one of them. The heroes’ captors hadn’t been able to get CSFB! out of his Impossibilitium silly suit, but they’d managed to strip off Goldeneyed and dress him instead in a brief outfit that appeared to be composed entirely of paperclips. “G-Eyed?” Dream hissed. “Time to wake up and escape from the Death Star.” “He will still sleep for some time,” came a voice from the third light-cell. “I heard them saying that his wild blind teleport has exhausted him to the point of catatonia.” CSFB! shifted round and saw one of the Pigeon Warriors from the downed Thonnagarian raptor-ship. He had to admit that she looked a lot better in the paper clip outfit than Goldeneyed did. “Them the bad guys that are holding us them?” the wired wonder checked. “So who’s the mystery villain?” Shazara Pel glared at the Earth youth as if considering whether to share information. Deciding at last that the enemy of her enemy was at least someone not to immediately slaughter she answered, “The Lovetoads of Frammistat Eight. Your ally teleported us onto their vessel when we were treacherously attacked by the Tarkadian ship. Now we are their captives, and our respective races believe us dead.” “We’re prisoners of the Slimy Slaver Lovetoad?” CSFB! gasped. “Explains the outfits.” “Our fates will not be kind ones,” Shazara Pel admitted. “Which is why we’ve got to escape and save the day,” CrazySugarFreakBoy! told her. “Y’know, before something bad happens.” The doors opened and the massive reptilian bulk of the Slimy Slaver Lovetoad himself wobbled in. “Too late,” he croaked at them. “The bad things happen now!”  “Bry!” Beth Shellett cried out, dropping her groceries on the hall table and rushing to give the champion a hug. “I had no idea you had a furlough.” “Yeah, just a quick stopover,” Blackhearted told her, “and then back to the wars.” “That’s wonderful – that you could come see us, I mean. Laurie will be thrilled!” Bry shook his head. “Not so much,” he told her. “We… we had a chat.” “A chat?” Beth’s face clouded. “What kind of chat?” “The honest kind. The kind where she asked me if I was in love with you. The kind where I said yes.” The teacher took a step back in confusion, her face pale. “You said yes?” “I did. I said I couldn’t be with her, because all I wanted was to be with you.” Now Bethany was flushing red. “Was… is she okay?” “She went to bed early,” Bry answered. “She’s not happy about it, obviously. But she understands. I wanted to be honest with her, with both of you.” “Oh.” “And now you have to be honest too, Beth. I love you. But how do you feel about me?” “Well,” Beth fluttered, “I haven’t really… It’s not something you can just… I wouldn’t want to rush…” Bry reached over and pulled the young teacher to him and folded her arms round her. “Look, Beth, I might be dead like CrazySugarFreakBoy! before the week’s done. We don’t have time to play games. We only have tonight. You and me. Together.” And while Laurie lay curled in happy slumber in the next room, Blackhearted kissed Beth Shellett then let his hands slip lower and thought that life was good.  In our next thrilling instalment: Two brunettes and a redhead walk into a bar. Yes, it’s time to catch up with Lisa and Dancer as they transgress the fundamental laws of the Parodyverse in their own inimitable way. Oh, and Nitz the Bloody gets to try his hand at diplomacy, and Falcon gets to practise not murdering him. Coming soon, in Untold Tales of the Transworlds Challenge: Pit Stops The Footnotes Are Strong In This One: CrazySugarFreakMourners: Melanie Hastings, a.k.a. stripper porn star and radio chat host Meggan Foxxx, is CSFB!’s doting mother. Her sister, Olivia Hastings, in a tenured academic at Arkham’s Miskatonic University (and is dating a vampire). Sylvia St Sylvain, the size-changing Fashion Fairy, is a family friend and former adventuring partner of CrazySugarFreakBoy! Dan Drury, Director of SPUD, is on old lover of Meg’s. Marie Murcheson was murdered in the Lair Mansion a century and a half ago, and her restless banshee spirit still guards the site and keens upon the death of a member of the household. Kerry Shepherdson, Dancer’s rebellious little sister, is now Visionary’s ward/ Asil Ashling, a clone of Lisa originally created to find and rescue Visionary, has long been the number one supporter of “the Great Man”. Laurie Leyton, a.k.a. Lisette was Bry “Goldeneyed” Katz’ former lover. She concealed her pregnancy by him for fear it would destroy her relationship with him and giving up the child to the Order of the Observing Eye to be raised in another time and place. When G-Eyed finally discovered the truth he was horrified and the subsequent arguments ended their romance. Unhappy and alone, Laurie fell prey to an unscrupulous new lover who got her hooked on drugs, led her to prostitution, and finally arranged for her auctioned death in a video snuff movie. G-Eyed, discovering her plight at the last moment, saved her. He has been helping her recover from her addiction since while avoiding telling her he does not want to renew their affair. Beth Shellett, estranged daughter of Paradopolis Police Commissioner Don Graham, is a schoolteacher at St Jude’s Orphanage, and has taken Laurie in as a flatmate to help her recovery. G-Eyed is developing strong feelings for Beth which complicate things. In one glimpsed future Beth is married to a crippled Bry Katz. Blackhearted is a bitter and cynical alternate-timeline version of Goldeneyed from a reality where he failed to save Lisette from grisly death. Indiana Gnome is a gnome private detective, pretty much as described. He wears a big floppy leather hat, a leather jacket, and carries a bullwhip. Dead Boy is an animated corpse revived by scientific means for currently unrevealed purposes by a mysterious agency. He is currently living rough on the margins of society. Chronic was a drug-addict anarchist rock musician until he gained his Satanic guitar Steve, with which he has powerful sonic abilities. Steve recently forced Chronic to commit suicide after freeing the Chain Knight to work with the Dead Hell Lords. The Chain Knight used Chronic’s spirit as a means of attacking and replacing Death, and has retained the undead musician’s services since. Chronic also gained a considerable power-boost during the as-yet-untold Crisis on Multiple Earths. However, Chronic doesn’t respond to authority well, and he doesn’t like being enslaved by the Hellraisers any more than he likes having to help heroes; hence his warning message via Dead Boy. Temporary Death, like her (now destroyed) sister Death, is one of the Family of the Pointless, a group of conceptual entities who fulfil functions fundamental to the Parodyverse. She has previously met and been shyly and painfully friendly to Nats while he was suffering temporary cessation of life functions. The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom Who's Who in the Parodyverse 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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