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Post By More ramifications and behind-the-scenes scheming, as recounted by... the Hooded Hood Wed Oct 20, 2004 at 11:55:43 am EDT |
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#180: Untold Tales of the Transworlds Challenge: Diplomatic Solutions | |
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| #180: Untold Tales of the Transworlds Challenge: Diplomatic Solutions Previously: At the conclusion of the third leg of the Transworlds Challenge, Earth’s team is in joint third place, but is severely depleted by casualties. CrazySuagrFreakBoy! is assumed dead, Goldeneyed is missing, and Nats is critically injured and missing, along with his girlfriend Uhunalura, the Manga Shoggoth, Al B. Harper, and the EEE firehouse. But life goes on, and a number of people have important business to transact before the game reaches its conclusion. Who’s Who in the Transworlds Challenge  The Mayor’s office had been completely redecorated in sleek modern colours and plastics, and Velma Klein sat behind a blue Perspex desk that was completely bare except for a powerbook and intercom. “You have five minutes,” she told Sir Mumphrey Wilton. “Please be concise.” “Concise it is then, madam,” agreed the leader of the Lair Legion. He dropped a bundle of documents fastened with legal ribbon onto the translucent desk. “This outlines why your local restrictions against superhero activity in your city boundaries do not apply to the Lair Legion, and serves notice of your compulsion under the Special Powers Act 1998 and UN Special Orders 399 and 520 to render all assistance required during an emergency as defined in the legislation.” The new Mayor of Gothametropolis didn’t pick up the papers. She gestured an expensively-manicured finger at one of the twenty or so immaculately-suited people lining the walls of the office. The legal specialist came forward and placed a thicker bundle of documents in front of Sir Mumphrey. “Here are the city’s guidelines on when such a declaration is to be admitted as legal.,” Ms Klein countered. “Along with restraining orders forbidding your people the use of metahuman powers in this jurisdiction without prior written approval of the circumstances. Take what you can get, Wilton. Any other unlicensed metahuman gets thrown in jail.” “Unless they’re working for the Lynchpin,” the eccentric Englishman suggested. “Is that a libellous allegation against civic leader Mr Flask I hear?” asked Mr Sneek, of city attorneys Sneek, Grabbitt, and Thuggery. “I never mentioned Mr Flask,” Mumphrey told him. “I never said Flask was a slimy pustule unfit to breathe God’s clean air and overdue to be punctured like a bloated bladder of effluence. Not a bit of it.” He turned to his liaison Amber St Clare. “If I say Flask’s a gross, blubbery tub of lard is that libellous?” “He’d have to prove in court that he wasn’t,” Amber advised, keeping her face straight. “Jolly good.” He picked up the documents he’d been served and passed them to Amber with elaborate old-world courtesy in marked and deliberate contrast to Klein’s offhand treatment of her flunkies. “Have a look through these, if you please. See if there’s anything worthwhile in ‘em, what?” “Don’t mistake the intentions of the new administration, Wilton,” the Mayor warned him. “Superheroes are no longer welcome in Gothametropolis.” “I’ll be sure to mention that to Messenger and the Dark Knight when I see em.,” Mumph promised. “Remind me, would you Ms St Clare.” “Absolutely, Sir Mumphrey.” “And should you find yourself having any little problems, Ms Klein – outraged four hundred foot tall dragons rampaging on City Hall, giant Sea-Monkeys, that kind of thing, do feel free to give us a call so we can put it on our list of things to attend to.” “I think our time is up, Mr Wilton,” Velma Klein said coldly. “Yours isn’t up yet, madam,” Sir Mumphrey told her, “but it will be.”  “Where are we?” Al B. Harper worried, looking round him at the absolute darkness. The only light was from the feint luminescence of the Manga Shoggoth and that was hardly comforting. “I can’t get a reading. My scanner’s gone dead.” “That’s very appropriate then,” the Shoggoth rumbled. “Since we’ve just been transported into the realm of death.” Princess Uhunalura looked around the suddenly dark EEE firehouse with a wild panic. “Death? We’re dead?” A thought occurred to her. “Where’s Bill?” On queue, Nats’ corpse sat up and rubbed his head. “For the record: Ouch.” “Bill!” the princess gasped, throwing herself on her boyfriend. “You’re, um… what are you? Dead, alive?” “He’s temporarily dead,” said Temporary Death. “You all are. Except for that thing,” She pointed at the Shoggoth. “I don’t know what he is.” “That is not dead which can eternal lie,” the elder being shrugged. “Usually I’m not allowed into the realm of death.” “That’s why I had to bring the whole building,” Temporary Death explained. “There was just enough mundane matter contaminating your system to drag you too.” “Don’t rub it in,” gurgled the Shoggoth. “I’m trying to purge it, but I keep getting complaints from Flapjack about the carpets.” “So, where are we?” Al B. Harper repeated. “In mathematical terms, if possible.” “The mathematical term you’re looking for,” Temporary Death told him, “is Zero.” “This is the holding zone of Temporary Death,” Nats explained, fending Uhuna off and dragging himself to his feet. His fatal injuries didn’t bother him here. “I’ve been here before.” Uhunalura glared at the plump brunette in the unflattering black dress. “I bet you have,” she agreed. “I bet a lot of people have.” “I know you,” Temporary Death glared at Uhuna. “We’ve worked together before, when you’ve healed people.” “I’m sure I’d have remembered someone as distinctively shaped as you are,” the princess sniffed. “I guess it’s hard to get a good view of people when you’re lying on your back so much,” Temporary Death countered. “So…” interrupted Al B. quickly, “you’re saying this is the realm of Temporary Death/” “Genius level IQ,” Nats observed. “Lightning brain functions.” “I had expected this realm to be somewhat larger,” the Shoggoth admitted. “It appears to be entirely filled with the EEE firehouse.” Temporary Death broke off her promising catfight with Uhuna and looked round unhappily. “It should be larger,” she confessed. “But I’m in trouble.” Al B. glared at Nats. “Bill, you didn’t…” “I mean someone’s… someone’s trying to kill me,” Temporary Death blurted. “I don’t know who, but… he’s very powerful. I think… I think he killed my sister and took her power.” “Killed Death?” Nats frowned. “That’s… really not good.” “And now I think he’s after me,” the plump conceptual being admitted. “I can’t contact my kin. For all I know I’m the last of the Family of the Pointless. And he’s tearing away my dimension bit by bit, adding it to his.” She cast a desperate look over at Nats. “That’s why I sent for you. I didn’t know who else to turn to!” “That is desperate,” Al B. admitted. “You arranged for Bill to die just so he could save you!” Uhuna objected. “Why you selfish…” “Perhaps it would be best to postpone that debate?” the Shoggoth suggested. “Given that someone has just ripped the back wall out of this building.” The Chain Knight had arrived.  In a debris field of wrecked spaceship, a small powerless emergency escape vehicle tumbled over and over, scraping against the wreckage of the slave vessel it had come from. Gradually its momentum spun it down towards the timespace blasphemy that was the elder god Yog-Frothoth, which twisted and boiled as a blind multi-tentacled creature of planetary proportions less than ten light minutes away. “This is bad,” admitted CrazySugarFreakBoy! “What, stranded in the middle of deep space in a crowded lifepod without enough power to make it to a habitable world and drifting into a loathsome elder thingie because we crashed our captured slavership into the Slimy Slaver Lovetoad’s craft to save Aunt Sally and then drifted off amidst the debris without anyone noticing we’d survived?” Goldeneyed answered in one breath. “You think?” “Nah, not that,” CSFB! shrugged dismissively. “Being trapped on a tiny lifeboat with all these green-skinned slave girls wanting to personally thank us for rescuing them from shameful captivity and both of us have steady girlfriends!” “Oh yeah,” agreed G-Eyed. “That is bad.” On of the green-skinned slave girls adjusted her tattered gauzy nightgown and asked something earnestly of the heroes. “What’d she say?” G-Eyed asked Dr Blargelslarch, who was likewise trapped with them in the dying lifepod. “You really don’t want to know,” the scientist advised him. “It wouldn’t cheer you up to hear what you’re turning down.” “But I gotta try that with April,” CrazySugarFreakBoy! considered, “If we can find the equipment.” “At least we stopped the Lovetoad from destroying your team and your vessel,” Dr Blargelslarch consoled them. “That is worth dying for, is it not?” “Pfagh!” spat Pigeonwarrior Shazara Pel. “We are not dead yet! A Thonnagarian is never beaten! I refuse to surrender and die like a suffocated flarkh! Let us devise a plan to survive and wreak vengeance on all who oppose us!” “Go ahead,” G-Eyed agreed. “My problem is I can’t teleport blind. I can’t survive in a vacuum.” Shazara Pel looked uncertain. “There… may be a way, although it is against the code of my people. The Z-Alloy that allows our people to fly with artificial wings grants us the ability to survive in space. If… if you wore the sacred bands instead of me, you could teleport outside this craft and direct it from the debris field where we may be able to signal for help.” “That’s a plan!” CSFB! enthused. “Former enemies teaming up to overcome insurmountable odds! It’s bound to work! And one we’re clear of the debris I can maybe use my Wowie-Zowie Walkie-Talkie to call up some help!” Shazara Pel had not blushed or flinched when the slavers had stripped her naked but she hesitated now before doffing her Z-Alloy armbands of her own volition. “If you abuse them I will slaughter you,” she told G-Eyed. And the plan began.  “What happened?” Hatman wondered. “I asked Amy how the repairs to Aunt Sally were coming,” Visionary replied, rubbing the side of his head. “Then she threw a spanner at me.” “I did not,” came an angry voice from inside on of the sentient vessel’s gravity filtration tubes. “It was an adjustable wrench.” “I stand corrected,” Vizh noted, “if a little bit woozily because of the head trauma.” “Did she happen to also tell you how the repairs were coming?” Hatman asked. “We’ve doing okay,” Trickshot called down from where he was resealing the vibratium shielding on Aunt Sally’s dorsal fin. “We might need to pull an all-nighter but we’ll be ready for the last leg.” “I agree,” Aunt Sally said. “My auto-repair systems are working full out and everybody’s being so helpful.” “Everybody who’s here,” Amy grumbled. “Miss Framlicker’s trying to discover what’s happened to Al B., Nats, Uhuna, and the Shoggoth,” Amazing Guy pointed out. “I can’t find them with my cosmic awareness, which I should be able to do if they’re anywhere in the Parodyverse, although I admit the Gamesmaster does kind of mess my senses up…” “Uhuna probably fatally distracted them.,” Amy glowered. “Nice to know she’s sticking to her strengths.” “You’ve got a problem with Uhuna?” Visionary detected. “What, with our delicate born-with-a-silver-spoon give-her-whatever-she-wants fairytale princess?” the EEE engineer scorned. “Why would a girl from the trailer parks brought up by her drunk father in the school of hard knocks have any problem with Miss Wonderful?” “Amy is feeling rather put upon,” Aunt Sally explained. “Mr Bookman has departed too, taking his Galactibus to look at something that interested him!” “The missing persons count is getting ridiculous,” Hatman admitted. “Nobody knows where G-Eyed is, Lisa and Dancer are out of contact, and now we’ve lost the whole EEE building and everyone in it.” “Yeah, but the Librarian wanted ta know why those two slaveships crashed inta one another,” Trickshot explained. “And the ship doin’ the crashing carried his old buddy Dr Blargel…whatever.” “Blargelslarch,” Visionary remembered. “Yes, he was a member of the Friends of the Lunar Public Library or something, wasn’t he?” “He had a library card, anyway,” Aunt Sally noted, “so Mr Bookman has gone to trace it, and see what he can find.” “So we get to do double-shifts with a support crew of one,” grumbled Amy. “Hey, Visionary, pass me my adjustable spanner willya?”  The sky was dark over Covenant House, promising thunder. “What do you want, Mumphrey Wilton?” demanded the witch who lived in the ramshackle old mansion. “Cup of tea would be nice,” the eccentric Englishman suggested. “But proper tea mind, none of that hoodoo rubbish you try to palm off on your unsuspectin’ guests. Earl Grey or Darjeeling for preference.” “And how many times have I got you food or drink, Mumphrey Wilton?” demanded Hagatha Darkness. “Including this occasion? That’d be once.” The old woman nodded her head. “So once again, what do you want?” “Came to talk about our grandchild, Hagatha. About Whitney.” Hagatha Darkness’ face tightened. “That undutiful besom is gone from here,” she replied. “It was not a gentle parting.” “Child had a rough time,” Sir Mumphrey pointed out. “Thought her young chap was dead, and you knew different and didn’t tell her.” “She needed to grow, to become what she can become.” “Left her vulnerable to Blackhurt, and to the Hooded Hood.” “Either she learns to overcome them or she is no fit daughter of the Darkness clan.” “Left her alone.” Hagatha’s face twitched. “My thoughts are always with her,” she confessed. Mumphrey changed the subject. “Some bad things brewing,” he noted. “Heard young Xander bit the big one.” “So they say,” agreed Hgatha. “There are new players in the game. Secretive. Subtle. Things are changing, and not for the better.” “Are things serious enough for you to join the Lair Legion then?” the old man challenged. Hagatha cackled in amusement. “You certainly still know how to try it on, don’t you? Away with you, Mumphrey Wilton, and look to your little ones. You’ve a storm coming, and you’ll need to decide how far you’ll go to look after them.” “And our little one?” Mumphrey persisted. “Whitney?” “She’s the harbinger of the storm,” Hagatha Darkness replied seriously. “Beware her.”  Beverly Campbell winced and looked to see if President Hopkins was angry. “Did I screw up?” “Using your mutate power to not be noticed and follow me into my interview with the captured VelcroVixen, then hosing her with tear gas when she tried to use her feminine wiles to convince me to let her loose rather than extradite her?” spiffy asked. “Nah, that was fine. I know you were just looking out for me.” “I’m sorry I kind of missed,” Bev apologised. “Me getting the canister in the chest had pretty much the same effect,” spiffy assured her. “It certainly broke the mood.” “I was just worried,” his Chief of Staff explained. “I’ve never had to help anyone run a corrupt third world nation-state before.” “You’re doing fine,” Mark Hopkins assured her, dabbing his watering eyes with a leaf from his symbiotic fern. “Mussolini would be proud.” “Only, it occurred to me when you were talking to VelcroVixen… she actually has done the job I’m trying to do. Better than me.” “She was Count Armageddon’s second in command, chief of staff, and mistress,” spiffy pointed out. “Um,” said Beverly, quickly pressing on. “I just worried, I guess, that you might get… a better offer from her. For the job.” “Well, you helped me dodge that bullet,” spiffy assured her. “When I shelled you with tear gas.” “And that’s still better than a lot of the ways my staff treated me in GMY. Look, I need to get a shower. Hang about for a moment, okay. I’ll be back.” “I’ll be here,” promised Beverly Campbell.  “Laurie,” Beth Shellett said hesitantly to her flatmate. “We have to talk,” “Yeah, I know,” Lisette answered accepting the mug of hot chocolate and pushing her hair from her face. “I’ve been putting this off.” “About Bry.” Laurie nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry, Beth. I know how you feel about him.” “Well, yes. And now he’s off facing danger and maybe death I feel even worse.” Neither of the women knew that their last visit from Bryan Katz had not been from the Goldeneyed they knew but from his bitter other-reality counterpart Blackhearted. In Blackhearted’s timeline Lisette had been slaughtered and Bry had crossed the line from idealistic hero to pragmatic vigilante. “I don’t want you to be upset,” Laurie told her friend. “And I don’t want you upset,” Beth replied. “You’ve had enough misery in your life, Lord knows.” “So you can be happy for me?” Lisette checked. “For us?” Beth blinked. “Happy? What do you mean? What us?” “For me and Bry. Getting together again.” Beth felt her heart do a flip-flop. “Together? W-when?” “Just now. Bry’s last visit. I thought you must know. That’s what we were talking about. Wasn’t it?” “Not… not quite,” the young teacher swallowed. “But I think I must have been mistaken. You see, Bry told me… well, he said he loved me, and he wanted us to… you know.” Now it was Laurie who went pale. “He what?” “He wanted to make love to me,” Beth said. “But I wouldn’t. I’m… well, I want my wedding night to be… to be special. So I stopped him.” “You’re saying you turned Bry down so then he came to me?” Lisette reasoned. “As second choice.” “Oh, Laurie, he said he’d talked to you about how he felt. He said you were upset but that you understood.” “He’s never said anything to me about you. I know you have feelings for him, but I thought… well I hoped we could get back together. And when he made love to me this last visit…” “He made love to you!” Beth gasped. “Yeah, because apparently the number one choice wasn’t available until she gets a wedding ring!” spat Laurie. “That’s… Bry’s not like that!” frowned Bethany. Lisette bit back an oath and tried to blink away her tears. “Then why should he… wait a minute! You weren’t even home when Bry arrived!” Beth was puzzled. “So?” “So when did Bry try to take you to bed?” “That evening, when I got back. Why?” “That bastard! By then he’d already had his fun with me, Beth! Already told me he wanted to get back together.” Beth Shellett stared at Laurie Leyton and neither of them knew what to say next.  Goldeneyed teleported back inside the lifepod and handed the Z-Alloy back to an anxious Shazara Pel. “I’ve diverted our course away from Yog-Frothoth,” he reported, “and we’re spinning out of the debris field. But unless someone comes looking we won’t be getting anywhere before our food and power run out.” “You have performed acceptably,” adjudged the Thonnagarian warrioress. “Unfortunately, we crashed the Frammistat Eight support ship into the Frammistat Eight competition ship,” Dr Blargelslarch pointed out. “That means we wrecked the vessel that would normally come to the rescue.” CSFB! had one hand in his ear like a bad folk singer. “Don’t worry folks. Now we’re clear of the weird radiations I’m sending out a distress call so that any Federation ships nearby can drop out of warp and beam us to safety.” The lifepod shook and there was a scraping of metal. The green-skinned slave girls screamed. “We’re under attack!” Shazara Pel warned. Goldeneyed was about to say that was a premature judgement, that perhaps it was rescue, when the first heat blooms reddened the walls of the helpless vessel. “They’re cutting through the hull!” Dr Blargelslarch worried. “Who is?” G-Eyed demanded. “Scavengers,” CrazySugarFreakBoy! reported. “Picking over the wreckage. I’ve got their transmissions and I’m decoding them with my eerie earring. They know there’s slaves in here to take.” “I will never be a slave!” declared Shazara Pel, strapping on her wings again despite the cramped conditions. “Hey, they’re expecting a bunch of helpless prisoners,” CSFB! pointed out. “Not some groovy butt-kicking galactic g-men!” Then it all went quiet. “What are they saying?” G-Eyed demanded anxiously. “Nothing,” answered CSFB! “There was one sudden pulse of comms traffic then it all went dead.” “That,” came a calm voice over the LL radio frequency, “is because there are rules of silence in a library.” “L!” grinned CrazySugarFreakBoy! “We’re saved!” “That’s Librarian, if you wish to be rescued,” came back the prim voice. Another, more mechanical speaker chimed in. “The download of Windows 98 seems to have completely buggered all these scavengers’ ship’s computers, boss, but I still say I should rip all of their heads off as a deterrent.” “Thank you A.L.F.RED, but I wonder what you would be deterring them from doing since they would all be dead.” “Prevents reoffending,” suggested the Lunar Public Library’s major domo and primary defence system. “It’s tough love.” Then it was just a matter of transferring the refugees into the Galactibus and getting away. “But don’t say we’re back right away,” Goldeneyed suggested to the Librarian as they began the long journey to the Gamesship. “Here’s how we need to play it…”  “Anyone wanna tell me why we’re back on this funky Gamesship?” demanded Killer Shrike as he strode behind Sorceress on the observation deck. “Because she’s still Earth’s token, its stake, and she’s supposed to have been here all along,” Keiko pointed out. “So she needs to put in an appearance now or then.” “If this Gamesmaster is the guy causing all the grief I don’t see why we don’t just off him and take his loot,” the mercenary suggested. “Because he’s not the sort of drunk you usually roll and take down with your Saturday Night Special,” Keiko scorned. “I’ve been trying to get blueprints of this ship, to evaluate the possibilities of a hijack, but it seems the whole thing is formed by and is entirely responsive to the Gamesmaster’s will.” Killer Shrike gave Keiko an almost affectionate smile. “You know, you sometimes think pretty sharp for a cop frail,” he admitted. “You’d do okay if you wasn’t so mouthy and the size of an ewok.” “And there’s nothing wrong with you that a bath, finishing high school, and an electric chair wouldn’t put right,” Keiko retorted. “Now c’mon. We have things to find out.”  And finally, in storm-tossed Herringcarp Asylum, the Hooded Hood sat back on his throne, cradled his fingertips, and glared at his visitor. “To what do I owe the honour of this visit, Sir Mumphrey?” The leader of the Lair Legion didn’t sip the tea he’d been provided with. He didn’t drink with enemies. “Seems we have areas of mutual interest again, Hood. So I’m tryin’ for a diplomatic solution.” “A diplomatic solution. And yet in our last conversation you were so keen to terminate any alliance between your little heroes and I, Sir Mumphrey. You were emphatic about it to the point of rudeness.” “Get over it. Want to know what the hell you’re doin’ now with Sorceress and the Transworlds Challenge.” “Because in saving the Earth I’m infringing on some copyright held by the Lair Legion?” “Because you’re playin’ games with my granddaughter and tryin’ to snaffle former Legionnaire Starseed now he’s in his crysalid energy crystal form,” the eccentric Englishman accused. “Won’t have you interfering, Winkelweald.” “Too bad,” the cowled crime czar replied. “Interfering is what I do. There isn’t one member of your precious team who’s life I haven’t affected at some time or another. Some of them wouldn’t even be there if it wasn’t for my manipulations.” “Another reason to take you down like the wolfshead you are!” “Another reason to respect me because if I fall I take most of you with me.” Mumphrey reigned in his choler and started again. “You want Starseed. Why?” “You expect me to explain? To you?” The Hood sounded amused. “Cause I do. Traditional thing for the archvillain, what, and you pride yourself on tradition. So indulge me.” The Hooded Hood ceded the point. “Very well. The prophesies of Wilbur Parody, which have so far proved very accurate when properly interpreted, predict that the harnessing of the Starseed’s power will be one of the portents of the Resolution War.” “The big scrap that some blighters set the Parodyverse up to stage,” Mumphrey footnoted. “The last battle.” “Indeed. If Earth wins the prize and I gain the Starseed I can ensure it is never used and thus prevent that portent from being fulfilled.” “You’re tryin’ to prevent this Resolution War. Why?” “Because I am unlikely to win,” the archvillain answered. “And neither are you. Only those unseen forces that manipulate us all will benefit.” “And you’re arrogant enough to think that you can divert this prophesy,” Sir Mumphrey suggested. “Don’t you think that events would conspire to push you to the point where you simply had to use the Starseed as the lesser of two evils?” “I believe I am more resolute than you would have me be. And I believe this is a moot conversation, Sir Mumphrey. I have already stated the required reward for my assistance. It is owed me by Nats and by Aunt Sally, and you may not prevent me from taking it. If the Lair Legion wins then Starseed is mine. If they lose, then your granddaughter is forfeit.” Mumphrey shook his head. “If you take Starseed then the Legion will be coming for him. If Whitney’s harmed, then the Legion will be coming for you. Prepare all the contingencies you want, Winkelweald, but we will be coming. And I think even you would think twice about taking on the full resources available to the Lair Legion.” “Do what you must, old man,” hissed the Hooded Hood. “Play with your new toy soldiers until you make another fatal mistake. Try to thwart those who have a wider vision than your own narrow judgements. But the Hooded Hood will do what he must!” “And we’ll have to jolly well kick your backside for it, Hood!” Sir Mumphrey promised; but suddenly he was standing outside the Lair Mansion, and always had been. “Well, I tried,” the leader of the Lair Legion declared, before stamping back into the house. The diplomatic solutions had failed. Both men retired to make their plans.  Next Issue: We examine a number of questions of natural philosophy, such as: Just How Bad is Nitz at Diplomacy? What Kind of Diversion Does Xander Class As Minor, and Why Does It Involve Mad Wendy and the Yurt? How Temporary Is Temporary Death When You’re Facing the Chain Knight? And that perennial chestnut, Why is It a Bad Idea To Underestimate a Pure Thought Being? This treatise, as considered by the wise and studied by the seeker, will appear soon as UT#181: Theological Debates and Ethical Quandries  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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