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Post By The Hooded Hood takes off the kid gloves Wed Dec 08, 2004 at 05:06:34 am EST |
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#194: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: Body Count | |
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| #194: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: Body Count What Has Gone Before: The Lair Legion faced down the Hellraisers at Herringcarp Asylum but barely escaped with their lives through the Hooded Hood’s Portal of Pretentiousness to an unknown destination. Sir Mumphrey Wilton was retconned to have died in 1951. Now the triumphant villains turn their attention to plague-ridden Paradopolis and to the people the Lair Legion can no longer protect. This issue features some graphic violence and is unsuitable for minors and those of a nervous disposition. Some Dramatis Personae: The Hellraisers: The Chain Knight, chain-spawning sadist leader of the team Maladomini, dimensional whip wielding dominatrix Phleglethor the Pestilent, corpulent disease demon Nosferos the Undying, ancient master vampire The Bloodreaper, psychopathic scythe-bearing killing machine The Junior Lair Legion: Kerry Shepherdson, the probability arsonist, Visionary’s ward, Dancer’s little sister Ham-Boy (Fred Harris), meat creating and controlling neophyte superhero Fashion Accessory (Samantha Bonnington), clothes transmuting California girl Harlagaz Donarson, semihemigod of thunder, son of sometime-Legionnaire Donar Glory, the mutt of might, Mr Epitome’s super-powered dog Hacker Nine (Zack Zelnitz), computer genius urban anarchist Lindy Wilson, Falcon’s little sister and Zack’s possible girlfriend Lair Legion Support Staff: Hallie, the Mansion’s resident artificial computer intelligence Flapjack, disgusting hunchbacked butler and major domo Amber St Clare, government liaison officer Asil Ashling, Mumphrey’s amanuensis, originally cloned from legionnaire Lisa Waltz Art Corben, intern and former super-villain minion Mindy Pyrite, robot-girl mechanic, dating Art Randy Robertson (or Robinson), also an intern and former super-villain minion Marie Murcheson, the banshee haunting the Lair Mansion Others: Cleone, a former swan-may (shapechanging fairie swan-maiden), now sorcerer supreme Xander’s familiar Messenger, obsessed vigilante crimefighter and fallen angel Keiko, assassin-turned-cop seeking to save her dimension from merging with the Parodyverse The Sorceress (Whitney Darkness), ex-Legionnaire and powerful witch, captive of the Hellraisers Those requiring a refresher on other supporting cast are referred to The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom  Why, in a moment look to see The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; Your fathers taken by the silver beards, And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls, Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. Henry V, Act III Scene III, William Shakespeare The storm drain ran underwater for around fifty yards then rose to a higher tunnel guarded by an old iron grille. Messenger gestured for Keiko and Cleone to shield their eyes and packed the magnesium charges around the bars. Keiko was first to squirm through the tight gap and emerge into air in the low brick tunnel beneath Herringcarp Asylum. “It worked,” Messenger noticed, rising up beside her and staring at the ancient vaulted tunnel. “We’re in.” “Not yet,” warned the Garden City assassin. “I knew there had to be a way for the water to get into the lower passageways of the Asylum because I saw the tide marks. But I don’t yet know how these channels link with the cells.” Cleone surfaced and shook her long silver hair. All three of the intruders were strong swimmers, but Cleone moved through water with a natural grace, as befitted the shapechanging swan maiden she’d been. “There is fresher water entering this trough from that way,” she suggested. “I can taste it.” A dozen yards down the tunnel was a rift where the old bricks has cracked apart, and beyond that a natural cleft with water trickling down it. Keiko has Messenger boost her through the gap and found herself face to face with a skeletal head. The space above was the interior of some kind of sarcophagus. With difficulty Messenger squirmed up behind her so he could coil his shoulder under the covering slab and push it open. Cleone waited in the tunnel below, eyeing the ripples in the water warily. Blind white crocodiles glided silently through the cold dark tunnels, against all logic or biology, and her companions had already had to dispatch three of them. The coffin cover shifted, scraping a little as it was slid aside. Keiko squeezed through the gap and splashed down into the hip-deep water beyond. The mausoleum was filled with algae-coated water, and where the level topped the rim of the sarcophagus it poured over and found exit through the rift below. A quick check suggested that the vault was empty of anything living. Messenger reached down and hauled Cleone through the gap. “That passage looks like ghoul burrowing,” Xander’s familiar noted in passing. “They’d have been after the flesh of the person buried here.” “Old news, whatever,” Messenger replied. “Let’s keep moving. This place doesn’t feel safe.” Keiko had to agree with that strange subjective view. There was an atmosphere around these deep chambers that set off all kinds of atavistic warnings in her hind-brain. She slid her katana from the scabbard across her back, unslung her oxygen cylinder and breathing mask, and ventured towards the door. “Do you know where the Sorceress is likely to be held?” she asked Cleone. “I think so,” agreed the swanmay. “There’s Inquisition Iron nearby. That’s a kind of specially treated metal sovereign over magic. It hurts me to think about it too much, and I can feel it from here. That could bind a witch.” “Let’s find Whitney then,” agreed Messenger. “Keiko…” “I’ll take point,” the lithe assassin told him. “Keep an eye on Cleone.” The trio prised open the lead-sealed door and moved off through the ossuary. Shadows peeled themselves from the bones and kept pace with them. “Hero Feeders?” Ham-Boy asked sceptically. “Hero Feeders killed JFK?” “That’s what it says in the Pentagon most-secret files on the subject,” Hacker Nine assured him. “I checked twice.” “I was just curious,” Lindy Wilson explained, sprawling back on Visionary’s sofa with her head nestled in the crook of Zach Zelnitz’ shoulder. “But still no word on Jimmy Hoffa?” “I’m trying,” H9 promised. “Hey, do you want to know who built Al Gore?” “I want to know where Harlagaz is,” Kerry Shepherdson admitted. “Where’s he picking this girlfriend of his up from? He’s been gone for hours.” “And that’s surprising you, Kes? C’mon, it might be lerve!” “He does seem very excited by his new mate,” Glory admitted from under the coffee table. “I hope she is a suitable bitch for him.” “Perhaps it’s just the weather?” reasoned Ham-Boy, staring at the driving rain pounding on the windows. “It’s making everything screwy, even the TV signal.” “Yeah,” agreed H9. “I’ve had to shut down all my unshielded computer links. Storm’s getting bad.” “Hey, Harlagaz is a storm-demihemigod, remember?” Kerry pointed out. “This is probably just foreplay to him.” “I do not like this storm,” whined Glory. “There is something wrong about it.” There was a hammering at the door. “That’ll be him,” Lindy guessed. “I’ll go, shall I?” “Sure,” agreed Kerry. “But if it’s Fake-o lost his keys again try and convince him he’s on the wrong street like last time.” Hacker Nine took the brief absence of Lindy to massage some life back into his arm. “Downside of being a girl-pillow,” FA warned him. “When we’re comfortable you’re not allowed to move.” Ham-Boy flushed and looked away from the California blonde. Lindy re-entered the Condo lounge leading Visionary’s new neighbour, Elizabeth Sweetwater. “It wasn’t Vizh or Gaz,” she stated the obvious. Countess von Zemo shook out her raincoat and glared round at the unruly gaggle of children who sprawled untidily over the furniture. “Is your keeper at home today?” she demanded. “Boy, you’re really desperate,” Kerry suggested. “Aren’t there, y’know, bars for lonely middle-aged women to pick up guys?” “Because,” the Baroness went on coldly, “I wish to discuss with him compensation for the damage to my property when his ward and her vandal friends committed an illegal entry.” “That was not illegal,” Glory growled. “It was authorised by the President. Kerry told me.” “Alleged illegal entry,” Hacker Nine suggested. “You have some security records?” “I have a whole set of hard-copy back-ups too,” Elizabeth assured him. “So where is that Visionary of yours? And where’s his chequebook?” “Technically he’s not my Visionary,” Fashion Accessory admitted. “Although if he wanted to be I could have the naughty schoolgirl outfit on in under two minutes if it helped my GPA.” “You… don’t really have an outfit like that, do you?” Ham-Boy asked wistfully. “If you can call it an outfit,” answered Samantha Bonnington slyly. “Vizh’s chequebook is in his spare lame yellow coat hanging in the closet,” Kerry supplied. “But there’s no cheques in it anymore. He felt the need to buy his ward a music centre and some hypervelocity air defence reatil 120mm Abraham warheads. Really.” The Baroness was just considering whether it would just be simpler to wipe out the whole room of these irritating children when their missing member was hurled through the living room window. “What the…” shouted Ham-Boy as the gory pulp of broken Harlagaz landed heavily amongst them. “He’s been beaten to jelly!” “We’re under attack!” barked Glory. “Beware!” The mutt of might leaped out of the shattered window to find whatever had injured her friend. The Bloodreaper caught her mid-leap on the tip of his scythe, impaled her, and hurled her back into the room. “Hello children,” the Chain Knight called to the Juniors. “We’ve come to play!” The shadows waited until Keiko was mounting the narrow spiral stair before sliding out and trying to overwhelm the party. Cold as death, the dark knotted memories of those who had been murdered here sought to envelop the living to join them in their misery. “I hate the Parodyverse!” declared Keiko as she cut her way loose. “There things can’t be killed!” Messenger realised as he slashed away with bowie knife and razor letter. “They just reform and come back stronger!” “They are already dead,” Cleone pointed out. “Keep back. Let me sing to them.” “What?” demanded the postman. “Are you crazy?” “Because that’s his department,” added Keiko. “Let her do what she feels she has to.” The swanmay walked down into the dark mass of shadow and let it surround her. Then she raised her voice in a clear sweet song. A lament. Keiko and Messenger didn’t understand the words, sung in some lilting ancient tongue, full of regret and passion, but the meaning was still clear. Anyone who has stood amongst old comrades at midnight on New Year’s Eve and sung Danny Boy or Auld Lang Syne and toasted absent friends who’ll not be there again, or who has watched in a crowded church while a weeping young window is handed a folded flag, or has stood before a wall of names and made a salute while a bugler plays the last post knew what those words were about. The lament echoed away through the halls of the dead, and when it was done Cleone wiped a tear from her cheek and stood alone. “They will rest now,” she said. Keiko and Messenger hurried her on. The exploding TV pushed the Hellraisers back for a brief moment and allowed the Juniors to retreat to the kitchen. “They’re jamming all frequencies. I can’t call help!” panicked Hacker Nine. “These are the guys the LL were supposed to be fighting!” Ham-Boy worried, straining under the weight of the bloody Harlagaz across his shoulders. “Where are the Legion?” “Visionary!” Kerry answered. “Where’s Vizh?” “Irrelevant,” Baroness von Zemo told her. “You’re clearly under attack by a superior force. Time to retreat.” Fashion Accessory was clutching Glory to her chest, a gory bundle of fur. Lindy raced to the back door and threw it open. Under teeming skies as dark as night, Nosferos the Undying waited for her. “Ahhh. So young,” he admitted. “You will beg me to enter.” “C-come in,” Falcon’s little sister said all unwilling, enthralled by the undead’s gaze. “Bog off!” Kerry contradicted, hurling the toaster at the elder vampire. “It’s not her house, it’s mine, and I say go suck yourself!” The Probability Arsonist slammed the door just before the toaster exploded. The Baroness drew a canister from her pocket and sealed the rear entrance with fast-acting adhesive. “Other options,” she demanded. “Are there other ways out?” She realised that timid Beth Sweetwater wasn’t here any more. This was someone new, someone harder; and through all the terror there was an additional realisation: she could cope. The Bloodreaper tore out the kitchen wall to prove different. “Take them alive,” Maladomini reminded her angry comrade. “They’re more fun that way!” “Very well,” agreed Phleglethor, adding his toxic emissions to the fumes of the burning living room. “But I get to eat the animal straight away!” “Then I get to play with the girlies,” Bloodreaper insisted. Maladomini’s dimensional whip lashed out, slashing Ham-Boy to the floor with a deep welt across his chest. The Chain Knight hammered FA and Kerry into the wall. “Be my guest,” agreed Sir Lucian. “This is about sending the Lair Legion a message. They chose to run away, to leave their own undefended. Now these children will pay the price.” Kerry paled. “Visionary… left me?” “To your fate,” agreed the Chain Knight, reaching forward to entangle the Probability Arsonist in his cruel barbed chains. Zack Zelnitz shielded Lindy Wilson as Phleglethor approached and tried to think of something brave to say. He had nothing. “No last words?” the Chain Knight mocked, “Before the screaming, I mean?” “I’ve some last words, you bastards,” Ham-Boy gasped, trying to struggle to his feet. “Lair Legion, Line-Up!” He staggered, clutching his bleeding chest. “They’re not finished until we are.” “How inspiring,” noted Sir Lucian, lashing out and swinging a heavy chain into Fred Harris’ cheek. “Anyone else?” “Please don’t hurt us?” Fashion Accessory ventured, biting back tears. “Yeah, I got a word,” Kerry Shepherdson shouted angrily, her fear giving her will. She told the Hellraisers what it was. Then the Condo exploded in a ball of fire that left nothing but a raging inferno. The final barrier was a stone door that yielded neither to Messenger’s parcel bombs nor Keiko’s subtle leverage. “Well,” the postman admitted, squatting by the wall to see what happened, “I guess now we find out just how much Chronic dislikes the Hellraisers bossing him around.” Ten minutes later the old stone portal ground open and the dead musician let the intruders into Herringcarp Asylum. The five marauders rose from the burning wreckage of Visionary’s house. Already neighbouring properties were ablaze despite the thunderstorm, but tellingly there were no emergency services able to make an immediate response. “Domini,” Sir Lucian called, “Are your transdimensional wards still active here? There’s no way those children could have teleported or plane-jumped away?” “No,” agreed the dark mistress. “None of them have those powers anyway.” “We take no chances,” the Chain Knight declared. “Reaper, go through the wreckage and make certain there are no survivors. Phleglethor, let’s see this blaze a lot more intense. And some mustard gas, maybe?” “My pleasure,” farted the plague-demon. “You think the Lair Legion will have got the message?” “Not yet,” the Chain Knight admitted, “but home is where the heart is. Let’s visit the Lair Mansion.” “I’m under orders,” spat Chronic. “You know that. The Chain Knight owns me.” “That only means you have to do what he tells you,” Cleone pointed out. “It doesn’t preclude you doing other things as well.” “Yeah, I know,” the undead anarchist agreed with a smirk. “That’s why I busted him out.” Keiko was warned by instinct and raised her blade just in time to deflect a slash that would have taken out her throat. As it was she was staggered and almost toppled to the floor. “This time I’m ready for you, you psycho midget bitch!” Killer Shrike shouted. Messenger leaped forward and impaled the dead supervillain to the wall with his knife. “Ouch,” complained Simon Maddicks. “Enough,” demanded Chronic. “Shrike, I didn’t get you out of Lucian’s pain games just so you could flirt with old girlfriends.” Keiko looked in horrified disbelief at the transfixed mercenary. “I killed you,” she said, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I’m looking forward to returning the favour,” Shrike assured her. Then he caught Chronic’s glare. “But right now I’m playin’ nice and taking you to Sorceress’ cell, because guitar-boy here’s been ordered not to go near it,” he sighed. “If Captain Stabbings here will get me out of his butterfly collection.” Messenger roughly wrenched his blade free. “Next time I pin you by the balls,” he promised. “Good luck finding them,” muttered Keiko The happy band slipped off through the darkened asylum to loose a witch. “Mission time?” asked Amber St Clare. “Three minutes since last time you asked mission time,” Randy Robertson replied. “The Legion’s been out of touch for over five hours now.” “But we knew communications was going to be a problem from inside Herringcarp Asylum, right?” Art Corben checked. “Electronic communications are currently a problem all along the seaboard,” Mindy Pyrite corrected him. The robot girl rubbed her forehead. “I have the worst headache. I wish Marie would shut up too.” “The banshee?” Amber worried. “Is that what the noise is? I thought it was the wind. Marie howling is a bad sign, right?” “Pretty much,” worried Hallie. “But Sir Mumphrey did say the mission might run on. Who knows what horrible traps the Hooded Hood has set for the Legion in there.” “I don’t think the Hood’s behind this,” Asil Ashling admitted. “It doesn’t seem quite his style. I don’t think he’d just infect a major population centre to keep us busy. I don’t think he’d let them murder poor Uhuna. It’s too wasteful. Too blunt.” “If these Hellraisers took down the Hood then they’re pretty hardcore,” Randy worried. “The Legion only got into Herringcarp through a back door the Librarian knew because of his time working for the Hood,” Hallie considered. “Could that be why the Hood employed Lee in the first place? I wonder if…” Then the Legion’s resident AI stopped short as if hearing a noise far away. “Uh-oh. We’ve just lost all external communications. Total sudden shutdown.” “We have?” Amber stirred uneasily. “Deliberate?” “Definitely,” Hallie agreed. Her external sensors suddenly all registered critical damage warnings then died. “We’re under attack!” “Activating the full defence grid!” called Art Corben hastily. “Man am I so activating it!” “They can’t get in here, can they?” Asil worried. “This is the best defended place in the city,” Hallie assured her. “We are getting some incoming signal,” Mandy puzzled. “I don’t understand it, but…” “Don’t put it through to Hallie!” shouted Art urgently. “It’s a trap! It’s a virus!” But Phleglethor’s assault was already jumping past electronic firewalls and anti-virus protections with casual ease, spawning and mutating in an unholy alliance of artificial intelligence and occult curse. Hallie staggered and fell. “Hallie!” Asil cried, jumping from her monitor station to help her friend. “I’m… I’m okay,” Hallie blinked, her hologram form fuzzing for a moment before she re-established control. “I jumped to my HUD remote before the mainframe was infected. Just.” “That was aimed right at you!” Randy realised, frantically scrolling through computer logs before his screen dissolved to static. “It’s wiping out all traces of you in the system! Failsafes, backups, the lot.” “You have hard copies of your program, though, and versions backed up on other media?” Amber checked with the shaken AI. “Of course. But… that’s what they’d be. Copies. Not me.” She pulled herself to her feet. “I’m trapped in this drone for now. I have power to run at minimum systems requirement for twelve hours. That’s how long I have to cleanse the system and reinstall…” The building shook as the Chain Knight punched the adamantine front doors from their hinges. “We have other problems,” Mindy swallowed. It was a very human gesture for a robot who only created saliva to simulate eating. “The Legion’s MIA. The Mansion’s breached. We can’t defend this site,” decided Amber St Clare. “We have to evacuate.” “Give up without a fight?” objected Asil. “We get to live,” suggested Art. “Okay. Evacuation plan C,” Hallie told them. “The tunnels.” She gestured and the heavy metal door of the Operations Room bolted fast. A quick-acting acid sealed it permanently shut. A concealed trapdoor slid open in the floor. The evacuation klaxon began to sound. “We’re gone!” agreed Randy, sliding down the ladder to the upper tier of the computer core. “I don’t like just surrendering the mansion,” Asil admitted as Amber, Mindy, and Art hurried away. “Sir Mumphrey wouldn’t approve.” “Sir Mumphrey would approve of you surviving,” Hallie replied. “He understands about Dunkirk.” The house was filled with a deafening wail as Marie Murcheson took on the Hellraisers. Sorceress shielded her eyes from the torchlight and scrambled to her feet. “Whitney?” Keiko called through the bars. “Are you all right?” The captive clutched the Hooded Hood’s torn bloody robe to her and blinked. “Keiko? What are you doing here?” “We’re the rescue team, Whit,” Messenger assured her. “Stand back from the door, I’m blowing the lock.” “Messy? What’s going on?” “We need your help,” Cleone told the Sorceress. “I’m working with your father, Xander. Somewhere in this building there’ll be a dimensional door to the Hellraisers’ fortress, and from there to where they receive their power. That’s where Xander needs us, and we need you to locate the gateway.” “And fast,” suggested Killer Shrike. “The Hooded Hood apparently had some kind of experiment, some kind of thing, he was making, and the Chain Knight let it out of its cell to be a watchdog. I don’t think we want to meet it.” Keiko was already watching the corridor. “We have to free Lisa and Dancer,” Whitney told them. “They’re also captives here.” “We really don’t have time to collect all your girlfriends,” Shrike told Sorceress. “That thing the Hood made is big and powerful and very nasty, even unfinished. And all it’s lacking apparently is the soul of a hero.” “We’ll find them,” Messenger told Whitney. Cleone seemed to be listening to something. “No,” she contradicted. “We don’t have time. We’re running out of time. Running out of hope.” Something rustled at the furthest end of the corridor. “Just run!” suggested Keiko. The banshee of the Lair Mansion had once been a mortal woman, Marie Murcheson, and the house was where she’d been murdered. Now her twilight consciousness dwelled in its fabric, to keen at the loss of a family member, and to protect against supernatural incursion. The Hellraisers were such an incursion. Nosferos reeked of undeath, and Phleglethor and the Bloodreaper of the Pit. The cosmic role of Death was tangled about the Chain Knight, which meant Marie could draw upon the deeper powers protecting the site and direct energies to liquefy mountains into her scream. The Chain Knight took a step back. “She is powerful,” he admitted to his comrades. “And passionate. But she’s also dead. And that makes her mine.” The chains ripped forward, slicing through Marie’s spirit form. She struggled back, drawing upon more energy, but her throat was choked and her deadly voice silenced. “Now you can die,” the Chain Knight assured her. “Death says so.” He took his time, ripping chunks of essence from her, thrashing her with his links, enjoying her agony. Marie Murcheson evaporated; but the Chain Knight kept her soul to play with later. The support team were halfway along the secure corridor to the hangar bay when the Bloodreaper brought the roof down on them. He could have smelled their fear from a half mile away. The collapse cut the evacuees into two groups. Art, Randy, Mindy, and Hallie found themselves facing four of the Hellraisers. “We surrender,” Art said. “We’ll come quietly.” “We don’t want you to come quietly,” whispered Nosferos in his ear. Before the young man could react the vampire had sliced across his throat with one needle-sharp fingernail and was supping of his blood. “Art!” screamed Mindy Pyrite, turning to defend her boyfriend; but as she swung round Phleglethor spat into her face, a steaming gob of acid phlegm that burned through her cosmetic façade and began to dissolve the metal beneath. Hallie burned off half her stored energies to lance lightnings through the vampire and the plague-lord. Neither seemed to mind. Maladomini’s whip lashed out, slicing through the force fields that Hallie’s mobile emitter projected to give her tangible substance, wrapping round the little metal bee itself. The AI’s image winked out and when the dark mistress jinked her lash back she easily caught the tiny object that was Hallie’s last repository. “Your life in my hand,” Maladomini cooed. “Please,” Randy Robertson begged as the Bloodreaper closed on him. “Kill the rest but let me serve you!” The Bloodreaper snorted with amusement, and his hand flashed out to the terrified intern. “Why would I want you to serve me?” he growled. “You have no guts.” And he held up Randy’s intestines before the young man’s eyes to demonstrate the literal truth of his statement. “No balls,” the Bloodreaper added with a chuckle, holding his victim to the wall and making good his argument. “No heart.” Randy Robertson fell in a bloody crumpled heap. The Bloodreaper feasted on his organs. Mindy tried to rise, but the systems damage was too much. The acid sludge was eating into her electronic brain now. She tried to reach for Art, who looked so pale as Nosferos drank his life, but her mechanical body failed the spirit within it. Mindy toppled over, jerking spastically until Phleglethor lost interest and stamped down to flatten her head. Then he urinated over her broken frame to ensure it was completely dissolved. Nosferos reached the final part of his feast, but he decided there was no point in cluttering up the world with the undead caricature of such a worthless boy. He drank Art Corben dry then twisted off his head and left him dead. Maladomini still held Hallie’s HED in her fist. “Yes, all gone,” the mistress of pain told her captive. “All your little friends are broken. You failed them. Failed the Legion. Failed everybody.” The bee vibrated but its anti-gravity motors were no match for the Hellraiser’s strength. The dark mistress giggled. “I can feel you trying to slip away, but I’m very good at barriers, just like Lucian is with locks. Your life is in my hands, little sentience.” She tightened her fist and crushed the device. “Oops,” said Lady Maladomini as she brushed the debris from her palm. “This way,” Asil told Amber St Clare as the way was blocked by falling debris. “We’ll use the old tunnels instead.” “Are those safe?” asked the LL’s government liaison as Asil dragged her along. “They’re not properly mapped.” “They’re a damn sight safer than here,” Lisa’s clone assured her companion. “You’ve hidden in them before, right? When the Technopolitans invaded?” “We did,” shuddered Amber. “They’re not nice.” “Neither are these Hellraisers,” Asil pointed out. The Chain Knight snaked chains around the two womens’ ankles and jerked them in the air. “She’s right,” Sir Lucian admitted in his sinister tones. “We aren’t.” The Skree shattercannon took the Chain Knight full in the back and hammered him across the room. Flapjack reloaded and took aim again. “Well,” he challenged Asil and Amber. “Run fer it then.” “We can’t leave you!” Asil called back. “Come with us.” “Nah. Defending the master’s property from the angry mob is part of the job description for a proper hunchbacked retainer,” the LL’s major-domo replied. “It can’t all be sniffing laundry and cultivating poisonous mould in Nats’ bedroom. Get out of here, kid. Tell Sir Mumphrey I did my duty.” Amber scrambled to her feet and pelted down the corridor. With one backward glance Asil followed her. The Chain Knight rose up wrathfully, and Flapjack gave him another two barrels to the chest. But this time Sir Lucian was braced for the attack. He shrugged it off while his chains whipped out and slashed the weapon from Flapjack’s hands. “Hey, that’s Legion property, you know!” the butler complained. The Chain Knight slammed him spreadeagled to the wall and glared at him with glowing red eyes. “I’m Lair Legion properly too,” Flapjack warned him. “And they’re going to spank your butt.” “The Legion have fled,” Sir Lucian told him. “They have left their loved ones and booty undefended.” “Hey, I’m defending,” the hunchback spat. “And could you torture me just a little to the left? And down a bit?” “You are seeking to waste my time while the Legion’s women escape,” the Chain Knight observed. “To you alone I will make this offer: swear fealty to me and I shall let you live.” “Nah,” Flapjack replied. “I got a job, thanks. Plus I only work for bastards I respect.” The Chain Knight growled and ripped out the hunchback’s heart. He held it up before Flapjack’s dimming eyes and crushed it to pulp. “Well thank you for coming to interview anyway,” he said to the butler’s corpse. Asil and Amber reached the metal door that separated the modern mansion from the old cave system below. Amber fumbled as she punched in the emergency opening code and had to start again. The sound of dragging chains came from along the corridor. “Oh please!” panicked Amber as she stabbed away at the keypad. “ohpleaseohpleaseohplease!” The door slip open as the Chain Knight sauntered round the corner. Asil’s high-kick spun his helmet slightly to the side, disrupting his view. Her second blow was low and pushed his codpiece back into his flesh. Her third blow never hit because she was hoisted in the air and a lashing chain across her belly knocked all the wind from her. Amber St Clare took one despairing look at the captured girl and hit the emergency seal button to slam the security door shut and weld it. She fled into the darkness of the caves beyond, alone and terrified. The Chain Knight held Asil close so he could inspect her. “Well, well, what have we here?” he mused. Maladomini strode down the corridor to join him. The other Hellraisers trailed after. “What have you found, Lucian?” she wondered. The Chain Knight ran a steel-shod finger over Asil’s cheek. “A virgin,” he replied. “A complete innocent, with a sweet pure soul unsullied by any corruption or misery.” “Oh dear,” Maladomini smirked. “We can’t have that.” “I thought you said we had to kill everyone here,” complained the Bloodreaper. “Otherwise I could have played for longer.” “There’s another one for you beyond that door,” the Chain Knight promised him. “Track her down and do what you like to her.” He turned back to Asil. “But this one is my prize,” he declared. “A spoil of war, my own personal slave, my new pet project.” Maladomini grinned maliciously at the captive girl. “Oh, your future has just become a living hell,” she promised, with just a hint of envy. Asil tried to think of something brave to say, but there was nothing there. Next Issue: We catch up with the Lair Legion, discover what lurks in the dark passages of Herringcarp Asylum, find out who’s left for the Hellraisers to torture, witness Asil Ashling’s fate as the Chain Knight’s spoils, and reintroduce some nastier bad guys yet; coming up in UT#195: Nevermore. Like Footnotes to the Slaughter: Baroness Elizabeth Sweetwater Dewdrop von Zemo, neophyte secret supervillain and Visionary’s newest neighbour, suffered a home invasion from the Juniors in The Baroness, Part 13. After first seeking compensation in Untold Tales #188: Secret Origins and Unknown Destinations she appears again here at another inauspicious time. Killer Shrike (Simon Maddicks) was assassinated by Keiko in UT#184: Even More Endurance, or the Secret Game, retconned back to life by the Hooded Hood thereafter, and murdered again by the Scourge of the Parodyverse a short while later. His restless spirit has been bound by the Chain Knight who required his inside knowledge of Herringcarp Asylum. He probably feels a bit hard done to. 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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