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Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: Deathspoon Saturday, 11-Sep-1999 20:57:01
#20: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: Deathspoon The young lady with the sparkling sequinned evening gown dealt the cards onto the green velvet of the card table. The swelling crowd watched with baited breath as the players picked up their hands. The fat man in the rumpled white suit folded at once, the patches of sweat under his armpits growing visibly as his small remaining stake diminished. The sharp-faced ferrety man nervously swallowed and ventured to bid. The tall bald man with the scar down one side of his face remained perfectly calm, the perfect poker face. Unhurriedly and precisely he laid down his bet. The final player laid her cards face down in front of her, added her stake to the pile, and declined any further cards. “You seem very confident, Fraulein,” the bald man noted, his monocled eye boring into his opponent. “Do I?” she asked, flashing a brilliant, dazzling smile back at him. “A bluff, perhaps?” the Teutonic gentleman speculated. And he added more of his chips to the pile. The ferrety man threw in his hand. The stakes had just got too high, The woman in the aqua chiffon pushed the rest of her winnings forwards. There was an intake of breath from the spectators. By now all activity had stopped throughout the casino. The vingt-et-un players had turned away from their baize and were straining to see. The roulette wheel had fallen silent. Even the security guards craned to watch as the game came to its conclusion. Except for the maid. Placing her drinks tray on the edge of the craps table she reached down beneath her short frilly black mini and touched a small stud on her garter. Nobody in the auditorium heard the high-frequency microtransmission, but far overhead two others did. Swathed in a more utilitarian black two men had affixed nylon wires across the ceiling of the casino, and while all eyes were upon the lady and her cards they rappelled across the void and slid into place by the ventilation shaft that led into the private wing of the establishment; where the safes were. The bald German regarded the stack of chips his beautiful opponent had pushed forward. “Is that all?” he asked. “How confident of your hand are you?” She knew what he meant. Slowly she reached for the golden chain around her neck and drew a small key from the fascinating sheath of her cleavage. A hotel room key; and an implicit promise. “I could gamble this,” she admitted. “But it would have to be for suitable stakes.” The German smiled a cold, snake’s smile. “For these perhaps?” he suggested, offering his cufflinks. The crowd saw the diamonds, each worth a king’s ransom. But the young woman saw the tiny microcircuitry around them, the data codes for half of what was corrupt and deadly in the world of international terrorism. “For those,” she agreed, laying her room key on the pile. “Then I call,” Count Wolfgang Fokker declared. “Let us see… your hand.” The young woman placed her cards upwards on the table to reveal a royal flush. “Thank you for the game, Herr Count,” she smiled. But Fokker grabbed her wrist as she reached forward for the cufflinks. “This is not over yet, Fraulein!” she promised. “Who are you? Who do you work for?” The dazzling beauty looked twice sideways, catching the eye of the lady dealer and the maid, before straightening up and sending the Count flying backwards across the room. “The name’s Waltz.” She told him. “Lisa Waltz.” Then there was a big explosion and the lights went out. FX: Big orchestral swell. Cut to picture of luminous swirling smoke as credits roll. Young ladies in tiny sprayed-on swimsuits dance through the fumes as Shirley Bassey sings: “…drags you to your doom… to a fatal tune… he’s… Death… spoon!” Flashback to how this all happened: The scream of departing jets vanished into the background as the glass doors closed and the five travellers moved off the runway. “So let me get this straight,” Cap summarised. “You have it on good authority that the Earth is about to be subjected to an extradimensional invasion, the regular Lair Legion is off in the mythical realm of Ausgard fighting an unwinnable battle against uncountable odds, a set of heroes had been cast off to beard the villain in his den, and we are… going to a casino?” “That’s right,” Lisa agreed. “You see I’m starting to smell a Hood in all of this. And with him you always need to look in the direction he’s diverting you from. In this case that’s Troia’s brother.” “And Falcon was sent by the Super-menace Principal Undercover Directorate to trail Troia because they have information that her brother, whoever he might be, is mixed up with this international most-wanted arms dealer Deathspoon?” Hunter Victorious checked. “Correct. So I’m going to find this Deathspoon and discover what link he has with the Hood’s son by the former Amazon queen.” “That’s good reasoning,” Cobra approved. “Devious and sneaky. I like it.” “Thanks,” the advocatrix grinned. “And since the LL are apparently a bit busy in Ausgard right now I thought it was time to call out the reserves.” “We’re not the reserves,” Cap pointed out. “Well, since I’m the only Legionnaire who turned up to our regular meeting yesterday, there’s nobody else in the chain of command to stop me deputising you for the mission, is there? And Xander suggested I might need some back up on this one.” “I don’t trust this Xander the Improbable person,” the Sorceress frowned. “There’s lots of conflicting stories about him on the occult grapevine. Some people claim he’s a big phoney, not worthy of the title of master of the mystic crafts. Others reckon he’s up there with the all-time tinkerers. But it’s pretty clear that he set the whole of this in motion by sending Troia and her companions to Amazon Isle in the first place.” “I’ve met Xander,” Hunter Victorious reminded them. “He’s pretty devious, but on the whole he seems to be one of the good guys. I believe he chose to prematurely spring a trap which another had prepared.” “I don’t like airports,” Sorceress said suddenly. Since the five newly-arrived heroes were just moving through the terminal towards baggage collection at the time this was particularly unfortunate. “All this sterile, impersonal technology makes it a confusing place of entrances and departures, neither one place not another. It always makes my sixth sense go haywire with probability ghosts.” Cap tried to comfort the mystic. “Steady,.” “We are being followed, if that’s any help,” Cobra chipped in helpfully. “You might be sensing that instead.” “Followed?” Cap frowned, suddenly alert and all business. Lisa noticed how the reticence and insecurity fell from him like a discarded mantle as danger approached. “Three at least,” HV reported. “One over there pushing the broom. A second pretending to use the telephone. A third by the lost luggage stand. They’re communicating via some high-frequency radio signals, and they’re…” But then the HERPES assault squadron attacked. The Hero Elimination Revenge Project Extermination Squad seethed forward with their distinctive cry, ““Hail HERPES! Apply Penicillin and another rash shall come forth within six weeks!” Cobra reacted fastest. Before the first laser-sighting had even laid a red spot on her she had nailed the first attacker with her banana gun and banana-ed him to death. Cap downed another two after grabbing an artist’s portfolio-case and whizzing it shield-like at neck height. Sorceress frowned and another fell over. HV dived onto a passing luggage truck, hurled the handler off, and spun it round. “Get aboard!” he called. The heroes dived onto the electric truck and buzzed away. “After them!” the HERPES section leader shouted. More trucks were commandeered, and soon the terrorists were barrelling after the escaping good guys. Cobra climbed on top of the little baggage truck and dived across onto the other electric car that was trying to force them onto the moving conveyor belt. She did something brief and squelchy to the driver and hurled herself clear back onto HV’s wagon just as the enemy vehicle bounced off a wall and exploded in a plume of fire, taking the second car behind with it. “That parcel truck didn’t like what I was packing!” Cobra noted dryly. “They’re gaining on us,” Lisa warned. “They’re getting out some really nasty looking mega-weapon. Cap, get ready.” She concentrated, pointing at the death-cannon-wielding HERPES operative. “I summons him to me!” she called, utilising her power to drag any person to her presence. As the confused terrorist appeared on her wagon Cap quickly rendered him unconscious and hefted the gun himself. That gave the team enough of a lead to get to the glass-walled forecourt of the airport terminal. Then, ahead of them, a second HERPES attack squad swung out of the maintenance area, driving lethal floor-cleaners. “It’s no good,” Hunter Victorious spat. “Only one chance. Hold on.” Lisa saw what he was going to do as he revved up the engine and turned towards the plate glass. Impossibly far away was the top tier of the multi-story long stay car park. “No! You can’t mean to…!” There was a shattering of glass and HV seemed to be concentrating very, very hard. The luggage truck tilted, spilling suitcases down onto the taxi ranks below. Everything happened in slow motion. Then there was a wrenching crunch and the vehicle skidded to a halt on the asphalt roof of the car park. There were three sickening crunches followed by explosions as the men from HERPES tried to follow them. “Welcome to Monte Carlo,” Sorceress breathed. “I hate airports.” “By the sacred socks of Sleipnir, let battle rage!” Oldman, sire of the gods of Ausgard thundered, gesturing with his spear and wiping out twenty of the invading Brainless Ones. But there were twenty million more where that had come from. “Gaaaaaaahhhhhh!” Starseed complained, barrelling over the battle, avoiding the lethal optic discharges of the doughy monsters. “This sucks! The Ausgardians are doing more damage than we are. Take out perpetrators faster, Legion. We’re supposed to be the professionals here.” “It’s not a contest,” Hatman argued, wearing his Red Sox hat and kicking a Brainless One where it hurt. “Besides, I’m four monsters up on Hrothhroth over there.” “It’s awesome is what it is!” CrazySugarFreakBoy! enthused. “Look how they explode when you get one of them to zap another. It’s like Doom but with a really, really good sound and video card!” “These creatures make no sense,” NTU-150 reported, pinning a Brainless One to the floor and taking cell samples for analysis. “No internal organs, no life signs really, yet they move and fight.” “And talk,” Banjooooo noticed. “What are they muttering?” DarkHwk swung in close before taking out the two monsters nearest him. “Sounds like they’re just mumbling Liefield, Liefield,’ over and over again,” he reported. “Then they really are Brainless Ones,” Fin Fang Foom decided. The great dragon yawned and vomited out a white-hot blast of nuclear fire to cut a swathe towards one of the ten-story high battle wagons. Yo danced over the ranks of the marauders, his rapier pricking through impossibly dense skin to sting and enrage the invaders. “Yo is being cross that nasty monsters attack cute Ausgardian-friends who gave Yo and his Legion friends nice banquet and offered cute place in VanHalen with cute valkyries and everything.” “That’s it. Yo-ster,” spiffy called out. He was teaching Brainless Ones to repect the fern. Well, somebody had to respect it. “Keep at ‘em. They can’t keep coming forever… can they?” “Damn you, Sherriff of Rottingham!” Space Ghost warned the Brainless Ones. “You won’t get away with this. Marian’s not for you!” “Excuse me,” Avatar asked Goldeneyed as the press of battle brought the two of them together. “I confess to being puzzled by Space Ghost’s recent statement.” “Ah well,” G-Eyed replied, narrowly avoiding a lethal optic-beam and flashing his own golden eyes back as he reduced the Brainless One to mush, “SG is… well… He’s very special.” “And the song he is singing, about Springtime for Hitler?” “Very, very special.” Out across the massive plains before the shining citadels of Ausgard the vast armies of Dormaggadon, the Lord of the Dreary Dimension, shuffled forward, their very mass, their uncountable numbers pushing the valiant defenders backwards. Visionary was therefore unsurprised as he wandered back to the Garden of Reflection to find Hoki, god of bloody-mindedness, hefting a large suitcase in the direction of the rainbow bridge. “So there’s one Ausgardian who can work out odds then,” the possibly fake man noted. “And one Legionnaire,” Hoki answered, noting that Visionary was not involved in the fray beyond. Vizh shrugged. “I’m not really a superhero. And I only ever got to do monitor duty. And karaoke. Apart from bleeding offensively on a Brainless One there’s not much I can do. Mind you, I’m not convinced that there’s much anyone can do.” “Very perceptive,” Hoki conceded. “Kill half of an infinitely large army of monsters and one still has an infinitely large army of monsters to fight.” “So what’s the solution?” Visionary asked. “I mean, a clever guy like you’s got to have come up with an answer by now, right?” Hoki’s face twisted into a crooked smirk. “And if I have? Why should I bother to tell you and get my appalling family out of the hole they’re digging themselves? Visionary shugged. “Because you want to show off how smart you are?” he suggested. Hoki considered this. “Good answer,” he decided. “Well, you need to stitch up the dimensional rip they’re coming through. Then the steroid support group which calls itself a pantheon round here can hammer, mace, axe, halbard, spear, bite, headbutt and sit the rest to death.” “Sounds like a plan,” Vizh conceded. “So how do we shut the rift?” “Ah, for that you need two things,” Hoki explained. “First you need a dimensional-manipulator here to bind up the sundered weft and weave of reality.” “G-Eyed can do dimensional stuff,” Vizh admitted. “Backed up on the technical side by Enty and DarkHwk and powered by Mjalcolm…” “Oh yes, let us not forget Mjalcolm,” spat Hoki. “…then it might just work. What’s the second thing?” “You need somebody on the other side doing exactly the same thing,” the god of bloody-mindedness explained. “And how do we manage that?” Visionary demanded. “I thought you’d never ask,” Hoki grinned. As he waved his hands Visionary vanished. “I’ll pass on the message about what to do on this side if you like,” he generously offered the disappeared possibly fake man. “You can worry about the Dreary Dimension end of things.” “Now pay attention, Abandoned Legion,” Zebulon lectured. “This equipment is valuable and fragile, and I don’t want it getting damaged as NTU-150 will dock it from my wages.” The elf technician went through all the mission equipment they would need to infiltrate the casino: the grappling guns, the radio-controlled garters, the specially-prepared underwear which doubled as plastic explosives. “And we’re sure that this casino has some ties with this Maximillian Deathspoon?” Cap checked. “Oh, we’re sure,” Dan Drury, Director of SPUD spat, stubbing out his stogie on a pot plant. “It cost us two good men t’get this much info, and if the Falcon trailin’ yer little Amazon friend ain’t gonna get us to him, then this is our only other lead. Word is that the casino’s a front fer meetings of the international crime cartels, an’ somethin’ big is going on. So far we spotted Akiko Masamune, the Lynchpin, an’ my old WWII sparrin’ partner Count Fokker – he’s supposed to be the head of HERPES, whut tried to wipe you guys back at the airport.” “And we still don’t know how they knew we were coming,” frowned HV. “What’s the caper?” Cobra asked professionally. Not for the first time her Abandoned Legion colleagues worried about what she did on her days off. “We’ve got some cover ID for some of you,” Drury explained, handing out folders. “Why, Colonel, how did you know I was good with cards?” Sorceress flirted as she learned of her role as the dealer for tonight’s big card game. “Never mind that,” complained Cobra. “Do you know how much I hate playing a maid?” “This is the Dreary Dimension?” Falcon complained. “This? I thought it’d be more… well, more exciting.” “What part of the word dreary didn’t you get?” Knifey, ManMan’s talking blade, asked the reluctant federal superhero. “Look at these rocks,” Exile pointed. “They look as if they’ve been badly made out of papier maché. And they all look the same.” “Well, it is sort of… dreary,” Troia 215 considered. “Which is more or less what the title of the place implies.” “Well I like it,” admitted ManMan. “What I especially like about it is that it is also the place of not-having-my-genitals-hacked-off-with-rusty-shears-by-outraged-Amazons.” “Oh yes,” Falcon muttered. “Remind me to thank Xander if by any remote chance we survive this. ‘Perhaps I could suggest a more suitable punishment for the transgressors, your majesty,’ indeed! So we get thrown into the dimensional rift to find a way of stopping up the hole that Amazon Isle used to block between the Drear Dimension and Earth. And all we have to worry about are the gazillion indestructible monsters and their psycho universe-conquering flame-headed ruler.” Exile looked around. “Yeah. I was wondering about that. Where are the gazillion monsters?” he asked. “Not that I’m complaining, you understand,” he added quickly. Troia knew the answer. “Earth. They’re all invading Earth right now.” She swallowed hard. “Xander knew we’d cause this. He warned me when I went to ask who my real family were. Maybe the Hooded Hood even knew this would happen when he told me that he was my father.” Now ManMan gulped. He had dated Troia a couple of times, and he really didn’t like the idea of the cowled crime-czar playing the outraged parent. “Well, you did find out that your mom was Queen of the Amazons once before she got… in the family way.” “Yeah,” agreed Exile, “And Falcon here obviously knows who your brother is.” “Not quite,” Falcon answered. “SPUD – the Super-human Principal Undercover Directorate, thinks there might be some links between your brother and some most-wanted terrorist called Deathspoon the Bereaver. It’s Deathspoon they really want. I just had to follow you in case your investigations into your family flushed Deathspoon out of hiding to kill you or something.” “Anyway,” ManMan reminded the Amazon administrator, “Lisa promised to follow up on that hint the Prophetess of the Amazons had about your brother. She’s gone to try and find him, to see if somehow he’s mixed up with whatever’s going on.” “So what do we do?” demanded Falcon. “We’re here in the dimension of badly-drawn rocks. What now?” “Well, it’s just a hint,” Knifey suggested, “but we could always head for that prominent and sinister black tower dominating the landscape.” “Well alright,” agreed ManMan, still missing his Elvis outfit and uncomfortable in his Amazon skirt. “But if we encounter any bloody Hobbits I’m out of here.” Hunter Victorious and Cap were the only two men prepared for the lights to go out, and that was because they knew that Sorceress was about to make it happen. At the exact moment that Cobra set off the smoke grenades that she had laid around the casino the two infiltrators had cut through the grille of the ventilation duct and were sliding along it towards the private areas of the casino management. In the meantime Lisa had tossed the data-bearing cufflinks over to Sorceress and the female members of the assault squad were trying to make their way through the confusion to their pre-arranged getaway. Cobra had to knock a number of burly security guards out of the way. She was surprised when one small figure blocked her path, caught the dagger Cobra tossed and hurled it back with equal speed and dexterity. The Abandoned Legionnaire realised that she was facing an opponent as fast and skilled as she and prepared for a difficult fight; but the slim shape stepped aside. “There’s nothing on those microchips that harms me, even if it embarrasses many others,” Akiko Masamune decided. “This time you may go.” “Next time,” promised Cobra. “Next time,” the leader of the Yakusa agreed. Count Wolfgang Fokker was not taking his loss so sanguinely. “After them, you fools!” he shouted at his security team. But all of them had been served drinks by that nice young girl in the short maid’s outfit, and they were having difficulty standing up at the moment. HV and Cap reached the managers office and rendered four more guards unconscious. Then the newest member of the Lair Legion applied his skills and some of Zebulon’s technology to the walk-in safe in one corner of the room. As it opened a huge man with diamond teeth leaped out at them with an animal growl. “I can handle him” Cap shouted. “Get on with the mission.” Diamondmouth picked Cap up and hurled him through a window. Cap caught the frame and twisted himself back in, planting both his feet deep into his opponent’s middle. His opponent therefore hit him with the desk. Hunter Victorious raced into the safe, seeking anything that might indicate the whereabouts of Deathspoon, and hence the whereabouts of the Hooded Hood’s hidden child. The only clue was the massive VDU wallmap which showed the secret island from which Deathspoon intended to launch his devastating attempt for world conquest. Diamondmouth grasped Cap by the throat and dangled him out of the window. The hero didn’t panic however. Fumbling in his belt pouch he pulled out his final weapon. “Here,” he told the villain, flicking something hard into Diamondmouth’s eye, making the giant roar and release him so he could catch the ledge, “Have a peanut.” Then he grasped the giant and pulled him out through the shattered windowframe, hooking his own leg over the ledge to prevent himself from toppling to his doom with the screaming henchman. “Time to get out of here,” HV suggested, hefting a small metal object that could only be a purloined hard drive. Down below Lisa was the last of the women to push her way free of the panicking crowd in the dark, smoke-filled casino. She pelted along the corridor after Cobra and Sorceress, wishing that her full-length gown had been designed for faster movement. “It is very becoming, though,” the man who stepped out from the shadows and rendered her unconscious with a single touch complimented her. “By the way, you can call me Maximillian Deathspoon.” Neither Cobra nor Sorceress was aware that their companion had fallen. They reached the agreed rendezvous point just as Cap and HV returned. “Where’s Lisa?” Cap wondered. “Never mind that,” Hunter Victorious worried, trying to turn over the modified laundry van which was supposed to be their getaway vehicle. “Where’s the carburettor?” The archvillain stalked out of the shadows. “Did you really think there would be a gathering of the senior figures of the underworld without my being present?” he demanded. “And did you think that amateurs such as yourselves could possibly hope to succeed in such a scheme if I was nearby to anticipate and thwart you?” Cap and Cobra whirled round as the masked man in purple and pink stalked out of the shadows. Now they were in trouble. Next issue: Will ManMan, Exile, Falcon and Troia 215 find something worse than hobbits in the Black Tower? What fate has Deathspoon in store for Lisa? Can the Lair Legion overcome impossible odds to triumph in the battle for Ausgard? What are the odds of the Abandoned Legion vs Baron Zemo himself? And what part does Mefrothto, Prince of Fibs, play in all of this? Much may be revealed in “A Day in the Life of… the Hooded Hood” It’ll be done in around a week. A blatant piece of Ian Flemingry from the Hooded Hood |
| Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: Deathspoon (A blatant piece of Ian Flemingry from the Hooded Hood) (11-Sep-1999 20:57:01) |
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