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#51: Untold Tales of Paradopolis: It Just Feels Like there are Five Million Stories in the Big City with a Cast This Huge Sunday, 11-Jun-2000 11:29:05
#51: Untold Tales of Paradopolis: It Just Feels Like there are Five Million Stories in the Big City with a Cast This Huge “Alright! I demand to know what you heroes have done to our fair city! Shanghaiing us to an alien planet! Sabotaging the free presses! I won’t let you get away with this or my name isn’t J. Jonah Jerkson!” Pierson’s Porter pointed a stubby black device at the irate publisher of the Daily Trombone and stunned him into paralysed silence. “Any other questions?” he asked the press conference. “Sure,” the only reporter in the crowd who seemed unintimidated by this ruthless display answered. “What the hell is actually happening?” “Ah, a sensible question,” PP acknowledged, nodding to the plucky girl reporter from the Seattle Stranger. “The city has been teleported to a distant planet using powerful alien technology as part of a preliminary to an all-out invasion of Earth for the purposes of committing genocide on your human race. It is entirely possible that you people in Paradopolis are the lucky ones. Everyone else you ever knew back home might well be dead by now.” “What the Mayor means,” Roni Y. Avis chipped in like a good PR man, “is that we are even now investigating ways of sorting out this minor problem, and hope to restore Paradopolis to its um, normal planet in a short while.” “Are you saying that aliens are out to destroy the Earth?” Bernice Teschmacher demanded. “Are these the same aliens who blew up our moon?” “No, that was my people, the Puppeteers,” Pierson’s Porter explained. “Are they the ones who tried to turn Jarvis into a traitor and doom us all to be genetic fodder for their interdimensional wars?” “No,” admitted PP . “That was the Nebulus. They’re off plotting in the transplanar vortex.” “The giant Space Robots who hovered over all our cities ready to destroy us a while back?” “No, although our scouting parties have found traces of Celestian technology on this world which might have been harnessed to power the teleporter that brought us here.” “We’ve not been short of a few alien invasions, have we?” the diabolical Dr Moo considered, sitting on the interview platform beside Mayor Porter. “Put them out of their misery.” “By which she means tell them who it was,” Tina added hastily. Keeping track of what sixty million shanghaied Paradopolitans were doing and feeling was bad enough without Pierson’s Porter misinterpreting and liquidating the journalism corps. That was Cheryl’s job, and she was half a million light years away. “The initial attack on Earth will be by Skunk and Skree shock troops,” PP explained to the Fourth Estate. “The Skunks are little green shapeshifting nonentities, and the Skree are big blue militaristic nonentities. What is making them dangerous just now is that they have fallen under the control of Dark Thugos, self-proclaimed Tyrant of the Sol Empire, a worshipper of Death who wishes to sacrifice all life on Earth in the hopes of getting inside Death’s pants.” “Dark Thugos is an alternate-reality version of Omni-Mayor spiffy,” Roni Y. Avis chipped in, so that the press knew firmly where to lay the blame for all of this. “Only dangerous and competent.” “What are you doing to solve the problem?” the girl journalist demanded. “I suggested vaporising spiffy, but I was outvoted,” PP answered. “Oh, about the rest of it? Well, we have one team of superheroes wandering across the planet looking for the power-source that brought us here and the jamming field that keeps us here. We have a second team examining the subterranean ruins of the control complex that brought us here. The remainder of the so-called heroes are patrolling the city, keeping an eye on the dinosaur attacks, lizard men raids, quantum spider incursions and so on.” “What can you tell us about Professor Manyarms’ takeover of Paradopolis Square?” the reporter continued. “He was threatening to devastate uptown Paradopolis unless the superheroes Frog-Man and Goldeneyed were surrendered to him.” “Goldeneyed and Frog-Man weren’t available,” Dr Moo fielded. “One is exploring secret places with my sister, and not in the usual way we mean that, and the other was last reported eaten by a giant sonic moth, so we won’t be seeing him again for hours, maybe days depending on how the moth’s digestive system works. So we sent in the Dark Knight and Banjoooo instead.” “Professor Manyarms is doing well and will be out of traction in a few months,” Roni Y. Avis added helpfully. “And what are you doing to get us all back home?” “I have people looking into that,” Pierson’s Porter said evasively. “You really should have mentioned this to me before you know,” Mr Limpqvist of the Interdimensional Transportation Corporation chided the heroes who had sought him out at his Door Street skyscraper headquarters. “I was wondering why nobody had turned up for work today.” “We would have called before,” Cap pointed out, “except that your business place here is shielded from being found by anybody who doesn’t have an appointment. It took us ages before we found somebody who could give us directions.” The shield-slinger gestured over the to enigmatic foreigner who should have still been adhered to Paste Pot Pete; but Stavanger had somehow gone. “Er, well, anyway, we finally got here. Now we need to know how to get Paradopolis back home.” “It’s a fascinating problem,” Mr Limpqvist agreed, pouring over a complicated control panel in the Delivery Room at ITC. “It would have been the largest delivery we’ve handled since the Atlantis thing. Shame it’s not possible.” “What do you mean?” Hatman demanded. “ITC specialises in shifting things from one place to another, even through different dimensions.” “Yes, we have the grocery franchise for the Family of the Pointless, and that allows us access to dimensional pathways and such which we also make available to other clients for a modest fee,” Limpquivst answered, mincing round the control table to examine another readout. “But frankly this teleport has shot our navigation systems to heck. Even if your little friends are able to turn off the anti-teleportation jamming field, and provide a power-source of sufficient magnitude to transport the city, we haven’t got the first clue what co-ordinates to programme in for a teleport back to Earth. We could randomly ‘port Paradopolis, but I don’t think any of us want that, do we?” “So what do we do?” Banjooooo asked helplessly. “We hope that somebody on Earth had the good sense to activate a homing beacon the ITC equipment here can lock on to. Then, given a Celestian power source and no jamming, we have an almost fifty-fifty chance of getting home in time to be annihilated with the rest of the planet. Would you boys like a nice cup of tea?” “Are you sure?” Valeria of Carfax asked the man from the Sanitary Workers Union. “Are you sure that you really want to strike for time and a half now in the hour of your city’s greatest need?” “When’s there a better time?” the labour leader shrugged. “Well, it just sees like such a wasted opportunity, that’s all,” the slave-girl currently administrating the whole city told him. “I mean, the people of Paradopolis have underestimated your skills and value for so very long, not recognising the secret princes who keep the city going for everyday folks.” “Well, dat’s true all right,” the union man nodded. “And now, just when your workers stand firm in our time of greatest crisis, just when they might be recognised for the heroes they are by the masses, you want to rob your men of that chance for glory?” “Well, when you put it like dat…” “Yo is thinking that you had best be going and being noble-ing on the mean streets of Paradopolis, cute dustbin man,” Valeria’s companion advised. And the labour boss agreed, and went. “Another crisis averted,” NTU-150 sighed. “I don’t know how you two do it. You’re somehow keeping the whole city running.” “It’s Yo,” Valeria assured the Lair Legion’s technologist. “But it’s taking it’s toll on him/her. Look.” She pointed to the pure thought being who was stroking Rabito and waving the union boss goodbye. Yo was ever so slightly transparent. “S/he’s using her power to make things s/he believes come true to keep pretty much the whole city in the Happy Place. And she’s using him/herself up in the process.” “I could whip up a Happy Place generator to help,” Enty offered. “I could dismantle a couple of ice-cream vans, hook it up to a Betamax…” “Do whatever you can,” Valeria urged him, “but I don’t think Yo can spread him/herself that much more. Yo believes in me, that I can keep Paradopolis running. But we only have one day’s food rations left, it’s getting harder to keep the predators away from the population, and the whole city is running out of time. I’m worried that Yo is going to use him/herself completely up to hold back anarchy and mass death.” NTU-150 shuddered at the thought of his innocent alien friend erasing him/herself in a desperate attempt to save lives. “I’ll get to work on that generator,” he promised. Enty was always happiest trying to techno-fix a problem. “At least that give Yo a bit longer.” “I’ve got ten minutes before the meeting with the Phantomhawk Memorial Hospital people,” Valeria noted. “I’m going to go find Derek.” NTU-150 didn’t notice the look of bleak despair on her face as she walked out of the room. The sun was setting on another short day on this alien world. Exile was collecting reports from the Paradopolitan Irregulars he was co-ordinating. “What’s the story down by the docks, then?” he asked the Green Ninja. “Telekinetic octopii,” the man in the dark green combat suit replied. The Ninja had appeared out of nowhere when the city had been kidnapped, and had been fighting or patrolling for nearly forty-eight hours without a break now, but it was impossible to tell from his demeanour. “Lynx introduced them to the concept of high explosives.” The second of the mystery men shrugged and fiddled some more with his weaponry. The product of a black government military operation had said very little since arriving, and only seemed to spring to life when there was something to kill. “Um, okay,” Exile said slightly nervously. “What about you guys dealing with the lizard-marauder raids?” “Well first of all, I’d like to say thank you so much for teaming me up with a guy whose main power is to hold his arm at shoulder height for extended periods of time,” Jack Rabbit reported. “It’s done wonders for my self-esteem to find somebody who has lamer powers than I do.” “Hey, I pulled my weight,” Captain Astounding argued. “I screamed just as loud as you did when those giant war-geckos jumped us.” “And that… that worked did it?” Exile checked. “Sure,” Jack Rabbit answered. “I grabbed arm boy here and leaped us to safety. Banjooooo heard us screaming and ate the attackers. Simple.” “Do you have another mission for us?” Captain Astounding asked the Legionnaire who was thumping his head on the wall. “It’s sunset now,” Green Ninja noted. “There is usually a lull as the day predators return to their lairs and the night predators prepare to prowl. I suggest we allow ourselves half an hour of rest and meditation, and then renew our vigilance in patrols once more.” “Er, yeah. What he said,” Exy agreed. He watched the mismatched assemblage shuffle away before slumping against a wall. “You mustn’t do it,” Valeria warned him, appearing from inside City Hall. “You can’t.” Derek Foreman closed his eyes so he didn’t have to meet her searching gaze. He knew just what she was talking about. “I don’t want to do it, Val, but what choice do I have? Colonel Destiny, somehow owns you, and can force you to do whatever he demands. He won’t let you free unless I do what he told me to, and he will make you do terrible, disgusting things, will send you to a long, horrible slow death if I don’t.” Valeria shuddered and bit back her tears. This was not the time to let Derek down. She tried to press the memory of Colonel Destiny’s smirking moustachioed face out of her thoughts. “Derek, I know you’d save me if you could. But you can’t save me by doing the things he demands of you. I don’t want to be saved if it means destroying you in the process. I’d rather… I’d rather he did sell me to the Slimy Slaver LoveToad of Frammistat Eight, or whatever he has in mind for me. You know you can’t do what he demands.” Exile nodded, but said, “What choice do I have, Val? Either I lose you, or I kill Bry, as he demands. He’s left me no other choice. I… I gotta think some more about this…” And the energy-wielding avenger flew off into the darkening sky. “No,” Valeria answered long after he had sped out of earshot. “No, I think I’ve got to make your choice for you.” The Terminizer impacted with the planet about thirty thousand miles away from Paradopolis, burning down from the heavens like the Skree-launched engine of doom it was. Rising unscathed from the impact that had just vaporised more woodland than the Tunguska incident it scanned for the greatest aggregation of sentient life and - after lowering its parameters sufficiently - took to the air and jetted off towards Paradopolis. The wisps of mist which rose from the heated city sewers twisted through the ventilation grates of City Hall and coalesced into the shape of a man inside the computer room. Saint stood up and checked around to see that he was alone. No heat source was in the darkened computer centre, so the mystery man bent his mind to hacking through the security of the Lair Legion’s temporary command centre. The security was good. It took him almost ten minutes. “It’s worse than I imagined,” Saint whispered to himself as he pulled up the date he sought. He spoke aloud for comfort as the vast scope of the dangers facing the human race became obvious to him. He pulled out a file of photographs he had brought with him and laid them out on the desktop. Each picture was of some of the bizarre carvings on the green-silver metal structures which dotted the underside of the city, vestiges of the buildings which had been here before the teleportation accident. “Much, much worse.” “Why don’t you tell me how much worse?” the Dark Knight demanded, looming out of the shadows behind Saint. “Wha-?” The intruder whirled round to see the shadow-shrouded detective right behind him. “How did you…?” “You’re good, Saint,” the urban legend answered, “but I’ve been doing this for considerably longer than you. I assume you’re here to discover how our researches fit in with yours?” “Yes,” Saint admitted, recovering his equanimity. He’s never met the Dark Knight before – nobody was ever really sure if the Dark Knight even existed, despite his claimed former membership of the Lair Legion – but it didn’t surprise him that DK had heard of him if he really was what was claimed of him. “I think between us we can work out the full story.” “These pictograms are suggestive,” the Dark Knight admitted, staring at the glossy photographs Saint had brought. “I hope Lisa and the others know what they’re getting into.” “From what I hear suggestive pictograms are right up Lisa’s street,” Saint quipped, but shut up as the Dark Knight glared at him. “I suppose you had already surmised from these that the indigenous race on this planet once constructed some kind of portal from which they hoped to be able to retrieve the spirits of their dead and house them in new, artificial bodies,” DK noted. “Of course,” Saint agreed. “They created a vast mechanism here to do that. All the green-silver metal buildings are part of that technology. But it seems as though their experiment was not allowed.” “Before we lost touch with Fin Fang Foom’s team they sent us reports about the green-silver cities being devastated,” reported the Dark Knight. “And they discovered Celestian technology. The inference is that the Celestians took a dislike to what the people of this world were attempting, and erased them.” “Leaving behind some Space Robot technology to prevent anyone else teleporting here and trying to recreate the experiment,” added Saint. The two shadowy figures studied the date for a little longer. “When Thugos brought the Skree and Skunks here to turn this place into a kidnap zone he must have found a way of reversing the Celestian’s jamming field,” DK considered. “And his technicians used some of the control circuitry in the death portal to create a teleportation effect which had galactic range thanks to the Space Robot’s own power source.” “Which is how we got here,” Saint agreed. “We’re pretty safe from the Space Robots at least, unless someone finds and activates that forbidden death portal.” “We’re probably in trouble then,” DK sighed. “Lisa and her team went below the city to discover the command circuitry for the teleport device. We’ve lost contact with them too.” “But activating the death portal is a worst-case scenario,” Saint pointed out. “Exactly,” the urban legend replied. “This is the Lair Legion we’re talking about.” He handed Saint a small business card. “If you need information in the future, call me,” he advised. “The Lair Legion don’t take kindly to unauthorised visitors in their computer systems. Just be glad HALLIE wasn’t at home.” “Thanks,” Saint answered, then transformed himself to mist to baffle the Dark Knight with his sudden disappearance. But the Dark Knight was gone. The Terminizer landed in the tended agricultural area within the perimeter of the level two conurbation, began its self-destruct countdown, and looked around for something to kill in the meanwhile. A large marauding reptileform presented itself for annihilation, so the Terminizer vaporised its head with a short-range microwave pulse. “Wow! Way to go,” a man dressed in lapine trappings addressed the Terminizer. “I’m never going to watch Jurassic park again without flashbacks about that guy!” “Yeah, nice work!” a second metahuman congratulated the Skree engine of doom. “You must be another new superhero on the block. I’m Captain Astounding and this is Jack Rabbit. The guy in the bucket pulling himself together after getting too enthusiastic against the phase-weasels is Dynamite Boy. What’s your handle, big guy?” “I bet it’s Huge Robot Guy,” Jack Rabbit guessed. “Am I right, Huge Robot Guy?” “You must all be eliminated, by order of the Public Accoster.” “Huh?” Captain Astounding puzzled. “You’re called the Public Accoster?” “No,” the Terminizer answered, annoyance circuits cutting in to give his robotic voice a dangerous edge. “I am the Skree Imperial Terminizer, a self-contained planetary destruction unit. You must all be eliminated by order of the Public Accoster.” “I thought you just said you weren’t the Public Accoster,” Dynamite Guy objected, nursing a headache inside his bucket. “I am not!” the Terminizer thundered. “Then why do you keep pretending to be?” Captain Astounding demanded. “What’s going on here?” Exile demanded, appearing flanked by Lynx and Green Ninja. “Nice work taking down the T-Rex, by the way.” “It wasn’t us,” Jack Rabbit confessed. “It was this guy who’s pretending to be the Public Accoster.” “I am not pretending to be the Public Accoster!” insisted the Terminizer. “I prefer Huge Robot Guy anyway,” Jack Rabbit told the killer machine. “It has more pizzazz.” “I am not Huge Robot Guy! I am not the Public Accoster!” “That seems to be alien ordinance he’s carrying,” Lynx pointed out to the Green Ninja. “I don’t like this.” “Agreed,” the Ninja replied. “Let’s set up a perimeter just in case.” “Now I’m confused,” Exile admitted back at the debate. “What exactly is your superhero name then, mister?” “I am not a superhero!” “Hey, you saved us from the Tyrannosaurus, that’s pretty heroic in my book!” Captain Astounding congratulated the Skree murder device. “Way to go, tin-britches.” “Except he didn’t use banter,” Dynamite Guy pointed out. “He needs to work on his banter if he’s going to be a superhero.” “I am not going to be a superhero.” “Aw, never say die, Huge Robot Guy!” Jack Rabbit encouraged the Skree killing device. “I mean, if a guy with the power to hold his arm straight from his shoulder for extended time periods can be a hero…” “At least I don’t go around dressed as Bugs Bunny!” Captain Astounding shot back. “See. That’s banter!” Dynamite Boy pointed out. “I am the Skree Imperial Terminizer, a self-contained planetary destruction unit. I act upon the orders of Dronon, the Public Accoster, who has ordained that I eliminate all life on this biosphere. Is that clear enough for you, idiot fleshlings?” “Ah,” Exile understood. “Oops.” “Good call on that perimeter thing,” Lynx told the Green Ninja. NTU-150 used his built in fire-suppression foam sprayers to put out the little blaze on his sensory equipment lash-up in the Mayor’s Office, jammed a fork in to compensate for the burned out fuse, and refocused the sensors. “I’m getting some very jumbled readings,” he admitted. “You don’t say,” scorned Pierson’s Porter, glaring down at the lash-up that disfigured his desk. “It’s evident that the anti-teleportation jamming field is down,” Enty judged. “Shame we don’t actually have any teleporters on staff now, since Lisa did her brilliant deployment of field teams,” Dr Moo snorted. “I’m reading what looks to be one really huge cosmic-distance teleport from roughly where Finny’s group was. I’ll just set the computers to try and work out where it went to…” “There’s also a warp signature of a Skree battlecruiser arriving and departing,” the Dark Knight contributed, lurking behind the Lair Legion’s technologist. “And some kind of dimensional gate briefly opened under the city,” Tina noted, also studying the readouts. “People have been really busy, haven’t they?” “I could probably do something with the stuff Interdimensional Transportation loaned us, given the signatures we’ve been able to record here,” Jaimie Bautista muttered, frantically scribbling notes on Tina’s sleeve and plugging completely incompatible power-sources together to attempt the impossible. “We’ve met all but one of Mr Limpqvist’s preconditions for being able to return the city,” summarised Hunter Victorious. “Well, two conditions, but I’m sure Cap and find a way of wriggling out of the date thing. We have the jamming field down, we have technology capable of transporting matter, and we have access to a Celestian energy source to power a massive teleport.” “But we don’t have the co-ordinates to know where to jump to,” Hatman added. “And without that we could end up in deep space or in the heart of a star, or in Belgium, or anywhere.” “I’m sure there’s more to work out from these confused sensor readings,” NTU-150 worried. “What’s this nuclear countdown signature in Off-Central Park, for example?” “Alright nuclear malefactor. Step down and surrender or be taken down the hard way,” Cap warned the Terminizer. “Oh great,” Jack Rabbit complained from under a pile of rubble formerly known as Gracy’s Fifth Avenue department store. “Where were you ten minutes ago when he starting kicking the hell out of us?” The Terminizer target a disintegration ray on the shield-wielder, but the wielded shield deflected it. “Hard it is then,” recognised Cap, rolling out of the way. Then Banjoooo drop-kicked the Terminizer back into Off-Central Park. Then HV brushed against it and strange things happened to its ability to react to the world around it. Then Paste Pot Pete swathed it in thick, sticky glue which seized its joints and pinned it in place Then the world exploded around the Skree killing machine. Eventually one single hatted figure staggered out of the smoke coughing. “How did you do that?” Exile wondered of the capped crusader. “Blasting cap,” Jay Boaz replied unsteadily. The metaphor had been a bit stretched and it had cost him more than usual to use his power. On the bright side, Off-Centre Park had the makings of a fine new lake. The Terminizer adjusted its circuits, sent out a long range neural pulse which took down most of the antagonists around it, and rose up from the wreckage looking for more people to kill. “Ha! My brain-functions are much much slower than a human’s,” Banjooooo boasted as he pounded down on the attacker. “No, wait a minute…” The Terminizer’s impact beam caught the giant Sea Monkey in the chest and propelled him roughly thirty miles across the alien planet into the side of the volcano looming over Paradopolis. There was an unpleasant cracking noise, as of an old lava wall breaking and the super-heated magma of the planet discovering an interesting new way to get rid of some of that pressure. Meanwhile the Terminizer fixed its disintegrators on multiple fallen targets such as Green Ninja, Captain Astounding, Dynamite Boy, Exile, Paste Pot Pete, and Cap. The knightarang somehow wedged in the disintegrator interface just as it began to cycle, causing an internal backlash that threw the robot backwards. “Heroes don’t die on my watch,” the grim Dark Knight warned the Skree device. The Terminizer’s arrogance circuits cut in. “On the contrary, human, your whole city dies now. My countdown is complete. 4… 3… 2… 1…” “Now!” Hunter Victorious shouted into his comm-unit. Jaimie Bautista closed the lever on the hastily-cobbled circuit he had put together in the ten minute delay bought them by Exile’s Irregulars being slapped all over the city. The seemingly random attacks of the Abandoned Legion had pressed the Terminizer to the area of the park where NTU-150 and Pearson’s Porter had prepared their trap. The vestigial remnants of teleport technology cobbled together by the Lair Legion’s scientist ground into life to propel the Terminizer into the extraplanar anomaly Jaimie had detected earlier. Then the Terminizer exploded in a multi-megaton nuclear holocaust. Perceptive readers may wish to see that again in slow motion from another perspective: in Untold Tales #49, spiffy inadvertently opened the portal to the Realm of Death which had been constructed by the original inhabitants of this world, and for which the Celestians had eradicated them. Lisa had been tragically sucked through into Death’s domain. Now NTU-150 had sent her an exploding Terminizer for company. Jaimie’s in a lot of trouble if Lisa ever sees him again. “We did it!” Exile gasped as his energy-manipulating form shrugged off the neural pulse that had downed the heroes. “We somehow beat that thing!” He rummaged on Hatman’s belt and pressed Jay’s Thinking Cap onto the fallen legionnaire’s head to bring him round too. “We won?” wondered Hatty, dragging himself painfully from the mud. “The danger’s over?” Then the volcano above Paradopolis exploded. “More or less,” Exile winced. “My friends, we have a problem,” NTU-150 reported, flying down to them carrying the portable sensor equipment. “Yes, we spotted that,” the Dark Knight grimaced. “No, not that,” Enty told them dismissively, waving away the sheet of lethal lava that was beginning to roll down towards the kidnapped city. “That!” And he pointed skywards where the first of the Celestian Space Robots had already taken up position. In future exciting episodes: ManMan, Troia, Dancer, and Space Ghost – prisoners of the sadistic Skree! G-Eyed, Messy, Trickshot, spiffy, Sorceress, and Lisette – at the mercy of the Morshlocks! CSFB!, Cobra, Finny, and Donar – Lost in Space! Lisa meets Death, and a few guest stars! Visionary, leader of Earth! Zemo vs Nats! The fate of Valeria! NTU-150, Hatman, DK, Exile, Yo and lots and lots of others vs the Celestian Space Robots! Love and rockets, sex and death, rock and roll, milk and cookies, and plenty more in the bombastic BZL manner! (Although it’ll have to be in really small print to fit. Don’t miss it! Here's a link to Amazing Guy's tie-in storyAmazing Tales #12 If you can't work out who this is by by now you really haven't been paying attention |
| #51: Untold Tales of Paradopolis: It Just Feels Like there are Five Million Stories in the Big City with a Cast This Huge (If you can't work out who this is by by now you really haven't been paying attention) (11-Jun-2000 11:29:05) |
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