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#52: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion Lost in Space: Out of This World Sunday, 18-Jun-2000 08:07:29
#52: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion Lost in Space: Out of This World Space. The Final Frontier. These are the voyages of the Lair Legion, ripped from Earth along with the whole of the city of Paradopolis and its six million residents. The LL and a few pinch-hitters from the Abandoned Legion and elsewhere aren’t doing a bad job of keeping Paradopolis alive; except for the exploding volcano now raining ash and pouring lava towards the place, and the appearance of the Celestian Space Robot to destroy the planet. Oh, there are also the four heroes who have been captured by Dronon, the Public Accoster of the Skree Star Empire, who are being dragged back to Skree-Lump to have unpleasant things done to them. They should be getting there about now. And there’s Finny, Donar, CrazySugarFreakBoy! and Cobra who got teleported to an entirely different planet when Finny had to quickly use the Celestians’ technology to resolve a battle. Finny’s not going to like it when he sees where they’ve gone. Still, from his point of view the Planet of the Man-Hungry Space Virgins would have been worse, I suppose. Then there’s the missing team of Messenger, Trickshot, Goldeneyed, spiffy, and Sorceress, who were last seen unconscious somewhere down in the deep tunnels which thread beneath Paradopolis. Oh yes. Lisa was sucked into the Realm of Death as well. Meanwhile, back at the ranch: Miss Framlicker pulled herself away from AA Milne, dragged on her dressing gown and bunny slippers, and answered the persistent hammering on her porch door. “Yes?” she asked, trying to summon up the controlled hauteur that was her work persona. “Good evening, Miss,” a man in leather fetishwear bade her politely. “I wonder if we could take a moment of your time to seek your assistance in saving the world?” “Am I hallucinating again?” she asked worriedly, blowing her reddened nose on a kleenex and wishing she’d bothered to change from her reading glasses to her staring-at-people ones. “Or are you an incredibly kinky Jehovah’s Witness?” “One side, deviant do-gooder,” Nats commanded. He jostled both Fetish Lad and Miss Framlicker aside and strode into her house. “Nats?” Miss Framlicker squinted, recognising the voice. “Is that you?” “Yes and no,” Nats answered. He was being fairly literal, since just then the occasional delivery boy for the Interdimensional Transportation Corporation was also housing the personality of the disembodied archvillain Heinrich Zemo. The mix was making Nat’s usual short-fuse positively nonexistent. “We require your services in dealing with an alien armada set to invade the Earth tomorrow, and to restore the Lair Legion to… good grief, woman, how many stuffed animals DO you have?” Miss Framlicker blew her nose again and cuddled an Eeyore. “It’s a hobby,” she said defensively. At home, out of the starched white lab coat she wore at ITC like a suit or armour, with her blonde hair uncoiled from its usual tight bun she seemed like a different person. “Anyway, you can’t just barge in here and ask me to save the planet.” “Of course we can,” Xander the Improbable told her. “Hmm, nasty cold you have there. Where’s the kitchen? Menthol tea, that’s the ticket.” Miss Framlicker watched the man in a faded red dressing gown potter off into her kitchenette and begin to fill a kettle. “But…” she attempted. “Don’t worry Miss. Xander’s a qualified plumber,” Fetish Lad assured her. “I take it that you’ve been sick for the last couple of days and haven’t seen much of the outside world?” “So?” Miss Framlicker shrugged. “So you won’t be aware that Paradopolis has vanished to some far-off planet, and that a Skree assault fleet led by Dark Thugos, Tyrant of the Sol Empire, is on its way to take over the world and put all life here to slow death,” Fetish Lad checked. “Er… no,” Miss Framlicker admitted. “Are you sure I’m not hallucinating?” “The worst part is that Visionary is leading our planetary defence,” Nats warned her. “All world leaders and such were badly affected by an Obedience Spore, and they’re going to be out of action for weeks. Until then, the fake man is in charge.” “Ah,” Miss Framlicker sniffed. “Drink this,” Xander told her, placing a strange-coloured beverage in her hands, “And then kindly indicate how we can trigger a homing beacon to guide the Lair Legion back across galactic distances.” Visionary swatted aside the stunner rays and angrily stomped into the Lair Mansion in a black temper. Cheryl followed behind him, shushing him so he wouldn’t wake baby Christopher. Visionary stormed into his office and quietly closed the door. Somehow it wasn’t as satisfying as he’d hoped. “Something wrong?” Meggan Foxxx wondered, emerging form the Lair kitchen with a bottle of warmed milk. Since her own ‘little boy’ had vanished she was somewhat overcompensating by caring for Lisa’s young offspring with a frightening intensity. “Visionary doesn’t like being in charge,” the possibly fake man’s wife explained. “He didn’t want to lead the Lair Legion and he certainly doesn’t want to run the planet. And he’s the only one everybody will follow.” “Your meeting with Danny-boy went okay then?” Meg asked, referring to Daniel Drury, leader of the Super-menace Principal Undercover Directorate and currently leader of the united-armies-of-opposition-to-being-slaughtered-by-Dark-Thugos movement. “Apart from Vizh resigning about every thirty seconds with increasing volume,” Cheryl agreed. “The fact that every military leader above junior officer rank is currently a vegetable appears to have actually increased the efficiency of the world’s armed forces.” “Dream’s daddy says it’s the same with the law-enforcement agencies,” Meggan smiled. “Elsqueevio and Caveguy called, by the way. They report that Akiko Masamune has cleared out the Devil Doctor’s stronghold of all resistance, and there’s nothing there to threaten us any more.” “Probably because it’s all in Akiko’s stronghold by now,” sighed Cheryl. “Oh, and there’s a girl dressed as a rabbit waiting to see somebody from the LL in the lounge.” “Yo? Yi? Tu?” “N-uh,” Meg reported. “This one’s maybe seventeen and says she wants to be a superhero to avenge the death of her brother Jack Rabbit.” “I’d better talk to her, I suppose,” Cheryl sighed. “Is the world ready for a superhero called Bunny Girl?” The Skree Fifth Imperial Armada screamed through warp-space at unimaginable trans-light speeds on its deadly journey towards the planet Earth. Aboard their eight thousand war vessels two million highly trained shock troops waited to rain death and destruction on a world their new commander Dark Thugos had proclaimed must die. A mere twenty thousand Priests of Pain accompanied the forces to ensure the dying was administered properly. Fortunately they were accompanied by the Torturers’ Guild, so that was alright. “Commander Rox-Hoff!” the Communications Officer aboard the flagship called. “We’re getting a message. It’s in a Terran language.” “Impossible,” the Admiral snarled. Then, contradicting himself he commanded, “Let’s hear it.” “Ah, good evening, chaps. This is Sir Mumphrey Wilton speakin’ for the planet Earth.” “Who?” Rox-Hoff demanded of his Intelligence Agents. They shrugged. “Just to let you know that we’d prefer not to be invaded at the moment, thank you very much. So if you wouldn’t mind awfully, we’d like you to turn your bally ships round and all go home.” “How did this imbecile get on our comms frequencies?” Rox-Hoff shouted. “Because otherwise,” Mumphrey concluded, “we’ll have to remonstrate with you.” “Don’t forget,” a young, eager voice prompted the eccentric Englishman from the background, “to tell them that we are being led by Visionary himself.” “Ah yes,” Mumph added. “As my charming young amanuensis Miss Asil so kindly reminds me, you should be aware that the forces of Earth stand united to resist you behind Visionary himself, leader of the Lair Legion and all that. We don’t like bullies, so turn round before we box your ears for you.” Then a disturbing, glubbing sound came over the Skree com-channels then, as of a primal elder-creature chuckling to itself. To see the explanation for all of this we need to move about a hundred and thirty light years Earthwards, on the edge of the Horseshoe Nebula, where two humans are floating in the vacuum, protected only by a large transparent glob of proto-matter that calls itself the Manga Shoggoth. One of the humans is a trim young lady in an Emma Peel catsuit, staring at the stars with a delighted smile because they’re as spectacular as she always imagined. Asil’s companion is an elderly gentleman in tweeds, tugging on his handlebar moustache because using the more powerful accoutrements of the Guardian of the Chronometer of Infinity always makes him uncomfortable. On the other hand, only with the fountain pen, walking cane, and Inverness cape of Infinity could Sir Mumphrey Wilton accomplish his purpose. A footnote may be in order here. The Parodyverse is maintained by a series of appointed Powers (although who actually appoints them remains unclear). These are mostly mortals who are ordained to certain Offices and imbued with tools or powers sufficient to carry out the functions they have been given. The most powerful of these Offices are the Shaper of Worlds, the Chronicler of Stories, and the Destroyer of Tales. Then there are quite a lot of less powerful ones. Nobody knows what exactly the keeper of the Chronometer of Infinity is meant to do. Certainly the device itself hasn’t always taken the form of a large Victorian gentleman’s watch (as worn on the waistcoat fob-chain of a large Victorian gentleman). Likewise the time-and-space bending cosmic artefacts that accessorise it were not always in the form of a fountain pen, an Inverness cape, and a bulldog-headed walking stick. But these things adapt themselves to their current guardian, and Sir Mumphrey Wilton had a very strong sense of what was proper. It was the Cape of Destiny which had brought Mumphrey and his companions halfway across the cosmos to confront the Skree invasion force. Protected from the rigours of space within the elder-beast Manga Shoggoth, Mumphrey fiddled with his pocketwatch and fountain-pen, linking both to the walking cane which in turn tapped into the fundamental forces of the Parodyverse. “Are those blighters turnin’ round and going home yet?” Mumphrey asked hopefully. “Not in any accepted Euclidean sense of the words,” bubbled the Shoggoth. “Can we really stop them?” wondered Asil. Mumph shook his head. “Afraid not, m’dear. But we can certainly slow ‘em down a bit and give our friends a bit more time to cook up a defence agin’ em.” He spoke again into the communications device that Dan Drury had given him. “Now, um listen up, you yahoos,” he attempted..” “Get that idiot off my comm-system!” thundered Rox-Hoff. “No need to be rude, you maundering cowardly ignorant blighterly bounder,” Mumphrey told him. “Now pay attention. You world-conquering types are all the same, all full of piss and vinegar when you think you’ve got an absolute advantage and sadly mistaken when you think you’ve got old Earth on the run. So take this!” “Sir, sir! There’s a massive temporal wave heading towards us!” the Skree tactical officer shouted. Rox-Hoff could see it. Even as he watched the vanguard warcruiser aged to rust before his eyes and crumbled into space-debris. “Where did that attack come from?” he demanded. “Fire back! Destroy them?” “Destroy who?” worried the tactical officer. “There aren’t any ships out there but ours.” “Then why is that sound still coming over the radio?” shouted the commander of the Fifth Imperial Skree Armada. There was indeed a message being broadcast to the invasion vessels: “Thugos has only got one ball… Rox-Hoff has two but they are small…” Then Mumphrey, Asil, and the Shoggoth were gone, but time around the battle group was moving at one tenth of the speed it was for the rest of the universe for as long as Mumphrey’s chronal charge lasted. In short, the Guardian of the Chonometer of Infinity had bought Earth some time. At the other end of space, an even more disturbing set of invaders would not have even noticed Sir Mumphrey’s attack. The massive Celestian Space Robots whom some claim bolted together the Parodyverse at the command of some unknown creator in the first place were acting in accordance with their mysterious purpose. They had identified a forbidden portal to the Realm of Death, which had suppurated their universe not once but twice now. Clearly, eradicating the sentient race that had built the portal was not enough. New life-forms had found and activated the mechanisms. The logical course of action was therefore to evaporate the planet. It was more than chance that this was the planet that the city of Paradopolis had been teleported to (using a Skree modification of the Death portal technology and the Celestian power-source meant to prevent its use – Thugos was damned good with cosmic devices). Hence Exile looked up to the quarter-mile high metal beings which hovered overhead and gave his tactical assessment of them. “Big, aren’t they?” he gulped. “In every sense of the word,” agreed Hunter Victorious. “If you focus your minds right you can actually sense what they’re thinking, their minds are so loud.” “Tell me about it,” cringed Tina. The telepath was getting a world-class headache trying to shut them out. “They are making arrangements to erase this planet, and us on it.” “We will fight them to the last,” Cap promised. “We took these guys on once before,” shuddered Banjooooo. “It wasn’t pretty. We came second.” “There are six million lives at stake here,” Hatman reminded everybody. “We can not fail.” “Yo is thinking that perhaps we could be explaining to the cute giant Space Robots that it was all being a mistake and please to be making it so we are to be home.” “I don’t think they’ve got us in their appointment book,” Dr Moo argued. “They know all about us,” Tina sensed. “They know how we dropped that Skree Terminizer through the Death Portal. And they know it was originally activated by… spiffy!” “I should have known,” groaned Banjoooooo. “I should have had him assassinated long ago,” groaned Pierson’s Porter. “There’s more,” Tina concentrated. “Another person fell through the Doorway to Death. It was… oh no!” “What’s wrong?” NTU-150 asked, alarmed by the catch in Tina’s voice. “It was Lisa!” she breathed. “No,” Dark Knight denied. “No, it can’t have been.” “It was,” Tina told him. “She’s gone.” “Oh,” the diabolical Dr Moo commented, “dear.” The morbid silence was interrupted by the effete Mr Limpqvist of the Interdimensional Transportation Corporation rushing in excitedly. “I’ve got it”” he told them. “I’ve got a homing signal from Miss Framlicker back on Earth!” “Then we have everything we need to transfer Paradopolis back where it came from,” Enty suggested. “Let’s do it.” “It’ll take about six hours to warm up ITC’s transport engines to move something as big as a city,” warned Mr Limpqvist. “I’m not sure those guys up there are going to wait six hours,” Hatty noted. “Then perhaps we should take up Yo’s suggestion,” the Dark Knight suggested, gesturing to the faded and exhausted pure thought being. “I’m going to talk to them.” “Ooookay,” Banjooooo agreed tolerantly. “In the meantime, about stemming that exploding volcano…” On yet another world, in yet another remote part of the galaxy, four more Earth heroes painfully picked themselves up from the jolting effects of a teleportation accident. “Ouch,” the great dragon Fin Fang Foom complained, “That’s the last time I randomly activate a Celestian power source to get rid of a planetary-wide jamming field causing a feedback teleport to hurl us who-knows-where.” “Thou art addled, friend Makluan,” Donar, hemigod of thunder warned. “Thou dost exposite randomly, recapping the plot for no good reason.” “Where are we?” Cobra demanded. “I can’t raise the others on the communications equipment.” “Wow!” CrazySugarFreakBoy! enthused. “We’re on a whole new planet!” “And how do you conclude that?” Cobra asked scornfully. “Oh, you know,” CSFB! shot back, “Strange red soil, vast cyclopean basalt rock formations, the fact that there are five moons in the sky. You can’t fool a Trekkie on stuff like this. Hold on while I tear my shirt.” “It art true,” Donar noted. “We hast been sent to some other world. And yet I sense ‘tis a dead place. The spirit of life hath long been extinguished on this sphere.” “It sure is silent,” CSFB! admitted. “The silence of the grave,” added Cobra with a slight shudder. “Who knoweth where we art, or what tragedy befell this place to render it void of all living things?” puzzled the Oldmanson. Finny’s voice answered the question before his mind was even aware he was going to speak. “We’re on Makluos,” he told his friends. “Home of the Makluans.” “You?” CSFB! realised. “Yes,” the wyrm admitted. “I’ve finally come home.” “Right,” Cap announced into his transmitter, wiping the sweat-streaks from his ash-covered face. “All the charges are in place down here. Unit two?” “I was delayed slightly by some Shadow Vultures,” Lynx replied from his vantage point above the lava-flow descending towards Paradopolis. “They won’t bother anybody else now. All ready.” “Unit three?” “Similar delay with some sort of radioactive mutant ferret,” admitted Hunter Victorious. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. The job’s done.” “Unit four?” “Did I mention my fear of heights?” Dynamite Boy gulped. He’d ditched the explosives Dr Moo had manufactured. It was a matter of professional pride that he could blow this thing up better by himself. “Unit five?” “I’ll admit the sheer cliff face was a challenge,” Green Ninja conceded, “but it’s all accomplished. The explosives are in position.” “Good. Hatman, you can get clear.” “Thank God!” the capped crusader replied fervently. “I was starting to get pretty exhausted cooling the flows here with my Snowman’s hat.” The usually stolid hero didn’t add that he had used so many hats in a rapid succession to staunch the volcano’s approach long enough for the charges to be set that he was near to total collapse. He viewed being scorched, bruised, and ready to drop as occupational hazards. He wearily dragged his Jets hat onto his head, and after a moment’s frightening pause felt himself gain the power of propelled flight. “I’m clear!” Cap pressed the detonator, collapsing a quarter of the mountain into the lava-floe’s path. The molten material splashed into the newly-formed basin, threatening for a moment to break free and again menace the city below. Then the wall held, and the steaming liquid rock piled up against the makeshift barrier. “It’s holding,” Hatman reported from above. “Well done, guys.” “You too,” HV called back. “it’s not everyday even you get to cap a volcano!” Frog Man came back to life (as was his super-power) and climbed out of the bucket where his digested bits had been left to repair themselves. He also had a couple of cigarette ends lodged in places he didn’t want to think about. “What happened” he groaned. “What’s going on?” “Oh hi!” the guy in the rabbit costume (not to be confused with the girl in the rabbit costume, his sister who thinks he’s dead; or the woman in the cat costume, which is a private thing between Cheryl and Visionary) bade him. “Glad to see you up and about. I was getting a bit bored with bucketwatch.” “I… I was eaten?” Frog Man remembered. “By pterodactyls?” Jack Rabbit shrugged “Who’s keeping score? I’m too busy watching the big name superheroes arguing with each other.” Frog Man squinted over to where NTU-150, Banjooooo and the Dark Knight were having some kind of heated debate with each other. “It’s over who should go and talk to the Celestians, convince them not to destroy the planet,” Jack Rabbit explained. “NTU-150 thinks he should go because he might be able to turn their machines against them. The others disagree because they don’t want to destroy the universe. Banjoooo thinks he should go because he’s king of the sea monkeys, and therefore royalty.” “The sea monkey people were indirectly created using second-hand Celestial technology,” Frog Man remembered. “Sure, and that makes Banjooooo susceptible to Space Robot control, which is why they won’t let him go. And Dark Knight’s simply maintaining that it has to be him, because the Celestians will know him.” “Well, whatever they’re going to do I hope they hurry up,” Captain Astounding admitted. “Those big Space Robot things are starting to hum…” “I want to be very clear about this,” Whitney Darkness the Sorceress announced to all who would listen. “I am not going to marry the Emperor of the Morshlocks, a white sluggy thing that makes Jabba the Hut look like a Weight-Watchers poster girl. So one of you heroes had better come up with some kind of escape plan because frankly I’ve had enough evil baddies wanting to impregnate me and breed all-powerful children for one lifetime.” “Calm down,” Goldeneyed advised her. “We’ll find a way out of these power-draining Skree shackles. Then we’ll find a way out of this adamantium cage. Then we’ll find a way to defeat those thirty thousand Morshlock deep tunnel dwellers and fight our way back to the surface. Somehow.” “Yeah,” Trickshot assured the worried witch. “Then all we gotta do is shift Paradopolis back to Earth, beat a Skree armada, kick Thugos’ butts, an’ it’s business as usual.” Lisette rolled her eyes and turned her back more prominently from Goldeneyed. “You don’t see Messenger here giving up, do you?” G-Eyed encouraged Whitney. “What’s he doing exactly?” The Sorceress squinted through the gloomy cell but couldn’t quite see. “I think he’s trying to gnaw his hands off to get free from his chains,” Trickshot reported. “Way to teleport us to safety, GoldenBry!” snarled Lisette. “Ah,” G-Eyed gulped. “About that secret identity thing, Lisette…” “Shutupshutupshutup!” Laurie Layton told him. “You’re just like all the rest!” “Guys, you think you could have your domestic disputes later, and be quiet while we work on an escape plan so Whitney don’t become Mrs Big Slug an’ the rest of us don’t become take-out for the Groper outta Grossness?” Trickshot requested. “No, let them bicker,” Messenger contradicted him. “Their yammering is leading spiffy towards us.” “We’ve got to rely on spiffy for a rescue!” groaned Sorceress. “I’m doomed!” “You are the entity known as Saint, are you not?” Pierson’s Porter asked the mysterious being he had summoned to his private office. “And?” the mysterious being challenged him. “And you have been tasked with returning the city back to Earth, have you not?” “How did you know that?” Saint frowned. “I have sources,” snapped back the Mayor of Paradopolis. “I also know that we can’t save the city using our current plan. A teleport of the magnitude necessary will just take too long for the Interdimensional Transportation Corporation’s primitive and inefficient mechanisms to set up.” “So what do you suggest?” Saint challenged. “There is a way to save Paradopolis,” PP noted. “But the heroes won’t like it. And I need an ally who I can count on to carry out the preparation.” The man in white drew his sword. “Tell me what to do,” he breathed. Pierson’s Porter smiled. And on Skree-Lar, homeworld of the tyrannical Skree empire, currently under new management since Dark Thugos levered a hostile takeover with extreme prejudice: “You again,” the Tyrant of the Sol Emire said to Joe Pepper. “You know this guy?” Troia demanded, struggling against the Skree power-inhibiting shackles and trying to kick the stormtroopers who held her before their master. “Er, I did sort of contribute to the downfall of his last intergalactic empire,” ManMan admitted, uncomfortably. “Is it possible to get a separate trial?” the Amazon administrator asked. “I mean, I know him slightly but he never got past first base, honest…” “Hey, Thugos,” Space Ghost called out happily from between his own dour jailors, “nice complexion!” Dancer winced as the world-conqueror pointed one thick finger at the pantless wonder; but Thugos was not yet ready to destroy them. “What an interesting collection you have brought back for me, Dronon,” the tyrant congratulated the Skree Public Accoster. He walked in front of the line of captives and explained his interest in each of them. “One of the men responsible for my previous defeat, who I have dreamed of slaughtering with my bare hands oftentimes in the lonely nights since last we met…” “Wow!” ManMan gulped, “Talk about sore losers…” “The alternate-reality counterpart of my own dear sister, helpless in my grasp to repay a lifetime of insolence...” “Hey! You can’t hold me responsible for what Kumari did! She tried to torture me to death. We should team up and kick her ass!” Troia 215 protested. “One of the Family of the Pointless, confirming my suspicions that the greater forces of the Parodyverse are conspiring against me. You shall be instrumental in my plans to destroy them once and for all…” “Sorry, Thuggy, I was miles away,” confessed Space Ghost. “What were you saying?” “And… some human wench of little consequence,” Dark Thugos concluded. “Hey!” Dancer protested. “That’s what my ex-boyfriend used to say! I’ll have you know…” “Take her from my presence,” Thugos commended. “Give her to the soldiery to amuse themselves with.” “At once, Dark Thugos,” an enthusiastic sergeant of the guard agreed. He wrinkled his battle-scarred face into an evil leer. “Take ‘er to the barracks, lads.” “You let her go!” ManMan warned. “Or I’ll…” “Yes?” the Tyrant of the Skree Empire chuckled. “What exactly will you do?” “You will not get away with this, felon! You’re going to get sooo…” Dancer was dragged from the throne room. “ManMan’s going to kick the living sh*t out of you, and spit on the pieces,” Troia threatened. “Pay attention,” Space Ghost nudged the Public Accoster. “She’s a princess an’ she’s doing that Sacred Challenge thing.” “What sacred challenge thing?” ManMan worried. “Shut up, Troia.” “Why, the Sacred Challenge to undergo the ordeals of the Combat Arena to prove your worthiness to battle the ruler of the Skree Empire in single combat,” Space Ghost explained happily. “As royalty Troia can demand her champion fight for her, and if you win you get to take on Thuggy there.” “Is this true?” Troia gasped. Space Ghost gave a manic little smile. “It is now,” he promised. “Master…” Dronon the Accoster cringed, “By our sacred ancient law, we cannot deny this challenge. Normally we could dismiss an outworlder’s claims, but this man was wielding the Blade of Fonn-Dhuu, founder of the empire. He has mythical significance.” “About that Fonn-Dhuu knife thing…?” Joe Pepper attempted to ask. “Mistaken identity, kid,” Knifey assured his wielder from the vice where he was clamped. “You have no idea how often people make that silly mistake.” “Very well,” hissed Dark Thugos in an irritated tone. “Throw this irritating mortal in the Arena. Take Space Ghost to my dissection lab. Confine my hemi-sister somewhere until I’m ready to torture her. And find out what’s happening back on the world you collected these specimens from since the infallible Terminizer appears to have inexplicably failed.” “I have to fight champions of the Skree for the right to battle Thugos?” ManMan gulped. “Ah well, It’ll be nice to be single again,” Troia sighed. “I wonder if there’s anything good on TV?” Space Ghost mused. “Yo, have you seen Valeria?” “She was taking hot chocolating down to sticky Paste Pot Pete where he is guarding the uncute prisoners from the Destiny Carnivalling,” the strained thought being answered, hugging Rabito for strength. “Oh no!” Exile frowned. “I warned everybody that she wasn’t to go down there.” The energy-controlling avenger pounded down the steps to the makeshift prison in the basement of City Hall. Paste Pot Pete lay sprawled on the floor, the drugged drink shattered beneath him. Colonel Destiny, Suicide Blonde, and their retinue of freaks were gone. A slim pale woman’s body was toppled by the cages, lying in a pool of blood, her hands clutched around a small but lethal dagger that was embedded into her heart. “Valeria!” Exile screamed, his throat becoming tangled and knotted as he rushed down to her. He took the frail slave-girl in his arms, but it was too late. The woman was dead. In our next, shocking episode: The march of Death continues, with ManMan in the arena, Fin Fang Foom on his lifeless homeworld, the wedding of the Morshlock King, Dancer’s doom, and Lisa in the land of the unliving. Be here for Undead Tales of the Lair Legion Here are links to Amazing Guy's tie-in stories JackRabbit #7, Scenes From A Large Saga and Amazing Tales #13, Seven for the world Here's a version if you prefer it in the Hooded Hood's traditional light slate grey |
| #52: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion Lost in Space (The Hooded Hood requests Exile not the stretch the board with his reply to this episode. Take a breath one in a while, willya?) (18-Jun-2000 08:05:34) |
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