Posted by The Hooded Hood presents the next section of this world tour stuff. It's the last bit already written, and since I don't know if I'll get time to write more for next week enjoy this while you can. on June 24, 2001 at 07:15:12:
#80: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion World Tour: Monkeying Around
For those into continuity, this story follows after Amazing Guy’s Untold Tales crossover in Amazing Tales #30, which features the Lair Legion in Wakandybar, and simultaneously with CrazySugarFreakBoy!’s Sydney St Sylvain kidnap story, which is due out any time now. It also has strong links with Mumphrey Wilton and the Lost City of Mystery Chapters Five and Six, which are further down the board at the time this is posted.
Excerpts from The
Chronicles of Versalia, Book I, by Galor the Wise
There came a time when the Creators
struggled with their most terrible enemies. Facing defeat and destruction at the
elemental powers of these Deviates, the Creators fled to the place of their own
birthing, the orbiting sphere we call Luna. Here were the tools by which the
Creators themselves were created, by the will of creatures from the stars. The
Creators took these ancient machines of destiny and hid them on a lonely island
where they undertook their greatest work. Thus it came to pass that
villains from the mud-plane of Earth traversed the Void betwixt their damned
place and the green lands of the Dreary Dimension, empowered by the destroyer of
Dormaggadon, the Hooded Hood. These villains were five in number, and they were
clept Visionary, Yo, Nats, Miss Framlicker, and the great tyrant Dread Derek,
also known as Exile. Excerpts from The Chronicles of
Versalia, Book XVI, by Galor the Wise
The first homo sapiens to ever
discover our homeland was a traveller from the distant Americas, a former
soldier named in his tongue Blanchford Bertram. He arrived half-dead from the
jungle beyond the great waterfall, having traced old native legends about a city
of apes and wisdom. Some of our elders were for executing him and his
companions, but in the end King Lui ruled that they should not be given over to
the Ape God, but instead welcomed and interviewed. In thunder they came, with
a thunder god leading. At his side were a Sorceress, a Dark Knight, and maiden
from the heavens clad in a mantle of silver. They came to the very gates of the
Court of the August Personage, on the very summit of the Celestial Mountain, and
came to Wang’s gate. The third encounter, where again our
society was threatened with destruction by humans and their ilk, began when a
strange red metallic vehicle blared into sight from a multi-hued tear in the air
and swerved to a halt after demolishing the Fountain of Quiet Reflection. The
drivers’ door flew open and two arguing humans spilled out. It was a strange group whom the Holy Shoggoth had chosen to bring to us.
There were seven humans, who it turned out had names just like people do, and
who were called Hatman (also known as Hatty, Jay, and Deputy Bossman), ManMan
(also known as Manny and That Guy Who Carries Knifey Around), Dancer (also known
as the Hot Babe in the Spandex Leotard), Cheryl (also known as the Duchess of
Lake Superior and the Goddess of HTML), Meggan (also known as Melanie), Troia
(also known as Sweetbuns), and Trickshot (also known as Tricky, and That Bloody
pain in the Ass). The one known as Flapjack may also be human but we never found
out for sure. We never properly figured out what exactly he smelled of. “What the hell is a Gong of Summoning?” the dragon demanded as we ran about
panicking. Mayor Hopkins would like to
make clear that the recent damage to central Gothametropolis was not his fault.
Nor can he be held responsible for the actions of rogue superheroes who became
overzealous in tracking stolen property and engaged in irresponsible public
battles with mutate factions and drug lords. These are the facts as they have
been determined by the Mayor’s office, and any deviation from these established
facts will be grounds for litigation.
1) On or about Tuesday last, individuals operating under the codenames of
Goldeneyed, dull thud, and Dynamite Boy approached organisers of the Save
the Paradopolis Variety Theatre campaign with enquiries about a consignment of
promotional t-shirts intended for the upcoming benefit concert in Off-Central
Park which had been stolen two days earlier. Goldeneyed convinced committee
volunteer Bethany Shellett, a student teacher at the Rocket Man Memorial High
School, to accompany him to the manufacturer (New Tomorrow Industries) in the
hope of discovering how the thieves learned of the garments’ shipping schedules.
2) Apparently instructed by “a telepathic tapeworm in me stomach”, dull
thud led the investigators into sealed back areas of the manufacturers’
plant, where a range of non-standard t-shirt printing techniques were being
used. New Tomorrow is a major corporation and has fully explained that there was
a mix-up in co-locating the new mutate genetic rectification equipment and the
t-shirt manufactury, and that there is no link between the two.
3) When New Tommorow management summoned the police the heroes became abusive
to Commissioner Graham but were calmed by Ms Shellett. Goldeneyed thereupon
ceased to hammer the Red Turret management’s head against the wall whilst
screaming “Where is Lisette?” and departed with the others.
4) The investigators appear to have staked out New Tomorrow Industries and
claim to have followed the mercenary team known as the League of Losers from the
New Tomorrow Industries plant into Gothametropolis in the early hours of
Wednesday morning. New Tomorrow Industries’ legal advisors refute this
allegation, and the Mayor’s office fully upholds their position. In any case a
spokesman for the League of Losers (who prefer to be called the Fearsome Four)
argues that they were only undertaking a retrieval operation of the stolen
t-shirts from a warehouse in central Gothametropolis when they were subject to
an unwarranted attack from Goldeneyed, dull thud, and Dynamite Boy.
5) Violence erupted onto the streets of our fair city as English Man, Garbage
Burner, Dr Teeth, and Marker Man defended themselves from said unwarranted
attack. Matters were complicated when the t-shirt thieves, drug baron Chronic
and mutant terrorist De Brown Streak also became involved. Glass damage from the
sonic attacks of Chronic alone are estimated at $12.2m. Mayor Hopkins cannot be
held responsible for any tax rises which may have to be announced in the near
future.
6) Mayor Hopkins, being appraised of the situation by way of being blown out
of his bed and sprayed with broken glass, took a hard line stance with the
policy decision, “You guys stay here. I’m going to go kick somebody’s ass for
this. I have a fern, you know.” Mayor Hopkins attended the battle scene to
remonstrate with the participants.
7) A major explosion destroyed the warehouse, killing the protagonists
Goldeneyed and Ms Shellett, destroying the stolen t-shirts, and allowing De
Brown Streak and Chronic to escape unmolested. The League of Losers was
apprehended by the Abandoned Legion as they attempted to leave the scene.
dull thud and Dynamite Boy escaped but are wanted for questioning. Mayor
Hopkins commented on the situation at the time: “Look at all the pretty colours
swirling round and round.”
8) An anonymous benefactor has agreed to replace the destroyed t-shirts so
that the planned concert can go on as scheduled.
The Mayors’ Office trusts that this clarifies any misunderstandings that
might otherwise have crept into publication. Whilst Dr Zanus and the historians
were arguing with Hatman and Fin Fang Foom about the details of the sacrifice,
none of the Lair Legion at the time noticed that Dancer, Cheryl, and Meggan
slipped off on their own. I merely assumed that the three of them were ensuring
that nobody had the bright idea of substituting them for Troia, but in actual
fact Cheryl had suggested that they investigate who had sounded the Chime of
Summoning and what they were supposed to be distracted from. “I’m not sure about this plan,” Troia admitted as the simians shackled her to
the sacrifice post on the log platform at the clifftop.
The Creators first took many of the
lesser creatures and tested the machineries upon them. Thus were the Raccoon
People, the Lemming Race, the Talking Rabbits, the Psychofish, the Phase
Squirrels, the Blink Hamsters, and others brought into existence; but all of
these were deemed failures by the Creators, for none of them could stop the
Deviates.
Next the Creators turned to homo sapiens, the over-evolved primates
who had arrogantly begun to destroy the planet even then. These experiments did
not go well, unleashing a breed of mis-shapen monsters that quickly fled beneath
the Earth and remain hidden from sight to this day as the Morshlock menace. This
more than anything shows why humans are inferior to apes, for we have prospered
with the blessings given to us by the Creators.
Tehn the Creators used their
devices upon some of the lowliest life-forms, taking humble sea-fodder and
gifting them with the power to shake universes; thus came the Sea Monkeys, who
at great cost conquered and became guardians of the Deviate Lord known as Gromm,
the Living Flatulence, and his minions and followers.
Other creatures were
also designed, each meant to face one of the remaining Deviate Lords, Aa, Vision
of Death, F’Lurgh, the Taste of Defeat, Great Rukkus, the Sound of Doom, and the
Finishing Touch itself, Blaaargh. History does not record who these creatures
were nor whether they survived their attempts to imprison the Creators’ foes. It
was in preparing a race to battle Psicho, the Murderous Thought, that our own
history began.
So the Creators turned their machines upon our ancestors,
taking humble apes and gifting us with genius. Speech, technology, art, culture
all quickly followed, for once we had learned to learn there was nothing which
we could not do. For nearly a century our forefathers battled the terrible
Psicho, but finally overcame the monster. At our Creators’ behest we took our
captive far into the Wilderness where we imprisoned it, and there built our city
if guardianship, Vesalia, named for the language we had recreated, the
proto-language from which all others were formed.
Our joy at our victory was
marred only by the disappearance of our Abhuman Creators. Their use of the
forbidden machineries from the moon had raised the ire of some greater power,
and so they were punished for their hubris. Thus we saw our Creators no more,
and in time they became as legends to us, and this story no more than a creation
myth. And yet in time and season we undertook the rituals to reinforce the
psychic locks on the vaults beneath Vesalia, lest the bogeyman of our childhood
awake and bring us our doom.<./font>
Excerpts from An
Account of the Last Days of the Dreary Dimension, by the Archpriest of
Harmony, Everil Neverwend
They arrived in secret in one of the old forgotten
places to plot the downfall of our realm and the destruction of the fair Lady of
Carfax and Shandalar, Valeria, destined bride of the noble Prince Magaddor; for
though Magaddor was of the line of Dormaggadon himself these sinister fiends
sought to stop him from saving our kingdom from certain doom.
And as they
arrived thus spake the Visionary: “I think I left the gas on back
home.”
Whereupon Miss Framlicker answered: “According to my readings we have
managed to get into the Dreary Dimension somehow! But that’s just not possible,
the barriers were up, the whole place cordoned off by the will of the ancient
Pantheons.”
And said Yo: “Yo is to be thinking that maybe power of cute
ancient pantheons is not to be being what it used to be, and that perhaps
somebody is to be having taken power and to be using it to get us past
barriers.”
Then spaketh Nats: “You never did tell us how you got better so
fast and found a way to get us here, Exile, dude.”
Finally the Great Enemy of
the Dreary Dimension answered: “I made a few deals, okay? I didn’t have a
choice. I had to get after Val.”
“Deals? Not as in a
sign-on-the-line-with-blood kind of deals? Tell me Blackkhurt didn’t send us
here,” sayeth dark Visionary.
“Hey no. I’m not stupid,” replied the Destroyer
of All We Hold Dear. “It was the *cough cough cough*”
“Who?” Nats
asked.
“The *humphed harrumph*”
“Who?” Yo wondered.
“It doesn’t
matter,” Dread Derek told them.
“It almost sounded like he said the Hooded
Hood,” Visionary worried. “At least we’d have had a loophole with
Blackhurt.”
“He wouldn’t be stupid enough to make a deal with the Hood,” Nats
suggested. “Uh… Exy? That’s your cue to reassure us.”
Thereupon the villains
looked around the ancient temple wherein they had appeared, and encountered the
one who was waiting for them. “Ah, greetings minions,” Dirth Vortex bade them.
“You have arrived just in time.”
Blanchford Bertram was a
man of honour and integrity, but his companions were not so virtuous.
Understanding that we Vesalians are a peaceable people and seeing the great
treasures we have stored in our beloved city they chose to use their percussive
weaponry to take what was ours. Many apes died before Blanchford Bertram showed
us how to fight back against these humans, and in the end he drove them into the
path of the Ape God to their doom.
Our first experience with humans set the
patterns for all our subsequent encounters. When Sir Mumphrey Wilton followed
Blanchford Bertram’s path and discovered Vesalia he too was followed by evil men
who sought our treasures. These Nazis plundered the city but were forced back by
Sir Mumphrey, who destroyed the great waterfall tunnel so that they could never
return.
Some of our own people were contaminated by the wickedness these
humans had brought with them and departed thereafter, banned forever from our
fair society. There is no place for an Evil Monkey or Rape Ape in Vesalia,
although I fear it may make the world think the worst of us if they become known
beyond our own jungle. Yet surely there is no home anywhere for such evil
rhetoric as they would spew?
Excerpt from the
Two Hundred and Seventh (unpublished) Epic Saga of Li-sao t’u the Blind, Poet to
the Imperial August Personage of Jade
Normally the Celestial Bureaucrat would have prevented
them from approaching so near to the Glorious Presence, but since neither
Celestial Bureaucrat nor Glorious Presence were around just then these intruders
came forth unchallenged by the countless guardians of ten thousand glories. They
came to the gate and regarded it, and then spoke the Sorceress, saying, “That is
a lot of milk bottles. Somebody went away and forgot to cancel their order,
didn’t they?”
“Another one?” growled Donar, Ausgardian hemigod. “How many
more abandoned sacred homes of the gods art we going to find?”
Then the grim
one who wrapped shadows around him like a cape spoke. “It’s either mass deicide
or we’re going to have to find whole new terms to describe the kidnapping of
pantheons.”
“I’m not getting any energy readings at all,” the star-girl Ziles
reported, studying some jewellery upon her wrist. “The whole place seems
deserted – except for the old blind poet over there writing down what I’m
saying.”
Then the travellers turned and walked over to where I was hiding in
the kennel of the Celestial Dog and I addressed them saying, “Could you all
speak a little bit slower please, only I’m a bit out of practise at doing
shorthand.”
Many were their questions, about when the gods had vanished and
where they might have gone. They were most interested in my tale about the
Hooded Stranger who came to our court just before the divine personages in their
wisdom decided not be incarnate around here any more. Then the dark one spoke
again and said “That bloody Hood! I knew he was up to something, and now he’s
picked up the power of more than three dozen pantheons to do it with! We’ve got
to do something about this.”
“Aye verily,” Donar replied. “And also I must
speakest with him on the matter of Troia, whom he hast most grievously
misused.”
Sorceress tried to hide her indulgent smile. “There’s also the
problem that all of this prime psychic real estate is unguarded. How long before
some baddie takes advantage of that again like Degenerus did?”
“And where do
gods go when they’re no longer needed?” Ziles wondered.
“Florida,” Donar
answered.
“Some very interesting questions,” another stranger admitted
(although at first I almost mistook him for Weng Ch’ang, God of Literature).
“Now if you would care to wander this way we’ll see about getting some answers
shall we?”
And so the travellers followed Xander the Improbable and
disappeared from the Halls of the Celestial Bureaucracy once more.
Excerpts from The
Chronicles of Versalia, Book XXI, by Galor the Wise
“Don’t yell at
me!”, the one with the white ceremonial garb and the belt of rhinestones
shouted. “I swerve for interdimensional fauna!”
“Aw crap!” the second human,
the one with the bow and the strangely distasteful purple and green colour
scheme shouted back. “You nearly had all of us off the road and into the
alternative dimensions! I say any interdimensional anomaly dingus that’s stupid
enough to get in our way deserves to be roadkill!”
“Well if you’re so clever
next time you drive this thing. It handles like one of your dates
anyway!”
“At least I handle dates, not just myself!”
At this moment one of
their nest-nurturing females emerged from the red two-storied vehicle and calmed
the posturing males. “Boys, boys,” the female with the acrobatic gait and long
hair like spun midnight called to them. “Any landing you can walk away from, and
all that? Anyway, do you think you could argue a little less loudly while
Finny’s trying to make a good impression?”
“Thank you Dancer,” another of the
visitors told her. This one was not human at all, although guised as one. He
smelled draconic, and indeed we were later to discover that he was kin to the
wyrms of Earth, although from a distant star himself. “Hello, peoples of
Vesalia. We come in peace.”
“Despite the unfortunate placing of your
ornamental fountain,” another female, with short hair like gold added, “for
which we cannot actually accept responsibility or liability.”
“That’s PR
alright, Cheryl hon,” another of the nesting females, this one with hair like
fire and mammaries to make a gorilla blink said. “Kick ‘em in the balls and tell
em it’s their fault for being men.”
“Hello?” the dragon said to them. “Trying
to make a good impression here? First contact?”
“Hey, Star Trek,” the
archer chuckled. “We come in peace. Shoot to kill.”
“Will you shut up?”
another of the males demanded. He may well have been the dominant male, since he
had a colourful crest atop his head denoting rank. Indeed, he was for this
reason addressed by the others by the title of ‘Hatman’. “We’re here to fulfil
our promise to Elsqueevio. We aren’t going to screw this up because of you
clowns.”
“How are we going to screw this up then?” The sound came from a
curious talking weapon which was lodged in the rhinestone belt of the male with
the improbably tight trousers of dead cow.
Then the dragon was edged aside by
yet another female, this one with coiled russet hair and the lively gait of a
youngling about to come into first season. “Oh get out of the way, Finny. I’ll
do this. Hi, we’re the Lair Legion, and we’re on a world tour. I’m Troia 215,
tee-hee. We’ve come to see your beautiful city, say hi, and deal with any major
supervillain activity you might be experiencing providing we can get it over
with fairly quickly since we’re on a schedule here.”
My colleagues and I
looked at one another in amazement, unsure exactly how to deal with this strange
incursion.
“We could rip them to pieces and eat them?” suggested General
Ukko, but then that tends to be his suggestion for dealing with any
problem.
“Why not just fling dung at them and be done with it?” I snapped
back. “We can’t just assume that…”
“Ah, we have arrived.” The bubbling alien
voice came from inside the red vehicle, and every Vesalian recognised it at
once. We fell to our knees immediately.
“See?” the spear-wielding immature
female demanded of the dragon and the hatted one. “All it takes is a few
well-chosen words from me and…”
The Holy Shoggoth came froth from the
conveyance of the humans, oozing and shambling as of old, and we were
blessed.
“Great,” the light-footed dark-haired female grinned. “Maybe now we
can cut to the scene with the party.”
In
addition to the humans were the great wyrm Fin Fang Foom and an elephant-headed
creature known as Woopsa the Rakshasa, who had problems walking upright without
tripping over his trunk. Woopsa claimed to have a demonic tolerance for
fermented berry juice, and proved it until he fell over into his food and slept
soundly for thirty-six hours.
Great was our celebrating, for it was many
years since the Holy Shoggoth had last visited us. At his behest we made great
revelry, and Hatman commanded two of his females to entertain us with song and
with dance. In turn I was called upon to tell the tale of our beginnings, which
I modestly acceded to do after I was urged three times by King Lui.
The
humans explained that they had sought us out at the behest of one of their gods,
who had seemingly regretted sending them on what he had obviously regarded as a
mission of doom. The dragon explained that their team was upon a mighty quest to
thwart the doings of another evil human and could not spare much time to fulfil
the promise made to their god. None of them seemed very sure what they were here
for, although most of them agreed that the fermented berry juice was very
nice.
Things were going very well until some idiot sounded the Gong of
Summoning.
“Find who did this. Bring me his pelt!” demanded King Lui. He was
angry that his revels had been interrupted before he got to do his famous
‘Jungle VIP’ set, and rose unsteadily from his throne to trip over Woopsa. “And
make the ground stop swaying,” he demanded.
“I’m very sorry,” I apologised on
behalf of Vesalia. “Everybody should have known better than to sound the Gong of
Summoning tonight of all nights.”
The one with the hair of spun night who had
danced so beautifully a few minutes ago put her arm around my neck and stroked
my fur. “Just imagine for a minute that there are some people in the world who
don’t know what a Gong of Summoning is,” she said. “How would you describe it to
them in twenty-five words or less?”
“Why, it is the great instrument which
summons the Ape God from the forest to receive tribute,” I answered. That was an
easy one.
“The Ape God. Naturally,” groaned ManMan. “And this tribute is
fruit and flowers and stuff, right?”
“Of course,” I answered. “Fruit,
flowers, a bride.”
“Bingo!” ManMan answered. “I knew this was coming. And I
bet this bride will have to be one of the strangers, right?”
“I don’t think I
like the way this plot is going,” Cheryl warned.
“Hey, don’t worry,” Flapjack
comforted her. “I doubt even with Visionary as a hubby that you’ll qualify for
the sacrifice after this long.”
“Ah,” the Manga Shoggoth sighed. “You’re not
still doing the Bride of the Beast thing are you? That’s so eighteenth
century.”
“What can we do?” General Ukko shrugged. “When the Ape God gets
horny he tends to break things. And us. So we send him an occasional female and
he makes it rain and stuff. Simple barter. And none of the females seem to
complain about his attentions, because he’s got a really huge…”
“The
problem,” I cut in, “is that the ape god likes variety, and clearly he won’t
settle for one of our females while your clan is here. He will want one of
yours, preferably the one who is not yet mated.”
“Hey, why is everyone
looking at me?” Troia demanded. “It’s not like I haven’t been trying to get
mated.”
“Well, there might just be time for a quickie now,” offered
Trickshot.
“I mean mated with a man,” Troia answered, glaring at him. “And
don’t think you count, either.”
“We aren’t going to let you sacrifice Troia
as the bride of the Ape God,” Hatman warned. He didn’t inflate his chest very
well but it was clear that he was going to defend his females.
“If we don’t
take Troia to Sacrifice Point then the Ape God will wreck our city and kill us
all,” I warned.
“Tell him how tall this Ape God is,” ManMan suggested. “Go
on.”
“He is perhaps three hundred feet tall,” I answered. “Why?”
“Boy, is
your first time going to be memorable, hon,” Meggan advised Troia.
Press Release from the
Office of the Mayor of Gothametropolis York
More Excerpts from The
Chronicles of Versalia, Book XXI, by Galor the Wise
“This way,
monkey-boy,” Meggan demanded of me, scooping my arm to her copious bosom and
dragging me off. “You’re going to take us to where this Deviate prisoner
sleeps.”
“It’s just a standard check,” Dancer assured me. “Nothing to worry
about.”
We went down to the vaults under Vesalia and saw where the secret
door lay slightly open, its seals broken. “Except for that,” Cheryl admitted.
“You can worry about that.”
Dancer was the first to slip through into the
gloomy vault within. There we found the inner door likewise breached.
“This
is terrible,” I warned the humans. “because if Psicho has indeed escaped we no
longer have the support of the Creators to help us imprison it again. Be very
careful, because he might control your minds and erase them in an
instant.”
“I don’t think we need to worry,” Dancer admitted. She pointed to a
yellow post-it note stuck on the empty vault. It read ‘I.O.U. one Deviate Lord,
Yours, PVD.’
“Peter von Doom was already here,” Cheryl scowled. “Or
his people were. This must be what was bothering Elsqueevio, why he sent us here
thinking it was probably a suicide mission. only he didn’t know that Psicho is
long gone.”
“Then this evil man’s emissary might also have long departed,” I
suggested naively.
“Someone had to ring that gong, honey,” Meggan reasoned.
“My guess is whoever it was that sprung the Deviate stayed around to cover its
escape.”
“How could anybody do that?” I puzzled. “We would notice any
strangers, and nobody has come or gone from our city since Sock Monkey returned
from studying Europe a few months back.”
“Exactly!” We all span round to find
none other than Sock Monkey standing in the doorway to the vault. “That’s when I
was captured by Evil Monkey and sold to Peter von Doom. And there I was…
changed. Oh yes. Changed. Then I was sent back here to free the Murderous
Thought. And of course I sounded the gong to doom your comrades. But it is too
late for you to do anything now, for this vault door was designed to imprison
even a Deviate Lord. All I need do is shut you in, and it is farewell forever!”
“Aw, don’t worry,”
Trickshot assured her. “The big monkey comes, we kill it, we go home.
Easy.”
“Unless,” Knifey added smugly, “it was created using direct Celestian
technologies, in which case it will be even more unstoppable than those
creatures from Monstrous Island.”
“Please don’t worry, Troia,” ManMan assured
her. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Unless you get distracted
thinking about Stacy Gwen,” the Amazon administrator shot back.
“Human
sacrifice is an old tradition anyway,” the Manga Shoggoth explained
comfortingly. “You are upholding customs that your ancestors held sacred
thousands of years ago. It should make you proud.”
“We have to go now,” Ukko
warned the heroes. “The Ape God will not come here if others are around. Instead
he would simply stomp Vesalia. We must leave.”
“Hey!” objected Flapjack, “I
was lookin’ to get some good pictures here!”
Trickshot hooked him by the
nostrils and pulled him away. Ukko gave Troia the ceremonial potion of sacrifice
and followed them down the hill.
They had hardly left when the Ape God rose
up from the forest below, pounded his chest, and roared.
“Wow!” gulped Troia.
“He is big, isn’t he.” She looked again. “And he’s tall as well,” she
added.
The pole she was chained to shifted shape and became a winged reptile.
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall,” promised Fin Fang Foom, rising to
the air.
From the
Chronicles of the Hooded Hood, volume CCLXXVIII, chapter LXIV, section
xxxii:
“Good evening,” the
Hooded Hood bade Amy Racecar and Al. B Harper.
“That’s a new definition of
‘good’ to me,” Amy admitted. “Usually good includes not being trapped in a time
distortion and kidnapped by villains to stop me alerting the Lair Legion to your
evil plans.”
“We know what you’re up to, Hood,” Al B. Harper warned the
cowled crime czar. “I know it was your people who hired me over a year back to
do those calculations about the celestial alignments of certain historic
buildings in Paradopolis. I know that you intend to make use of those alignments
in some bizarre bid for cosmic power. I know you’re planning to make your move
when the stars are right, at the end of this month. I know your minion
Spacewarped slowed time round me to try and keep me from getting to the Lair
Mansion and warning the heroes, but I made it there anyway.”
“And you warned
Ms Racecar,” the Hood pointed out.
“Exactly,” Al. B Harper concluded
triumphantly. Then he glanced across at his fellow prisoner. “Damn.”
“I have
gone to significant trouble to ensure that the Lair Legion will be otherwise
occupied at the moment I implement my plan,” the archvillain explained. “I
believe that the other gatherings of heroes may likewise find themselves
distracted at the vital moment. I have already ensured that there will be no
opposition from the other side of the hero/villain schism. In fact I do not
expect there to be any resistance remaining in Paradopolis. Thus I trust you
will understand why it is in my interests to see that you cannot interfere with
my schedules.”
“The LL will notice I’m gone,” Amy warned the Hooded Hood.
“They’ll come looking for me.”
“Actually I have had the Indigo Impostor take
your place and quit claiming sexual harassment from Space Ghost,” the Hood
replied. “Foom should be receiving the lawsuit paperwork any day now. In the
meantime I must apologise for having to send you off to face slow and grisly
deaths. It’s nothing personal.”
“Couldn’t you just lock us in a cell
somewhere?” Al B. Harper argued. After all, if it was an electronic cell he
could probably get out of it sooner or later.
“If it was an electronic cell
you could probably get out of it sooner or later,” the Hood noted. “I was
thinking of a more permanent solution. I am therefore transporting both of you
to sixteenth century Castille to the dungeons of the Inquisition, where the
Grand Inquisitor will be only too happy to hear everything you want to tell him
about your twenty-first century discoveries as he chats with you on the
rack.”
“Hey, you can’t do that!” objected Amy; but she found she was telling
that to a roomful of monk-cowled figured holding torches and branding
irons.
Even More Excerpts from The Chronicles of Versalia, Book XXI, by Galor the Wise
“I don’t understand,” complained Sock
Monkey as Meggan put him in a full nelson. “How could the vault door have got so
rusty that as I shut it it fell off its hinges and crushed me?” Meanwhile, the Lair Legion continued to fight to rescue their brood female
from the ape God. In the aftermath of the Sock Monkey’s attempts to destroy the Lair Legion it
was clear that the citizens of Vesalia had somehow failed in their guardianship
of the great evil our Creators had tasked us to undertake. King Lui was
particularly vexed and insisted that we assist the humans in recapturing Psicho
if it was at all possible. Fortunately our scientists were able to still operate
the Deviate tracking devices left by the Abhumans, and thus we were able to
locate where the sinister Peter von Doom must have transported the Murderous
Thought, a place called Capetown, and where the creature was now, a place called
the Pensacola Mountains in the Antarctic. As soon as the Lair Legion had dug
Hatman out of the crater he had caused and had returned their female to her
proper size they made their farewells and re-entered their red conveyance. The
Holy Shoggoth went with them, since as he said, “The Antarctic’s my back yard,
so I might as well hitch a lift home.”
“What are the
chances?” speculated the Probability Dancer.
“You have brought shame upon the
Apes of Vesalia,” I, Galor, frowned at the erring primate. “And you have caused
us to fail in our Creator-ordained task. How could you do such a
thing?”
“Money, power, and women?” Sock Monkey suggested.
Cheryl examined
the button-eyed simian carefully. “You know,” she considered, “I think this
might be a mask.”
“No!” Sock Monkey cried. “No, don’t pull it off!
Nooooo!”
Cheryl, Dancer, and Meggan gasped in unison as the woolly covering
came off. Beneath the Sock Monkey’s outer layer was a giant hand of bubbling
plasma. As it was exposed to the air it deliquesced into foul-smelling ooze.
“I’m melting! I’m meltinnnnnggg!!!” it shrieked before evaporating into the
nothingness Peter von Doom had mixed it from.
“What worries me is that socks
usually come in pairs,” Dancer said.
“Who’d have thought that a three hundred foot ape was a
boxing champ?” Trickshot wondered as he fired his banana-arrow into the battle
to give the punch-drunk Fin Fang Foom a moment’s respite.
The alien dragon
slumped down into the forest and spoke of watching the pretty birdies circling
his head. The Ape God grabbed a handful of trees and hurled them at
Trickshot.
The dominant male of the Lair Legion took this chance to charge in
with his Bulls cap and topple the giant monkey by slamming into its ankle.
ManMan used the opportunity to race back up the hillside, intending to cut Troia
free with Knifey.
Troia wasn’t there. “Where did she go?” Joe Pepper
puzzled.
“Quick guess?” Knifey answered. “Check out the monkey’s paw.”
“Aw
crap!”
Troia struggled inside the ape’s grip, and as she squirmed she found
herself able to force open the huge paw that surrounded her. In fact the giant
hand didn’t seem to giant any more. In fact the whole world seemed somehow
smaller, and as the Amazon administrator toppled to the ground she felt the
trees beneath her snapping like twigs.
She pulled herself to her feet and
turned to face the Ape God, which was now only twice her size and seemed to be
quite excited. Then she noticed that she was standing in the jungle and it came
up to roughly her thighs.
“Well now we know what that potion Dr Zagus gave
Troia does, and how she gets to be the bride of the beast,” Knifey
noted.
“What?” ManMan asked, distracted.
“You had noticed that Troia has
grown to be a hundred and sixty feet tall?” Knifey checked.
“I, uh, I had
noticed that her dress hadn’t,” ManMan admitted.
“Aren’t you going to help,
Shoggoth?” Hatman demanded as he used his lumberjack’s helmet to cut Trickshot
free from the pile of jungle he was covered in.
“I don’t think so,” sacred
the elder being replied. “I’m really only here as a guide. I wouldn’t want you
people to get the idea that I was on your side or something.”
“Great,”
snarled Hatman. “Then stand back,” he warned. “I’m pulling on my Giants
hat.”
“I watch with anticipation,” bubbled the Shoggoth.
The Ape God
roared his challenge to the growing capped crusader and welcomed the contender
for his mate by drawing upon the cosmic power that allowed him to ignore the
cube-root law to hit Hatman so hard that the now hundred and fifty-foot hero was
hurled half a mile over the jungle.
Troia retreated from the battle to see if
she could tend to him. His opponent defeated, the Ape God beat his chest, threw
handfuls of greenery in the air, and lunged at the female.
Fin Fang Foom
lunged at the Ape God. “I have had enough – ENOUGH! – of giant monsters right
now,” the dragon roared. “I don’t care if you are powered by Celestians,
Duracell, or five million mice on treadwheels, you are going DOWN!”
Trickshot
and ManMan ducked to the side as a vexed giant lizard fought an angry giant
simian.
The archer raced across to where General Ukko and Dr Zagus were
watching with a fascinated horror. “Hey guys, you’ve got a potion to make women
big, right?”
“Carl, this isn’t really the time to…” ManMan suggested.
“So
do you have, like, an antidote? To make ‘em small again?” Trickshot
persisted.
“Of course,” Dr Zagus told him. “We need it for the surviving
brides, or else we would be overrun with giant apes.”
“Hand it here then,
pops. Not that I don’t enjoy looking up at giant bits of female anatomy, but
I’ve got an idea.” The archer emptied out one of his arrowheads and filled it
with the potion. “Now watch carefully, cause this is a shot you’ll want to tell
your grand-monkeys about.”
Trickshot’s shaft arced high in the air, bounced
of Fin Fang Foom’s armour, and vanished down the Ape God’s throat. And the Ape
God began to shrink. And the more he shrank the more Fin Fang Foom’s tail and
flame hurt him.
Then Troia kicked the Ape God in an area unfitting for an Ape
God to be kicked in by an angry giant Amazon.
Eventually General Ukko carried
the now human-sized Ape God to the infirmary while the scientists started mixing
up another batch of shrinking potion to allow Troia to regain normal size. They
hurried with the chemicals so it only took three days.
Thus the humans left as they had come,
with a red blur and a strange sound effect as of a giraffe being stretched to
three times its usual length, and peace came again to the hidden city of
Vesalia.
Coming Next:
The Lair Legion in South Africa gains a new member! Xander reveals what happens
when gods die! Al B. Harper and Amy Racecar expect the Spanish Inquisition!
Exile meets his father! Visionary vs Dirth Vortex! But mostly, we find out what
really happened on the great T-Shirt Hunt and why the Hooded Hood needs
half a million concert souvenirs to save the world. Don’t miss it!
Additional reading material includes:
Back issues at The
Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom
Character descriptions at Who's Who in
the Parodyverse
Cartographic data from Where's
Where in the Parodyverse